Page 225 of Pucking Around

“Good. Now, everyone get out of here. We’re back at it bright and early. Well…except for you, Price,” he adds at me. “While the suspension is in place, you’ll need to hand over your ID and keycards. You’re banned from access to the team until further notice.”

I give him a stiff nod. “Yes, sir.”

Operating on autopilot, I sling my backpack around to my front and open the smallest pocket. With shaking hands, I pull out my lanyard that contains my Rays ID and door access keys. Stepping forward, I hand the entire lanyard over to Vicki.

She accepts it wordlessly, tears brimming in her eyes.

Not waiting to see if the guys follow me, I walk right out the door of the locker room and don’t look back.

98

“She still in the bathroom d’you think?” Jake whispers, coming to stand in my doorway.

He’s been an anxious mess since we got home. It’s understandable. We’re all a mess. Rachel was practically a zombie as we got her out of the arena. And then she made the excuse about needing to use the bathroom as soon as we got home and disappeared into her room, shutting the door behind her.

That was an hour ago.

“I very much doubt it,” I mutter, turning my attention back to my laptop. Her room is right across from mine, so I’ve been casually camped out at my desk, pretending to be on my computer, just waiting for any signs of life behind her closed door.

Usually, when she’s in there, she’s cranking music or talking to Tess or her brother on the phone. Now she’s silent as a mouse.

“We should check on her,” Jake says.

“If you want,” I say with a shrug.

He leaps across the hall, knocking on her door. “Babe? Can I come in?”

When she doesn’t respond, he glances over his shoulder at me. Then he drops his hand down to the handle and gives it a wiggle. She didn’t lock it. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or not, but Jake swings it open.

“Hey, baby—what—Seattle, what are you doing?” he cries, disappearing into her room.

I launch from my desk chair, stumbling across the hall into her room. I step around Jake to see Rachel moving from the dresser back to her bed, stacking clothes inside an open suitcase. My heart drops out of my fucking chest. “Hurricane…”

“Baby,no,” Jake cries. “What are you doing?” He crosses the room, snapping the lid of her suitcase closed before she can drop another pile of clothes inside. “Rachel, stop!”

“Jake,” she sighs, tears streaming down her face. “Please, don’t do this—”

“Don’t dowhat?” he cries. “Let the love of my fucking life pack a bag to leave me?”

“I can’t stay here,” she pants, tossing the pile into the other suitcase instead.

“What the hell are you talking about? Youlivehere!”

“How can I keep living here? I don’t have a job. I don’t have a reference. I can’t even return to Cincinnati, because Doctor Halla already gave my spot away for the year.”

She keeps packing as she talks, rushing into her ensuite bathroom. “I can’t stay here and ruin all your lives. I can’t drag you further down into my mess. I can’t make this any worse—god, I make everything fucking worse. You all deserve so much better. I don’t know what I was thinking, risking your jobs, your reputations—I can’t—I don’t—ohgod—”

She drops the bag of toiletries to the floor, sinking onto the end of the bed between her two half-packed suitcases, burying her face in her hands.

“Mars, get the fuck in here!” Jake shouts before dropping to his knees at Rachel’s feet, his hands wrapping around her wrists as he starts murmuring softly to her. “Please, don’t do this, baby girl. Don’t lose hope. Don’t give up on us—on the Rays. This is a mess, but we’ll sort it out. Together, we’ll figure it out—”

She shakes her head. “No, Coach was right. I’ve been running around, making all these decisions, hurting everyone I come into contact with, jeopardizing everything. You’ve worked so hard to build all this, Jake,” she says, gesturing around. “I can’t be the one to tear it down.”

Jake looks around, incredulous. “What—this fucking house?I’lltear it down. I don’t give a fuck about this house, Rachel. I care about thepeoplein it. You and Cay and Mars and the dog—and yes, I really love my coffee maker—shit, and my home gym,” he adds. “But I can get a new coffee maker,” he says quickly. “I can’t get a newyou.”

Mars steps into the room behind me, looking sharply around. “No,” he says tonelessly.

Rachel looks up, seeing him standing there. “Ilmari,” she sighs, shaking her head.

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