Case in point, this very moment. I’m walking to my car, trying to avoid the player’s exit and taking a different way out of the parking lot, but apparently Hayes has chosen this exit for the exact same reason.
Ever since the night of the attack, I’ve been cautious about what time I leave and that I’m always in view of a security guard. If I don’t have someone to walk me out, most times in the past I’ve asked Hayes or Walker, I contact Gerald and he comes with me. Most of the fear of being assaulted again has faded as the months have passed, mostly because I have too much going on both personal and professional to be weighed down by the psychological trauma I know is still looming in the back of my brain. But it seems, for now, I’ve locked it safely in a box to be addressed at a later time. Probably when the trial starts, which will be a perfectly opportune time for another mental breakdown.
Gerald and I are walking side by side when Hayes comes out of the stairwell a few feet in front of us.
“Oh, I …” His eyes are shifty as he sees me, and my heart seizes at the sight of him.
I’ve barely let myself acknowledge him, the pain in my chest too overwhelming if I really took him all in. But now his gorgeousness is smacking me in the face, and there is nowhere to run.
“Oh, good, Mr. Swindell is here to walk you out.” Gerald winks at me, because this has happened before.
Though he never asks any questions, I’m aware that Gerald has caught on that Hayes and I are … involved.
“Wait … I …” I reach for Gerald, who is already retreating.
What would I even say? Please don’t leave us together because we broke up and it’ll be awkward as hell if he has to walk me to my car. That would be even more awkward for everyone involved.
Hayes and I are left standing there, shuffling our feet like shy, strange teenage crushes.
“I don’t mind. I’ll walk you out,” he says.
“Thanks,” I mumble, my heart beating so erratically in his presence.
We walk side by side down the corridor, out to a side entrance that dumps into the parking lot. I want to say so many things, the words right there on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t. I’m the one who ended things, and even with the conversation Walker and I had, I can’t see a way around the biggest issue Hayes and I face.
My father’s words in that letter are etched in my brain, and if I needed more evidence about how I could screw up more as a general manager, imagine what he’d say if he knew I was dating one of my players?
“Colleen …” Hayes turns to me as we hit the chilled October air, and my throat goes dry.
Neither of us can get a word in, though, before we hear an ear-splitting scream.
Our eyes go wide at the same second, and my own assault flashes through my mind. I’m running before I even know what I’m running toward.
When I near the screaming, I see Hannah Giraldi, slumped on the ground, blood pouring from a gash on her head.
“Oh my God!” The screech doesn’t even sound like it’s my own when it bursts from my lips.
Shane stands over Hannah, who is cowering, his fist raised as he yells at her, “You fucking bitch! I want to know where you were!”
“I’m sorry … I’m sorry …” I hear her sob.
The moment I reach her, I’m on my knees, checking her as the blood drips onto my own fingers. “Hannah, can you see me? Can you stand?”
My first thought is about getting her out of here, and if she’ll need serious medical attention. Hayes is right there next to us, choosing to focus on Hannah first before dealing with the irate Shane standing above us all.
“This is none of your business, asshole!” Shane directs this at Hayes, but Hayes still his attention focused on Hannah.
Looking back, I will be completely aware of how he directed every ounce of his care to the wounded female, rather than going after the abuser in this situation.
“No, stop, please go! You’ll only make it worse,” she cries at Hayes and me, her expression somewhere near hysteria.
Blood covers one side of her face, and I’m horrified, everything in me wanting to wretch but holding it back. How does a man do this to a woman? How does a husband do this to his wife, to the mother of his children? Guilt, hard and swift like a knife, twists my gut. I knew this was happening; I knew and didn’t take any steps to intervene because I thought it was the safer option. How many times has this happened when no one was around to witness it?
That’s when I see Walker. He’s sprinting at us all, full force, from across the parking lot. He doesn’t slow up at all, instead lunging right at Shane as the latter lands against the side of the truck with a loud thud. They fall to the ground, scrapping with one another. I watch as Walker lands a punch to Shane’s temple.
Hayes is crouched next to me, examining Hannah, and jumps to his feet as soon as we both hear the crunch of bone under someone’s fist.
“Fuck, Jesus Christ!” Hayes growls as he dives into the mix, attempting to pull Walker off a bleeding Shane. Instead, he comes up with Shane, his neck under Hayes’ armpit, as he lands punch after punch to Hayes’ ribs.
“Walker, take Hannah inside. Now. Colleen, follow them, call the police. Get security out here,” Hayes barks, still gripping Shane in the chokehold that he’s attempting to break free from.
“I’m going to kill you, motherfucker!” Walker snarls, making a motion like he’s going to kick Shane in the ribs.
“Walker!” Hayes snaps at him, and finally my cousin seems to come out of his red rage a little.
Walker’s gaze falls upon Hannah, and then he’s transformed. The anger turns to compassion, and he bends right down, scooping her up so that her head falls onto his chest.
“I’ve you got. I’m right here,” he murmurs low in her ear.
She clings to him, and I watch in a state of shock as he gingerly carries her back toward the stadium.
“Colleen, call. Now.” Hayes’ voice is a struggled grunt, but as I turn back to him, I see Shane slowly relaxing in his hold.
Hannah’s husband slumps to the ground, finally passed out, and Hayes steadies himself against the car. His green eyes search mine, holding all the words of love, care, and desperation I feel. This man, the one I turned out of my life, acting like a hero. The hero that I want holding me up forever.
It only takes five minutes after my 911 call for the cops and ambulances to show up, sirens screeching into the parking lot.
36
Hayes
Adrenaline and exhaustion compete in my veins, causing a hysteria that confuses both my brain and body.
It’s been a blur of an hour, between the statements to police, standing by as Shane is carted off in handcuffs, and all three of us urging Hannah to tell the complete truth. She’s skittish and in pain, I’ve never seen a human being so frightened and this is coming from a kid who grew up in foster care.
I could throw Shane through a brick wall, I’m so furious. Too bad Walker kind of beat me to the punch. Now there is built-up rage in my fists, and I itch to go down to the weight room and throw a few punches at the bag.
But I have to stay here, cooing at Hannah like she’s a wounded doe while the paramedics check her out.