Page 84 of Cocky Player

Everything I wanted to say lodged in my throat and Gina glanced at me and cringed.

“She’ll be okay,” she said, and she knew I would be.Thank God for Gina.“It’s happened before.”

“The fuck?”His strong hands shoved into his hair again.

“Her therapist said it’s a protective way she used to stay sane during her…you know.”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered and his head dropped to stare at his sandals.

“Home,” I said and it sounded more like a croak.My throat hurt like I’d been screaming for hours and I cringed, rolled so I faced the wall.“Home.”

“Her mom,” I heard Gina say.“She wanted her home.”

Their voices traveled from underwater.Close but quiet, rumbly but so distant.I closed my eyes to ignore them.

Gina was right and she was wrong.I wanted my parents.Myhome.I wanted them to go away.And I definitely, would never befine.

Pretending otherwise was what had gotten me into this in the first place.

“Fuck.Fuck.She said home and I brought her here.”

“It’s okay.You stay with her.You don’t have to talk.But she won’t want to be alone either.And maybe don’t touch her until she moves first.I’ll go call her parents.”

“They don’t—”

Gina’s voice took on a strange tone.“Connor, they’ll be thankful you were with her.It’s happened before when she was alone.Give them some credit.”

He swore again and the room went silent.Outside my room, I heard Gina’s voice drift away.

I closed my eyes and tried to do the same, but when I did memories I’d long since tried to forget were bright as reality.I popped my eyes open and stared at my wall.Bright white walls were better than what I’d see if I closed them again.

“I’m here, angel,” Connor said.I heard something scrape against carpet.My chair, I guessed.“And I’m not going anywhere.You’re safe, and I’m so damn sorry.”

I was sorry too.

Sorry that I tried to be normal even when I now knew how impossible it was.

Fighting for freedom had been a mistake.

Perhaps the constraints of the safety I’d made of my life was better for me after all.

I woketo darkness and the press of warmth on my forehead.I peeled my eyes open.Gracious.Had I scrubbed them with sandpaper?They cracked as I opened them searching for light.Before they opened fully, I caught the scent of perfume.It was sweet, lilac and lavender and so very, very familiar to me.

“Mom?”I croaked.

“You’re okay.”It was her hand at my forehead holding a wet, warm cloth to it.“I’m here.”She gingerly took my hand and placed it on the washcloth.“Hold this, sweetie.I have some water for you.”

I blinked and my mom’s profile came into view.Was it just earlier I saw her at the practice, waving to me from my spot on the field before I met her and my dad in their box?She’d been wearing cream dress pants and a teal shirt, a long, silky bow tied at her neck and draping down.She wasn’t wearing that now and her makeup was gone.Hair pulled back at the sides and top and clipped at the back.She had on a long sleeve grey shirt, so simple but cute cut-outs for her thumbs.Black leggings.

“What time is it?”

“Shh.Don’t speak yet.”She held a cup with a straw close to my mouth and I took it, sipping down the cool liquid.“You’re okay and I’m here.Both your dad and I are.”

Dad.I’d wanted to talk to him earlier.Or was it yesterday?Ihatedthese moments when I lost time.The memories would return followed by the embarrassment.The rush of humiliation that it had happened again.When was the last time?Months.More than.My sophomore year of college when Gina had convinced me to go to a frat party at a nearby co-ed university.But the lights, the darkness, the press of bodies and the sweaty stench.

That wasn’t what happened this time.I felt it.It was different.

Almost something worse.

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