Page 6 of Don't Leave
Even though I hate talking about what happened, maybe he deserves to know how it all unfolded. He’s the only one who helped me the entire semester I spent at Dartmouth. It’s a harsh truth my mind continues to shy away from.
As I stare into his eyes, I realize it might be cathartic for both of us. For me to release the words and for him to hear them. Unsure what else to do, I start at the beginning and tell him whatit was like to play hockey growing up and how my dad mapped out my high school and college athletic career. I talk about the pressure to push through to the next level and how I’d given everything else up—including a social life—so I could focus on getting a scholarship to play at Dartmouth.
My life consisted of extra practices, a strict workout schedule and diet, private skating lessons as well as advanced placement classes that would make me academically competitive. I may not have been an Olympian or professional athlete, but I trained like one.
By the time I started my freshman year in mid-August, I was a stressed out and burned-out mess. And it was all downhill from there. Without my dad there to structure my time and activities, I felt strangely lost. Almost from day one, I found myself buried under an avalanche of coursework. Instead of excelling, I was failing across the board and drowning in a sea of unknown faces.
Rather than seek out help, I fell into a pattern of binge drinking and hooking up with random guys to numb the pain and forget about the issues I was struggling with. It’s what eventually led to the disastrous night Luke found me up in that bedroom at a house party. Even thinking about it is enough to have a shiver snaking down my spine.
I’d been fooling around with a guy, and we’d been on the verge of having sex when two others walked in. They’d wanted to watch. Uncomfortable with the idea, I’d tried to leave but they wouldn’t let me go. They’d held me down and even though I’d been drunk, I knew how the night was going to end. That’s when Luke burst in and found me.
The entire time I talk, he holds my hand, squeezing it every once in a while when there’s something particularly painful as if he wants me to understand I’m no longer alone. His gaze neverreleases mine. Even when I wish the blue-gray depths would stray, his penetrating gaze stays locked on mine.
When I finally purge it from my system, I sit back in my chair, emotionally exhausted. Strangely enough, it also feels as if a few more of the shackles the bind me to the past have fallen away.
The hand clasping mine rises before stroking over my cheek. I still, frozen in place by the tender slide of his fingers and the unexpected shiver that races across my flesh. More bizarre is that there isn’t the normal spike of fear or anxiety to grip me, sending my senses into a tailspin.
I gulp. It’s something else entirely and that frightens me more than anything else. It doesn’t make sense that someone other than Cole could have penetrated the thick, protective armor I’ve shielded myself with ever since that night.
“I’m relieved that you’re okay.” As his fingers glide over my skin, it barely feels as if I’m drawing in breath. “I don’t know how we both ended up at Western, but I’m glad we did. Now we have an opportunity to get to know each other.”
In the back of my brain, I realize I shouldn’t allow him to touch me so intimately but there’s this strange bond connecting us in a way I couldn’t have imagined. It’s what prompts me to lean back until his hand is forced to fall back to the table.
As much as I want to glance away and break the link, I can’t.
This is starting to feel…
I shake my head to dislodge the uncomfortable thought before it can take root inside me and do permanent damage.
“I’m with Cole,” I blurt. As soon as the words escape, I feel like an idiot. Heat crawls over my cheeks. He hadn’t exactly been flirting. But his touch and the way he’d been staring had felt uncomfortably intimate.
I’m no longer used to allowing people in so easily.
For the last ten and a half months, I’ve worked hard to keep everyone at a distance. It’s disconcerting to feel so at ease in Luke’s presence.
Instead of making light of my outburst, his voice dips. “I know.”
The way he watches me only strengthens my suspicions that I haven’t misinterpreted the vibes he’s putting out there.
They’re real.
Silence falls over us before he breaks it. “I wish you weren’t.”
When he rips his gaze from mine, everything within me collapses.
Barely do I inhale a shaky breath before his gaze locks on mine again. “I can’t explain it and I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel protective of you.”
As soon as the unwelcome thrill slides through me, I snuff it out. Even though I don’t fully understand what’s happening here, it feels like I’m betraying Cole. I lean away from the table to put some distance between us.
“I’m much better now. There’s no reason to worry about me.”
“As weird as it sounds, I’ve thought about you so many times over the last year. I had no idea where you were or what happened to you. Now that you’re here and I know that you’re all right, I’m not sure if I can just turn it off.”
His brow furrows and for a moment, he looks as confused as I feel.
I bite my lower lip before blurting, “Have you been following me?”
When his eyes widen, embarrassment surges inside and I feel ridiculous for even asking the question. Of course he’s not. Why would he?
