21. No Photos, Please #2
I shake my head into his chest, my body wound up tightly, but he’s already talking. The layers of command settle into me, tightening screws on a suit of armor that grows smaller and smaller every time he does this.
Once a day. Twice a day. I’m losing count.
“There,” he says raggedly. Liam runs a hand over my back. “Feel better?”
I feel… emptier. As if Liam’s scooping away something inherently Rosie with every bark he settles on me. Every time he pushes a little of himself into me, he pushes a little of me out.
I search for words I’m allowed to say. “How long are we going to do this?”
We stare at each other.
And it hits me as I look at him. At the two of us, crammed into a bathroom cubicle while our world carries on around us. “You don’t know, do you?”
His lips tip up, but there’s no smile on his face. Only a tightness that seems to be getting worse. There’s a faint sheen across his forehead, a panic in his eyes as he looks away from me. “I… It’s going to be fine, Ro.”
“That’s not an answer.” The words are so calm. I could be talking about the weather. “I’d like to know.”
How long do I have to play this charade before I can have my body back?
He scrubs his hands through his hair, irritation squeezing onto his face. “You know when. When everything is settled. Things are still difficult right now. Lauren…”
I flinch. And he sighs, his voice gentling. “End of the regular season. We’ll stop then. See how you get on before playoffs.”
That’s months away. But he’s already turning away, fumbling for the lock on the door. As if he can’t get away from me quick enough. “Jesus, these things are small.”
“Or you’re just big.” I follow him out and wash my hands, buying time. He folds his arms and watches. I look at him in the mirror. “I’m okay now.”
Everything is under control.
Liam studies me intently, looking for a lie in my body language. I don’t move as he shifts closer. His nose brushes my neck as he breathes in, testing my scent. “Good. Find me before you go home.”
I keep watching him in the mirror. He’s so much bigger than I am. I used to find that comforting. But my eyes shift to the closed door, and back to him.
Swallowing, I focus back on my hands. My wrist directly above them is a deep red, parts of it scabbing over. I tug my sleeve down before he can see. “I want to see Carter.”
The way I say it makes him sound like a movie I don’t particularly care much about. I try it again. “I want to see Carter.”
Nothing. There’s nothing there at all. Liam is silent behind me. “Please.”
It’s been nearly a week. And between Liam’s orders and the team’s schedule, I haven’t seen him except for at a distance.
I haven’t even apologized. If I still have the ability. Maybe Liam’s taken that too.
I wonder if he’ll notice. Liam’s frowning, his eyes on the floor. “You can see him whenever you want, Ro. He’s just… busy.”
Too busy for me. My chest tightens again, and Liam lets out a long breath. “Fine. Go find him, then. He might not have much time, though. He should be with Martin and Remy.”
I’m gone before he finishes the end of his sentence, shoving the door open. Liam catches me before I can escape, his hand wrapped around my upper arm. “Remember what I told you.”
I remember all of it. Every command is imprinted across my nervous system creating a cage I can’t escape. I carefully slide my arm free. “I’m fine.”
At the magic words, he lets me go. My heart starts to beat faster as I take the stairs instead of the elevator, jumping down two at a time. Hope crests in my throat with every step, expanding until it feels like I can breathe properly for the first time in days.
He’s going to notice.
My hands begin to shake as I flash my lanyard to get into the player’s level. I can’t tell him, but he’s going to see it.
He’ll fix this. Fix me.
“Rosie!” I raise a hand at Georgio’s call, but I don’t stop. I couldn’t stop if Liam stood at the end of the hall and yanked me back with his invisible collar. Taking a left, I beeline for Martin’s office and knock on the door.
“Yeah?”
When I push the door open, Martin and Remy turn to look at me. Both of them are watching a replay on the tv. Remy hits a button on the remote, and a digital version of Carter stops in mid-air, his arm pulled back to shoot.
“Oh.” I flush. “Sorry to interrupt. Liam said Carter was in here.”
“Gabe’s having him run some slap shots.” Martin looks tired. “Assessment. You need something?”
“Yeah.” My feet are already turning. “Thanks.”
I manage to slow myself before running into the boards. Hovering at the entrance to the player’s tunnels, I lean my elbows on the gate and take him in.
Even the sight of him helps soften part of the numbness. A spike of something creeps through. Carter skates up to the blue line. Gabe bellows at him, and Carter’s helmet bobs in agreement before he pulls his arm back and slams the puck toward the waiting net.
Not far enough. Not anywhere near as far as the shot he just took on the tv in Martin’s office. The shot goes wide.
Carter yanks up his visor, his hand slamming to his shoulder as he shakes his head. His other hand slams his stick into the ice, snapping it in a fit of temper.
My inhale is sharp. Carter turns as if he can hear it, calling to Gabe before skating my way. I step back as he skates to the edge of the rink and off, yanking free his helmet.
He looks… broken. “Rosie.”
I fling my arms around him at the same time he reaches for me. He lifts me easily, his face finding my neck and burrowing into it.
“I’m sorry.” I say it over and over again, desperation clawing at my neck as he only holds me tighter. My hand finds his hair, running through it as I babble through the chokehold of command. “I’m so sorry.”