Kickin' It (Red Card) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,78

“You aren’t going to hit the showers?”

Her pale face was back again. “No, I, um, actually have an appointment, so I’ll just try not to scare them away with the sweat.”

“Alright.” I smiled warmly. “See ya!”

I followed the rest of the girls into the locker room, smiled and chatted with a few, and realized that even though they were my teammates, the only person I really wanted to talk to was Matt.

Maybe Eileen had the right idea?

I grabbed my gear, put on my black Nike jacket, and waved good-bye. Cell in hand, key fob zipped in my bag, I sprinted out on sore legs to the Benz.

The fact that I was even driving a car that cost more than my college tuition made my head spin.

But Matt made it feel normal.

Like it was just a car.

It was just life.

And he didn’t live it as if the world owed him anything. He worked his ass off, which just made me love him even more.

I stopped running.

Love.

I’d been saying it in my head for weeks, which sounded stupid, but I just, I didn’t want him to think that I was saying it to him because I was infatuated or I didn’t know my own mind.

As much as we joked about it, I was well aware that I was only twenty-two turning twenty-three in a few short months.

I knew our age difference.

But part of me felt like I’d been forced to grow up on my own, with a dad who didn’t care, and no family to speak of.

I sighed and went to open the back door, shoved my duffel in, and then grabbed my phone to text Matt.

Once I got in the car I began to type out a message: Headed ho

“You look good.” Erik’s voice came from behind me.

I reached for the driver’s door as he grabbed ahold of my jacket. Panic hit me like a wave of nausea as I struck him with my phone then fumbled with the door handle, but his hand remained on the neck of my jacket. The door flung open and I leaped out of the car and out of my jacket, leaving it clutched in his hands.

Pulse pounding, I ran as fast and hard as I could back to the stadium. People! I needed to be around people. He cared too much about appearances; he would never do anything around other people. I pulled open the stadium door with him running close behind.

I rounded a corner and saw the coach’s office. When I tried the door, it was locked.

I kept running. Should I try the girls’ locker room? Could we all fight him off?

He grabbed for my shoulder, but I elbowed him and kept running. I decided to head to the field. There were definitely people there. I ran toward the middle, where there were two members of the coaching staff.

“Stop!” I yelled, holding my hands up and away from him.

“Stop?” He spread his arms wide. “Stop what? This is your fault! All of it! You were supposed to sign with LA, not Seattle!”

I stared at him dumbfounded. “Are you insane? Why would I ever want to be near you after what you did to me!”

He rolled his eyes. “Same old story, I guess. Playing the victim like always,” he scoffed while I fought for my next breath and prayed that someone would save me. He was a monster and I was his victim, and I knew by the look in his eyes he wouldn’t stop. My breath came in short bursts, like I couldn’t suck in enough air to save my life. Anger pulsed like a heartbeat against my skin. I was so angry, so done with him, yet so afraid at the same time. I needed him to talk, to confess, long enough that someone would hear or see that I was in trouble. “Okay, I’ll play along, I hurt you, and you screamed in pleasure, does that sound about right?”

My stomach heaved as I fought to keep down its contents. He twisted everything. He was delusional! “Get help!” I yelled at one of the assistants out of desperation. Bye, Matt, bye, soccer life. It didn’t matter, suddenly the only thing that mattered was getting help and getting him away from innocent people. “Call the police, now!”

The assistant pulled out his cell at about the same time Erik pulled out a gun. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Erik, put the gun away,” a strong voice said. It was me, my voice.