34. Chapter 34

" Y ou guys ready for the season?" Grant leans against the bar, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers.

Out of all of us guys, he's the most responsible. He's the dad of our group, always making sure we are on our best behavior at bars and parties, keeping our heads focused on classes, and never letting the outside world infiltrate our team dynamics. But as the night goes on, I can't help noticing how heavily he's been drinking. I know tonight is a night to celebrate and our feelings are still raw from the loss this weekend, but he's tying one on.

"Fuck yeah, we are," Ty, Cody's roommate and teammate, answers. "The talent we lost last year was replaced with even better players."

"It should be another good season." Cody's eyes never leave the dance floor where his girlfriend dances with Brynn and Bret. The girls are in their bubble, and none of them has a care in the world as they move their bodies to the beat of the music.

"Hopefully, you have better luck than we did," Harris grumbles.

The chip on his shoulder might as well be a bag—party-sized. I can't say I blame him. The media has been blaming him for our loss which is absolute bullshit. He didn't throw the ball wide or too high. The defender merely got lucky by getting his fingertips on the ball. Not one play or person should be held responsible for our loss. It was a cumulative effort to piss away that lead .

Leaning against the bar, I nurse the beer I've been holding for a while as my teammates and friends continue their conversation. My body has been wound tight since we arrived at the gym. Something about watching Bret weave her way through defenders as she pulls up for jump shots with so much finesse does things to me. Seeing her in her element, so carefree, has me itching to praise her.

I can't wait to get her home. To devour her. To worship her sculpted body that she spends hours at the gym perfecting.

Chloe sidles up in front of Bret as she grabs her hips. The two dance in a seductive rhythm, which causes Brynn to laugh so hard that she's clutching her baby bump. An easy friendship has formed between them, and I'm happy to see Bret at such ease. There was no doubt in my mind she'd fit in with the girls, that's just Bret's personality, but to witness the camaraderie, the inside jokes, and the love between the girls has me rubbing my chest.

A few songs pass by as the girls leave the dance floor for the bathroom. I'll never understand a girl's need to pee with a group. My attention comes back to the group of guys who are discussing the girl JP is hooking up with—the same girl who didn't disclose she had a boyfriend and almost caused a fight in the middle of the dining hall.

All of the noise in the bar fades away as my eyes land on a distressed Brynn moving as fast as her pregnant body will allow. Panic covers her face as all of our heads whip in her direction. Cody stands taller, alerted by her evident distress, his instinct to protect her apparent, as we watch her eyes widen with fear.

"What's wrong?" His voice is husky. "Brynn, is it the baby?"

With a terse shake, she looks in my direction, which is also near half of the guys, including Grant. Tears well in her bright blue eyes, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand. Brynn's not a crier. She doesn't wear her emotions on her sleeve, but right now, all of her cards are showing. Pain. Fear. Panic. "She needs you."

Cody cups her face as he tries to get her to calm down. "Who needs us? Is it Chloe? The baby?"

Her head shakes as she sucks in a lungful of air. "It's Bret. She needs you."

Grant starts to move, but Brynn places a hard hand on his chest, stopping him. Her eyes flick to mine, and I see the war battling in her eyes. It's at that moment that I know she knows. Hell, she's been suspicious this whole time, and she's afraid to out us. "Crew, she needs you."

Puffing out his chest, Grant turns to me. With his hands fisted at his sides, I see the anger radiating from him in waves. The suspicion he's been cautious of is coming to light. "Why the fuck does my sister need you ?"

"Listen, man…" Heads whip in my direction as I just admitted to there being more between Bret and me. Two words. Two words that have our entire world crashing down. A secret we've worked so hard to keep was exposed in a matter of seconds.

"We don't have time for this." Brynn grabs my hand and pulls me behind her. Taking off in a jog, I can feel the turmoil brewing behind me like a Midwestern storm on a hot summer day as pressure systems crash against each other.

Pushing through the door, I hear Brynn outside the door fighting with Grant. One thing about Brynn is that she will stop at nothing to protect the people she loves. I can't focus on what's going on behind me because panic seizes my ribcage, crushing my lungs as all of the air is expelled as I take in the sight in front of me.

Bret's chest heaves violently as I watch her fight for air. Her breaths come in rapid, shallow gasps, each one more desperate than the last, as if she were drowning on dry land. Her hands cling to her shirt in tight fists as her body trembles. The color she had been getting back on her face is completely drained, leaving her looking like a pale ghost.

Erasing the space between us, my heart lurches to comfort her shattered soul. "Rebel, baby, I'm here. Fuck, baby, look at me."

Wide, panicked, stricken eyes stare up at me as she follows the sound of my voice. "Bret, I need you to focus on me. Baby, I'm here. You're safe."

I rack my brain for all of the information Olivia texted me after she left on how to walk Bret through a panic attack. After she had witnessed her freak out at the football game, Olivia wanted to make sure that I knew all of the tips Bret's therapist had taught her. We spent an evening on FaceTime together, and she walked me through step-by-step directions on how to ease the situation before it turned catastrophic.

"I know you're scared right now, but everything will be okay. Just focus on me. Focus on how I'm breathing. Can you try to take slow, deep breaths with me?"

Bret gives a quick, tight nod.

"Good, baby. Ready? Breathe in through your nose…one, two, three, four. Release…one, two, three, four." We repeated the process four more times to slow down her breathing. Chloe is still in the room, but she's melted into the background. Everything about this moment feels vulnerable, and I'm sure Bret's feelings are the same as her insecurities are ripped out of her.

"I need you to tell me five things you see."

Her eyes bounce back and forth as I see the panic still coursing through her beautiful emerald eyes, ones that are now dull and dim. "Sink, mirror, paper towels, you, beer poster."

"Great job, Rebel. How about four things you can touch? "

Her cute nose squishes. "Cold sink, soft shirt, silky shorts, and the hair tie on my wrist."

We continue the motions until she's listed off three things she can hear, two things she can smell, and one thing she can taste. Slowly, she starts to come down from the panic attack. Her body sags with exhaustion, but I refuse to let her fall in this bathroom. Reaching behind her back, I scoop her in my arms and adjust my hand behind her knees until she's secure. Bret goes limp in my arms as she tucks her head against my shoulder.

"Is she okay?" Chloe's soft voice whispers from behind us.

With a tight-lipped smile, I offer a small shrug. "She will be."

"You really love her, it's clear as day."

"I really do."

"Keep her safe, Crew." I nod as I push my way through the doors.

Grant, Brynn, and JP are waiting in the hallway opening to the dance floor.

"She okay?" Brynn's concern is evident in her voice.

"She will be. I'm taking her home."

"Like hell you are." Grant steps in front of me, but JP steps between us this time.

"You two can hash this shit out tomorrow. Let him take her home. We've got her, Grant."

Anger morphs his features and seeps into his green eyes, which resemble Bret's flare. He's pissed, and if it were up to him, the clenched fist he has at his hip would be meeting my face.

"Take me home," her tiny voice interrupts the standoff. Brushing past Grant, I carry Bret across the dance floor toward the exit. Walking past the guys who stare at me as if I've grown two heads, I nod goodbye as I exit the building. JP and Harris are hot on my heels, with Bret's keys and her wallet attached .

"I've got her Jeep," Harris shouts as he moves toward where I'm parked.

Digging the keys from my pocket, I toss them to JP. "You good to drive us?"

"I'll be fine." Climbing into the truck's back seat, I situate Bret on my lap. Her death grip around my neck hasn't softened one bit. The five-minute drive home feels like forever as I whisper consoling words and reminders that she's safe as I pepper her head with kisses.

Tomorrow I'll figure out what the fuck caused the panic attack. I'm tucking my girl into my bed and wrapping my arms around her tonight. I'll be the shield to protect her from the nightmares while reality waits.

With every nightmare, every startle, and every gasp for air, I'm there for her all night long, calming her down and consoling her. Sleep never consumes me. Each time I start to drift off to sleep, images of her standing in that bathroom flood my vision.

Her distress was palpable. I could feel it as soon as I stepped foot inside the tiny two-stalled room. It was heartbreaking to witness, a stark and painful reminder of how fragile life can be. The light dimmed from her eyes, and my heart shattered to see her in pain.