29. Willow

Willow

There's a fog around me, muffling voices and trapping me in a whirlwind of my own emotions. Shock at the aggressive approach of the other player and the lack of respect for my discomfort. Relief at Ronan coming to my rescue. Anger at Ronan for outing us to everyone present.

I don't know what to think or feel right now; all of those feelings are competing with each other in my head for dominance. And there's a thick layer of fear covering it all. Because it feels like everyone is looking at me with eyes that tell me they saw — and heard — everything.

I turn, unsure where I'm headed but certain I need to get away from everyone. I head back toward the offices, trying to get my brain to focus on work. We'll need to get ahead of the news, since it's guaranteed someone is going to leak something. And if I can just focus on that, maybe I can ignore the fact that so many of my colleagues, so many players, are probably reaching the same conclusion right now.

Willow Lawson is dating Ronan Sinclair, and he just punched a guy because of her.

But before I can reach my office, my phone vibrates with a text.

UNCLE MIKE: Come to my office.

Oh God. Someone told him. My body feels numb as I make my way down the hall. I can handle whatever's coming, as long as he isn't disappointed in me. That would break me.

Of all people, Lydia catches up to me as I near my uncle's office, grabbing my arm and yanking me to the side.

"What the hell happened? You're causing fights between players now?" she hisses under her breath, condemnation written all over her face. "That sort of drama can't happen, Willow. You don't lead players on or whatever the hell you did to cause Ronan to confront the other guy. And as for Ronan? Well, I knew something was happening. You just couldn't keep your hands to yourself. It's like you didn't listen to a word I said about not getting mixed up with players, and now look what's happened. This mess is your fault, Willow. And even your uncle can't save you from it now."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Ronan's angry tone reaches us, and I stay frozen when he strides up beside us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his red knuckles. His throwing hand is injured because of me. My stomach drops even further. I want so badly to lean into the security and comfort he's offering, but I just can't. Not when a part of me is still furious that he outed us. Why couldn't he have pushed the asshole away and left it at that?

But I know why. Because that's not who he is. Ronan gives his all to everything. And watching the woman he's dating be harassed from the sidelines isn't something he would tolerate. Truthfully, I love him for that, even though I'm now facing my worst nightmare because of it.

He puts his back to Lydia, and the worry and affection I see brimming in his eyes is almost my undoing. "Willow, are you okay? Don't listen to her, please. And I'm so sorry for what happened back there. I just couldn't —"

"Ronan, this is not a conversation you need to be involved in," Lydia clips back at him, and he turns on her, growling in frustration.

"Like hell I don't. You have no right to give Willow any grief for what just happened. None of it was her fault. Not a single bit. She didn't lead him on, and she didn't do anything wrong. He's at fault for harassing her. And I'm not going to stand by and let you tell the woman I love that she's somehow to blame."

My breath catches when he says he loves me. But it barely has time to register before another voice reaches us.

"Would someone like to explain to me what the hell is going on here?"

We all turn at Uncle Mike's loud voice. He's standing in the doorway of his office, looking straight at me, but I can't make myself meet his stare. He gestures to all of us. "Inside, now."

Lydia's hard glare follows me into the room. But I'm too drained, too overwhelmed to pay her any mind.

"Mike, we have this in hand," she starts, but he stops her with one hand in the air.

"No, you don't."

If it were any other situation, I'd find it entertaining how her mouth flaps open and shut like a fish, but this is not the time for amusement.

Uncle Mike sits down behind his desk and gestures at the chairs in front of it. I sit in one, Lydia in the other, Ronan hovering behind me like he's my bodyguard or something. I ignore the furtive glares Lydia keeps sending our way. I know she thinks I should stay quiet, not cause any trouble. But I'm done with following her bullshit.

"Alright. What happened. Because getting a call from my head coach telling me my new player just punched another guy isn't exactly how I saw this evening ending."

For a brief moment, no one speaks. And I realize it's because they're waiting on me. Dragging my eyes up, I look at my uncle. Thank God, all I see is worry and compassion.

"A player from the other team was being inappropriate. Ronan stepped in to help me. It escalated."

"Your personal life created a media disaster," Lydia says sharply. "It won't be long before it hits the headlines that one of our players hit another one over a woman. Good God, as if Maverick didn't cause enough trouble with his bar fight in Arizona."

"Lydia, enough!" Uncle Mike roars, slamming his fists down on his desk. "Don't you dare try to insinuate what happened is Willow's fault when I've already received multiple messages from eyewitnesses stating a player from the other team was borderline harassing my niece. I've heard from Coach Stirling and two others that they were seconds away from intervening when Ronan did. And for you to suggest she did anything to bring this situation upon us is violently abhorrent and inappropriate. You can leave, Lydia. I'll meet with you tomorrow morning."

His tone leaves no room for discussion. I watch, the blood roaring in my ears as Lydia stands and without a second glance at me, storms out of the office, closing the door behind her. Now it's just the three of us with the tension so thick, it weighs the air down. My body feels heavy with it.

Uncle Mike walks around his desk, pulls me up to stand, and gathers me in for a hug. And unlike with Ronan, when I was in shock and freaking out about everyone watching, I fold myself into his arms as if my life depends on it, hugging the man who is the closest thing to a father figure I have left. And maybe my life does depend on it. Because he holds my future in his hands. And I've never before felt so unsure about what he'll do with it.

"Alright, you two. Now. Is there anything else I need to know?"

Taking in a ragged breath, I prepare to have the conversation I've been dreading. But first, I turn to the man whose fists are clenched in front of him, and I know without a doubt, it's to stop himself from pulling me into his arms. Which makes what I'm about to say even harder to get out.

"You should go home, Ronan."

Ronan and Uncle Mike both stare at me after my quiet statement.

He takes a step forward, one hand already stretched out toward me. "What? No, Cherry, let me be here for you. We can talk to Mike together."

I'm already shaking my head. "I need to do this alone." With my arms wrapped around my middle, I look up at him, and the confusion and hurt I see there almost makes me relent and let him stay, let him lend me his strength. But I can't right now. I need to face this on my own.

"Willow, I —"

"No." I put my hand up to stop him as he takes another step toward me. "Please. Just go home." My words ring out in the tense atmosphere.

Uncle Mike is silent throughout, but I feel the weight of his stare on me as Ronan and I face each other.

"Cherry," he whispers, pleadingly. But when I give a small shake of my head, I see his resigned acceptance.

He gives me a slow nod in return. "Will you text me when you get home so I know you're okay? Please?"

"Yes."

He moves to the door, pauses, and looks back at me for a second before leaving. And when the door closes behind him, I collapse back down into a chair, my head falling into my hands.

"Oh, Willow."

At Uncle Mike's soft voice, I feel myself break even further. He doesn't sound mad, just weary. Because of me. Then his hand lands on my shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. I hear him sit down in the chair beside me and I make myself look at him.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Mike."

To my surprise, he looks mildly offended. "Sorry for what, exactly? Because from what I just heard, you've done nothing wrong."

"Ronan and I…" I start to say, but he waves me off.

"Your relationship with Ronan is not my priority right now, your emotional well-being is."

"I'm okay, really," I say quietly. "The other guy was just being an asshole. It was inappropriate, but there were plenty of people around. I knew he couldn't do anything too bad."

"It still should never have happened, and I'll be on the phone to the commissioner later tonight. A player who thinks it's okay to harass women has no place in this league."

Part of me sags in relief, both that he's taking it seriously, and hopefully, that player won't have the opportunity to harass anyone else.

"Thank you." I gulp and sit up straighter. "But we do need to talk about Ronan. I'm so sorry I've put you in this position. I swear, I never wanted to make things complicated for the team. You have to know, when we met in Hawaii last fall, I never expected to see him again. It's the only reason we…" My face feels warm, and I'm sure I'm blushing. Uncle Mike clears his throat and gestures for me to continue. "But then he got traded to our team. I tried to stay away, I promise. I can only imagine how it must look, the owner's niece dating the new player."

Uncle Mike scoffs. "All it looks like to me is two consenting adults developing feelings for each other. There's no rule against interoffice dating as long as it doesn't impact performance. On or off the field." He takes my hands in his and stares straight into my eyes. "And if that man was being honest just now, if he's smart enough to fall in love with you, then I'd be a selfish fool to stand in the way."

"I never wanted to put you in a position where you'd have to choose between a player and me." My voice cracks, and Uncle Mike gathers me back into his arms.

"There wouldn't have been a choice to make. You always come first, Willow. Always. Before any player, any team, anything, and anyone. I promised your father I'd take care of you, and it breaks my heart you didn't realize that, my girl."

Fresh tears brim in my eyes and start to fall. Not just because of Uncle Mike's immediate approval of my relationship with Ronan, but with the realization that Ronan said he loved me. The timing could not have been worse, and part of me is reeling from how suddenly everything feels flipped upside down in my life. But he loves me. Everything he did today was to protect me.

But a decade of believing that being in a relationship with a player on the team would be the worst sin I could possibly commit doesn't just disappear in an instant. And today has been a lot. Too much. All I want to do is go home and crawl into my bed and try to make sense of everything.