Page 56 of Damsel in Defense
“Love you too, girlie.”
I end the call and looked around the quiet condo, knowing that this is the calm before the storm.
And I am so fucking ready.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MASON
The smell of fresh tape, rubber, and sweat clings to the locker room air as I grab my stick and a fresh roll of tape.There’s the usual low hum of pre-game banter, but I’m not in it today.Haven’t been in it for three damn days.
That’s how long it’s been since I last saw Victoria.
Three days without her laugh.Her stubborn little grumbles.I’m even missing the scent of her shampoo on my pillow.
Three fucking days, and I’m unravelling.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, messing up the pattern of taping my stick.
“You good, man?”Max nudges me with a padded elbow, his skates clicking lightly against the tile as we wait for warm-ups to be called.
“I’m fine,” I mutter.“Just focused.”
“Sure,” he says, drawing the word out.“Because ‘focused’ totally looks like you’re thinking about someone who’s not here and strangling your stick like it insulted your mother.”
I bark a short laugh.Max always knows what to say.“I just miss her,” I confess.
He nods, sympathy carved into every line of his face.“Well, you did it to yourself, dummy.”
I misinterpret what he’s referring to.“I know.You never did like Jess, so that should have been a sign.”
“No, idiot.I meant you walking out on Victoria.You did that all on your own.”
I nod, not needing to vocalize my fuckup again.
“At least it’s all going to come out soon.Sabrina said Victoria’s article was incredible.”
I blink, confused by his words.“What?”
“You haven’t seen it?”Max is already pulling his phone from his locker.“Dropped this morning.Sab said it’s the most powerful interview she’s done in a long while.”
“What article?”I demand, heart already pounding.
Sidney pipes up from behind us, still fiddling with his pads.“You think Victoria would speak at the next Goals for Good event?The way she opened up…it’d mean a hell of a lot to people who deal with panic attacks and anxiety.”
“Wait—hold on.What the hell are you two talking about?Can someone please start talking sense?”My voice is low but urgent.
Max hands me his phone, already opened to the article.
Victoria Westwyld: Fighting Fire with Fire.Interview by Sabrina Sutton.
The first few lines hit me like a slap.I read the first paragraph once, then again, needing to slow down and absorb the words.I’m amazed and dumbfounded that she’s done this.
She explains everything—the good, the bad, and the ugly truths of being in the spotlight.I feel myself getting choked up when she explains why she’s sober and how the loss of her grandmother cut her so deeply that she stopped writing.
It’s when she goes into her struggles with anxiety that I clutch the phone tighter.I know how much courage that must have taken.It’s easier to explain away your exterior battles than share your internal ones.
And then…she mentions me.
