Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(62)

It just wasn’t the good news.

It was news in general that didn’t have to do with Erik or with the vandalism. It had been two days, and the police had nothing. At least it forced Matt to set up cameras around the house.

And that was the other annoying thing. Every time the Ring app went off on my phone, I jumped a foot. Apparently, it detected the slightest motion and picked up on everything from the UPS guy to a bird flying in front of the house. Needless to say, it made me feel both paranoid and oddly safe.

I flipped through a few more channels on the TV and checked my cell. It was nine a.m. the day after tryouts.

Nine a.m. and I was already driving everyone insane.

I clapped my hands in front of me, rolled my eyes, then reached for the remote again and flipped through the channels.

“. . . developing story about a love affair gone wrong.” The hair on the back of my neck stood on edge as I watched the news channel.

A girl about my age described how her doctor had touched her inappropriately. I recognized her as one of the elite ice skaters that had made it to the Olympics during the last trials. She was so pretty, young, successful, and already had her own Wheaties box.

And she didn’t look like herself as she cried in front of the reporter. It was like she was watching someone else relay the story, like she was trying to separate herself from the actual attack. I knew that hollow feeling well. If you admitted it, it had happened. A picture flashed of the team doctor. He was young, attractive, and had been one of her personal physicians for four years.

And according to her, for four years he had taken advantage of her, molested her, and when she spoke up had countersued her for ruining his reputation.

According to him, she was angry he had refused to give her a cortisone shot, and because of that she blamed him for not getting a gold medal. “I would never put my license at risk—no matter who asked me,” he said smugly to the camera as he left court. “No more questions.”

My stomach dropped. This was me. I was watching my life through someone else’s eyes, someone braver, someone willing to risk it all to protect those around her, willing to put her reputation on the line because wrong is wrong. No is no.

“Sources are confident this is going to be a long battle between the two, since Miss Davenport didn’t come forward until recently, when allegations that the doctor had been mistreating other women were discovered.”

I needed to do something.

Say something.

My body vibrated with rage.

My cell went off again.

Stupid Ring app.

I flipped off the TV.

My brain was going a million miles a minute. Was I just as bad as Erik? For not saying anything? For not going to the right people? I thought I had when I told my therapist, without realizing she was sleeping with Erik and had been for months.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

This was supposed to be a happy day.

A happy week.

And still, he haunted me.

Would it always be like this?

“Parker?” Matt’s voice sounded different. I jerked my head in his direction and waited for the good news. Instead, he looked uneasy.

“I didn’t make the team.” I hung my head.

“No, I’m not sure about the team yet, but I did just get a phone call from Darius. He wanted to know if he could stop by and talk with you. I told him he was welcome to come. He was already in the car and should be here in five or ten minutes.”

My chest felt heavy as I tried to read Matt’s expression. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He stared at me for a few brief minutes before saying, “He asked about our relationship.”

“As in our working relationship?”

“As in our romantic relationship . . . he wanted to know if it was a trend . . .”

“If what was a trend?” I fired back. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know how he knows, Parker. God knows we were careful, but someone tipped him off about Erik. All he knows is that according to an unnamed source, you pursued your coach in order to further your own career—and all he knows from that same source is that you are living under my roof, under my care, while I coached you, and that last night we were seen at a stop light kissing, with you in nothing but your sports bra.”

My mouth dropped open as terror threatened to split me in two. The very man I wanted—I needed—to tell me it was going to be okay was looking at me like it wasn’t, like we couldn’t come back from this. Like I never would.

“Matt . . .” I licked my dry lips. “I need you to be my agent now. Tell me what to do, how do I handle this?” Tears welled in my eyes as my throat got thick and heavy. “I don’t know how to lie to him and I don’t want to. I don’t want to lie about us, but if I don’t—”

“I get it,” Matt said softly. “And I’m going to make it easy on you, Parker. Choose your dreams.” He didn’t touch me, didn’t walk over to me and pull me into his arms. “I’m not the reason you’re here, you’re the reason you’re here, your talent, your tenacity—it’s you. Worry about you. Not me.”

“But . . .”

He silenced me with a sad smile.

“That can’t be the only option!” I jumped to my feet.

“It is the only option,” Matt said through clenched teeth. “Right now you’re just another one of my athletes ready to sign what should be a seven-figure deal with one of the best teams in the US. As your agent, it’s my job to tell you that another option doesn’t exist!”