Chapter Thirty-Four
KAYDEN
I went back to the room, not wanting to wait anymore. Dylan was sitting next to Hazel, holding her hand in his.
"I need to go," I said quietly, hoping he would catch my drift.
I needed to go before I did something I would regret.
He saw the silent warning in my eyes, and turned to Hazel. He pulled out his keys and gave them to her. “I’m going to go with him to take care of...something. If you need to leave, take my car, but we should be back soon.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Uh huh, sure. Something to take care of.” Her eyes traveled between the two of us and she sighed. “Please don’t...don’t do anything stupid.”
He nodded, kissed her on the head, and stood up.
My eyes widened, wondering what I’d missed in his life. Probably everything because you’ve been so focused on your shit that you haven’t cared to ask how he’s doing.
Damn, I really was a crappy friend.
We walked out of the hospital together, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft hiss. The sun disappeared behind the clouds, making the colder air come out.
My hands clenched into fists when I started thinking of Lexi, laying in a damn hospital bed because someone put her there. Someone that couldn’t be a grown up and hash their shit out like a normal human being.
"Where are we going?" Dylan asked as we reached my car.
“We’re going to see Coach,” I said, voice flat.
He didn’t argue as he got into the passenger seat, and I started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot and making our way towards campus.
The team facility was fairly dark when we pulled into the parking lot, there were only a few lights inside. Coach’s dodge truck was parked near the entrance, which meant he was still here.
I got out of the car and slammed the door harder than I meant to. Dylan followed, his footsteps quick behind me as I headed towards the entrance.
The door was unlocked, and the smell of sweat and rubber instantly hit my nostrils. We walked down the hallway toward Coach’s office, and my heart was racing inside my chest.
What would he do? Would he even do anything? Maybe I should’ve stayed at the hospital, waiting for her. She should be the most important thing on my mind right now, but I also didn’t want the looming threat over who attacked her still hanging over her.
She needed to know she would be safe, that no one was going to harm her ever again.
The door was open, and Coach was sitting at his desk, looking at something on his computer.
When he heard us, he looked up.
"Boys, what are you two doing here?" his voice was rough, like he hadn’t slept in days.
"Is it true?" I asked, not bothering with pleasantries. "Did you kick Garcia off the team?"
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest."Yeah, I did."
"He deserves worse.” I said through gritted teeth.
Coach's eyes narrowed. "He will, but there’s a process. The police will also need to get a statement from Lexi about what happened and see if she wants to press charges.”
“She’s going to press charges...” I said but he cut me off.
His gaze hardened, “You’re not her. This shit changes people, one minute they’re dead set on pressing charges and the next they get scared of retaliation.
There is more that goes into it. Once the investigation is finished from both the school and police, more consequences will be put into place.
I've already contacted the athletic director and campus security.
They're reviewing the footage, and they'll be filing a report. Not much more I can do on my end.”
It’s not enough, not fucking enough. He needs to suffer. Ivy needs to suffer. Speaking of...
"What about Ivy?" I asked.
Coach sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Again, security and police are looking into it, but it’s going to take time. Since they fled the scene, the police can’t arrest them right on the spot. They have to gather evidence, eye witness accounts and so on.”
"She's in the hospital, Coach,” there was a slight edge to my voice. “She was beaten up and..." I stopped, knowing that if I kept going, I’d get pissed all over again. Ready to make someone pay.
"I know," He said, voice firm. "I saw the footage. I know what they did. But this has to go through the proper channels. We can’t just...”
"Why not?" I snapped. “Why can’t I handle it my fucking self?”
"Daniel," he stood up, his voice cutting through mine. "I get it, I do. But you going off and trying to handle it yourself is only going to make it worse.”
"How?" I demanded. "How is that going to make shit worse?”
"It’s not about you," he said, his gaze hardening, making me take a step back.
"It's about her. Not to mention, the combine is in a few weeks with the draft shortly after. How do you think she’s going to feel knowing you got kicked out because you were defending her honor? Think smarter, not harder.”
I stared at him, chest heaving, not saying a word. He’s right. Dammit, he’s right. But I want to wrap my hands around Garcia’s neck and fucking squeeze. I want to humiliate Ivy to the point that she willingly leaves this campus.
"She needs justice," he continued. "Not revenge. She needs to be the one to decide that, not you.”
"She's not in any condition to decide anything right now," I said, voice low.
"Then you wait, and let her heal. Give her the time to make a statement, and talk to the police. You can’t solve everyone's problems. The best thing you can do is be there for her. Let her know you aren’t leaving.”
I wanted to argue, but Dylan stepped forward, placing his hand on my shoulder.
"He's right, man. I hate it too, but he’s right.”
I looked at Dylan, then back at Coach. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
We left his office a few minutes later, and I still wanted to punch something. I wasn’t satisfied with his response.
Dylan walked beside me as we stepped outside, silence hanging in the air, when we heard a voice behind us. "Well, well. Look who it is."
I froze.
I turned slowly, and there he was. Fucking Garcia. Standing near the edge of the parking lot, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face.
"Heard you've been looking for me," his voice dripped with the usual cockiness he had, and my hands clenched into fists.
Don’t do it, Kayden. Don’t fucking do it.
"Walk away, Garcia," Dylan said with a warning.
He laughed. "Why? So you can run back to your little girlfriend and tell her you defended her honor? She didn't seem to mind the attention earlier."
This motherfucker.
Jaw clenched, I kept moving towards the car, ignoring him like I promised Coach I would.
He laughed again, "Come on, man. You really think she's worth it? She was practically begging for it..." Where are the fucking cops when we need them?
Something snapped. I turned around, and lunged for him, my fist swinging for his face. Dylan grabbed me, arms wrapping around my chest to pull me back.
Fuck this asshole.
I broke free from Dylan's grip and charged at Garcia, my fist connecting with his jaw before he could finish the sentence. He stumbled back, his hand going to his face, and then he came at me, his fist aimed at my ribs.
I dodged, barely, and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him back against the wall. His head hit the brick with a dull thud, and I pulled my fist back, ready to hit him again.
"Kayden, stop!"
Hands grabbed me from behind, and I heard two familiar voices come up along Dylan. I fought against them, and my vision blurred. I didn’t think I’d been so angry in my fucking life.
"Let me go!" I shouted.
"Not happening," Kellan said, his voice firm. "You're not doing this."
Garcia was on the ground now, blood dripping from his nose, his eyes blazing with fury. "You're dead, man. You hear me? Dead."
"Get out of here, Garcia," Torin said, stepping between us. "Before we let him finish what he started."
Garcia glared at me, then at the others, before finally pushing himself to his feet and stumbling away.
I was still breathing hard, my chest heaving, my hands shaking.
Dylan and Kellan were still holding me, but their grip loosened.
I heard Torin on his phone, talking to the cops.
“Hi, we were confronted by one of the people involved in the incident tonight at SilverCrest University and I wanted to make a report...”
"You good?" Dylan asked quietly.
I didn't answer. I stared at the spot where Garcia had been standing, my mind racing. Fuck, I lost my shit over that asshole.
"Kayden," He urged, "You good?"
I nodded slowly, even though I wasn't. No, I’m not good. I’m losing my fucking mind.
"Yeah," my voice was hoarse, as if I hadn’t drank anything in hours. "I'm good."
No you’re not. And you’ve shit in the bed you sleep in.
Now it was going to be one hell of a ride.
Hopefully I didn’t screw up everything I’d worked so hard for.