Page 13 of Redeeming the Villain

Am I …

Am I having … a panic attack?

Shit. I haven’t had one of these in years.

She’s not just bringing memories back; she’s unleashing the literal pain I’ve managed to keep beneath the surface.

Crashing through to the doors and into the crisp fall air, I inhale deeply and race down the steps, heading toward the first thing I see to keep me upright.

Bracing my hands on the rough bark of the great oak, I squeeze my eyes shut as my mind works through the muscle memory of what to do. The same muscle memory my mind created from having countless attacks before.

Inhale for five. Exhale for ten.

Over and over.

I repeat it until my breathing begins to slow and I can feel myself finally gaining control again.

My phone rings in my pocket, granting me a much-needed distraction from the shadows in my mind.

Coach Darius Sherwood.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice cracking and shaky as I settle the phone against my ear.

“Are you all right?” His question is twisted with worry.

He may have only been my hockey coach, but he became much more than that when he found out I was sleeping in my car outside of the arena at night during my senior year. He and his wife opened their home to me without a thought. The only parental figures I’ve ever been able to look up to. I owe them everything.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just a … moment.” I brush it off. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in. You’ve been quiet the last week, and I wanted to see how you were doing. From what I can tell from our talk so far, I can tell you’re not great.” He chuckles softly, concern still evident in his tone.

Lifting my head up, I turn around and rest my back against the tree. “No, no. I am fine. Really.”

“Malik,” he sighs. “You know you don’t always have to keep the world shut out. What’s going on? Classes okay? Hockey? Need more money?”

“No,” I snap, instantly regretting the sharpness of my response. I just hate taking their money. Not after everything they’ve done for me. “That’s all going fine,” I continue.

The door of the music building swinging open draws my attention. Someone walks through, but it’s not her.

“So, what’snotfine?” he pushes.

“You remember …” I trail off, debating whether or not to keep going.

“Malik, what’s got you all up in a twist, huh? Just talk to me.” Darius’s comforting voice hums into my ear, a stark difference to his coaching voice that I used to know.

Darius is the reason I even graduated high school. The reason I had a roof over my head the second half of my senior year. The reason I have a scholarship to this school. He submitted the application on my behalf and surprised me with the acceptance letter.

I didn’t think I would get anywhere in life. And I don’t think I would have without him and Alicia.

So, the least I can do is give him a real answer.

“Alora Briarwood.” I mutter her name, and as if by magic, she appears through the doors of the music hall, pausing on the top of the stairs as she focuses on her phone.

“Oh.” He exhales heavily, instantly remembering. “Got it.”

“Yeah …” I trail off, uncertain of what to say next.

As if she can feel my gaze, she lifts her head, her eyes locking on to mine immediately, causing shivers to wrap around my spine.

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