“No,” he says again, his face ashen, like he’s witnessing a nightmare all over again. I watch as he processes this — see him go from disbelief, to hurt, back to disbelief, and finally, anger. “He did this to you?”
I nod.
“He. . .you thinkheput us in the hospital?”
“I know he did.”
His eyes are still wide when he lets go of my hands and covers his face with them. He drags them down and shakes his head as he looks at me. “He was there, every day. At the hospital. He was talking to my agent about different things we could do. He spoke to my mother. . .”
“He fucked you out of those contracts,” I say. “Toronto? Boston? Jameson knows those coaches. Some of them were oncehiscoaches. I don’t know what he told them, but I know he’s at fault for this.”
Lach is still just staring at me.
“I really wish I’d let Marissa and Prescott talk to me about you” I whisper, looking down. “I could have told you. Or told them to tell you. I’m sure it crossed their minds, but they’re also scared. I could have. . .”
“Stop.” He grabs my hands again; his eyes are hard now. “None of this is your fault. I was a fucking idiot to blame you.” He brings my hands up and kisses them.
“Do you want me to keep going, or will it be too much for you?”
“Keep going.”
“My parents were having this party when I was fourteen,” I start. He stiffens. “Mom made punch. Jameson served me some and was around all night, which I didn’t think was too weird. He was my godfather and always looking after me.” I purse my lips at that. “The morning after that party, I woke up in my bed with my shirt pulled up to my neck, the skirt I was wearing, and no underwear. I was still wearing my socks, still had on my jewelry, and I was. . .” I clear my throat. “I was sore and had some dried blood between my legs.”
“Fuck,” he says, his voice so low I barely catch it, but the rage on his face is unmistakable.
“I genuinely didn’t know what happened. My friends hadn’t started having sex yet, so it’s not like we talked about what it was like. I didn’t really think anything of it,” I say. “I thought I must have been extra tired and passed out. Maybe I’d gotten my period or something. I was naive. Stupid.”
“No, you weren’t.” He brings a hand to cup my face. The look in his eyes breaks my heart. “You had no reason not to trust him.”
“It happened again like that. The third time, I was already suspicious. I poured out the soda he handed me and replaced it with another flavor. I wish I hadn’t, because that time, I remember.” I shiver. Lach’s eyes darken. “He knew that I knew since I was screaming and fighting him. He didn’t do it again after that, until the day of the accident.”
“We have to tell the cops,” he says quietly.
“And then Luke, I told him what happened. He’d been demanding to know what was wrong with me since I’d been acting differently. He wanted to know why I was suddenly wearing baggy clothes. He went to Jameson’s house and took a bat to Jameson’s car, punched him, and said he was going to the cops. . .” I look at our hands, focus on how much bigger his look against mine. “He’d been with me the night before and told me what he was going to do. I tried to talk him out of it, and he promised he wouldn’t go. He fucking promised. And the next day when he didn’t show up, I got worried, and then Prescott and I found him. . .”
“That’s why you’re sure it wasn’t suicide.”
My eyes snap to his. “His body was sitting upright on the chair. Half his fucking head was blown off, but his body was in a sitting position? Afterwards, Pres and I were on the lawn, taking turns vomiting and shaking while being questioned, and in the midst of police and detectives and news reporters, Jameson walked by smiling. He smiled at us.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. “I’ll never forget that smile. I’m sure Prescott won’t either.”
“That’s why Pres and Marissa won’t say anything or go to the police,” he says.
“Jameson’s cousin is the chief of police now, but even back then, he had major pull in the department. And Jameson has always been the golden boy.”
“Fucking bastard.” Lachlan’s jaw ticks. “He recruited me. He coached me for two years.”
“I know. And then he moved on and became the head of sports. Ofallsports.”
His eyes flash. “That’s why you quit.”
“I didn’t want to give him any more power over me. He started showing up at our practices, going into the locker room, when he thought I was alone. I knew he wasn’t going to stop.” I grit my teeth and wait a moment. “For reasons I can’t comprehend, and trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot, he thinks I belong to him.”
Lachlan, who was already angry, looks even angrier now. “You don’t.”
“I know I don’t,” I say quietly. “He knows it, as well. He wouldn’t have attacked you otherwise.”
“I told the team that you were my girlfriend before the game, and he was there,” he says. “I thought it was safe and I told them.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck.”
“It isn’t your fault.” I grab his chin the way he does mine all the time. “People had been talking about us since Marissa’s birthday, and he saw me at the game wearing your jersey. I’m sure he saw you watching me at that football game screaming like a lunatic.” I smile. Nothing can tarnish that memory. “You giving us a title probably pissed him off more, but he was going to do it anyway.”
