Page 91 of Riding the Pine

Another nod.

I strip out of my borrowed clothes, leaving on my boxers, and step into the water. Athena limps two steps toward me, and I pick her up. The fact she still trusts me when she’s this violated, vulnerable and exposed doesn’t escape my notice, and it’s not something I plan to push or take for granted.

Regular Athena would have powered through, found a way to make this bath possible without me, so as I sink into thesteaming, hot suds, a wave of relief and gratitude wash over me with the water.

I place her between my legs, her back against my chest and hold her while she trembles despite the heat.

I want to tell her she’s safe, I want to tell her I’ve got her, and no one can hurt her now, but everything that comes into my mind to say are all hollow platitudes that we both know won’t make her feel any better.

Somehow, I manage to clean her without hurting her. I take it painstakingly slow, cleaning any remaining dirt and streaks of blood from her body. Her hair was already combed at the hospital, so washing it is easier than I expected it to be, though I’m sure I’m doing it wrong.

After I rinse out her conditioner, she leans back against my body on a sigh. “A few more minutes,” she mumbles.

I’m so afraid to touch her in case it’s an unwanted touch, but I stroke her arm. “Take as long as you need, Athena. We’re in no hurry.”

By the time I dry her, get her boot back on, and put her in her most comfy, oversized pajamas, then re-dress myself in the sweater and scrub pants from the hospital, it’s eight am. I need to tell coach and the boys I won’t be at morning skate, but if Athena’s not ready to talk to them, I’ll have to lie.

It’s not even a choice; I won’t tell them something she doesn’t want them to know. I’ll absolutely lie to my best friends, but they’re a close family, it’s a matter of time before one of them arrives at her door for one reason or another.

“I need you to tell them.” It’s as though she’s reading my mind. She’s staring down at her cast, propped up in her bed by a wall of pillows against the headboard, and extra cushions on either side to keep her upright.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Bright Eyes.”

She tries to smile, but a hiss slips out of her mouth followed by a frustrated grunt. “I can’t tell them. I’m sorry.” Tears trickle down her face as I hold my hand up.

“I’ve got you. Do you want me to tell them right now?”

She nods, holding out her hand. “Phone.”

It clearly hurts for her to talk, so I hand her my phone to type on. I think hers may still be outside in my car, I’m not sure.

She types out a message to me:Send them a 9-1-1 text. It’s the only thing that’ll make them miss practice, or school. Well, not Ares, he’s always up for playing hooky.

The fact she’s still able to crack a joke is nothing short of miraculous to me, but it’s just another testament to how fucking strong she is.

“I’ll meet them out at the door and tell them in the other room, then bring them in here?”

She nods.

“Anything you want me to keep out of my narrative?”

She shakes her head, taking the phone back off me.They need to know, and I have no reason to hide it.

So fucking brave.

I ease onto the edge of the mattress, terrified of crowding her, or being too in her space. Uncertainty scrapes across my skin. I want to be here more than anywhere else in the entire world, but if it’s too much for her, if it makes her uncomfortable, I’ll go.

“I can leave when they get here if you’d rather.”

She reaches out to grab my hand, and when our eyes meet, she shakes her head, making the disheveled braid, that looks nothing like a braid because it’s my first time, hanging over her shoulder, shake. “Don’t leave me.” Her eyes plead with me, filled with a deep well of pain I want to reach out and somehow take away from her.

“I’ll stay, but if I’m too much, if I overstep, or you need space, please just say, okay?” Another torrent of emotion surges through my body as I struggle to swallow down the need to cry. I’m not going to breakdown in front of her. I won’t.

She nods, stroking my hand with her thumb as she jerks her swollen, black and blue chin at the phone in my hand.

It takes precisely six minutes for the front door of Athena’s apartment to swing open. At the five-minute mark, she ushered me into the other room so her brothers wouldn’t burst into her bedroom and see her without any preparation.

No one’s out of breath. If any of them ran the distance, I can’t tell.

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