Page 15 of Undone

I’m holding my breath now, releasing it only as the memory freckles out into the present again.

“He’s probably gone,” I mutter, though it sounds like a garbled whisper underneath his palm still pressed over my lips.

A long moment passes, his eyes intent and riotous on mine, before he releases me and steps back. I stay slumped against the wall for a longer moment, before regaining my footing and stepping awkwardly to the side so he can leave the closet.

He checks the hallway, before stepping out. I don’t follow him immediately, and his eyes snap back to me over his shoulder instantly. Bright. Golden. Intense.

Like painted stars over a night sky.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t want to come out. I want to stay in here. I don’t dare let the words leave my mouth, eyebrows furrowed in a minor frustration at him.

I’m angry, I realize. At Toren, for leaving me and for making me feel hot and sticky. For not wanting me . . . again.

That thought works like a shock to my system.

“I could just see him. Just to make sure he’s okay.” The voice is a vignette from years before, one I wish I could swallow down and forget.

My dad’s voice reverberates clearly in my mind. “He asked for a restraining order against you, Lillian. Do you not understand what that means?”

“I’m fine,” I say, shaking my head. “I just want to stay. In here. For a little.” My words are disjointed and I’m not sure if they even make relative sense. With the way Toren’s eyes flare, I think they either don’t, or they do, and he’s still angry with me. It makes my own anger roar higher in response.

“Come out of there, Lily,” he says. Never yelling, but certain and strong. Authoritative. Sucking out all the air in the little room until I only breathe in him.

“That’s okay.” I bite down on my lip, leaning back and tripping over something—a mop, maybe—before straightening. “You go. I’ll stay.”

He reaches for my wrists, grabbing them both easily in one hand. The movement makes my belly swoop and eyes alight, before I remember where we are and jerk away from him, managing to only slip one hand out of his grip.

“Toren?” a soft, low male voice calls. “What the hell are you doing?”

I start to shrink farther back into the closet, even as Toren keeps hold of my wrist with his massive hand.

“Coach, I’m a little busy, actually.”

“You were supposed to be in my office—”

“I know.” Toren flicks his eyes back to me, before tugging me, making me stumble out into the arena hallway. I slam into his back, arms circling his waist to catch myself, his hand still locked around one delicate wrist. “I had to deal with something first.”

I peek around his body warily.

The man in front of us is a bit younger than my dad, with thick brown hair partially hidden under a hat and a Waterfell half-zip across his broad chest. He crosses his arms and inspects us both, eyes darting from Toren’s grip around my wrist to my fingers curling into his belt loop.

Toren shifts in front of me again, pushing my head back with his bicep carefully.

“You okay?” the man asks.

“She’s fine,” Toren says at the same time I offer a quick, “I’m fine!”

I take a small step away, but I keep a tight hold of his belt loop so that he can’t disappear.

The man frowns slightly, eyes staying only locked on Toren’s. “I wasn’t asking about her. Are you okay, Toren?”

Toren huffs and closes his eyes, letting his hand drop its grip on me. A thread pulls too tight in my chest.

“Yeah, fine, Coach. Should we go to your office?”

Coach Harris, I assume, my dad’s new boss. He seems kind, but I feel almost wary of the intensity of his attention on Toren. Not that it’s my business.