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Cornell took a deep breath and nodded, lifting her by the waist so that her legs wrapped around his middle tightly, and his hands slid to her ass, squeezing her tighter against him. “I’m with you,” he whispered, placing gentle kisses against her soft lips. “I love you.”
Ali nodded, breathing heavily. “Say it again.”
Something she hears.
He repeated it, and Ali sighed, pressing her forehead to Cornell’s.
Something she sees.
“Look at me,” Cornell told her, waiting for her to lock eyes with him. “I’m here with you.”
Ali let him support her full weight as she ran her hands up and down Cornell’s shoulders and arms continuously, tightening her legs around his waist, arching her back to push herself as close as possible before she kissed him hard with unapologetic need.
Something she feels, Cornell thought. Be something she needs.
* * *
“He might not be playing if—”
“Don’t,” Cornell told her, his chin rubbing against Ali’s hair as he shook his head against the pillows of their bed. “No ifs.”
Ali lifted her head to look at him.
“It’s over after Friday. I promise,” Cornell said, his eyes floating around her face, drinking her in. “Just give me until Friday.”
Cornell couldn’t tell Ali Graham wouldn’t be playing any more than he would if she had reported it. It was like Benton had said. “The system isn’t designed to protect victims. It’s set up to annihilate them. It’s not fair because it takes a lot to be a victim and even more to prove you’re one too.”
He imagined what it would be like for Ali to recount all the details and answer all the investigators’ questions appropriately. Holding Ali tighter as she sighed against him, as much as Cornell wished she had filed a police report, part of him felt relieved she didn’t have to willingly relive the night over and over again. The unfairness of the situation struck him, how if Ali focused on all the possible routes she could run, at the moment, not one of them moved her any further down the field.
“One more hard day,” Cornell told her, the concerned frown on his face lifting into a small grin. “I’ll give you many more good ones, okay?”
“You already have,” she said.
Cornell brushed her hair aside, his hand sliding to Ali’s cheek. “There are more coming.” The frown didn’t disappear from Ali’s face. Cornell lifted his head, about to kiss it away when Ali spoke.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” she asked, and Cornell shook his head silently waiting for her to continue. “It didn’t end that night. And I’m not talking about nightmares or flashbacks. I’m talking about parking my car at work. I’m talking about going into my office, about being around your guys,” Ali told Cornell with a shake of her head. “I look at every one of them differently. Like all of a sudden, they’re… ” Ali trailed off.
Like they’re threats. He thought about Julian, arguably the most sound, respectful player on the team, about how he approached Ali for advice and found her on the other side of the wall. Cornell frowned, heartbroken she was afraid of people who were so important to her—who she was important to—all because of Graham.
“High school kids won’t be as intimidating,” Ali told him. “I sent my CV to three schools. Let’s see what happens, but I won’t resign until closer to the end of the semester.”
It has to be her choice,Cornell reminded himself, wondering if next year Hopperville would be the same without Ali in her office. But as long as he had her at home, Cornell knew he would adjust. Work is just work.
“Before you go,” he told her. “I could use some help with Julian. Can I hire you as a consultant for a minute?”
Ali looked up at him, and Cornell could see the disappointment on her face. “It’s his decision.”
“It’s a big one.”
“I’m aware.”
Cornell rubbed Ali’s arm. “You’re better at this than me. You talk about these things better than me.”
Ali lowered her head back to his chest. “That baby won’t be a baby for long. If he stays here with you another year, he’ll get a degree and still have the chance to move on to a four year closer to home and still be with his kid. It’s a marathon.” She paused nestling closer. “Remind him to pace himself on the right track.”
Cornell squeezed her. Please stay.
“I want to take a shower,” Ali said, pushing up from his chest and kissing him softly. “Then I’ll reheat dinner.”
Cornell watched Ali walk into the bathroom. I want to fix this. I want to fix every fucking part of this. Graham forever gone. Ali at work—feeling safe at work. But how he could do either of those things, Cornell didn’t know.
The shower began to run, and Cornell sat, swinging his legs over the bed and walking over to his dresser, fishing in the back of his sock drawer for his mother’s ring. One thing at a time, he thought, placing it back and shutting the drawer. He picked up their clothes from the floor, stepping over to the closet to hang up his jacket when his eyes went to the top shelf, to the tote bag holding the dozens of nearly ruined photos that had previously hung on Ali’s wall.
Grabbing the bag, Cornell opened it. I can’t make it the way it used to be. But I can make her remember the good stuff.
