Chapter Nineteen

Theo

Six Years Earlier

-Mid January-

I warned you and you didn’t listen. . .

“T heo?”

“Hey! How is my beautiful girl today?” I grin into my phone, pushing aside the tightness in my chest at the new note I found in my locker after practice, trying to focus on my precious girl.

“Theo, I-” The line is silent, a long pause filling the air, making the distance between us almost painful. “Theo, I need to see you, can I come over?”

An ominous sense of dread fills me with the hesitancy in her tone, sounding more unsure than I have heard from her in months. We just spent the weekend together, celebrating our one-year anniversary in style, now that I had the money of a professional athlete to lavish her in the way she should always be treated. My girl is my fucking queen and I will spend every second showing her that, even when I can’t be by her side.

I wanted to do something extra-special for our anniversary, and I spent the whole weekend (my one free weekend without a game or practice) worshiping her, body, and soul. With our conflicting schedules it can be hard to find the time to spend together, and normally we wouldn’t be able to meet up in person for another two weeks after the visit we just had due to her class schedule.

Concern fills me at her unusual request. “Of course, diavoletta. You need me, and I am here, no questions asked, you know that. I can drive down there tonight, it’s gonna take me a few hours but I will just grab my stuff and come right over-”

“No.” Her tone is sharp and it cuts through my anxious rambling, even as I am scrambling to grab my overnight bag and throw shit together. I can drive down to her school for a quick all-nighter, and I know I will have to get up early to be back for practice tomorrow, but if my girl needs me then I am fucking there, no questions asked.

“No, that’s okay.” Her tone is softer this time. “I’m actually here, in the lobby. Can I come up?”

She’s here? Like, in the lobby of my building, here ?

“What? Of course you can come up! I just got home from practice. Do you need me to come down? I can help you with your stuff?” I am quickly trying to piece together the chaotic bits of information bouncing around my brain. The new blackmail note, Danica showing up randomly at my place (not that she isn’t always welcome, it’s just really fucking odd with this being a school night for her. She takes her classes almost as seriously as her gymnastics training).

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. I’ll be right up.” Her words are still spoken softly, so soft I almost don’t catch them, and the line clicks, signaling she hung up on me. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I frown at the dark screen for a moment before brushing it aside. With a quick sniff, I check that I’m presentable. I always shower after practice, but I take extra care to make sure I smell nice for my girl when I know I am seeing her after. My footsteps are silent as I hurry over to my dresser, giving myself a quick spritz of her favorite cologne before heading out to unlock the door. My girl has a key, but I will always open the fucking door for her, because my Ma raised me to treat my lady with the respect she deserves .

I get to the door and open it right as she is getting ready to place the key in the hole, and she gapes at me. Freshly showered, my hair still damp, I can’t hold back the grin as I catch her checking me out, a faint blush highlighting the beautiful freckles staining her cheeks. I know she is checking me out, and I know she likes what she sees. “Freshly showered Theo” is one of her favorite versions of me, and I would be lying if I didn’t enjoy every second of her eye-fucking me.

And, God damn! Speaking of eye-fucking. My girl is a smoke-show. Hair pulled back in a messy bun, no make-up, and wearing my hoodie that I gave to keep her warm and reminded of me while she is at school. How did I get so lucky to have such an incredible woman by my side? I certainly don’t deserve it; with all the shit I have done. But I am not taking for granted a single second spent with this magnetic force of a woman that I get to call mine.

Moving closer, I pull my girl into a hug and she tenses, shoulders stiffening as I bring her close to my chest. Brows furrowing in concern, I step back an arm’s length, my hands resting on her shoulders as I take her in more closely. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I was so consumed by my joy and confusion at her showing up unexpectedly that I didn’t notice the red rimming her eyes, a slight puffiness to her cheeks. She’s been crying. “Here, come in. Let me help you with your bags.”

A shaky breath escapes her as she steps out of my embrace and fully into the entryway of my apartment. Looking over her shoulder, I don’t see any bags in the hall. Confusion and a sense of unease fills me as I turn to face her, shutting the door as I go. “Mio passerotto?” She is holding what appears to be a crumbled bunch of papers in her fist, and I move to step closer.

“Don’t.”

I stop immediately, cautious of her tone and the delicate tremor in her lips. Raising my hands in a placating gesture, as if to show her that I mean no harm, as if she were a startled doe about to bolt off and never be seen again. “Baby, what is it?”

“Tell me it isn’t true. That it’s all a mistake.” She steps closer, voice low and edged with hurt. “Tell me that it’s a lie. That I’m wrong. Please.”

Bewildered, I study her face, trying to understand what she is talking about. We just spoke on the phone this morning before I went to practice and everything was fine. We were good. I genuinely have no idea where this is coming from or what this is all about. Cautiously, I take a step closer, hands still raised in a manner meant to reassure her. “I genuinely don’t know what you are talking about. Help me out here, Danica. ”

“This!” With a surprisingly forceful tone, she takes the final steps separating the distance between us and shoves the crumpled papers against my chest. Thanks to my quick reflexes, I manage to catch them before they fall to the floor as she turns and storms off into the living room.

It takes a minute of looking over the papers before I fully register what I am seeing, before a wave of ice chills my veins and my vision narrows, making my world spin on its axis. Forensic analysis, autopsy reports, pictures. . . two different versions, one showing the original- albeit heavily redacted, and another, the version that was released to the public, showing the altered cause of death for one Bradley Martin Oakley II. Well, shit !

A sense of numbness washes over me, and I force myself to take deep, even breaths before following Danica into the living room.

“Where did you get these?” My tone is cold, detached, and I almost don’t recognize my own voice as the words leave my mouth.

“Where did I get them?” Her eyes bulge, jaw dropping in shock. “I swear to God, Theo. Tell me the fucking truth, right now. Did you know about this? Did you know that they lied about this? That he was brutally beaten and murdered and then someone covered it up?”

Unable to lie to her face, I remain silent, observing my girl even as she spirals closer towards a meltdown.

“Oh. My. God. It’s true, isn’t it? What the papers show. What it says about you. . . You did this. You . . . you killed him. And then you- you covered it up.” Visibly shaking, she runs her hands through her hair, only to get caught in a tangled mess where the bun meets the crown of her head. “Oh my God. Oh, my God. Theo! You, why would you? How? I mean, I can’t-” With a plop, she drops gracelessly onto my designer couch, and I rush over, pulling her tight to my chest.

“Shhh. Baby. La mia diavoletta. Shhh. It’s alright. Everything is going to be alright.” Frustrated by my inability to calm her, concerned at her unresponsiveness, I grab her and pull her onto my lap, gently rocking as I murmur soothing nothings into her hair. Unsure of how much time passes, I just sit there, rocking my girl, holding her close, whispering words of comfort and my love for her.

I can see the moment when the shock wears off, see the weariness in her eyes as she jolts upright, pushing away from me with a surprising amount of strength before jumping up out of my lap and heading to the door. “I’m sorry, I can’t- I just. I need a minute. I’ve got to go.”

Caught off guard by the abrupt change in emotions, I jump up quickly to follow her, even as she yells over her shoulder. “Don’t follow me, Theo! I mean it. I need some space. Please just leave me alone.” She is in the elevator before I can make it to the end of the hall, and I quickly veer to the side, exiting through the staircase.

I am breathless as I make my way down flight after flight of stairs. The burn in my calves matches the ache in my chest after a hard practice but I push through it, racing down each level until I finally reach the bottom and burst, breathless, into the lobby. Frantically, I crane my head from side to side, desperately searching for my girl, and catch the barest glimpse of her just as she is pulling out of the parking spot. Quickly, I race across the lobby, dodging my neighbors who throw irritated looks in my direction as I barely miss crashing into them.

I burst into the rainy, cold parking lot as her car is pulling onto the street. Merda! Running over to my car, I go to get in before realizing belatedly that I left my keys and wallet upstairs. Che cazzo! Fucking shitballs! I pull on my hair in frustration before double-timing it back inside and rushing to the elevator.