I let out a scream and immediately run through the gate and then onto the track to get to him. Race officials, coaches, and athletic trainers are all surrounding him, making it nearly impossible to reach his side.
When I’m finally able to see him, my breath leaves me in a rush. His eyes are closed. That’s a bad sign, right? Oh, God, what if he’s really hurt.
His eyes flutter open the next moment, and I let out a choked sob of relief.
“Ellis?” I hear him murmur. My name. My name is the first thing on his lips when he comes to. “Where is she?”
“I’m here!” I call without really thinking. I shove my way through the crowd and drop to my knees next to him.
“Head … hurts…” he mumbles.
“You might have a concussion, son,” the track coach says, kneeling beside him. “We’re going to get you checked out, okay?”
“Not without Mallory,” he slurs, and his coach frowns and looks up at me.
“You Mallory?”
Somewhere in the stands, someone barks out, “slut,” but I nod anyway. “I am.”
“Will you go with him?”
I hesitate to answer. Of course I want to go with him. I want to make sure he’s okay and will make a full recovery. But I also know, that if I go and act as his support right now, I’m effectively being sucked back into his fucked-up world after I’d vowed to escape it so many times before.
“Mallory,” the coach barks at me. “You going or not?”
I glance down at Saint, who’s gazing up at me, for once in pain and looking to me for help.
My heart breaks, and I call myself a sucker as I say, “Yeah, I’m going with.”
And just like that, I’m sucked back in.
22
Later that night, I hold Saint up as we stagger down the hall toward his room.
“I’m fine, Mallory,” he grumbles as I unlock his door and help him inside. “The doctor even said I don’t have a concussion.”
“But he’s worried about what’ll happen if you sleep too long,” I mutter, coaxing him toward his bed. “I need to stay with you to make sure you wake up when you’re supposed to.”
“You’re worrying for nothing,” he insists, but I ignore him, pushing on his chest to make him lie down flat. Filtering a sharp breath through his teeth, he cocks an eyebrow suggestively. “Oh, this I can get on board with. You going to join me, Ellis?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, but not for the reasons you think, so stop looking at my boobs. I want to be comfortable while I watch you.”
“But they’re the perfect handful.” He grins sleepily. “Besides, you can be comfortable without your panties. I’m just saying.”
Snorting, I climb into his bed and crawl up next to him. He was talking a big game, but I can tell he’s already starting to feel fatigued. His eyelids are growing heavy. Just before he drifts off, he reaches out and snags my hand, his long fingers linking with mine.
“Don’t leave,” he murmurs.
My heart aches and I nod.
“I won’t,” I whisper. “Now, go to sleep.”
He relaxes against his pillows, and within moments, he’s asleep.
I stare down at him for a few minutes. God, he’s beautiful. Especially when he’s sleeping. There are no scowls, no frown lines, no icy glares. He looks at peace.
I sigh and set the alarm on my phone in case I fall asleep too. Then, I stretch out and snuggle up next to his warm, hard body. I’m lulled by the sound of his breathing and end up dozing off, thinking how good and perfect this feels.
“So, how’s Hot Draco?”
I glance up from my breakfast and meet Loni’s gaze as she and Henry approach our table with their trays.
“He’s alright. No concussion, so that’s a positive.”
“Did you stay with him all night?” Henry parks in the seat in front of me, stuffing a bite of blueberry muffin into his mouth.
I hesitate, but then I nod. “I did.”
When Saint was discharged from the hospital, I helped him get back to his dorm, and then cared for him throughout the night. Even though he didn’t have a concussion, his doctor wanted him to be woken up every thirty minutes or so, just to be on the safe side. While he slept, I lay in his bed next to him, watching him most of the night. My feelings were too jumbled and confused at the time to try to make sense of anything, so I didn’t try. I just sat in the moment with him, and in the morning, after he woke up, I left without a word.
It was a strange, yet oddly cathartic night.
“Was that weird for you?” Loni’s voice is soft, and there’s sympathy glowing in her eyes.
I offer her a half smile and shrug. “A little. We didn’t talk much. I mostly just watched him sleep and woke him up when I needed to. He was pretty wiped out from the meet and the hospital visit.”
I don’t tell her that neither of his parents showed up.
Loni nods. “I see.”
“How was your night?” I ask, deciding I’d rather talk about anything other than Saint at the moment.
I don’t miss how her shoulders tense slightly at my question. “Well, my dad called,” she says, almost nervously. “Apparently, there’s been a change in our Spring Break plans.”
“Oh?” I lift a brow in interest. “What kind of change?”
“He asked how I’d feel about not going to Cozumel because now, he really wants to go to Atlanta.”
Atlanta’s a great city and all but choosing it over Cozumel for a Spring Break trip is a hard pass. “Why exactly?”
“Why do you think?” Loni gives me this look that I feel I’m supposed to understand the meaning of, and then it hits me like a sack of bricks swinging from a crane.
I remember how flirty Mr. James and Carley had been over Parents’ Weekend last fall. I’d thought it was just a random happenstance, but what if…
“Loni, is your dad dating Carley?” I squeak.
“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Tell her what she’s won, Henry.”
Henry just rolls his hazel eyes, and I slap my hands down on the table. “Hold on. What?”
“I figured it out last night,” Loni says, pulling out her phone. “Check this out.”
She opens her Instagram app and pulls up a popular MMA profile. She clicks on one of the photos, and it’s an image of her dad and a blonde woman, whose back is to the camera. The caption below it reads:
JUGGERNAUT SEEN WITH MYSTERIOUS BLONDE BEAUTY DURING LAST ATLANTA VISIT
#blondeshavemorefun #loveisintheair #whoisshe?
I gawk at the photo. Even though I can’t see the woman’s face, I can tell it’s Carley.
Holy shit. Carley is dating an MMA superstar.
I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.
Turning my attention back to Loni, I ask, “Are you okay with this?”
She stares down at the picture a few moments more before she gives me an answer.
“I mean, I’m a little bit weirded out, but I’m sure that happens to any kid whose mom and dad have both used Parents’ Weekend as their own Prep School Mingle. I just want him to be happy. My mom tore him up, and he deserves to find someone who won’t treat him like shit.”