Page 38 of The Flight Risk

“Did Lottie tell you what that asshole of a kid’s name is?”

“No. I didn’t really want to pry that out of her right now.” I feel pressure on my forehead and I know a headache is on the horizon. “Why?”

“Because I think Lottie should press charges. He had no business doing that and I don’t want him to get away with something like this – if he tried that with Lottie, I’m sure there are other girls, too,” Oakley says sternly.

Waves of guilt rooted from my past surges through me and I take a deep breath before I continue, “As much as I agree with you, I don’t want to put the pressure on Lottie to do anything at this moment. I think we should leave it on the table, but I don’t want to present that option to her until things diffuse a little bit.”

He nods then says, “Okay, as long as it’s still on the table.”

“Firmly on the table,” I reassure him. I wish I’d had an Oakley looking after me when I was Lottie’s age.

A crack in Oakley’s voice cuts through the temporary silence. “I almost punched a seventeen-year-old kid tonight.” His hands dangle in between his massive, muscular thighs. The crease between his eyebrows deepens.

“But you didn’t.”

“But I wanted to. So bad.”

“Trust me, I did too. Nothing happened, Oakley. Lottie is fine. He didn’t hurt her.”

“He did fucking hurt her, Tess. She’s going to have that memory of a fucking douchebag who can’t keep it in his damn pants forcing himself on her. I never understood guys like that. They pissed me off when I was younger and they piss me off now.” There is a vein popping out of his neck and it’s fucking adorable how worked up he is about this. He barely met Lottie a few weeks ago and he’s so protective of her already.

My stomach starts to do little twists and turns but I mentally swipe them away and pat his large bicep a couple of times. “I promise that she’ll be okay, and I know that because I am okay.”

“What?”

“I was around Lottie’s age and there was this really cute guy that I was very into. He used that to get me to go into a bedroom with him at a party. I thought I wanted him. I thought I was ready, but I wasn’t. I tried stopping him, but he wouldn’t let up. Not until someone accidentally walked into the bedroom, realized what was happening, and pulled him off of me. Everything turned out fine. I think I turned out pretty okay.” I sip some more water and don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel a rough, warm thumb graze across my skin.

“I’m sorry, Tess. You turned out incredible despite everything you have experienced in your life.”

I laugh at myself for crying over something that happened fifteen years ago. “I’ve never told anyone about that night.”

Oakley’s eyes are filled with concern. “Why not?”

“Maybe because it didn’t go as far as it could’ve.” I shrug and wipe another tear. “I don’t know, maybe I felt that other people went through so much worse, so why would anyone care about what I went through?”

Oakley rests his hand on mine and I look into his emerald green eyes, which are slightly wet. Is he about to cry right now? And why am I feeling that funny tug in my belly at the mere thought?

“I care.” His voice breaks for a second. “And just for the record, I would gladly kick that guy’s ass. No one gets to treat you like that. Ever.”

“Thanks for saying that.” I swallow hard because there’s that feeling again. The feeling that he is getting too close and I’m getting too vulnerable. It’s uncomfortable for me, so I revert back into the familiar. Closing myself up. I notice the time. After midnight. “Well, I will get out of your hair and let you get some rest. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in your own bed tonight, especially since you have a travel day tomorrow? I wouldn’t want all of this affecting your game.”

“Not a chance, Tess. Have a good night.”

I flash him one last smile, then stand up and walk toward the staircase.

“Hey, Tess.”

“Yeah?”

“Any man would be lucky to breathe the same air as you.”

22

The next morning, I wake up early despite getting limited sleep. To no one’s surprise, I’m the only one awake at 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning. It’s not like I have a choice–I have to be on the team plane in a couple of hours for an away game. Tess is no doubt sleeping in. Last night, when I was ruminating over my feelings about what happened with Lottie and what Tess told me, there were so many times I almost said “fuck it” to this whole sleeping arrangement–all I wanted to do was crawl into bed next to her warm, smooth body and just cuddle her. I wish I could jump in a time machine and protect her from all the assholes who ever crossed paths with her. Who ever made her feel unworthy or unlovable. I want to kick all of their asses.

Hopefully, I’ll have no problem sleeping on the plane with everything going on in my head. I stand up and feel a twinge of residual pain from my injury. It’s feeling better, but I know I’m not a hundred percent. Coach might put Hemsworth, the backup goalie, in for most of the game since I’m technically still injured.

I brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face to wake up. After I change out of my pajamas (which I’ve had to actively remind myself to wear since usually I sleep in nothing but my underwear) I mosey over to the kitchen.