Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
DEREK
The days following the Westpoint game were the darkest of my life.
We'd won. The team had celebrated. But I felt like I'd lost something essential, some core part of myself that I couldn't get back.
I'd frozen. When it mattered most, when I'd had the perfect shot, I'd let fear win.
Coach had been diplomatic in his post-game comments, praising my "team-first mentality" in passing to Maddox. But I knew the truth. Everyone knew the truth.
I'd been too scared to take the shot.
My phone was full of messages I couldn't bring myself to read. Dr. Morrison wanted to schedule an emergency session. From my parents, their concern was laced with disappointment. From teammates offering support that felt hollow.
Only Rosie's messages could get through to me.
Rosalie
I'm here. Whenever you're ready to talk.
You're not alone in this.
I love you. That hasn't changed.
But even her love felt like something I didn't deserve. Because Aaron had been right. I was a mess, and Rosie was caught in the middle of it.
I'd dragged her into my darkness, and now she was drowning too.
Three days after the game, I still hadn't left my room. Max had tried to get me out, Maddox had attempted intervention through humor, which was scary on its own, and even Coach had stopped by.
But I couldn't face them. Couldn't face their pity or their disappointment or their well-meaning advice.
On the fourth day, someone knocked. Different from all the other knocks. Firm, insistent, familiar.
"Derek, it's me. Open the door."
Aaron.
I froze, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Part of me wanted to let him in, to finally have the confrontation we'd been avoiding. Part of me wanted to hide forever.
"I know you're in there. And I'm not leaving until we talk."
I opened the door.
Aaron looked like hell as well, probably similar to how I felt. Dark circles under his eyes, his usual put-together appearance disheveled. We stared at each other for a long moment.
"You look like shit," he finally said, confirming what I already thought.
"Thanks. You too."
He pushed past me into the room, taking in the evidence of my isolation, including empty food containers, clothes everywhere, and blinds drawn against the daylight.
"Jesus, Dex. This isn't healthy."
"I know." I sat on the edge of my bed, suddenly exhausted. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to talk. About a lot of things." Aaron pulled out my desk chair and sat backward on it, like he always did. "First, about Westpoint."
I tensed. "I don't want to..."
"Too bad. We're talking about it anyway." His voice was firm but not unkind. "That panic attack you had after the game? That wasn't about Rosie. That was PTSD. Trauma. Fear of re-injury. All things you've been dealing with since the initial tackle."
"I froze," I said flatly. "I had the shot, and I couldn't take it."
"You made the smart play. You passed to Maddox, who was in a better position." Aaron leaned forward. "Derek, you've been so focused on proving you're back to your old self that you're not seeing what's actually happening. You are back. You're just different now. And different doesn't mean worse."
"It feels worse."
"Because you're comparing yourself to who you were before. But Derek didn't have the experience you have now. Didn't have the understanding of how fragile it all is." Aaron's voice softened. "You're more cautious now. More aware. That's not a weakness. That's wisdom."
I wanted to believe him. But the disappointment in my own performance felt too heavy to shake.
"And about Rosie," Aaron continued, and I braced myself. "I was wrong. About a lot of things."
I looked up sharply. "What?"
"I said some things after the game. About her being a distraction. About her being part of why you struggled." Aaron met my eyes. "I was angry and scared and looking for someone to blame. But Rosie isn't the problem. She never was."
"Aaron..."
"Let me finish." He took a breath. "I've been watching you two.
Really watching. And you know what I see?
I see my best friend actually dealing with his shit instead of pretending everything's fine.
I see my sister happier than she's been since her injury.
I see two people who genuinely love each other. "
My throat closed up. "I do love her."
"I know. And she loves you. Which is why I'm here." Aaron stood, pacing the small room. "I'm still pissed that you lied to me. I'm still hurt that you didn't trust me enough to be honest from the start. But Derek... I don't want to lose both of you over this."
"I never wanted you to have to choose."
"I'm not choosing. I'm accepting." He stopped pacing, facing me. "You and Rosie together is weird for me. It's going to take time to get used to. But I can see that you're good for each other. And that has to be enough."
I stood, not quite believing what I was hearing. "Are you saying...?"
"I'm saying I forgive you. Both of you." Aaron's expression was serious. "But I need you to do something for me."
"Anything."
"Get help. Real help. Not just physical therapy and Pilates. You need to work through the PTSD with your therapist. You need to stop pretending you're fine when you're falling apart." His voice cracked slightly. "I can't watch my best friend destroy himself, Derek. I won't."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Because he was right. I'd been so focused on getting physically ready that I'd ignored everything else falling apart.
"Okay," I said quietly. "Okay, I'll do it. I'll actually work on it this time."
Aaron pulled me into a hard, brief hug. "Good. Because the team needs you. I need you. And Rosie sure as hell needs you."
When he pulled back, his eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Now go shower. You smell terrible." He headed for the door, then paused. "And Derek? When you're ready, there's someone downstairs who's been waiting four days to see you."
Thorn.
I showered, dressed in clean clothes, and made my way downstairs with my heart in my throat.
She was sitting on the couch in our living room, looking small and worried. When she saw me, she stood immediately.
"Derek."
I crossed the room in three strides, pulling her into my arms. She held on tight, and I felt her shoulders shake.
"I'm sorry," I murmured into her hair. "I'm so sorry for shutting you out."
"Don't apologize. Just talk to me. Let me help."
"I don't know how." The admission hurt. "I don't know how to be the guy I was before. The guy who wasn't afraid. The guy who could take any shot."
"Then maybe you need to figure out who you are now." She pulled back to look at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Derek, you're allowed to be different. You're allowed to be scared. You're allowed to struggle. That doesn't make you less."
"It feels like less."
"I know." Her hand cupped my face. "But it's not. You're still you. You're just... more honest now. More real. And I love this version of you even more than I loved the previous version."
"How can you love this?" I gestured at myself. "I'm a mess."
"Because this version of you lets people in. This version admits when he's struggling. This version doesn't have to pretend to be invincible." She smiled softly. "You're human, Derek. Finally."
I kissed her then, pouring everything I felt, including gratitude, love, desperation, and hope.
"I talked to Dr. Morrison," I said when we broke apart. "He wants to see me three times a week. Work intensively on the PTSD and anxiety."
"That's good. Really good."
"And Aaron... he came by. He said he forgives us."
Rosie's eyes widened. "He did?"
"Yeah. We still have work to do, but..." I swallowed hard. "We're going to be okay. All of us."
She burst into tears, happy ones this time, and I held her while she cried.
"I love you," I said again, because I needed her to hear it. "I love you, and I'm sorry for shutting you out. It won't happen again."
"It might happen again," she said practically. "You're going to have bad days. Days when you can't let anyone in. And that's okay. As long as you come back to me eventually."
"Always. I'll always come back to you."
We sat on the couch together, her tucked against my side, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again.
"What happens now?" she asked softly.
"Now? Now we do the work. I focus on healing, really healing this time, not just physically. You work on your own recovery, your own future." I kissed the top of her head. "And we figure out this relationship thing together. No more hiding. No more secrets."
"I like the sound of that."
"Me too."
Rosie reached up, kissing me, but before I could deepen the kiss, catcalling sounded around us. I rolled my eyes and looked up at Oliver and Liam standing in the entrance, grinning.
“Glad to see you’re alive…” they teased.
“Yeah, me too,” I nodded, pulling Rosie up and towards the stairs.
“We know Aaron is okay with this, but you never actually had a girl in your room,” Liam called after me as we climbed the stairs.
“Fuck off,” I flipped him off, as my girlfriend reached my door.
It was true: she was the first girl to enter my room, and I wished I could see it from her point of view. It was a mess, but there was no judgment on her face, just curiosity, as she took in the room and sat on my bed.
“I missed you,” she said, voice smaller than before, but eyes glimmering.
“Missed you too,” I knelt in front of her. Her fingers sank into my hair, and she pulled me to herself, kissing me.
I could never get enough of her wanting me, of her unconditional and unwavering love. I didn’t deserve her, yet I wanted to do everything in my power to make it up to her.
“Let me take care of you,” she muttered over my lips, smiling her dangerous, sweet smile.
“Thorn,” I started to argue, but she shook her head, silencing me as she stood. Her fingers worked the strings of my joggers, and within minutes she loosened them, pulling my pants to my ankles and kneeling in front of me.
Fuck, the sigh of her kneeling there was enough to make me blow my load.
She licked her lips, eying my erection, before she licked it from the base all the way to the tip.
A loud groan escaped me, and I wrapped her messy ponytail around my hand and guided her to the tip.
“No teasing, I need you.” My voice came out all raspy as she opened wide, and I held her head steady as I guided myself into her pretty mouth.
It felt incredible, the way she closed her perfect lips around me, licking and sucking on my length with so much passion and enjoyment, like it was her favorite lollipop.
“You are doing it so well, Thorn,” I praised her, and she smiled around me proudly, her eyes finding mine. “Can I…?” I asked, worried I might be pushing her too far, too soon.
Rosie nodded, her unwavering trust mirrored in her gaze.
I secured my grip on her hair and angled her head to hit the back of her throat perfectly, as I pumped my hips faster.
“If at any point… It’s too much. Tell me,” I grunted, but she only held my gaze and let me fuck her mouth the way I imagined it many times when she talked back to me.
Gosh, I thought about coming down her throat an insane amount.
“Do you think you can swallow it?” I asked, and she nodded again. “You’re going to be a good girl and swallow every last drop?” Rosie eagerly nodded around me, her eyes watering as I hit the back of her throat.
“That’s my good girl,” I praised her, my hand loosening up a bit and cupping her face with care and love that contrasted my harsh moves.
Her eyes fluttered closed from my gentle touch, before they opened up to the most clear blue, love-filled eyes I have ever seen.
I could live forever and never deserve this girl’s unconditional love.
With a loud groan, I came and watched her throat move and swallow every last drop as I asked her, before I pulled out.
I gently wiped her mouth with my fingers, and kneeling in front of her, I kissed her. “Thank you.”
“I liked it,” she giggled over my mouth.
I leaned my forehead to hers and smiled. “I’m glad you did, Thorn.”
My phone buzzed, and I hated to break the intimate moment with having to check it, but I already saw Max’s name flash up on my Apple Watch.
Max
Glad to see you're alive. Team meeting tomorrow. 9 am. Don't be late.
I showed the message to Rosie.
"Think you're ready?" she asked.
"No. But I'm going to show up anyway." I squeezed her hand. "That's what you do when you love something. You show up, even when it's hard."
"Even when you're scared."
"Especially when you're scared."
She smiled at me, that beautiful smile that had first made me fall for her, and I knew we were going to be okay.
Not perfect. Not without struggles. But okay.
And sometimes, okay was enough.