Page 131 of Finding Him
“We’ll be there,” I say firmly. “Wait for us.”
JJ hesitates, his eyes darting between Molly’s huddled form and my grim expression. “Alright. I’ll tell O’Shea.”
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving us in a suffocating silence broken only by Molly’s ragged, gasping breaths.
Molly gasps for air between heaves, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. “I—I can’t—”
“Shhh,” Fitzy murmurs, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. His ma is a nurse, and it’s always been in his nature to be gentle. “Breathe, Lockhart. Just breathe.”
I grab a paper towel from the dispenser, wetting it under the cool, clean water of the faucet before pressing it to the back ofMolly’s neck. Her skin is fever-hot, a stark, worrying contrast to the cool, damp towel.
“Was it something you ate?” I ask, though I think I already know the answer. She’s not just sick; something is terribly wrong.
She shakes her head again, her whole body trembling. “H-him,” she chokes out. “He’s here.”
Fitzy and I exchange a glance. Mine knowing, his confused. A cold dread settles in my stomach.She can’t mean...
“Who?” Fitzy asks her, though I already know. I don’t want it to be true, but I fear that it is.
“Can you give us a minute, Joey?”
Fitzy hesitates but nods, standing. I know he can tell I’m serious, just by using his real name. “I’ll be right outside.”
The door closes again, leaving us alone in the small, tiled room, a fragile, huddled island of pain and fear. I wrap my arms around Molly from behind, pulling her trembling body against my chest, my chin resting on her shoulder. I can feel her heart beating, just as fast and terrified as mine.
“Tell me,” I murmur against her ear, my voice a low, steady whisper. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Her breath hitches. “My old coach. The one who... He—he’s here. He came with my other coach, from school. He’shereNiall.”
Rage licks up my spine like a wildfire. I know who she’s talking about without needing any further explanation. The monster from her past. The man who put that haunted, broken look in her eyes. The one she told me about in a tearful confession, her voice raw with a pain I could only begin to imagine.
“I thought—I thought he was gone,” she whimpers. “But he was right there, Niall. He was right fucking there.”
I tighten my hold on her, pressing my lips to her temple and cheeks, trying to ground her. “He won’t touch you. Not ever again. I swear it.”
She turns in my arms, her face a tear-streaked mess. She clutches my shirt with white-knuckled fists, her fingers digging like she’s trying to hold on and keep herself from drowning. “He came up and hugged me. I didn't know what to do—I just froze. I pretended I forgot to put my phone away and ran here.”
“You’re safe,” I promise, being gentle as I wipe her tears with my thumbs. “I won’t let him near you. I promise”
“I have to play.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I say, my heart aching for her. “We can tell O’Shea you’re sick, we can go home.”
“I have to,” she insists, voice cracking but still fierce with determination. “If I don’t, he wins.”
I swallow hard, nodding. I know what she means. And I know I have to be strong for her, to be the rock she can cling to in this storm. “Okay. Then we play.”
“Okay.”
I help her to her feet, steadying her when she sways, her legs trembling like a newborn foal’s. Her skin is still pale, but a little bit of colour has returned to her cheeks, a faint, rosy blush that gives me a sliver of hope.
I convince her to drink something out of her water bottle and to splash some cool water on her face, and that seems to bring her back to herself, just a little.
The door creaks open, and Fitzy pokes his head in. “Five minutes ‘til lineup.”
Molly squares her shoulders, a flicker of light in her eyes returning. “I’m ready.”
“You're sure you wanna do this, Mol?”
