Page 135 of Finding Him
“Don’t play coy. That Irish kid was looking at me like I kicked his dog.”
“Maybe you did,” I shrug, pretending that my hands aren’t shaking, that my heart isn’t pounding in my chest, that I’m not terrified. I reach for my necklace, my fingers fumbling with the clasp as I fasten it around my neck.
Ross sighs, rolling his eyes. “We both know I didn’t do anything wrong, Molly.”
“You didn’t?”
“No,” he says, so calmly, like he actually believes it. “So I don't know what kind of lies you think you're gonna tell your new boyfriend here, but I'm telling you right now—if you do, I'll make sure you never kick a ball again.”
I swallow hard, knowing he means it. All the old, familiar threats are swimming around in my mind, taunting me. Reminding why I had to stay silent in the first place. Reminding me of the power he holds, the power to destroy my dreams, to ruin my life, with just a few words.
No one's gonna believe you over him.
“You think I don't have friends in high places?” he continues, stepping closer. “You think I don't have pull with every scout, every coach, every fucking federation in this sport?”
I take a step back, trying to get away from him, but he grabs my wrist. Terror shoots through me.
“Let go,” I whisper but it comes out weak.
Weak, weak, that’s all I am. Too weak to speak up, too weak to fight back.
“Or what?” he taunts. “You'll tell on me?”
“Hey, Molly, are you in here—oh, hey, who are you?” Finn is poking his head through the door, and I've never been so happy to see his face, or anyone's really, in my life. I could just cry with relief.
“Just visiting my old player, aren’t I, Mol? I don't think you're supposed to be in here, son,” Ross says, his voice smooth and charming. He lets me go, trailing his fingers down my arm as he does.
Finn—who normally looks like he wouldn't hurt a fly, always a mask of easy-going cheerfullness—steps fully into the locker room, crossing his arms. “Neither are you,sir... Look, Molly, I need your help. I can't find my insulin pen.”
I know for a fact Finn always keeps his insulin in a bright orange case attached to his gear bag so hewon’tlose it—but I nod along, grabbing my bag and darting for the door. Ross doesn't stop me, but I hear him call after me, “Happy early birthday, Molly.”
Finn flanks me out the door, having to jog to keep up with me as I burst out the Girls Changing Room Building. My lungs are burning, blood rushing in my ears.
I don’t stop. I don’t slow down. I just run, trying to outrun the memories, trying to outrun the fear, trying to outrun him.
“What the fuck was that?” Finn asks me, keeping his voice hushed. I shake my head, pressing my lips together tightly as I feel tears welling up behind my eyes.
Finn stops me in my tracks, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around to face him. His usual jovial expression is gone, replaced now by something fiercer. “Molly. Talk to me.”
“I need... I need Niall. I want to go home,” I choke out around the hard lump in my throat.
I hate crying in front of anybody. It’s the worst thing in the world. I've already cried in front of Niall far too often, even though I know he would say he doesn’t mind. It’s still not something I particularly like doing. But it’s also not something I seem to be able to control.
It makes me feel weaker.
But now I'm crying in front of Finn Marshall—who's not really my friend, just my boyfriend’s friend, and my teammate. I might see him almost every day but I don't reallyknowhim. Our first one on one, nobody else around interaction is me bawling my eyes out.
Finn nods—because of course he just accepts it and understands—and pulls me into a quick hug, only slightly awkward hug. “Alright. Let’s get you to him.”
I nod into his shoulder, sniffling, the tears streaming freely down my face.
Finn pulls back, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the bus. “Come on.”
We jog across the field and straight to the bus where Niall is already standing at the bottom step, scanning the crowd. His eyes land on me and widen when he sees my face.
He’s moving before I can even process it, striding towards me and eating up the distance, hands already outstretched. “Mol—”
I crash into him, burying my face in his chest. His arms wrap around me instantly, his fingers tangling in my damp hair. Just his familiar presence acts as a soothing balm on my panicked heart.
