"Derek." I dropped to my knees in front of him, taking his hands. "Look at me. Just look at me."
His eyes found mine, desperate and lost.
"Breathe with me," I said calmly, even though my heart was racing. "In for four. One, two, three, four. Hold for four. One, two, three, four. Out for four. One, two, three, four."
We breathed together, just like we'd practiced dozens of times. Slowly, gradually, his breathing evened out. The panic receded.
"That's it," I murmured. "You're okay. You're safe. I've got you."
When he could speak again, his first words were: "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not being strong enough. For freezing. For letting everyone down."
"You didn't let anyone down. You made a smart play. You helped us win."
"But I couldn't take the shot." His voice was anguished. "When it mattered most, I couldn't do it."
"So we work on it. We keep practicing. We keep pushing." I squeezed his hands. "Derek, recovery isn't linear. You're going to have good days and bad days. That doesn't make you weak."
He pulled me into his arms, holding on like I was the only thing keeping him anchored.
Behind us, I heard footsteps. Aaron, standing in the doorway, watching us.
Our eyes met over Derek's shoulder. And for the first time since Halloween, I saw something other than anger in his expression.
I saw understanding. And maybe, just maybe, the beginning of forgiveness.
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.
