That’s tomorrow.
That’s another day.
Sulli pulls her eyes off the flags and looks towards me and Akara. She tugs her ear.
We tug ours back.
We love you too, mermaid.
After the ceremony ends, Sulli hops off the podium and bypasses cameras and reporters. She heads straight for us.
Ryke and Daisy wrap their daughter in a hug.
“World fucking record holder,” Ryke says, messing Sulli’s damp hair as they pull apart.
She smiles. “I heard you, you know, Dad. Cheering me on.”
“Yeah?” Ryke wears a rare gentle expression. “What was I doing?”
“Yelling go, Sulli.”
Daisy brightens. “The accuracy of it all.”
Ryke laughs—and just as Sulli turns to us and her sister, Ryke’s laugh is choked off with a violent, bang!
Shrieking pitches the air. People stir at the sound of a gunshot. Instinct shoves me more than fear.
Protect Sulli.
Protect our girlfriend.
I curve an arm over Sulli, quickly—in the blink of a fucking eye. Pulling her down, and she’s already ducking. Akara swoops in, shielding her frontside.
Wylie covers Ryke.
Price covers Daisy, and Greer is on Winona. We’re all seconds from racing the Meadows out of the stadium. We start to move.
“Fuckfuck,” Sulli cries in terror. “Dad?”
“I’m alright, sweetie.”
And then our comms ring in our ears.
“It’s a confetti popper,” Farrow says loudly.
Oscar confirms, “A kid shot off a confetti popper. Section three-hundred, around the twelfth row.”
Fucking kidding me. Unblinking, I sweep the pool, where reporters crouch and hide behind camera equipment. And the stands where people stampede out of their seats and to the nearest exits.
Akara speaks hushed in his mic. “No threat, no threat. Everyone stay close to your clients.”
Even with the no threat call, adrenaline is pumping and we guide the Meadows family into a back exit with urgency, leading them down a hall.
Quiet.
We’re all fucking deathly quiet, and my gaze is sharp. Narrowed.
I’m frosty.
She’s safe.
They’re safe.
We enter an emptied locker room. Smells like chlorine and wet socks. But I push out ahead of everyone and do a quick scan.
“All clear,” I tell Akara and the Triple Shield bodyguards.
Sulli, Winona, and Daisy sink onto a wooden bench between a row of lockers. I put a comforting hand on Sulli’s head while she catches her breath. She keeps muttering, “Fuck,” over and over again.
Trained for this shit, I listen closely—probably too closely if I’m being honest with myself. I hear faraway footsteps. I hear the drip drip of a leaky showerhead. I hear the creaking of old pipes. Senses are humming—on a fucking live-wire, and I can’t shut off.
“Hey, we’re here, Sul,” Akara consoles, bending down to our girlfriend. “It was just a stupid confetti popper. Kinda sounded like a giant fart.” He nudges her arm with a weak smile.
Sulli almost snorts.
Akara stands up, more rigid. He’s speaking into comms. Probably the temp frequency because I hear nothing, and his playful side with Sulli shifts from buddyguard to boss.
I try to fixate on more than the drip drip and creaks. Like how Winona holds Sulli’s hand.
Ryke crouches near his wife.
“Dais?” he whispers.
She presses a shaky palm to her forehead.
“Akara, can you go get a few waters?” Ryke asks, and I think he’s asking his daughter’s boyfriend. Not his daughter’s bodyguard.
“Yeah, of course.” He touches my arm to silently say, take care of Sul, before he finds the nearest vending machine.
I nod to him as he shoves off.
“We should’ve brought Goldi,” Winona says softly, mentioning Goldilocks, Daisy’s service dog for PTSD.
“I’m okay,” Daisy breathes and tries to smile at Nona.
“What about for Sulli?” she questions.
“I’m alright, squirt.” She looks queasy as hell. And then she hangs onto my shirt with big eyes that scream, I’m going to be fucking sick, Banks.
I only tear her hands off me to grab a nearby janitor’s bucket. Putting the blue thing under her mouth, Sulli vomits.
The room tenses.
Winona collects her sister’s hair into her hands. I’m bent down to keep the bucket steady for Sulli. Her eyes are squeezed shut.
My body is in knots seeing her sick again. I want to do more. Take the fucking pain away. Let me puke so she doesn’t have to.
Comms go off in my ear. “I’m coming back inside.” Akara. Footsteps pad, and Price alerts the family, “It’s Akara,” before I can.
My metamour rounds the lockers with three PuraFons water bottles. He nearly drops one seeing Sulli puking.
“Shit,” he curses.
Even if I had free hands, I wouldn’t slug him right now. We’re on-duty. Our girlfriend is puking up her guts with a gold medal dangling around her neck. And her family is rattled from a confetti pop that sounded like a fucking gunshot.
Sulli doesn’t open her eyes.
Akara passes around the water bottles. His questioning, concerned eyes drill into me.
“She just started,” I say quietly to him.
“Sulli,” Winona consoles. “It’s okay. No one’s coming to hurt you. We’re all here. You’re safe now.”
I send Akara a hard look. I don’t think that’s why she’s sick. This isn’t from the fear of a bullet.
“Akara and Banks are here.” Winona keeps talking. “They love you. They won’t let anything bad happen to you. Right?” Her attention zeroes in on us.
I nod strongly. “Cross my heart.”
Sulli is too weak to say, hope to never die.
“Never anything bad, Nona,” Akara smiles at our girlfriend’s sister, but his lips falter on Sulli. He’s worried about her, and he squats down to my level and whispers to me, “Maybe I should call Farrow.”
Sulli shakes her head once.
“Just take some deep fucking breaths, sweetie,” Ryke coaches his daughter.
Daisy stands, less shaken, and rubs Sulli’s back. “She looks so pale, Ryke.”
Akara touches his mic, a second from calling Farrow.
“I’m fine, Mom,” Sulli squeaks out. “Really.” She swallows. “I think I’m done…barfing…”
Once she straightens up more, I move the bucket away. Setting it aside.
Sulli grips her thighs, and Ryke’s intensity on his daughter suctions oxygen from the fucking room. She shrugs up at her dad. “I just…got a little fucking…” She can’t lie to him.
But it’s clear Sulli isn’t ready to reveal the truth.
That she’s suffering from morning sickness right now. Not a panic attack. Not PTSD.
“I’m okay, Dad,” Sulli breathes. “Really fucking really.”
Look, I’m not about to announce her pregnancy without an okay from Sulli. Neither is Akara, and if she’s not ready, then neither are we.
We have no clue how Ryke will handle the news, especially since it’s an accidental pregnancy. He’s gonna be an accidental grandpa.