The elevator dings and Scott grabs my arm as the doors slide open. “There’s someone else you need to talk to.”
All my panic hits the floor, silenced, when London steps between the elevator doors, coach Kelley right behind her.
31: Fighting
Coach Kelley’s gotten bigger since high school; his shirt stretches across solid biceps.
But she looks different, older, thinner, harder. Her dark hair is longer and streaked with blonde, but it's my sister, unmistakably, down to the contempt in her glare and the way she purses her lips.
“London.” All the things I want to say get lost somewhere in the storm of thoughts and cyclone of emotions whipping through me. I'm paralyzed in the confusion.
Then my feet are moving. Scott’s pulling me to the exit with his arm around me.
“What is this?” I shove him away with two hands, and he staggers. My blood burst in panic as he recovers with a step towards me, and there's nowhere for me to go.
My phone chimes with a text message, but I don't dare pull my eyes from those around me to look for it in my purse, especially as London snaps.
“You know exactly what's up.” Her and Coach Kelley block the elevator doors, keeping them from closing. “Always fucking interfering in my life, you—”
“That's enough, fireball.” Coach chuckles as he pulls her to his side with a tender hand on her shoulder, and then his focus lifts to me. His sympathetic smile doesn't ease my fears. “It's been a while, Brooklyn, and despite her greeting, I know your sister's missed you.” She snorts and he rubs his palm up and down her arm. “She did, but these new circumstances are less than ideal. Although, I do think there’s a way we can help each other out—”
“Don't touch me,” I cry out as Scott reaches for me again, staggering back to the corner of the elevator.
“Leave her be.” Coach lifts his fingers.
“I thought you said she'd listen to you?” London clicks her tongue and wraps her long arms around Coach's thick waist.
“It's okay, Brook, they only want to talk.” Scott pleads, his eyes large as he puts his hand out for me.
“About what?” I question the two blocking the elevator doors, an alarm buzzing in protest at being stuck open.
“Save the questions. Let's go.” London takes a step back.
“Come talk with us, I'll explain everything,” Coach Kelley invites with a nod towards the cars in the parking garage.
“Just fucking grab her already, Scott, and let's go,” her demand is like venom.
Dread coils itself in my stomach, about to spring if he touches me, and I still don't know what's going on, but my entire body pulses with alarm.
Scott hesitates, and I latch onto the regret that might be in the look he gives me.
“I don't want to go anywhere,” I appeal to him and let out a relieved breath when he nods. I look past him to the two from my past. “If you want to talk, we can talk here, the union is near by.”
“That won't work,” steel slips into the Coach's previously soft tone. “We need to talk in private. Your boyfriend can get into a lot of trouble for what he did last night. I can keep him out of it, if you get him to cooperate.”
I look between all three faces, my back pressed to the wall of the elevator, but then I settle on my sister, sorrow warring with fear and chaotic confusion inside my heart, “London—”
“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” she screeches at the same time my phone starts ringing. “You haven't changed. Quit being such a damn baby and move the fuck along. Don't make it difficult, you owe me this at least. Don't touch your phone.” She lunges for me as the ringing continues, and I jump to the side.
Scott's fingers clasp the fabric of my sweater, slowing me down but not stopping me as I throw myself into the small opening where my sister had been.
Thundering echoes in my bones as everyone moves, the entire structure booms with it. Coach blocks the way to the parking garage so I escape through the nearest door in the opposite direction.
“Shit, someone's coming,” London hisses as I sprint down the stairwell.
I clear a flight of stairs, not feeling my legs under me, and even when I see Drew coming up the next set of steps, I can't stop.
His hands grip my shoulders, pulling me into his body and then pushing me back as his eyes dart all over me. I know I'm shaking, but I don't know what else he see's that gives him that fierce look. He pushes me to the side and runs up the stairs two at a time.
“No,” I yell after him, but there's no sign that he hears. His boots pound on the concrete landing and then he's through the door.
I follow him, unable to turn away when he's up there with them.
I hear the scuffle before I see it. They're blocked behind a parked van, but Drew slams Scott against the trunk of a BMW, denting it with Scott's body.
The driver's side door flies open, and Coach Kelley gets out, pulling Drew off by the back of his hoodie. “Calm down, boy. You're going to get yourself in more trouble.”
“Fuck off of me.” Drew shoves the man away, about to lunge for Scott as he slides off the car, but then he jerks back to Coach Kelley, eyes blazing with recognition. “You—”
“Drew,” I yell as he lunges for the coach.
“Don't do this.” Coach evades his attack, stepping into the open space outside of the parking stalls. “You already have Kyle who can report you, now Scott. Don't add me to the list, too. Not when I can help you from getting in trouble.”
“Help me?” He spits like the idea is foul and stalks towards him into the open space. “I don't need your fucking help.”
I run to him then, stepping in front of him, between the two, but he doesn't pull his eyes away from the man on the other side of me, even as I talk. “Stop, please. Let's go.”
“It would be a shame to lose your chance at the NFL over a fight that doesn't need to happen.” The coach glances towards me with that gentle smile that so many have fallen for. “Wouldn't it, Brooklyn?”
“Let's leave, please,” I beg him.
“Don't fucking talk to her.” His arm comes around me, and I grip him with relief as he walks us backwards towards the stairs. “I don't care what you report. Do what you fucking got to do, both of you.” He sneers towards Scott. “But you will leave her the fuck alone.”
“Uh,” London groans as she steps from the passenger side of the car, exhaling smoke from her cigarette, “then you two stay the hell out of our way—”
“Get back in the car,” Coach points in that direction.
“But we never—”
“Now,” he orders her again, and she listens. Scott's already slid into the back.
“You don't have to worry about anyone messing with her if you help us out.” Coach Kelley calls to Drew as we reach the stairwell doors.
Drew pauses, but I keep going. After a couple of steps, he follows me.
When I reach the outside, I don't stop. I take quick steps, wanting distance, but Drew pulls me into his arm, his embrace holding me together when I want to shatter into a million pieces.
“What happened?” His hand moves to my face rougher than ever, but still soothing as he slides hair out of the way and searches me with his frenzied gaze. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” I grip his shirt in my fists and swallow my trembling as left over panic fires off in my veins, thoughts crashing into one another. “They just—they wanted to talk. I ran. I felt trapped. I don't know, though. I don't know what was happening.”
“It's okay,” he soothes with his lips in the top of my hair. “We'll figure it out. Tell me exactly what happened.”
I close my eyes, trying to catch a single thought, and then I look around at the tree lined path and parking garage looming still too close. “Can we go somewhere else?”
He nods and a thought strikes me, “My car's in there.”
“We can go get it.”
I tug his hand, stopping him from walking back. “No. Not yet.”
His large
intake of breath lifts his chest, and he exhales just as forceful as he looks past me, jaw ticking under his skin. Then those jade eyes drop to me, the previous fire reduced to embers. “Okay. Let's go to my truck. We'll pick up your car later.”
I nod and he sweeps his arm around me, holding me close to his side as we walk a few buildings over to the back lots by the stadium. The walking and his heated body absorb some of the icy numb shock from my limbs.
When we're both in the truck, he leans across the seat and brushes his fingers over my cheek and into my hair as he brings his lips to mine. His breathing is still too fast, and he slides his lips across my chin and to my shoulder as he drops his head and pulls me closer with his arms.
“They didn't touch you?”
I'm not sure if it's a question or a relief filled statement he sighs against my neck.
I turn my face towards his head, kissing his temple and ear and any bit of him I can, heart burning and wanting to stay like this, in his arms, away from everything else. But I freeze when I admit, “No. They just scared me.”
He squeezes me tighter, arms crossing my back and strong hands traveling up my spine. His breath shudders warm against my skin, and then he pulls away.
“We'll go to my house, okay? Then you can tell me everything.”
I nod and it all comes flooding back in a surge, chilling me without his warmth to drive it away. My phone chimes with a text, and I pull it out of my purse with a shaky hand.
“Did you call me earlier?” I question, recalling the text and call while I was with them.
He nods, lips pressed together as he pulls onto the main strip in front of campus. “Who's texting you now?”
My stomach turns as I read my mother's text. She wants to know how the meeting went, but that's not what has me dreading the call. “It's my mom. I should let her I saw London.”
“So that was your sister.” He states it, but turns towards me to confirm it. At the nod of my head, he grumbles something low and focuses on the road once more. “Call your mom back. Tell her.”
She answers on the first ring, greeting me with a question, “What did they say?”
And the tears bubble up, the sound of her voice drawing out all the hurt of the day. “They're canceling the Saturday clinic.”
“Oh, honey,” it feels like a caress through the phone, steadying me some.
“I have to arrange with my professors how to handle the rest of the semester. They’ll give me alternate assignments I can complete at home.”
“So you're coming home then?” Her relief is clear. “Do you want me to come up there today and help you pack your dorm?”
“Not today. Mom, I saw London,” I blurt it out, my heart gripping.
Silence.
Drew's hand slides to my leg. His bruised and cracked knuckles make my heart stop, some old, some new, and I cover it with my own hand, realizing we're parked at his house. Neither of us moves to get out of the truck.
“Mom—”
“Where?” it's a whisper, and it cracks as she continues, “When did you see her? Is she okay?”
“Just now, I saw her with Coach Kelley. They wanted me to go with them, to talk to me they said, but I didn't go.”
“Do you have her number?”
“No.”
“Can you get a hold of her somehow?” It's a desperate plea.
“I don't know.” I could call Scott, but I don't want to.
“Please, Brook. I know you two don't get along, but for me, please. I want to talk to her. How was she? Did she look okay? Please, help me get a hold of her.”
The pain in her voice slices me open, and my tears stream down my face. “She's skinnier. I think she's still on drugs. She was with Coach Kelley. I don't think they're into anything good.”
“I'm coming up there.”
“Mom—”
“That's my daughter. I haven't seen her in years. What am I supposed to do?”
“I'll get her number for you.”
“Can you?” She's calmer. “When are you coming home?”
“I'll be home tonight.”
“Tomorrow,” Drew corrects, gripping my leg.
“I'll see you tonight. I love you.” She hangs up.
I set down the phone, and Drew dips his head to meet my eyes.
“You're staying with me tonight,” he states it like there's no other options, and since I don't have my car with me, it's probably likely. It's what I want anyways.
“I'll call her back later.”
He nods and gets out of the car, meeting me on my side as I step out.
“Did you tell her you're finishing the semester at home?” He's careful with his words, slow and deliberate as we walk to his front door.
I nod and wrap my arms around myself. “The school's given me permission to complete the rest of my courses from home this semester.”
“That's bullshit. Did they say you couldn't attend classes?” He holds the front door open for me, but his burst of anger sets me on edge.
“I'm not sure.” I step into his kitchen, recalling the meeting. “I guess they didn't say I couldn't, just that they’re allowing me to work at home, so I can avoid any backlash.”
“Don't do it.” He lets the screen door snap shut behind him and follows me into the kitchen, turning and opening a cabinet. “Do you want tea or something?”
I smile through my hectic emotions. “Please.”
He steps to me with his own shadow of a smile and kisses my forehead. His hand trails down my arm. “Go sit down. I'll make it for you.”
My muscles drain of strength when I sit at the small kitchen table. I drop my head onto my arms, watching him start the kettle and pull down cups.
“Don't let them scare you into not showing up to class.” He turns to me, leaning on the counter behind him. “It shouldn't be you that has to stay home. Don't do it. Show up. Show them that they didn't win.”
I stay silent in his stare, unsure how to get him to understand, but when I do speak, it's low with disappointment in myself. “I don't think I can do that.”
He steps away from the counter and sinks into a crouch in front of my chair. He grabs my waist and twists me in my seat, so much determination in his eyes. “Yes, you can. Baby, you can do this. I'll show up to each class with you if that's what it takes. But you can't quit.”
“I'm not quitting.” The idea stings, and I don't want to admit to it. “I'm protecting myself. Why should I put myself through that, through the names and the threats? I can't do that again.”
“Why should you have to hide?” The kettle whistle blows and he slides his hands from my waist, down my thighs. “Is that what you want, really? To go back to hiding in your house?”
The whistle gets louder and I drop my eyes from his. I don't want any of it. I don't want to hide, but I don't want to fight either. I want it all to go away. I want to go away. I close my eyes till he disappears, his hands leaving me as he stands to get the boiling water.
When I look up, he's stirring sugar into our teacups, and then he walks back to the table, setting one in front of me. “I put less sugar in yours.”
I pick it up, warming both hands on the cup instead of using the handle. The sweetness hits me even with my small, cautious sip.
“Tell me what happened.” He sets his cup down and scoots his chair to the side of the table, till his legs surround mine, and then his hands run up my thighs like he needs to touch me.
I tell him everything, from the moment I stepped out of the meeting, till the moment we walk out of the garage. Every detail I remember, I tell him, including my accusations at Scott.
“You think Tatum has something to do with it?” His hands still their slow continuous loop over my body. But his doubtful tone makes me angry.
“Maybe. She knew exactly what to say to get you to stay with her. And you were nowhere around when I came out, like you said you'd be.”
“But… still. She's got her own things, and yeah, what she said was fucke
d up, but to set things up like that? I don't think we should pin that on her. This was all Scott, that fucking sell out, doing their bidding.”
“So you think it's just a coincidence?” I sit up tall, a weed of hate spreading through me, wrapping around my heart, choking me. “She pulls you away and they show up.”
“I'm sorry.” He swipes his hand across his hair as he sits up. “I shouldn't have walked off with her. I shouldn't have let her get to me, but she does. She knows how to push me. She knows exactly what to say, but that doesn't mean she was part of this.” He spreads his hand out and curls it into a fist, split knuckles turning white.
“Why didn't you pick up your phone?”
“Don't blame me for this.” His fingers flex on my leg. “I'm sorry, I wasn't there. But I did show up. I saw you two walk into the garage, I texted you and then called as soon as I left her, she was still fucking hysterical though” He closes his eyes and hits his forehead with one fist. “Fuck, everything's so messed up. I'm trying so fucking hard, but I keep failing at every step.”
I grab his fist from his forehead and he doesn't resist as I bring it to my lips. His breath hitches as I kiss his knuckles.
“I don't blame you.” I slide closer to him, running my fingers into his hair to cup his head and graze his lips with mine. He pulls me into him, bringing me onto his lap. “I'm just trying to figure it all out.”
“Me too,” he murmurs into my neck as he nuzzles me close.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pushing down my jealousy to think about him. “Is everything okay with Tatum?”
His release of breath streams against my neck as he hugs me closer. “It’ll be okay. I called her parents; I had to. I can’t help her this time. I only make her more upset.”
I pull back to look at him, and he tries to reassure with a weak smile.
“Don’t worry about it, baby.” His hand slides to my cheek. “She’ll be fine.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” He pulls my head towards him, his soft lips grazing mine.
My hand moves to his hand, the tension in my chest easing with our light kisses, but there’s still a swell of confusion and worry as I sort through it all, and his rough knuckles under my palm heightens it. “What did you do last night that could get you in trouble?”
Hustle Page 36