Page 70 of Just for the Cameras
It made me fucking irate, to expose something like this, but then again, that’s what she signed up for, right?
“Any questions?” the trainer asks.
Maple shakes her head. Thankfully, the swelling on her face has gone down, and she just has some bruising.
“Great, and you said you have ibuprofen at home?”
“I do.”
“Good.” The trainer looks up at me. “I’m sure you have this handled and will take care of her?”
I swallow. “Of course.”
“Great. Then just rest and immobilization of your arm—keep it in the sling as much as you can—and then check back with us on Monday.”
Maple nods. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”
“Feel better.”
Maple starts to scoot off the high training table, but I quickly grab her by the waist, her eyes snapping up to mine as I gently lift her off the table and help her to the ground.
I can feel all eyes on us, Gretchen’s specifically, as I let go of Maple’s waist and let her straighten out her shirt. “You good?” I ask quietly.
“Yes,” she answers, glancing up at me, those blue eyes of hers swimming with questions.
Questions I know I don’t have answers to.
Or that I’m even close to willing to give.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Gretchen says, breaking apart our gaze. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a moment with both of you.”
I pick up Maple’s bag for her and sling it over my shoulder. She tries to grab it from me, but I snarl at her to leave it. Thankfully, she listens.
Gretchen leads us down the hallway and to the second floor, where my coach’s office is.
Fucking great.
I remain silent, my eyes falling on Maple in front of me while we walk along the hallways. Her bandaged hand pulls at my chest, the thought of her bruised face making me irate all over again.
What was that cop even fucking doing?
Did he apologize? Is he taking the blame?
It’s his front that rammed into her driver’s-side door, so it’s likely he’s going to be at fault. And what the hell is she going to do now for a car? She said she’ll have to save up, and from what she said earlier, I know she doesn’t have a lot in savings.
Worry ticks away for someone who I don’t even fucking know, yet it feels like a wave of responsibility has enveloped me, like this is my problem to solve. I would lend her my truck if it wasn’t so goddamn big.
And if I knew she’d actually take it.
Gretchen knocks at the door of my coach’s office, and he calls out, “Come in.”
Gretchen opens the door, and Maple shuffles in. When I lift my gaze, I stop in my tracks, because sitting down in a chair, looking far too pleased with himself, is my father.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Aw, is that any way to greet your dad?” He stands and moves in front of me, pulling me into a hug that I try to resist, but he’s just strong enough to hide the fact that I want nothing to do with him.
He gives me a few pats on the back and then turns to Maple. “And you must be his little friend.”
