Afterward, I stare at the door to the arena, trying to figure out the best way to handle this. When the answer doesn’t immediately come, I shake my head. Nothing to do except push forward.
I weave my way through the halls and park my ass in Joey’s office.
Her purse and computer are here.
She’s not leaving without them.
There’s a knock, and I look up, see Tera standing in the cracked door. “She okay?”
My brows drag together.
“Joey,” she murmurs, gaze sliding around the room before she shifts inside. “I know she just coached a hell of a game, but talking about what happened to her with the D.A. and detective this morning couldn’t have been easy.”
Alarm bells blare and I’m barely able to hear Tera’s next words.
“Deciding to press charges and then going right back to work”—Tera shakes her head—“I’m in awe of her strength.”
Joey is pressing charges?
She talked to the fucking detective and district attorney this morning?
Without me at her side, making sure?—
“So, anyway,” Tera finishes, “I just wanted to make sure she was fine.”
Fine.
Fine.
Everyone’s checking in to make sure she’s fine.
After she blew up her life and put herself back in Hiller’s crosshairs.
My anger ramps.
I’m going to fucking throttle her.
What the hell is she thinking?
Still, Tera’s waiting for an answer, so I rasp out, “She’s fine.” And no, the irony of that lie is not lost on me.
Tera’s gaze connects with mine. Then she exhales. “But you’re not.”
I exhale silently, clench my hands into fists. “I’ll deal.”
She studies me, as though trying to decide if that’s truth or fiction, but all she says is, “You’ll let me know if that changes?”
I nod tersely.
Then, thank fuck, she leaves.
And I’m left to stew for the next hour before Joey pushes into her office, her lips parting in surprise. “Damon,” she whispers, worry gathering on her face.
I stalk toward her, watching the concern bloom in her eyes. “What the fuck, Red?”
She backs up. “Why are you here?”
“I asked,what the fuck?” I growl.
