I only realize I’m shaking when Millie pulls me into her arms by way of comfort.
“Is he okay? Has Coach spoken to him?” Nolan continues.
“He hadn’t when we saw him. I think he was going to call Ky’s mom and let her know.”
“I need to go and see him.”
Four pairs of eyes immediately look over at me.
“Thea . . .”
I can hear Jude’s voice in the back of my mind as I walk mindlessly around the kitchen gathering protein bars, water, some fruit, anything Kyler might need. I reach into the closet in the hallway and pick up a backpack which I can fill with various items.
“Thea, stop.”
I’m focused on what I need to do. Ky probably also needs a fresh pair of clothes and some toiletries too and is likely waiting for them. I can’t imagine what it’s like to only have a hospital gown, or the clothes he was brought in with. He might have already asked the hospital to ask Coach for them, so someone needs to take them to him and that someone should be me.
“Thea!”
This time I feel Jude’s arms holding mine, stopping me from continuing any further. He turns me around to face him and I know from the look of regret on his face I don’t want to hear the words he’s about to say.
“I’m sorry T, he doesn’t want to see you.”
“What? Why not?” My voice is shaky and my bottom lip trembles.
“He’s not ready yet. Not after everything that went down at Lacey’s party. He needs time, Thea, and we need to give it to him.”
“But . . . he needs clothes and food. And . . .” I find myself struggling to find the words and instead, rambling takes over. “And he probably needs to shave and freshen up and whatnot, and we have to take those things to him. We can’t leave him in a shitty hospital gown. And a charger! He’ll need a charger for his phone.”
“And that’s for hisfamilyto take to him.” Jude brings me into his arms and hugs me tightly. “Kyler specifically told Coach he doesn’t want to see you or me. Not yet and not until he’s ready. I’m sorry, T.”
I know he’s right. I know it makes sense. Kyler’s upset and hurt, both mentally and physically. If I saw him now, no doubt he’d lash out and we’d both say things we would regret. But it doesn’t help take away the bitter sting of rejection taking over my body. I pull back from Jude and quickly wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater.
“Why don’t you text him instead? At least he’ll know you’re thinking about him.” Millie suggests, passing me a tissue as she does so.
“Yeah, okay . . .” My voice is thick with emotion, and I clear my throat. I pick up my phone and open the messages app, and the latest conversation I had with Kyler.
Hope you’re okay. I miss you. Please let me know when you’re ready to talk.
The three bubbles appear immediately but the reply takes a little longer to be delivered. When it does, a spark of hope lights within me.
Ky: I’ll be back later. We’ll talk then.
My stomach churns as I look at the clock in the living room for what feels like the hundredth time. Ky didn’t say what time he would be home, and it’s been hours since he sent his text. My housemates have made themselves scarce to give us the privacy we need, but the time is ticking and there is only so long they can stay away from their home. Devon and Jude have gone for a workout at the gym, stating it would be a welcome distraction from worrying about their teammate. Nolan and Millie went . . . somewhere together, which in any other circumstance would not only strike me as strange but would also draw suspicions on how they’ve suddenly become very cozy in their friendship. And I stayed at the house, frenetically pacing and no doubt wearing down the already worn-out carpet into a non-repairable threadbare state.
To say I’m anxious would be putting it lightly. I’ve barely eaten since the half bowl of soup I attempted earlier; my legs are restless, hence the need to pace; and my palms are clammy. I keep telling myself this is Kyler;myKyler. The person who is so tender with his words and actions in the darkest nights. The person who’s selfless and always puts others first. The person who wouldn’t hurt those he loves. I hope this includes me, although I know I should brace myself for what’s coming. While the hurt won’t come in physical form, I should expect it in his words.
My chest tightens with the sound of the front door opening and the churning sensation in my stomach becomes more amplified. It takes a few seconds for Kyler to appear in the doorway and when he does, I can’t hold back the gasp emitting from me. He looks terrible. Bruises cover his face and his left eye is so swollen he can barely open it. His jaw is various shades of yellow and blue. There are also butterfly stitches holding together a cut across his right eyebrow. He clutches his right arm around his body, as if to stop any sudden movement, and there’s a bandage wrapped around his hand. My eyes quickly scan the rest of him searching for any other obvious signs of injury or pain but other than the slight bend in his stature, I find nothing. This is good, I find myself thinking, this is just like any of the other numerous fights he’s been in. A few days of bed rest and he’ll recover.
“Kyler,” I breathe out, a small thread of relief replaces some of the anxiety still within me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Thea.” Kyler’s words are sharp and there’s a recognizable undercurrent of anger laced within them.
“Let me help you sit down, here lean on—”
“I said,I’m fine. I can do this myself.”
He slowly maneuvers himself toward the kitchen and grabs himself a bottle of water before resting against the breakfast bar. I watch as he takes a gulp, followed by another, and then places the now half empty bottle on the counter.