Page 57 of Renegade Ruin

He lingers a second longer, and I’m just about to ask what happens now, when he sidesteps me and unlocks the door.

It’s like being doused with cold water.

Confusion laces my voice. “Where are you going?”

“I’m a man of my word. Which means if I want this to happen again, I’ve got a date with the team therapist.” He tugs the door open slowly to give me enough time to move out of the way.

“Wait.” I wrap my fingers around the door and stop him before he steps into what I hope is an empty hallway. I’m not exactly sure why I stopped him, but now I need to saysomething. So, I offer him a lifeline. “Would it help not to use the locker room for now?”

He tilts his head in confusion.

“You said earlier you struggle being in there because it reminds you of the past. What if I can have your things moved to another room that you can use as a makeshift changing room? That way there isn’t the constant reminder, and you can hopefully focus better.”

Bishop scrutinizes my words like he’s looking for the catch. “You’d do that for me?”

“I’m pretty sure I just fucked you to help. This is little more than a call to the groundskeeper.”

His mouth opens and closes again before settling on “thank you.”

I glance up at him and nod. “I know it seems impossible, but you were you before them. You will be you after them. You just need to give yourself a chance.”

He nods. “Can I come by tomorrow night after my appointment with the therapist?”

I hear the silent,I might need it after the sessionloud and clear.

“Yeah, I have a meeting at six, but I’ll be there.”

He nods again and slips from the room.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

BISHOP

Fuck the damn therapist.

There is plenty on my mind, none of which I want to talk about. Not why I chose not to speak during our first session. Not the way I stormed out of the team meeting yesterday. And absolutely not the round of mind-blowing sex I had with my team owner in the equipment room.

Not that Jolene asked about any of that. Instead, she’s only asked one question.

Why am I there?

Over and over for the last hour.

Jolene is young for a league therapist, maybe in her early thirties, but I’d guess even her late twenties. She’s a breath of fresh air compared to the crotchety old guy we had before who only cared to talk about stats and never actually did his damn job. And she’s the exact opposite of the therapist I saw before the crash. The one who told me she could no longer help me because I wasn’t the happy-go-lucky golden retriever I once was and believed I needed to see a trauma specialist. Which is what Jolene is hired specifically to help the team with the next three seasons as we adjust. She also made it very clear she isn’t goingto push me unless I push myself and has no problem telling Graham to put me on the injured reserve list.

At this point, I should just have a plaque added to the dugout to mark the spot where I’ll be parked on the bench all season.

There’s only five minutes left in my session, and yet again, we haven’t made any progress. Only this time, I’m more confused than when I entered the room.

I’ve given her every answer I can think of to the question. I’m here so Graham won’t bench me. I’m here because the league requires us each to have a baseline at the beginning of every season. I’m here so as soon as I leave, I can sink my cock into Willow’s perfect pussy and forget for a minute that we’ve been dealt a shit hand.

Okay, so I didn’t tell her that last one, but that doesn’t make it any less of a driving factor.

I know what Jolene wants from me. She wants me to admit I’m there to work through the bullshit of the last six months. Hell, the last year. But if I admit that out loud, then I have to follow through. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Especially not after everything I unloaded with Willow yesterday morning. Not to mention everything I learned from her.

“I’ll let you know when I get there.”

That’s what she said. Those eight words shattered the filter I’d unknowingly been viewing her through. Paired with all her actions—I’m a mess trying to reconcile it all. Fuck, she’s willing to give me my own locker room just so I won’t be in pain every time I walk into the stadium. And she’s not okay. She lost her father. I can’t even fathom what that feels like. Not that I’m currently speaking to my own, which is another can of worms I should explore in this therapy session. And yet, Willow is willing to let me fuck her senseless, not only so I can forget all these problems, but so she can too.

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