Coachand I sat in front of two microphones after the game. Another great win, so now we were high on a winning streak rather than a losing streak.
“Jonesy, I wondered if you had any thoughts on the allegations against Doyle.”
Coach looked my way and held my gaze. He gave a slight nod. I was free to say what I wanted.
“I’d say that . . . I’m sorry for what happened to that nurse and that I appreciate her bravery.”
A follow-up question came from the back of the room. “So you’re saying you believe the allegations?”
My throat tightened. How could I phrase it so that I didn’t compromise Violet’s privacy? Her wishes?
“I’m saying, it’s important that we believe survivors and support them in whatever way works best for them.”
“Coach? Any comment?” the reporter went on.
“Couldn’t say it any better than Colt just did. I think this stuff happens more often than we’ll ever know and I’m sorry that someone in our league would behave this way.”
I knew this would have backlash. I knew people would keep talking online, read into it unfairly. But for the first time, I couldn’t have cared less.
And I couldn’t wait to get home to Violet.
FIFTY
VIOLET
NOVEMBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
Coltonand I snuggled on his couch Wednesday night, playing a movie we were only half paying attention to. We had a lot to celebrate, but we didn’t feel like going out. The prior two weeks held so many changes that we decided to eat something his chef made and stay home.
The Rusties stopped losing, for one. They were now on a seven-game winning streak. Colton and I decided we weren’t faking. Colt beat up the bad guy. We admitted we love each other, present tense. I deleted my social media so no one could bother me about all the noise out there. It actually made me text with my family more, which was surprisingly enjoyable. I started joining Jeanine at ice dancing classes and I only had a handful of bruises to show for it. And finally, the bad guy got what he deserved, but it still stirred up a lot of big emotions.
In short, Colton and I were exhausted. But we had each other.
Colt hadn’t said anything or moved in a bit, so I turned to see if he was sleeping. He wasn’t, just staring off into space.
“What’s up?”
Colton took a deep breath and pinched his lips together.
“And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because you have your upset thinking face on.”
Colt’s lips twitched. “See my usual smart and annoying argument about you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Old news. Tell me what’s up.”
He sat up and put me where he wanted me: sitting in his lap with my legs behind his back. “I’m sorry you had to delete your accounts. I feel like this is my fault.”
I struggled not to laugh. “Colton, do you know how nice life is outside of social media?”
“I can only imagine,” he said darkly. “It’s pretty bad on there. It’s been a few days and people are still talking about Doyle, and you, and me. I mean, people are celebrating me, saying I knew and was doing some vigilante justice shit?—”
“Which, they’re not wrong,” I said.
“Yeah. They’re not wrong,” he said. “But I don’t want it to be about me and him, or anybody else. I don’t expect the public to get excited about you and me, and I know you probably don’t even want that kind of attention.”
I chuckled. “You are correct. I do not crave the public’s approval of our relationship. But I know you like being in everyone’s good graces, and that’s okay.”
“I feel stupid for it. That stuff really doesn’t matter and I know it.”
