I shake my head and take a tentative step inside as I hold out the bottle toward him. “You left these in the kitchen.”
He looks at the little white bottle in my hand and his eyes grow wide. “My pain medication? I’ve been looking everywhere for that! I had to get a new script.”
“Well, here you go,” I say as he stands and comes around his desk to take them from me. His brown eyes narrow. “You’ve had these since Friday morning? And you didn’t get them to me sooner?”
“I got called into that deposition with Mr. Archer on Friday. It took all afternoon and it was off-site,” I explain, suddenly feeling defensive because he’s looking at me like I’m some kind of criminal. “Sorry. Anyway, I’m glad you could get it refilled, and now you have extra.”
He takes the bottle from me and mutters a very ungrateful “Thanks.”
I beeline it out of his office only to find Maddie standing at my desk looking more unraveled than I feel. Her big brown eyes are pained and her full, usually upturned mouth is set in a tight line. I feel my heart skitter with fear inside my chest. My steps slow as I approach her. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes dart left and right and she crosses in front of my desk so she’s right next to me, her voice barely a whisper. “I think you need to go home. Use a sick day.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” I repeat, my voice jumping up and down in octaves with every word.
“I’ll walk you out, and I’ll tell Mr. Archer you’re sick and had to leave. Grab your bag,” she orders calmly, but I feel like there’s something heavy sitting on my shoulders, like a baby grand piano or an elephant, and I can’t seem to move. She takes my arm and tries to tug me, her eyes wide and pleading now, almost panicked. “Please, Steph. You want to go home. I promise.”
“Is it Seb?” I ask, and I suddenly hate myself for not memorizing this year’s Winterhawks schedule. I used to know every day he was on the ice. But today is a Monday. Why would he have a day game on a Monday? They don’t play day games in the middle of the week. Did something happen to him off the ice? Is it Avery? Is it…
“Steph.” She says my name sharply, but not angrily. “Everyone is fine, but you need to go home.”
“Stephanie, I need you to…” Mr. Archer is in his door, which I swear was closed a minute ago. “Is everything all right?”
“She isn’t feeling well, Mr. Archer,” Maddie lies, and this time when she gently tugs my arm it unroots me from my spot and I step toward my desk. Maddie opens my drawer and takes out my purse. “I was going to drive her home because, you know, the scooter probably isn’t a good idea when she’s feeling ill.”
“Oh. Okay,” Mr. Archer says. He looks sympathetic as he gives me a small smile. “Feel better, Steph. Send me a quick text if you won’t be able to make it in tomorrow.”
I nod wordlessly and follow Maddie to the elevator. We get in with a few other people and ride in silence to the parking garage. Once there, Maddie turns to me. “The media is saying stuff about you. It’s not nice.”
“What?” I shake my head. “What are you talking about? Why would the media be talking about me? What media?”
“It started on sports sites and then grew and now a whole bunch of places are reporting about it.” Maddie bites her lip and takes my hand in hers again. “Steph, do you…did you have some issues when you were younger?”
That elephant is suddenly back on my shoulders with a grand piano and a compact car. My whole body feels like it’s being crushed into the ground. And my heart has somehow slipped from my chest to the bottom of my shoes and it’s being ground into oblivion under the pressure.
“I…” I swallow, but my mouth is dry and it’s painful. “I’m fine now. I’ve been fine for a long time.”
“I know.” Maddie’s face twists in sympathy. “I live with you. I know. I just…you never mentioned you used to…have issues.”
“It was a long time ago,” I reply hoarsely, and stare at the cracked pavement between us before looking up at her again. “The media says I’m not recovered?”
“No. I mean not anything I’ve read, but I guess…” She pauses and pulls me into a hug. “They’re still making it look bad. Like you’re a criminal or something, and I guess they asked Avery about it at a press thing today. Ty said he was blindsided.”
Her comforting gesture just feels like more suffocating weight, so I gently squirm free. “Oh, my God, they did WHAT?”
“You didn’t tell him about this?” Maddie asks; there’s judgment in her words. It’s soft and ever so slight, but it’s there.
“I was going to, but I didn’t…” I struggle to take a deep breath. “I was going to tonight. I just…I don’t tell people. It’s my past. I’m not that girl anymore.”
“Okay. Okay.” Maddie tries to hug me again, but I dodge it and start toward the exit. She scurries after me, our heels echoing in the cavernous concrete structure. “Let me take you home. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”
“It won’t.” I shake my head and feel heat climb my neck and face and create hot tears that I wipe before they can fall. “I was going to tell him but I didn’t, and now it’s going to wreck everything.”
“No. It won’t,” Maddie insists. “Let’s get you home. You can call him there.”
On the drive home I turn on my phone, which I had turned off like I try to do every day. It lights up with a voice mail notification. I quickly listen to it. It’s Sebastian.
His message is in French. He says he loves me. It’s going to be fine. He will make sure it’s fine and he loves me and wants me to call him immediately. I check my text messages. Nothing from Avery. That makes me feel nauseated.
