Page 30 of Chasing The Goal
She closed her eyes again, still pale. “God, this is mortifying.”
“Stop. You’re human. It happens.”
“Not to me. I’m supposed to be the one patching you guys up, not... hurling in the bathroom.”
I cracked a smile. “We’ve all done worse in this building.”
“I doubt that.”
“I once threw up in my own glove after a night of vodka and poor decisions.”
Mallory snorted softly, which I took as a win.
“I just want to disappear,” she muttered.
“You’re not going anywhere like this.” I eased a hand under her elbow. “C’mon. Let me help.”
She nodded, reluctant but too tired to argue. I braced her as she stood, keeping my arm steady around her back as she leaned against me.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she mumbled. “Locker rooms are that way.”
“I don’t give a shit right now,” I said. “You scared the hell out of me.”
That shut her up.
We walked slowly, my pace matching hers. The hallway outside was empty, the arena finally settling into its post-game quiet. I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, noting every tremble, every grimace. She hated being seen like this—I could feel it radiating off her.
But I wasn’t going anywhere.
Outside, the chill of the night air wrapped around us like a slap. I shifted my bag so I could unlock the truck with one hand.
“I’ll take you home,” I said.
“Jaymie, you don’t have to—”
“Stop. I want to. We live in the same building and work in the same building. It's no big deal.”
She didn’t argue again. We walked out to the player parking area and I helped her get up into my SUV. She had never seemed so small until now. While muscular and confiedent, she was still petite with a gentil slope to her nose. Inside the vehicle, she curled into the passenger seat, hands folded tightly in her lap. Quickly getting into the drivers side, we pulled away from the lot.
I glanced at her at a red light and saw her jaw clench.
“You’re allowed to lean on someone,” I said softly.
“I know.”
"Do you want to talk about it?" I barely put together, "or with your sister?"
"No, I just want to go to bed."
"One bed, coming up, shortly." We were about five minutes from our building and the ride seemed to take an eternity.
Mallory
Jaymie parked in hisusual spot in the garage—same crooked angle, same crooked grin, as he killed the engine and glanced over at me.
“You sure you’re okay to walk?” he asked, hands still on the wheel like he didn’t fully trust me not to collapse in the ten steps it would take to get inside.
“I’m fine,” I said, softer than I meant to.
