The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 20

Timothy didn’t seem to mind carrying me down the mountain by himself. He was determined to keep me in his arms, and that alone put me on alert. | could feel his own heart beating beneath my fingers, its pace dangerously fast.

On the way down, we discovered my phone lying at the trunk of a tree in surprisingly good condition. An hour later, we reached the hotel in a state of exhaustion.

There was enough juice left for me to see the new text that appeared on my screen. There was no name with the number, so | opened it out of curiosity.

I've found out where you are, Coco, it read.

The phone slipped from my hand, and | fell back against the mattress. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of me as the words flashed before my eyes. Coco.

There was only one person who called me Coco. A despicable man, if | could even associate him with being human. | checked the text again, the words the same as

before.

My breaths became ragged and short. That feeling of suffocation returned, my airways constricting as | turned over desperately. My eyes shifted around the

room. My pills. | need my pills.

My face was wet with tears. Between desperate gasps for air and the swelling in my ankle, | felt utterly hopeless. Amid tearing through all my belongings, everything was strewn across the floor in messy heaps.

After all this time, Bruce had gained control of me

He always did.

There was a loud knock at my door, and | screamed in ala time more determined. It came again, this

“Evie, open up!” my boss, Mr. Erickson’s, harsh voice came through the door. “You’ve got some explaining to do!” | clenched my teeth. Now just wasn’t the time.

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“Evie, open this door now, or so help me...”

Body wracking with sobs, | used the nearest wall to pull myself away from the floor. | wiped my face on my shirt sleeve and limped toward the door. The banging continued as | unbolted the lock and opened it with slight hesitation.

Mr. Erickson didn’t bother with any greeting. He pushed past me and entered the room, his face puffed up with anger. When | turned, he had an accusing finger pointed directly between my eyes.

“| gave you one chance, Evie!” he growled. “One chance not to screw it up. You couldn’t even give the guy a simple hike on the trail?”

“Please!” | bent over, growing dizzier as my breaths grew shallow. He was making it worse. | was already drowning, and he seemed intent on holding me under until | passed out.

There was a light knock beside my ear and | turned to see who had intruded on the conversation. | stumbled back to find Timothy standing in the doorway.

“Ah, sorry. | just found this bag in my room,” he said softly, lifting a red bag that looked like my own. “Figured it belonged to either of you.”Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

| fell to my knees and coughed. Sweat dripped off my forehead and onto my shaking hands as | clawed at the carpet. | was losing sensation in everything, losing a grasp on reality itself.

“Evie?” Timothy rushed to my side and placed a hand on my back. “What’s going on?” | pointed at the red bag in his hands and spoke between gasps, “My...pills!”

Without a second thought, he was unzipping the bag and rummaging through its contents. He pulled out the small bottle and held it up. “These?”

“Yes!” | broke into sobs as he unscrewed the top to the pill bottle and slid two capsules into his palm. He crawled toward me as | curled into a ball, my body hot and cold all at once. He brought his hand to my mouth and pressed the pills to my lips.

“Come on,” he said, his voice gentle but urgent. His other hand was rubbing my back.

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Forcing back a cry, | let the pills fall into my mouth and scrape their way down my dry throat. | still couldn’t find the strength to sit up. My limbs had become lead.

“What's she doing?” The boss asked. “Is she-” “Not now!” Timothy snarled at him. The boss clamped his mouth shut.

Timothy was hovering over me still, his presence a consistent warmth. “Breathe for me, Evie.” He cupped my head beneath his hand and lifted me up until | was sitting on my knees, facing him. “We've got to slow that heartbeat down.”

“| can’t do this....” | choked out. “Not again.”

“I'm here with you,” Timothy whispered. He placed his hands on my shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. “Concentrate on something else. Here, look at me.”

| lifted my head and met his eyes. They didn’t hold their usual harshness. There was something soft behind them, welcoming. “Breathe in with me. Hold for three seconds,” he said.

| did as he said, counting to three before releasing a shaky breath. He prompted me again to breathe with him, hold, then release. We repeated that for what felt like a millennium.

We held each other’s gaze, neither daring to look away. | was caught in the trance, my heart slowing its beat between long exhales.

“Thank you,” | croaked. | brought a hand to my aching throat, finding myself more appreciative of the air. “How did you know what to do?” Timothy looked to the side and shrugged one of his shoulders. “Team procedures. As an athlete, I’m destined to face some

tension and anxiety on the field. They keep a professional psychologist around to help us relieve that stress as well.”

He removed his hands from my shoulders, though the motion was reluctant. His expression hardened and he pulled away, clearing his throat.

“We’d practiced so much that | recognized you were having an anxiety attack. Thankfully, those techniques helped.” Need Top Metal Stamping? Get 10% Discount (Start Now) Chapter 20

Mr. Erickson cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had stretched on between us. His anger had simmered down, giving way to a more awkward aura as he shifted between feet.

“Erm...” He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to me. “I'll leave you two alone.”

Mr. Erickson abandoned the room quickly, leaving Timothy and | crutched beside each other on the floor. “Right.” | sighed shifting away from him. “Well, | won’t keep you up too long.”

Timothy lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“You should head to bed. It’s getting late, and I’ve kept you here long enough,” | explained, attempting to push myself up onto my feet before Timothy held my arm as support.

He lifted me onto the bed, but he showed no signs of moving. “I can’t just leave you here like this.”

“It's fine, Timothy. Honestly,” | tried to assure him, but he didn’t budge, his face contorting with worry. | couldn’t shake my own unease as my gaze drifted over to my discarded phone, the text from Bruce still at the forefront of my mind.

“You could barely breathe,” Timothy pressed on. “At least let me sit with you for a bit. You look terrified.”

Terror was an understatement, and | would be lying if 1 said his presence didn’t settle my nerves. His hand had moved to clutch my own, which had still been trembling. After a long stretch of silence, | sighed and turned to meet his eyes.

“If you wouldn't mind,” | said carefully, and | was surprised at how quickly he smiled with relief.

“| wouldn't,” he said gently, patting my hand as stood abruptly. “Let me go get a pillow.”

As he left to go get his things, | felt my heartbeat pick up speed once more, but it wasn’t due to fear. 4/5

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