Cupping Juliet’s shoulders, I pull her against me. “Hey, it’s okay,” I assure her. My hand slides to the back of her neck, keeping her anchored to me. “You’re okay.”
Juliet doesn’t respond to my words right away. In the near distance, the sound of people calling out to each other reminds me we’re still somewhat public. Damn it.
Dropping my hand from her neck, I urge her backwards and reach down, snagging her bag from where it lies on the slim stretch of grass beside the sports building’s side door. Juliet shuffles but doesn’t step away from me. Instead, she burrows closer as if seeking my heat.
I quickly sling her bag over the same shoulder as mine, the two packs banging against each other, and then I reach up and press the code to the side door of the building until the door unlocks. She wouldn’t know it—neither would most of the student body or team—but Lex made sure both Nolan and I had the codes to everything the second he’d gotten good enough at his hacking. Even when they change it, we only ever lose a good twenty-four hours of access before we know it again. I’m sure Coach suspects, but he’s never said a word and for that, I’m grateful.
“Come on.” Quiet. Tender. Soft. I guide her down the short hallway and into one of the storage rooms. A big container filledwith various sports balls sits to the right of the doorway, but I push her past it and farther into the corner.
Windows line the opposite side of the room, letting in enough light that I leave the overhead one off in case anyone thinks to peek in here before we’re ready. Once we’re out of sight of the doorway, I drop our bags to the floor and take her back into my arms.
She must recognize that we’re in a safe place because the second I urge her into my chest, she slams herself into me and wraps her arms around my middle. Her face turns against my pecs, pressing into the center of my chest. Puffs of air blow out across my shirt and I squeeze her closer.
I don’t know if I can leave her like this—I know I can’t until she comes out of whatever panic attack she’s having, but at the very least I need to let the guys know. Shifting her around, Juliet doesn’t protest as I release one of my arms from her shoulders and reach into my back pocket.
I type out a quick text to the group chat, dropping a pin for our location to the others before tucking it back into my pants. They’ll come. They always do, but if they’re already with Coach, then it might take a while to extract themselves. Until then, I’ve got to get through to the woman in my arms.
Minutes pass and slowly, Juliet’s body relaxes against mine. Her breathing goes from harsh and rapid to slow and even. It’s an incredibly slow process, and it feels as if I’m not doing enough. Just holding her against my body doesn’t seem sufficient.
When she turns her cheek against my chest, rubbing her skin across the cotton of my shirt, I glance down and find her looking up at me. Relief floods me. There’s more life in her eyes now.
Stepping back, I move until my spine hits the wall. When it does, I sink down and my ass hits the concrete floor of the storage room. Juliet follows.
“Are you okay now?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond right away, but one of her hands comes up and plays at the hem of my t-shirt.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I try again.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, probably a response from the guys. I don’t pull it out, though. They know where we are. Instead, I focus my attention on the strange creature in my arms. Both fragile and strong, she’s a complicated mix of brave and reckless.
When still she doesn’t speak, I let my head thunk back against the wall. One hand releases her and I rub the back of my neck. I’m not good at these things. I never have been, but right now I’m what she’s got and I want to apologize for my inadequacy.
A grimace twists my mouth and I blow out a breath.Talk, idiot,I command myself.Say something. If the silence is suffocating for me, I can only imagine how it is for her.
“When I was seven, my dad went on a business trip,” I begin. Her head tips up, the glide along my pec alerting me to her interest, but I don’t look at her. If I’m going to tell this story, then I can’t.
“I didn’t realize what my dad did then,” I continue. “I just knew he had a lot of friends who came over—sometimes during the day, but more often than not, they came at night. This business trip, though, was different. He didn’t leave town often and even when he did, it was rare for him to be gone more than a few nights.”
Those few nights where it was just my mom and I were the best. She wouldn’t even notice the changes I saw in her. I’d come home from school on a Friday afternoon and if she was singing along to one of her favorite Selena songs in the kitchen, I knew Dad would be gone for the weekend.
“This time, Dad was gone for weeks. At the start, my mom was happy to spend time with me without him in the house. She would dance around the kitchen as she cooked breakfast or taught me how to make empanadas.”
A smile comes to my lips at the memory. Her unlined features grinning as the smell of hot oil and cooking meat lingers in my head. When was the last time she was that excited to cook somethingAbuelataught her to make. I’d been young too whenAbuelapassed. I can’t remember her anymore.
“Dad hated it when she cooked that ‘garbage’, as he called it,” I say, my smile fading. Why he married her when he was such a fucking ass about her heritage, I’ll never understand. “So when he was gone, she would make a ton and we would eat it all before he came back.”
Juliet’s hand touches my chest and I suck in a breath. Still not looking down, I keep going. The words spill from me as if I’ve lanced a wound so deep that I didn’t even realize it’d been infected. All of the gross fluid that kept it there, locked me in a cycle of pain and sickness, floods out, releasing me from its clutches.
“By the third day, Mom started to get worried. She knew he didn’t like her to call when he was away on business, but she risked his anger. He didn’t answer.” My jaw hardens.
“I thought it was great. If Dad was gone then he wouldn’t hurt her anymore. But every night that he didn’t come home after those first few days, she would call and he would never pick up. She cried herself to sleep. By the end of the first week, she didn’t want to cook anymore. I’d leave for school in the morning and come home to find her still in bed. No more Selena. No more empanadas. Just… silence.”
My chest stings and I reach up, rubbing against a spot that’s slightly off center, bumping into Juliet. When I leave my hand there, she quietly slips her fingers against mine. I flip overand squeeze the digits, warming them. Touching her makes the words come easier.
“He eventually came back. He didn’t explain where he’d been or why he’d been gone for so long. Mom eventually went back to normal too, but after that whenever he announced he was going on another trip, she’d get depressed. She’d call him every night he was away even if she knew he’d get mad. That’s when I realized the truth.”
Finally, I turn my gaze down to meet Juliet’s. “She was never going to leave him,” I say, my voice dropping. “No matter how many times he left and came back. No matter how many times he yelled at her, belittled her, hit her—she loved him, and she would die loving him.”
