My hands won't stop shaking, so I shove them into the pockets of my joggers. It’s been three days since Walsh pointed a gun at me, drugged me, and then forced me to marry him. My body still hasn't caught up to what happened. The sedative left me foggy for most of Saturday, drifting in and out of awareness while my mind tried to process the impossible.
I'm married.
The words sit in my chest like a stone. Mom always said I'd find someone who'd sweep me off my feet. Guess being drugged and dragged to Connecticut counts. Should've read the fine print on that fairy tale.
“You planning to stand there all day?” Coach Harper's voice startles me.
He’s carrying one of my boxes, eyes studying me with that all-knowing look he gets sometimes, like he can see through my skin to all the broken parts beneath.
“Sorry.” I pick my two bags up off the floor and step into the room, claiming the bed by the window. Not because I want the view, but because it's farther from the door.
Coach Harper sets the box on the closest desk, eyes flicking over me with a furrowed brow like he’s been doing all weekend. “Viktor's ready to hunt Connor down for missing the wedding. Haven't seen him this pissed since Merci was attacked last semester.”
My chest tightens. My own team captain is holding me captive, and there's no one coming to save me. Not like they saved Merci.
Because you’re not one of them.
Haven’t mentioned anything to Kai either. Still can’t believe we’re at the same college. But what would I even say about my current situation?
He wanted to kill Knight for punching me at the frat party last year. Can’t imagine what he’d do to Connor.
No. I can't drag him into this. Kai saved me once, came running when—
I shake my head, not wanting that memory to take hold, and rub at the goosebumps breaking out on my arms. I'm stronger now. Supposed to be able to handle my own problems.
“Ryan?” Coach Harper's voice pulls me back. “You okay?”
I force myself to nod, but the movement feels wooden. “Yeah. Just tired.”
His jaw tightens. “You've been off since we got back. If something happened while we were gone, you can talk to me about it.”
Except my husband would actually kill me if I did.
Though at this point, death might be the better option. At least corpses don't have to share a room with him.
“Nothing happened.”
“I'll go grab the last box.” Coach stares at me, lips pressed into a tight line as if he’s trying to control his temper. “You sure you're okay? Nieminen and I could talk to housing, see if we can get you a single?”
“Everything’s fine.”
But it’s not.
Hasn’t been for a long time.
I let out a deep sigh the moment he leaves, dropping my backpack onto the bed. My stomach clenches as I open it, then pull out a notebook before retrieving the two photos hidden inside.
My eyes water at the first one. It’s my entire family. Mom's got powdered sugar on her nose. Dad's making bunny ears behind Sarah's head, his wedding ring catching the kitchen light. Sarah’s smile is so wide I can almost hear the way she always snorted when she laughed too hard. And there’s me at seven, holding the bear up like I just won the Stanley Cup.
What I wouldn’t give to see them in person. To hug them once more.
Tears run down my cheeks when I get to the second photo, my thumb tracing the edges. Sarah's arm is slung around my shoulders, both of us mid-laugh. Her mouth is open wide, probably telling one of those jokes where she'd forget the punchline halfway through but commit to it anyway.
They’re gone. And I’m still here, still breathing when all I ever wanted was to stop.
My stomach twists into knots, cold sweat slicking my palms. A drowning, hollow ache throbs beneath my ribs, reminding me of what I survived.
And what I didn’t.
