Page 81 of Trade It All

Then—“Hello.”

My stomach drops. That’s her voice. But it isn’t. There’s no life in it. No softness. No breathy little edge she gets when she’s moving too fast trying to do three things at once. No smile hiding under the word because she always somehow sounds like she’s smiling when she answers people she loves.

This voice is blank. Luka hears it too. I can tell by the way his eyes flick to mine.

He forces his tone casual. “Hey, Mads. Where are you at? I’m here with Coach.”

A beat passes.

Then—“I’m in my office.” My fists clench. She sounds… hollow. Like she’s speaking because she has to. “Coach…”

My head jerks. That one word should not do anything to me. She calls me Coach all the time here. Teasing. Soft. Sometimes with that hidden little smile that only I know how to hear.

But this—this sounds like she’s trying to get my attention. Trying to make sure I’m listening. My heart starts pounding harder. Too hard.

“Did Jake get the Red Hots I put in his locker?” she asks, her tone still terrifyingly flat. “I know they are lucky.”

Everything in me goes still.

Red Hots.

For half a second my brain refuses to process it because it doesn’t make sense.

Then my blood turns to ice.

Safe word. Jesus Christ. She used the safe word.

Luka sucks in a sharp breath beside me. “What the—”

I’m moving before he can finish. Running. Hard.

My shoes slam against the hallway, each stride hitting so violently it jars through my entire body. Air tears in and out of my lungs but none of it feels like enough. The corridor blurs. Lights flash overhead. People jump out of the way and I don’t even register who they are.

All I can hear is that flat voice.

Coach...

Red Hots.

Coach...

Red Hots.

Over and over until it feels like it’s carving into my skull.

She’s scared. She had to use the safe word because she couldn’t say it outright. Which means she isn’t alone. Which means he got to her.

My vision tunnels.

Every possible image hits me at once—Tyler too close to her, Tyler touching her, Tyler blocking the door while she stands there trying to keep her voice even enough not to set him off before I can get there.

I should have stayed with her. I should have never let her walk away from me. I knew something was going to happen. I knew it and I still let her tell me she was fine.

A sound rips out of me—half breath, half growl—as I tear around the final corner toward the media offices.

Please be okay.

Please be okay.