Hustle

Headlights shine into my bedroom window as Drew’s truck pulls into the driveway, and my feet can’t get to the front door fast enough.

All the emotions that I buried the past few days swell at the sight of him walking up the front path, and I struggle for composure as my mom and Bruce step out of the kitchen to greet him, too.

A tangle of sadness, relief, and something I can’t place pulse in me to near bursting, made worse when I look at him, but I can’t pull my eyes away as I step out the front door towards him.

He stops in front of me, his hands shoved so far in his pockets it stretches his jacket forward, and a smile flickers on his lips but doesn’t form. Our greeting is silent, but our eyes connect with its own conversation, a strong aching need that tugs on my soul. I want to give into it, to step into him, but he stays still and so do I.

The front door opens, and Bruce keeps it propped with his body. My mother stands just inside the threshold.

“Hello, again.” She shifts her eyes between the two of us. I told her he was coming, but I can tell she’s trying to read the situation. “Why don’t you two come inside?”

“Hello, Ms. Shaw.” He nods to my mother and reaches his hand out to shake Bruce’s. His scraped knuckles take all my air. “Hello sir, I’m Andrew.”

“I know who you are.” Bruce returns the handshake with a strong grip. “I’m Officer Bradford.”

Andrew flicks his eyes back to me as he steps into the foyer. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Bruce lifts his chin to look down on the taller man in front of him.

“Oh, stop.” My mother swats his arm, and his stern face cracks into a smile. “Bruce is a friend of the family. Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“Actually,” I interrupt, sliding on a pair of flats, “we’re going out for a little while. I’ll be back.”

My mother meets my eyes with a warning, but keeps silent about it. She knows I don’t go out in town very often.

Thankfully, Drew doesn’t give any signs that this wasn’t the original plan.

“It was nice meeting you, Officer Bradford.” Drew holds the door open for me. “Have a good night, Ms. Shaw.”

He follows behind me and I walk faster, fighting against the insane urge to turn around and throw myself in his arms. When I’m in his truck, I fasten my seatbelt, but the silence continues till we turn off my street.

My focus is on his hand gripping the wheel, on the bruises and cuts that split his knuckles.

“What happened?” I ask, my heart in my throat.

“Tell me where to park,” he demands. “And make it somewhere close.”

“There’s parking for the west river trail if you follow this road till the end.”

He nods, jaw tight, and accelerates the truck, an understanding between us that we won’t talk till we’re stopped. But after he parks on the empty gravel parking lot, he surprises me by getting out of the truck.

I slide out as he rounds the front to my side, his hands back in his pocket.

“Let’s sit in the bed, it’ll be easier to talk.” He reaches past me, grabbing a blanket from behind the passenger seat.

He spreads out the thick comforter onto the open bed of his truck, and then he turns to me, so close the light breeze carries his familiar scent, and I breathe it in. “Do you need help getting up?”

I lift my knee up on the tailgate, and his hands grip my hips, each finger felt through my leggings. His chest presses to my back as he lifts me slow and steady. Even when I’m securely on the truck, he doesn’t let go.

“Brook,” his whispered breath tickles the back of my hair, the heat giving me chills, “I’m sorry.” Then his hands fall away, taking a piece of me with them.

“For what?” I ask as I situate myself cross-legged on the blanket, facing him.

He sits against the cab, legs stretched in front of him, and he watches me for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. Then he shrugs one shoulder. “For everything.”

It sounds final. It sounds like he means it. It’s so simple, but crushing. Everything. He’s sorry for it all.

“What happened?” I speak through the tightness in my throat.

“I spent the whole ride here thinking what I would say to you. Hell, I’ve been thinking of what I should say to you since Tatum showed up Friday. There’s so much I want to ask, so much I want to say. But…” He drops his hand short of actually reaching for me. “Now you’re in front of me, and I can’t think of where to start. Because all I can think right now is that I had you. For a short time, you were mine, and now I’m not sure. I’m not sure what you’re thinking. I’m not sure if you can accept everything, because I’m not sure I’d be able to accept it all if the roles were reversed. But I am sure I want you to be my girl again. I’m sure I want to hold you right now. I want to kiss you.”

“Drew.” My heart tugs, it’s already reaching for him, but my brain screams at me to sit still. “I can’t—”

“I know.” He swipes his face with his hand. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed to start with that. I know that’s too much to ask, yet. And I’m fine with just talking, just sitting here with you. That’s all I wanted these past few days, I kept looking for you and didn’t know where you were or what happened.”

“I didn’t know what happened to you either,” I defend, sinking into myself under the guilt he’s placed on me. “You didn’t call for days.”

“One day. I didn’t call for one day, but you wouldn’t answer me when I did.” The hard lines in his jaw disappear as he breathes out his anger. “I shouldn’t have waited, I should have called on Friday, but I didn’t. It wasn’t me choosing Tatum over you, though. I was only thinking about that baby.” He closes his eyes and when they open, they’re full of a pleading sadness. “I get it, I do. I’m going to be a father and… that scares the shit out of me. I can understand you wanting out of the relationship, and needing time, but don’t avoid me. Stay in my life, even if it’s only as a friend.”

“You want to be friends?” I can’t look at him and keep my eyes cast to my hands. “What about—You and Tatum are going to be a family.” I lift my gaze to his, breaking my own heart. “I can’t get in-between that. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.”

“Bullshit,” his voice is rough with emotion, and he rises to his feet, jumping over the side of the truck, kicking the gravel with his boots. “That’s bullshit. You talk about being fair? How is that fair to me? To you? To any of us?” He quits his pacing and steps back to the bed of the truck, approaching me with an intense, untamed anger. “I don’t love her. I don’t feel for her. There’s nothing for you to get between. I’m not going to be with her. I know that now, more than ever. What’s unfair is that it took me meeting you to realize that. I wish I’d figured it all out sooner. But I can’t take it back, and now there’s a baby. And I will be there for my child, but that doesn’t mean that I have to be with her. That doesn’t mean I can’t be with you.”

He touches me with his eyes, even when his hands don’t. My skin tingles under the caress of his gaze as it slides over me. He leans on the truck, his forearms braced on the edge of the bed. “I know there’s a lot to work out and a lot to talk about, but I don’t care. I don’t know what the hell happened, but I’ll face it with you. Let me be there for you. Be here for me. Even if it’s only friends, please.”

I nod, unable to close him out, unwilling to push him away.

The truck sways as he lifts himself onto the bed and sits in front of me, legs bent on either side of my body, moving as close as possible.

“Now tell me what happened.” His face dips into my line of sight, his voice gentle and coaxing. “What really happened Friday?”

What really happened? The question slices. I don’t want to say and have him question the truth, too. I can’t handle it.

“It was more than one day.” I delay the details and focus on him. “I tried to call you, but you didn’t call until Sunday.”

His brows pull together. “I called you a lot Saturday morning, but you never answered. I didn’t think—I thought you were mad, I didn’t know then anything else was happening. And I was stuck so far away. I thought to wait till I got back to explain, but you had already left.”

“I didn’t get any calls. Where did you go?” I’d slept most of Saturday morning, but there’d been no missed calls on my phone.

“I was at Tatum’s parents. We had to tell them, and then I just crashed. I don’t usually take my sleeping pills, but I was so fucking stressed, I did. Once I finished talking to her parents, and you weren’t answering my calls, I went to sleep until it was time for our flight home.” He shakes his head and looks up into the night sky, the silvery starlight washing over his typically tan skin, his voice is just as haunted, “She told me then you spent the weekend with Scott. I got your message, but I wanted to talk to you in person. And then I got back, but you were nowhere around. I’ve been calling you since, wanting to hear your side of things.”

“I didn’t know you called.” My pulse pounds, churning a nervous storm in my stomach, but I force myself to talk. “I was at Scott’s, but only for the night. I had to get out of my room, and he was there.” I pull my legs up to my body, wrapping my arms around them as I look up at Drew. “Nothing happened with him. I drank too much earlier and passed out. I slept most of the morning, but I don’t know why I never got your calls. I wanted to give you space, but I’d been waiting for you to call.”

His chest lifts with his breath, and his muscles vibrate with his growl. “I know why, that shady fuck deleted them.”

It was the only thing that made sense, as much as I didn’t want that to be true. That or Drew was lying, and that I couldn’t face.

“I’ll deal with him later. But while we have this time now, what happened? Because the things TJ’s saying—”

“What is he saying?” I snap my head up to him, scooting out of the circle of his body until my back hits the side of the truck bed.

He watches me with a quiet look, every one of my movements under his scrutiny, and I drop my head to my knees, afraid to see his anger come to life again.

“I didn’t do anything.” I squeeze myself tighter. “I didn’t say anything. I don’t know why he’s doing this.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He scoops me onto his lap with an effortless sweep of his arms and holds me against him, speaking comforting words into my hair. “I know. I believe you—”

I grip his shirt in my hand, burning tears leaking from my eyes. He believes me, even before I explain. And that means everything.

“—And he’s not going to talk anymore.”

“Is that what happened? Is that why you’re suspended?” My heart is in a vice, pain bleeding out of it. I sit up and grab one of his bruised hands. “Did you fight him?” At his sober nod, I release a small cry. “I am so sorry.”

“No.” He holds me by the shoulders. “This is not your fault. Whatever game these assholes are playing is not your fault. What I did was my choice, and I’d do it again, even knowing the consequences. He deserved it. He should have never been running his mouth about you, no matter what happened. Even if it was all true. I don’t fucking care, he still shouldn’t say those things.”

“It’s not true.”

He pulls me back into his arms. “I know. I didn’t mean I thought it was.” His hands slide around my back, holding me a little tighter, and it helps me catch my breath. His heat overpowers the chill in my bones. His heartbeat steadies mine. “Is it okay that I hold you like this? I don’t want to let you go.”

I nod in his chest, unable to let go of him either. His arms provide a comfort I need. For all the chaos he usually causes, he’s now the buoy I cling to. But I still fear the storm around us; fear that I’ll bring him down with me.

“What happened? What did he say?” I ask.

“I didn’t see him till practice Monday morning, but he said you were drunk Friday, and that you and your friends had said you needed to get over me. He said you—” His fingers still on me, but they pulse with a tense energy, his entire body tightening around me. “He said he went to change in your dorm, not realizing you were in the bathroom, and when you came out, you were all over him. But he said he left, and you went to sleep, but then Scott came and you left with him. I wanted to smash his face in for even saying that, but the other players were around and they stopped us from fighting. He made it worse by saying I was overreacting, that you weren’t worth it. That I shouldn’t let you get in the middle of the team.” His breath strains and his hands turn rough as they move up and down my back. “But I couldn’t get over it because you are worth it. And I don’t just mean us, as a couple, I mean you. You are worth defending.”

I sink deeper into his hold, silent tears denying my worth. I wasn’t worth his future.

“Then later, after practice, I saw him talking to Scott.” His arms cross my back, and his breathing deepens, his chest rising and falling against my head. “TJ was yelling about you being a liar, and when I came up, Scott, that bitch, ran away. But TJ kept going on about how I needed to realize that you were just a good actress. Other teammates were around, and the more that showed up, the louder he got. When he started describing—I lost it. And none of them stopped me that time, not right away anyways. They pulled me off him when he was on the ground, when college security rolled up. And now I’m suspended. But I don’t give a fuck, and he knows not to talk about you anymore.”

“But it’s already too late. They all believe him. And they all hate me.” And I pull him right down with me, but still I can’t let him go.

“Who?” He lifts his head to look down at me. “Your stupid roommate, forget what she thinks. They just want us apart because I told TJ that he had to stop bringing that drug dealing pedophile around.”

“What?” I pop up from his lap to look at him. “That’s not why?”

“What do you mean?” His eyes narrow as he searches my face, but he holds me still on his lap.

I rub my hands through my hair. “What are you talking about? What did you tell them?”

“After you told me about that coach from your school, the one he left with the other day, I told him and all the other players involved that they needed to keep him away, or I wouldn’t keep quiet anymore.”

“Drew.” My pulse trips and tumbles to my stomach. “You shouldn’t get involved in that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to live scared of them. And they’re only causing trouble here, too.” His eyes scan over me. “I only gave a warning that I wouldn’t keep quiet. That’s all. It’s up to them what they do. But why did you think he lied?”

“I—” My shallow breaths make me lightheaded, the dark velvet night closing in on me, but I force the truth out, “I saw something, and he didn’t like that. I think he wanted to make me seem like a liar even though I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“What did you see?” He questions, careful and level.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I saw him kiss someone. A guy from the team.”

“Who?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to say. I didn’t want to tell, I wouldn’t have, but when TJ found out I saw he—he threatened me.”

“Threatened you? How?” There’s steel running through his whisper. “When?”

I close my eyes, gathering all my strength, building it up, but so scared of his reaction. “Wednesday.”

“That’s why you were upset and never came over?” Realization pulls on his shoulders, he goes from pulling me to him to shifting back to keep his eyes on me. “What happened?”

The memory burns my throat. “He choked me.”

He jolts, body springing up, but then he’s right back down, in front of me. “Did he do anything else?”

The second I shake my head, he’s pulling me from the back of the truck. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”

The rush of blood through me makes me lightheaded and nauseous as my feet hit the ground and he continues to lead me to the passenger side of the truck. “What are you doing?”

He opens the door and turns, anger lit eyes landing on me and simmering. “We’re going back to your house, and you’re telling that officer what happened.”

“No, please.” It’s an explosion in me, shrapnel splintering in my veins. “It’ll make everything worse. All the lies will get louder, and more people will get hurt. Think about your team, your season.” I’m begging him, holding onto his arms so he can’t walk away to the driver’s side. “Your future.”

“I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about him and what he did.” He sees me then, my panic, and his hand slides to my face, his thumb swiping at the stray tears on my cheek. “You’re important, baby. You’re important to me, don’t worry about everything else.”

“But you don’t understand. It won’t matter what I say. They won’t believe me.” I grip my stomach against the pain tearing it. “I can’t do this again. Don’t make me do this.”

He wraps me in his arms, lifting me off the ground till I’m sitting on the passenger seat, but his body is between my legs, surrounding me. His lips slide against my cheek, and mouth, and chin. “Shhh, baby. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’m here with you.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into his ear. “I can’t.”

His lips meet mine, and he breathes me in, the strain in his muscles loosening as his fingers trail down my neck, feather light. “We don’t have to do anything right now. I didn’t mean to push too soon.” But his fingers dip into the neck of my hoody and before I can pull away his gaze follows and turns ice cold. “He left marks. It’s been almost a week, and you still have marks.”

I push away from his grip, but he won’t let me. He slides into the seat with me, lifting me onto his lap and holding me there until I still with soothing words. “It’s okay. Let me hold you. I’m so sorry.”

I stay in his arms, soaking up the steady comfort he gives.

“Do you think—” His hand slides up and down my hoodie. “Can you take this off and show me?”

I pull the sweater off and sit still, letting him study me under the overhead light while I stare at the floor, detached—or trying to be.

His typical heat inducing touch sends chills through me as he trails them along my collarbone. When his lips graze the side of my neck, I close my eyes. But it’s like he’s taken some of the weight from me, some of the pain. His trembling lips lets me know that he feels it. And my heart breaks and heals. While he’s helping me, I’m hurting him.

“You can’t keep silent on this.” He pulls me back into the warm circle of his arms. “You’re worried about all the wrong people.”

I only let the tears keep falling, wishing I could be who he wants me to be, someone who would stand up against violence, but I can’t.

His hands keep moving over me, soothing even as his words scare me.

“You want to think about others? Think about who else he might hurt.”

“They won’t believe me,” my voice cracks with the pain of it all.

“Yes, they will. You have these marks. It will be different this time. I’ll be with you.”

“But what about you?” I pull back from his hold, the small space of the truck giving me nowhere to go, and my watery eyes meet his. “This will affect the team. This will—”

“Stop worrying about that.” He presses his hand to the side of my face with a gentle caress.

I shake my head, his warm palm moving against my cheek. “But it’ll ruin the season—everyone’s chance. Your chance at being drafted.”

“That’s not true. There’s other factors, and even if it did, it still wouldn’t be your fault.” he holds my head steady with both hands, bringing his face to mine. Nose against my nose, warm breath on my skin. “You’re worried about me?”

I nod, tears slipping between our skin.

“Do you feel my hands right now, baby?” He lifts his head, dark eyes shaded in the spotlight of the overhead light, but they’re direct and steady. Serious. “Do you feel me shaking?”

I’m trembling, but now that I focus, his hands are vibrating as they hold my face. I close my eyes and bring my hands over his, both of us unsteady. “Yes.”

“I never shake like this. My whole damn career is on staying in control, but I can’t right now. I’m barely keeping it together for you as it is.” His voice turns hard as he clenches his teeth. “I’m so close to driving back to campus and finding him. I swear if you don’t report him, I will do something. I will find him. And I don’t know what will happen. That will be what gets me in trouble. And it still won’t be your fault. None of it.”

“No, don’t do that.” I drop back onto his chest, gripping him like I can keep him from going anywhere, doing anything.

“Something has to be done.” His hands slide down my back and keep going to my legs, situating me better across his lap like I weigh nothing. “I’m not letting this go.”