He sighed before he backed off and sat down beside me instead. “Did you hate me for it?”
“No, because it was valid.” I took a deep breath and looked out the window to murmur, “When my tennis coach in college told me that, though, I hated the statement. It meant no one would believe in me, and I’d have to believe in and trust myself over everyone else.”
“Mia …” He took my hand in his as he said, “I want the whole story.”
I nodded, realizing that I wanted to tell him it too, wanted him to understand that I was giving him all my trust and that he could do the same with me. “I started playing tennis young. And was good enough that my parents invested in my training through high school. We found this amazing coach. He came to family dinners, got close to all of us. And he was good, honestly.”
Jameson frowned like he didn’t know where the story was going but knew he wasn’t going to like it. He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles and cautiously said, “Continue.”
“I went to state in high school, they even thought I could potentially train for the Olympics … When I tore my MCL my freshman year in college, my parents were devastated. Family friends were in the tennis circles, we’d invested so much, and one bad move caused too many people to lose their faith and their hopes and their dreams. That coach, though …” I shook my head with a sad smile on my face. “He assured them. All pro bono, he’d be extra attentive, he knew all the tricks, he’d get mebetter than I was before. And I believed him. I trusted him. He’d coached me for years before he made a pass at me in the locker room with my cast still on.”
My breath shook as I inhaled, watching the flare of fire and reaction in Jameson’s eyes. “Mia.” His voice was low, not full of empathy but rage. “Darling Mia, I want his name.”
One tear rolled down my face. “You believe me so easily,” I whispered with a laugh. This man had only known me for a month but took my word as gospel in the way my parents never had. “I wish I knew you back then.”
“You know me now. Tell me his name.” His voice was soft like he wanted to coax the answer out of me gently.
Wiping away the tear and sitting up straighter, I told him, “The name doesn’t matter. The story does. My story.” I made sure to emphasize that. “The first time he made a pass at me, I brushed it off and tried to tell myself it was a one-off. And truly he didn’t try for a while again. But everything after, even his hand on the small of my back, felt wrong.”
“All of his touches were wrong if they felt wrong, Mia.” He said it so confidently, and his words acted like a balm to a wound.
“I know that now, but back then, I was confused. I wanted to trust him. He’d groomed me from a young age. When he tried again, touching me in places I knew I didn’t want, I was so distraught that I confided in my mother, but her disbelief sent me spiraling.” I shoved my curls and the thought of my former dark headspace away. “Looking back, I realize she did believe me. She bought me more conservative clothes and tried to stay by me more when he was around. I guess that was her way of protecting our reputation … and me.”
Jameson got up to pace the room, his energy almost palpable. He was a man of action, and the past didn’t allow him to be that here with me now. He sat down again, his blue eyes deep withrage as he looked at me. “What your mother did wasn’t good enough,” he growled. “She wasn’t protecting you; she was protecting her pride and reputation.Iwant a damn name.”
I patted his thigh, my heart cracking open and spilling more because I knew I could trust him to hear me, to believe me, to be there for me. “You would want a name, Jameson. But I don’t need you to do anything, okay? I probably needed it back then, but my parents weren’t people who rocked the boat, you know? My mother’s pride and desire to not create waves was worth more than my sanity.” I held up a hand to stop him from trying to comfort me, because I didn’t need it anymore. “I got better and better, Jameson. Made it to our division conference … and then tore it again.”
His eyes widened. “No.”
I shrugged. “Bad luck, I guess. That time, he told me I wasn’t ready after months of rehab. He said it over and over again. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready and shouldn’t listen to my gut. He knew best.” I shuddered at the memory of his voice saying it. “And the day I told him I didn’t care what he said, I was ready and I was going to listen to my gut, he tried to massage my thigh up, up, and up. And … I fired him on the spot.” I winced at the thought of that memory. “I got up and tried to hobble to the locker room door. It was locked.”
“The reason you hate being locked up …” He pinched the bridge of his nose as his jaw worked up and down like he was trying not to explode. “Jesus. I should have never cuffed you and—”
“Jameson …” I dragged a finger over his neck and to his chin to lift his face so he would meet my eyes. “You could tie me up as a hostage for days now and it wouldn’t scare me at all.”
I swear the blue in his eyes softened with my statement. “Your trust in me is devastating, Darling.”
“I think it’s warranted. I know you’d never hurt me.”
He pulled me into his lap and twisted one of my curls in his hand. “I’m going to try my damn hardest not to.”
I nodded. “And that’s all I want. People around me who will try, you know? I thought that’s who that coach was. He was a family friend. A pillar in our community … but he was a damn predator.”
“And he should get what he deserves because of it. Give me a name and—”
“Jameson, it’s not worth it. I was lucky that I stood my ground and screamed at him to let me out of the locker room. Another girl heard and banged on the door, and I got out before anything else happened.”
“Enough already had happened,” Jameson grumbled, and truly he was right. I was never the same after that.
“Maybe, but I found strength in walking away from him. Although, when I took on a lesser-known coach, it was like I spit in my parents’ faces.” I took a deep breath and told him the rest. “They stopped coming to matches. My community walked away from me and didn’t watch me compete in the finals. When I won, only my sister was in the crowd. I quit after that. I was ready to win and then ready to be done. To this day, my parents tell everyone I would’ve been better had I waited and continued with my first coach. I’d be an Olympian. It’s not true. I was ready. Iamready if I say I am, and I won’t ever not listen to my gut again. I know my worth, and I stand by it.”
“Darling Mia …” His tone slid over me like a security blanket and warmed my heart as he cupped my cheek softly in the palm of his hand. “Your worth is priceless, and so is the trust you have in yourself. Don’t ever let a fool tell you different.”
“You tried to when you hired me.” I poked his shoulder.
“And I was a fucking fool.” He leaned in, tilting his forehead against mine.
“I know.” I chuckled and then admitted to him what a bossprobably never wants to hear out of an employee. “People can be absolute fools in this world. It’s why I have a stupid complaint against me within the public school too. That same coach was hired by another parent in my town to help out this girl, Maisy. She confided in me about the coach, and I went off on her parents. Her dad said she and I must be lying. So, I might have lunged for him.”
