Page 39 of Chips & Checks
Chad releases his grip on the bar. He strides toward me, still grinning… and not limping in the slightest. “It can’t wait. If you try to do it on the plane, I’ll have to deal with all your little lap dogs, and I don’t think we want that, do we?”
I don’t wantanyof this. I try to maintain my cool despite the ever-increasing patter of my rabbit heart. Nothing like this has ever happened to me at work. I’ve been annoyed, but I’ve never beenscared.Even when guys have been gross, they’ve never talked to me like this or been overly aggressive about violating my personal space.
“Like I said, Chad, I’m busy.” I keep packing like a woman on autopilot. As if the task might protect me. As if rearranging gauze and massage oil can keep a man from making me small.
His smile shifts into something crueler. “This is your whole job. Keeping the talent happy, not playing Marie Kondo with the physio room.” He takes another step forward. I automatically step back, right into the counter.
I forget about reporting him to Renee. I forget about the internal investigation. I just want to make this stop. There’s a special kind of horror when you realize you’re alone with a man who doesn’t care that you’ve said no. Not overtly—not yet—but enough to make you question your instincts. Enough to make you weigh every possible escape route in the room. And there’sno one else here. No one to hear me if I scream. No one to stop him if he pushes just a little further.
My heart jackhammers in my chest. Every muscle in my body is coiled so tightly, I feel like I might vibrate out of my skin. I scan the room without moving my head, calculating the space between me and the door, wondering if I could make it in heels. Wondering if he’d grab me before I got there.
This is the part no one talks about—the paralyzing calculus of survival. Smile, and maybe he’ll back off. Push too hard, and he’ll snap. I don’t want this asshole to see how thoroughly his behavior has shaken me. If I let him think he’s in charge, who knows what he’ll do next? I need to regain some control of the situation. I need to get the power back, even if it’s just pretend.
I lift my chin. “Fine, Chad. Where does it hurt?”
Chad grabs my wrist and drags my hand to his groin. My fingers graze his hard dick—and recoil like I’ve touched a live wire—but he doesn’t let go. He won’t let go. His grip tightens, firm and possessive, like he has every right to do this. No hiding it. No shame. This isn’t some accidental reaction or misread signal. This is calculated. Intentional. This sick motherfucker is enjoying it. Getting off on the power, the violation, the look on my face as I register exactly what he’s done.
Rage flares so hot in my chest, I think I might burn from the inside out.
I try to twist free. His grip tightens. Not painful—but unyielding. Solid. It’s the kind of hold that doesn’t bruise but makes a point. A quiet warning in his fingers: I could hurt you if I wanted. My heart stutters. Because for the first time, I believe him, and I wonder how far he’s going to try to push this.
“Violet?” Eric’s voice cuts through the room like an open window in a smoke-filled space. I could cry at the relief of it. Just a man. Not a threat. A witness.
In an instant, Chad releases my wrist and steps back.
As Eric looms in the doorway, I step past Chad, breathing a small sigh of relief at my newfound freedom. “Perfect timing, Eric.” My voice doesn’t even shake. I’m a little in awe of my own resilience, though I think I might also be in shock. I gesture, with false casualty, to Chad. “Chad has a groin injury, and I’m in the middle of packing. Do you mind taking over?”
“You got it, Vi.” Eric’s eyes flick toward Chad, though he doesn’t move. “Where does it hurt?”
Eric is a little shorter, a little rounder, and a lot less muscular than Chad. If it came to blows, I’m pretty sure Chad would win hands down. But it seems that Chad isn’t interested in picking a fight now that there’s a man in the room. He glowers at some fixed point over Eric’s head and refuses to meet his eyes. “I’m feeling much better now. Thanks.” He stomps toward the door, barely giving Eric time to step out of the way, and storms down the hall. Without limping.
I let out a sigh of relief and stumble over to the balance bar for support. Now that Chad’s gone, I give myself permission to relax. My hands are shaking. Were they shaking the whole time? Could Chadfeelhow powerless I felt when he was bricked up and holding my wrist against it?
That fuckingasshole. Bowen’s words from yesterday echo through my mind.Don’t you get that he’s the one who’s ruining his life?
He’s right. I’m done making excuses for Chad. And I’m going to document exactly what just happened, because if he gets traded to another team, he’ll just do the same thing. If he was willing to do that on arena property, imagine what he’d do in private?
“Hey.” Eric hovers a few feet away from me. “What wasthat?”
Eric doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t get too close. Just keeps his voice soft and his posture open. He doesn’t try to fix it. He justgives me space—and that’s the kindest thing anyone could do right now.
“Hawthorne’s ego being bigger than his brain.” I straighten up. This time, my calming breath does the trick. Chad doesn’t know it, but he’s just crossed a line. I’ve got people in my corner who are going to make sure he gets exactly what he deserves.
“It looked like…” Eric trails off, like he’s afraid to name what he just witnessed. Or maybe he’s giving me the opportunity to name it for myself.
“I can handle it,” I tell Eric. “I already talked to Renee.”
Eric gives me a tiny nod. “Right. Murphy asked me to check on you, so I kind of get the impression that this isn’t… new?”
Some guys think “my groin hurts” is code for “please rub me.” And too many of them get away with it—because what if he’s really hurt? What if it’s just a misunderstanding? What if I ruin his career by reporting something that was only “kind of” inappropriate?
And that’s how they get away with it. Every single time.
“Bowen Murphy told you to come in here?” Leave it to Bowen to be halfway out the building and still thinking about me. A fake boyfriend. A real shield.
Eric nods. “Yeah. He was on his way out when we passed in the hall and asked if I’d left you alone with Hawthorne.”
Part of me is annoyed with Bowen for telling yet another person about how Chad’s treating me, even as I’m grateful for Eric’s timing. I hate how much of an impact Chad’s bullshit is having on my work.He’sthe one who’s doing something wrong, and yet I’m the one who has to spend time and energy keeping myself safe. I’m the one who has to take time to document everything. I want to do my job to the best of my ability. I just wantitto stop. Is that too much to ask?
