Rough and Tumble

by Shae Connor

  “I think Rich is stalking him.”

  The words burst out of me like gunshots, and I wish for a second I could take them back, but when I glance up at Coach’s face, the mix of concern and anger I see there eases something inside me—probably because it matches how I feel.

  “Okay.” Coach moves around to sit behind the desk then, grabbing a pen and pad of paper as he goes. “Start from the beginning.”

  I blow out a long breath. “Rich started calling him right after classes started, apparently. I didn’t find out until last week. Darryn’s been rejecting the calls, but…”

  I can’t give voice to my fear—I’m afraid Rich might escalate, might show up at our door—but Coach seems to understand. He scribbles something on the pad of paper in front of him. “How often is he calling?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him. “I don’t actually know if he’s still calling. I got Darryn to let me block the number after he called at least four times in one day.”

  Coach writes down something else. “And that was when?”

  “Last Thursday.” I dry my damp palms on my thighs. “I’ve been trying to get Darryn to report it to someone, the school or at least his parents, but I can’t force him. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Coach nails me with a look. “You don’t need to do anything else. Let Coach Sato and me handle this.” He holds up a hand to stop me before I can interrupt. “I know you want to help, and I know you’re hoping to be where we are someday. But you aren’t there yet, and he needs you to be his friend right now. Not his coach.”

  I know it’s the truth. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. “Whatever you need me to do…”

  “Just be there for him.” Coach eyes me for a moment. “For the record, I know there’s more than friendship going on there.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised, but a shockwave runs through me. “We aren’t—”

  He holds up a hand again. “I don’t need details. Your personal life is yours, unless you give us a reason to be concerned.” He leans back in his chair. “I know the way it’s happening for Darryn is far from ideal, but coming out isn’t what it used to be, and gymnastics isn’t football. I doubt it’ll make a difference to anyone, and I don’t think there’s any need for a big announcement. It’s up to you what you want to do.”

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants legs. “I want to be who I am,” I tell him. “And I want to be there for Darryn. Whatever that means for him.”

  Coach nods. “We’ll support you in whatever you decide.” He rocks forward, folding his hands on the desktop in front of him. “In the meantime, let us deal with Darryn. We’ll make sure he gets any help he needs. And not only for the good of the team. Yes, we have a vested interest, but we actually do care about him as a person, not just as a gymnast.”

  “Yeah.” I wipe my hands again. “I just want him to be okay, you know?”

  “We all do. We’ll get him there.” Coach almost smiles. “I’d tell you not to worry, but that would be a waste of breath.”

  I huff out a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

  Coach waves a hand. “Get out of here. Go be a student for a while.”

  I push to my feet and give him a mock salute. “Yes, sir!”

  He rolls his eyes, and I grin as I hike my backpack onto my shoulder before heading out.

  …

  When I step outside, I shiver. The sun’s nearly gone, and between the sharp chill in the air and the clouds gathering overhead, I guess we’re in for some cold February rain—or maybe even a few snow flurries. I hook my free arm through the other strap of my backpack so I can shove both hands into the pockets of my hoodie as I head across campus.

  As I walk, I try to mentally prepare for the conversation Darryn and I need to have. I know it won’t be easy, but we need to work things out. I want us to work things out. And not only because of my feelings for him. I want us to be friends again, like we were before everything happened.

  And if something more is possible, then I’ll count myself lucky.

  Halfway back to the dorm, the first few raindrops hit my face, and I pick up my pace, hoping to avoid getting soaked. I’m almost jogging when I hit the edge of the quad, and over in front of the admin building, in the harsh yellow light of a streetlight, I see Darryn approaching from the other direction. I’m pretty attuned to him by now, of course, but even if I wasn’t sure, the rolling backpack behind him would be a dead giveaway.

  Screw the rain. I change my trajectory to intercept him along the way. Maybe I can convince him to head off campus for dinner—talk things out away from the scene of the crime.

  Before I go more than a few yards toward him, though, a car pulls up at the curb next to him and someone jumps out and jogs around the front end. Between the darkening sky and the distance, I can’t tell who it is, but when he grabs Darryn by the arm, I figure it out in a hurry and take off running.

  “Hey!” My shout sounds hollow to my ears, though that could be because my pounding heartbeat drowns out everything else. “Let him go!”

  In my periphery, I see heads turn in my direction, but in a flash, Rich has Darryn shoved into the car and slams the door behind him. I’m still a good fifty feet away when Rich dives into the driver’s seat and takes off, the back tires fishtailing on the freshly wet pavement.

  “Fuck!” I keep running until I pull to a stop next to where Darryn’s backpack still sits on the sidewalk. “Shit. Shit.”

  I fumble for my cell phone and dial 911 while I try to catch my breath, ignoring the now-steady rainfall. Other people gather around me, and I’m sure some of them are trying to talk to me, but I turn away and plug my other ear with my free hand so I can hear when the call is answered.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “Kidnapping,” I bark out. “My best friend’s ex grabbed him off the sidewalk and took off with him.”

  Keys clatter down the line. “Where are you, sir?”

  “University of Atlanta. On campus, I’m right in front of the admin building, across from the dorm quad.”

  “All right, sir. I’m dispatching someone now. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

  I take in as deep a breath as I can manage and give her the basics: Darryn’s name, Rich’s name, the fact that they split up last fall, and what I saw. “There are other people around, too.” I tell her. “They’ll back me up.”

  I glance up then, and two faces stand out. Annie and Mo have shoved their way past the gathering crowd, and they’re standing right in front of me. Annie holds out a hand, and I grab it, squeezing tight. I glance at Mo.

  “Go get Coach Everson,” I tell her. “I just talked to him. He needs to know about this.”

  She’s gone in a flash, and I try to focus on the dispatcher’s calm voice and my grip on Annie’s hand. They’re the only things keeping me from breaking apart.

  I hear sirens sooner than expected, though it still feels like forever. A police car turns into the campus entrance and comes to a stop nearby.

  “They’re here,” I tell the dispatcher before ending the call. I shove my phone into my pocket, but I don’t let go of Annie’s hand as the officers approach.

  “We have a report of a kidnapping?”

  “Yeah…yes.” I’m trembling, but I manage a nod. “My roommate, Darryn. He was walking back to the dorm when his ex grabbed him and took off with him.”

  The officer lifts an eyebrow. “You sure he didn’t go with him willingly?”

  I open my mouth to blast him, but Annie squeezes my hand, which pulls me back from the edge, if only an inch. “Yes, I’m sure,” I bite out. “He grabbed Darryn and shoved him into the car. I saw it. And this is Darryn’s backpack.” I point to it, my hand shaking. “Don’t you think he would’ve taken that if he’d wanted to go with him?”

  The officer backs off, glancing behind him
at his partner. “Bishop, collect the backpack as evidence.” He pulls out a notebook. “Okay. Start at the beginning and tell me the story.”

  A cold sort of calm comes over me as I give the shortest summary of this entire clusterfuck that I can manage. Darryn and Rich dating, Rich turning possessive, then getting physical. Darryn’s injuries and Rich’s arrest. The recent repeated phone calls and texts.

  I’m finishing up when running footsteps approach, and I turn to see Coach Everson arriving. “Grant,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  And just like that, everything comes slamming back into me, and it’s all I can do to keep my knees from buckling. “Rich kidnapped Darryn,” I tell him. Oh God, Rich has him, and I can’t even think about what he plans to do with Darryn. “I don’t know… I called the police, but I don’t…”

  Coach Everson slides his hand down to my elbow, silently bracing me. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and as I suck in a ragged breath, he turns his attention to the officer. “Officer…” He squints at the man’s nametag. “Johnston. I’m Barry Everson, Grant and Darryn’s gymnastics coach. I know the backstory here, and if Grant here says someone took Darryn against his will, then that’s what happened.”

  The officer nods and turns back to his partner again. “Bishop, call for backup.” He faces me again. “All right. Let’s start with a description of the car.”

  …

  Two hours later, I’m sitting at one end of a strangely uncomfortable sofa in, of all places, the office of the university president. The man himself is out of town at the moment, but the provost set Annie and me up there to wait for word. A television behind the desk is playing a basketball game, volume set low, not that either of us is paying it any attention. Someone even brought us sandwiches and bottles of water, though I couldn’t manage to eat more than a couple of bites.

  I can’t sit still, either. I’ve been up and down more times than I can count, pacing the length of the room and back until Annie forces me to sit again. It never lasts. I can’t stop the images playing like scenes from a horror movie through my mind. Darryn, tied to a chair, eyes wide with terror. Bruises and cuts marring his handsome face. Rich ripping at his clothes…

  That image sends bile rising in my throat. “Dammit!” I stop in the middle of the floor and dig both hands into my hair. “Why is this taking so long?”

  Annie sighs. “I’m sure we’ll hear something soon,” she says, for what’s probably the fifth time. “Rich is a garden-variety asshole, not a supervillain, and this isn’t some action movie where the bad guy has a secret lair in the catacombs under the city. They’ll find him, he’ll go to jail, and Darryn will be fine.”

  I cross back to flop onto the sofa next to her. “He will. I know he will. It’s the waiting that’s killing me.”

  Annie reaches out to squeeze my trembling hand. “You’ll be fine, too.”

  The logical part of my brain knows she’s almost certainly right. The rest of me, not so much.

  I stare in the direction of the television, not registering anything that’s going on other than players moving around on the court. I don’t even know who’s playing. I can only sit and try to keep breathing.

  My phone rings, and I jump forward to grab it from where it sits on the table in front of me. My heart jumps back to life in my chest when I see Darryn’s picture.

  I swipe to answer. “Darryn?”

  “Hey.” He sounds exhausted, but his voice is steady. “I called the cops. They got Rich.”

  “Oh, thank God.” I’m on my feet and pacing again, even though my whole body is shaking. “Where are you?”

  “In the back of a black and white, on my way to the hospital again.” There’s a hint of humor in his voice, and that more than anything else allows me to relax by an inch.

  I stop pacing and turn to meet Annie’s gaze. “We’ll meet you there,” I promise him. “Should I… Did someone call your parents?”

  “The cops are doing that already,” he tells me. “They’re on the way, too.”

  The door to the hallway opens, and I spin around again as Coach Everson steps inside. Our gazes meet, and he gives a small smile.

  “Darryn called in,” he tells us.

  “I know,” I reply, pointing at the phone. “I’m on with him right now.”

  His smile shows the same relief I’m feeling. I glance back at Annie, and she’s rolling her eyes at me, but she’s smiling, too.

  Relief washes over me like a blessing. “We’re heading to the hospital now,” I tell all three of them.

  “I’ll see you there,” Darryn replies.

  …

  I could’ve done without ever coming back to this emergency room, but considering Darryn’s preexisting injuries, I’m glad he’d played it safe and let the police take him in to be checked over. I follow Coach Everson toward the desk, where he gives his name and Darryn’s. The nurse says something I don’t hear, and Coach turns back to me.

  “They’ll let his parents know we’re here.” He waves toward the nearby row of chairs. “Have a seat.”

  I do as I’m told, though I’m still so antsy that I can’t keep my legs from bouncing like they’re on springs. I try deep breathing. It doesn’t help anything.

  I won’t be able to settle down until I can see for myself that Darryn is okay.

  Under the white noise of the mechanical beeping, soft footsteps, and distant chatter surrounding us, I hear a low buzzing, and Coach pulls his phone out of his pocket. He taps the screen a few times and then glances my way.

  “They’ve booked Rich. He’ll probably be charged with kidnapping and assault. On top of what happened last fall, I’d say the charges are likely to stick.”

  I nod quickly, but I don’t feel any sense of relief. Even with Rich behind bars, Darryn’s still going to have to deal with what the bastard’s done this time. I hate that it might mean a setback in his recovery—physically and mentally.

  “Mr. Everson. Grant.”

  I jerk my head up and my gaze lands on Mr. Kaneko, who’s standing to the side of the nurse’s desk. I’m on my feet before I realize I’m moving. Coach stands alongside me.

  Mr. Kaneko’s face is tight, mouth drawn down, and his shoulders are slumped, but he gives us the tiniest of smiles. “Darryn’s doing all right, if you’d like to see him now.”

  I practically leap to his side as he turns and heads down the hallway. He stops at the third curtained area and holds the hanging fabric back with one hand. “One at a time, and not for long. He’s exhausted.”

  I nod and look at Coach, who motions me forward. I step past Mr. Kaneko and into the small enclosure. The lights are dimmed, but not so much that I can’t see Mrs. Kaneko sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed on the other side. She doesn’t smile, but she gives me a nod, which I return before I run my gaze over Darryn. The sling on his injured arm is back, and there’s a stark red mark on his right cheek that I’d bet was made by a fist.

  Rage wells up in my chest—at that moment, I want to rip off Rich’s head and piss down his neck. I force the urge away and walk over to the side of the bed. Darryn needs a calm, supportive friend, not a raging maniac.

  “Hey, D.”

  He almost smiles. “Hey, G.”

  I slide my hand over his forearm, above the new brace on his wrist. “We gotta quit meeting like this.”

  Darryn laughs and then winces. “Oh man. Don’t make me laugh.” He nods. “Bruised ribs.”

  I blow out a breath through my nose, and Darryn must read my anger, because he’s quick to reassure me. “I’m fine. Well…I’ll be fine.” He wiggles the fingers sticking out of the sling. “This thing is a precaution. I have a bruise on my ribs and I’ll probably have one on my cheek, but nothing serious.”

  My eyes fall shut. “I’m sorry. I tried to get to you…”

  �
��It’s not your fault.” Darryn slides his arm out from under my hand to tangle his fingers with mine instead. My heart beats faster at the affectionate gesture, but I try not to read too much into it. He probably needs the comfort right now.

  “They told me you called in the cavalry, man.” He lets loose a wicked grin. “If you could’ve seen the look on Rich’s face when the police knocked on his door. I swear he thought he’d just convinced me to go out with him again, that he could take me back to campus and everything would be absolutely fine. He never even thought to check to see if I had my phone on me.”

  I snort and roll my eyes. “He’s not all that bright, is he?”

  “Understatement.” Darryn’s fingers loosen, and his hand falls back to the mattress. “Mmmm. I think the meds are kicking in.”

  I take a step back, even though all I want to do is stay right there by his side. “I’ll let you rest, then. Coach is here. I’ll go get him so he can say hi.”

  Darryn opens his eyes to half-mast. “Thanks, Grant. See ya.”

  “See ya.”

  I don’t take my eyes off him until I’m out in the hallway and the curtain falls back into place behind Coach. I’m left there with Mr. Kaneko, and I haven’t a single clue what to say to him. Sorry I couldn’t keep Darryn from getting hurt a second time?

  To my surprise, he holds out a hand. “Thank you again for looking out for Darryn.”

  I swallow. “I think this time,” I tell him, “Darryn looked out for himself.”

  Mr. Kaneko pauses and then nods. “He did. I thank you for your help nonetheless.” He extends his hand farther, so that I can’t not take it, not without being rude.

  “You’re welcome,” I force out around the giant lump in my throat. “And thank you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two nights later, I’m sitting on my bed trying to read a chapter for history when the door handle rattles and then turns. I toss aside the textbook and jump to my feet as Darryn walks in, a small smile on his face and his father a step behind him.

  “Oh my God, I am so glad to see you.” I take a step closer but hesitate until Darryn waves me over.