Page 98 of Fall to Me
She inhales deeply then releases the breath, twisting the roll of tape between her fingers. “Yeah,” she whispers. “He eased me into the abuse. Claimed every injury was unintentional, or accidental, until I realized it wasn’t, and before I even knew what was happening . . .”
She trails off shaking her head. “I’ll just say, it got really bad. I never reported him . . . until one time I did. I was in a medically induced coma for a few weeks, and by the time I was awake and able to file a report, the evidence that would have put him behind bars was gone. Erased. His truck was repaired without a financial trace or insurance claim. Jaxon is smart; I’ll give him that. He knows how to get away with just about anything; I guess those are the perks of being in the line of work he’s in. Anyway, he ran me off the road. Nearly killed me, and you know who I blame? Myself. Because I never told anyone what he was doing to me before the day that I woke up. Sure, my family saw the signs, but I lied and I lied.”
Hearing her story makes me feel ill, and my heart breaks a little more every time she opens up about this, but I’m glad she’s sharing. That means she’s healing. Walking over, I sit down beside her and place her hand in mine. “That was not your fault. It’s not uncommon for victims to become sympathetic to their abusers. Sometimes you’re in too deep, and you lose sight of yourself.”
She lifts her gaze, her eyes glistening. “You really get me. You know that? Ugh. I don’t want to cry about this anymore,” she grits out, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I think you’re in the wrong profession. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a fantastic hockey player . . . incredible really . . . but you’ve done more for me in these past few months than my therapist has in over a year.”
I don’t even know what to say to that. If that’s the case, then maybe we should find her a new therapist.
“Anyways, I want to do what I want to do. That may seem reckless and a bit selfish to you, and I’m sorry, but I think I’ve earned the right to be a little selfish right now. I already have the tools to protect myself, and we have the security you hired . . . plus I have you . . . and you’re all fight club and shit . . .”
She bumps her shoulder with mine, trying to lighten my mood. I can't even form a smile after everything she just told me, but I listen as she continues.
“And you said you have someone monitoring his whereabouts. So, can we just live our life? If at some point we need to pivot, then we’ll pivot.”
I wrap my arm around her and bring her to me, pressing my lips against her temple. “I need time, baby. I know what you need and what you’re asking of me. I’m really trying to give that to you, but there are things that I need too. Things to make me feel like you’re safe and to ease my mind.”
She nods. “I understand . . .”
We sit there for a while, with me holding her before she pops off, “Can we go shower now? You stink.”
I laugh and pull her up. I guess our session is over.
“Hustle! Hustle! Hustle!” Coach yells. “Let’s go one more round.”
My legs are on fire, and sweat drips down my temples even though it’s practically freezing in the facility. I skate backwards over to my position on the ice and wait for the puck to drop between Cal and his back up, Werchky.
Coach blows the whistle, and the puck drops. Werchky takes possession and passes back to Trevor. He takes the pass, weaving in and out of players, driving the puck down the side. He dekes around Aiden, then passes the puck to Jerome who passes to me. I cut the side and drive the puck toward the center to pass back to Werchky. Just as I rear back my stick, Coach blows the whistle. Two police officers, standing at the glass and talking to Coach, catch my attention.
“Graham!” Coach yells.
Taking off my helmet, my wet hair falls across my forehead as I skate over to Coach.
“These gentlemen need to talk to you.”
My brows pinch together, but I make my way off the ice. “Is this about Jaxon?” I ask them. “Did you find him?”
“Sir, we’re going to need you to come down to the station with us to answer a few questions.”
I look back at Coach, and he gives a nod.
“Alright, boys. Back in position!” Coach blows the whistle again.
Tossing my gloves onto the bench, I sit down and remove my skates.
“Let me go change, and I’ll be right out.”
“I think it’s best if you come as you are,” an officer says with a hand on his gun.
I look between the both of them. “Is River okay?”
“Mrs. Graham is fine. She’s already at the station.”
My heart beats a little bit faster. Why is River at the station, and why do they need me to come down there?
“Let me at least grab my shoes,” I say, picking up my skates.
I head to the locker room and look behind me as the officer follows, watching my every move.
