“I’m in battle mode, Ryan. You know me. I’m always ready to fight.”
He nods. “One of the things I like most about you.” He takes a deep breath as if he needs to prepare himself. “Finish the fucking story.”
“When he came to my room, I slammed the door on him, didn’t let him in. Not that I knew what he did or didn’t do with the other girls at that point, but he creeped me out enough so that I wanted as little to do with him as possible.” I take a deep breath. “Next morning he rides me at practice then corners me in the locker room when I get out of the shower. He must have chased the rest of the team away because we were alone.” I pause because this is the part I never think about, the part I don’t want to remember, the part that enrages me. Ryan’s eyes are on me, he leans in and puts a hand on mine, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear it any more than I want to tell it. I consider not going on, refusing to say what happened or lying. But I can’t do it. Ryan’s eyes pin me, compel me to tell the truth, to tell him everything. Because . . . I need to. He’s my unicorn and I love him and I’ll give him whatever he wants. No matter the cost.
“He pulled my towel from me and threw me back into the shower, trapped me there.” My voice shakes, but I go on. “He threatened me, threatened to have me benched or kicked off the team if I said anything, if I don’t go along. That’s when I knew I had a chance, knew I could get away from him, because in his head, he was going to get me to go along with his demands willingly. I didn’t say anything and he took that to mean I agreed, and he started unbuckling his pants.
“His belt buckle was his downfall. And my salvation. Because when he looked down to unfasten his belt, I made my move. And you know I had moves. I may not have been very close in age with my brother Jason, but he saved me. He taught me how to take care of myself.”
“What did you do to him?” He’s smiling now, albeit an evil smile and that makes me smile. My heart stutters, the panic and fear fading back as I remember what I did.
“I kneed him in the face and spun out of the shower, then kicked him in the balls. His nose poured blood and he was doubled over when I ran, grabbing my towel and my clothes and locked myself in the office. He pounded on the locked door while I dressed, threatening all kinds of things. I stayed in the office, tried covering my ears so I wouldn’t have to listen.”
“You’re the bravest woman I know.” He reaches out and caresses my face, a faint smile on his lips. He wears the quintessential Ryan the lady charmer look on his face, except there’s more, that admiration glowing through. But it’s undeserved, because I haven’t confessed my shame. The thing that I’ve regretted every day since. Taking his hand, I lower it.
“Not so brave, really. I had my cell phone with me. I could have called the police.Shouldhave called the police. And I didn’t.” I take a breath. “Because I was afraid. Because I didn’t want to get thrown off the Olympic team, didn’t want to disappoint my mom and my brother. Do you know how much they sacrificed, how proud they were?”
“How hard you worked.” His voice shook. “Of course you were scared, goddamn it, Chelsea. You were a kid. You’re human. And you’re still the bravest woman I know.”
A smile pops out on my face. I don’t know what I expected, but he’s proved without a doubt he’s a big strong unicorn of a man. Leaning forward, I touch my lips to his, needing the sizzle, the surefire warmth and headiness of his essence when I taste him. I keep it short and he lets me separate from him after a moment.
“I should have called the police, Ryan. After that, he made good on some of his threats, the part about benching me. I hardly got to play. A day or night didn’t go by that he didn’t make a threat to have me thrown off the team if I said a thing. I sold my soul to stay on that team.” Shaking my head, I add, “For what? I don’t know anymore.”
He takes me in his arms now, hugging me to him, as if this is the end of my story, but sadly, there’s more. So I push back after listening to his murmurs of comfort for a few moments, whether I deserve them or not.
“I’m not finished,” I say.
“What else could there be?” His face turns into the personification of a thundercloud, dark and furious, and I’m glad the fury isn’t aimed at me.
“I didn’t call the police, but I went to the head coach. I told her about it. She said she would take care of it.” I scoff. “Her idea of taking care of it was to have a talk with him and extract a promise that he would leave me alone. She lectured me on the need for consistency and how we had to stay together for the duration. The next game after my chat with the coach was the only game I started in. We won.”
“Fuck. What a fucking waste. What’s her name?”
I give him a look and don’t bother answering his question. While he’s aiming his dissatisfied scowl at me, I continue since I may as well get every ugly detail off my chest while I’m at it. A numbness has settled over me, a distance, as I tell the story, like it happened to someone else.
“You want to know what the worst thing is?”
“I’m not sure I do. But tell me.” I watch him steel himself for the hit, like he’s heading into the corner of the rink and there’s a defenseman on his heels ready to slam him into the boards.
“The worse thing is what he got away with doing to the other women on the team. The ones who got caught and didn’t or couldn’t fight back. I found out there was no one left untouched.” I shut my mouth and let the wave of nausea and searing pain go through me with the memory of my teammates.
“Fucking—” He stands and kicks the coffee table. It’s a cheap lightweight piece of crap so it goes flying.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He immediately retrieves the table and rights it, or tries to, but it’s cracked now and unstable.
“Don’t worry. It’ll make good firewood.”
He takes me in his arms and doesn’t let go. Even if I want to, I can’t pry free of his fierce hug. It lasts a long time. Long enough for me to settle into it, to come back to my feeling self, for the numbness to fade until the full set of emotions from rage to guilt to humiliation run through me. Long enough for me to get to the other side of all the bad so I can appreciate his strong arms, his scent, his hard body. When he finally loosens his hold, I’m shocked to see on his face the signs of tears shed and it makes me want to cry.
“Oh, Ryan.”
He takes his my face in his hands and brings his close. “I swear to you, Chelsea. I’ll make up for every bad thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“My white knight.”
“I thought I was your unicorn?” He smiles, because it’s not in his nature to brood, to hold onto dark thoughts and I laugh through the tears threatening to choke me.
“Let’s get some air,” he says. He stands and pulls me off the couch and out the back door, while I swipe tears from my face, trying to catch up with him emotionally and physically.