Page 134 of Finding Him
“Forus,” she says, giving me a barely there (but there enough) smile. “‘Cause we’re a team.”
53
I’ve Got Your Back
Molly
December, 2007
BREATHING DOESN'T COMEnaturally again until I’m back in the locker room, standing under the warm spray of a shower.
We won—a high lead of 4-2. The St. Andrews’ team were actually good to play against, skilled and disciplined, and good sports, too. And none of them were snarky to me off the pitch, which was a refreshing change of pace. I got quite a few congratulations actually, from their players and their coaches.
I should’ve enjoyed it, but I couldn’t. Not when I was able to feel his eyes on me.
Everything would be perfect if it weren’t for the obvious.
If he weren’t here.
If he weren’t standing on the sidelines, a looming reminder of the past that I can’t escape, of the nightmare I can’t wake up from.
I can feel the water turning my skin pink as I scrub furiously at my arms, the places where his hands lingered too long during that congratulatory hug. My stomach revolts again, but there’s nothing left to purge.
Still, I spit into the drain, trying to erase the phantom taste of bile and all the memories rushing back in, a tidal wave of pain and fear that threatens to drown me all over again.
I hear the door opening, making my heart rate speed up.Please be Niall. Please. Please be Niall—
“Moll-y?”
Go away!
“Give me a minute!” I call out, my voice tight with a panic I can’t hide, hoping, begging, pleading with whatever higher power that might be looking over me for him not to come back here. For him not to trap me in this small, tiled stall. For me not to have to relive that nightmare all over again.
I shut off the water as fast as I can, wrapping myself in a towel. My hands shake so bad I can barely tuck it in. My clothes are draped nearby, and I go as fast as I can to step into my underwear and sweats, forcing my arms through sweater holes and moving out to the main locker room area.
He’s sitting on one of the benches, by my bag, holding my necklace—which I took off for the game.
“You know one of these little clasps is gold, yeah?” he asks, without turning around to look at me.
“It broke. Someone fixed it.”
“Hmm,” he says, pushing up on his knees to stand and turn around. Luckily he drops the necklace on my bag, so I don’t have to ask for it back, to have to touch him, to have his skin on mine. “You alone in here?”
“Of course I am,” I snap. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He laughs. “I don’t know what kind of dirty things you get up to, Molly.”
His words send shivers down my spine, a slimy trail of disgust that makes my stomach churn and flip. I want to go, to run for the door, to be free. But something keeps me frozen in place.
Fear.
“What did you tell him?” Ross finally asks, like the words are annoying for him to have weighing on him and he needs to heave them off his shoulders.Onto me.
Just another thing for him to burden me with.
Another thing he wants me to carry.
I force my face to stay neutral. “Tell who what?”
