Page 36

THIRTY-SIX

Ella

MY PHONE’S been buzzing constantly ever since Blake’s bombshell of an interview. Reporters asking for an exclusive interview, old colleagues apologizing for not speaking up, friends saying they’re here to talk, faceless people on social media either calling me a liar or praising me. It’s too much. All of it. The only person whose call I’ll answer right now is Cindy’s. Today’s our second session since I flew back to Chicago. We’ve been doing video calls because “body language reveals a lot.” So far all I’ve done during our appointments is talk a little and cry a lot. The more I talk about it, the easier it gets, so I’m trying my best.

“How do you feel today?” Cindy asks me. Her blond hair looks unusually dull through my computer screen.

“Tired,” I admit haggardly. “Really fucking tired.”

“Tired because you’re not sleeping well or tired of something?”

“Both, I guess.” The timeliness of my yawn couldn’t be better. “I’m also pissed, mad, sad, and pretty much every emotion under the sun. It’s like I’m completely numb, but also feeling way too much at the same time.”

“You’re going through a lot, Ella,” she says kindly. “There’s no right way to respond, and your body is in overdrive trying to process everything.”

That’s for fucking sure.

“Okay, well, how do I get it to stop doing that?”

“We may be able to send people into outer space, but science isn’t that advanced yet, unfortunately.” Her cheeks push her glasses up on her nose when she smiles. “If you had to pick your primary emotion right now, what would it be?”

I take a minute to think about it. “Mad.”

“Why mad?”

It’s a simple question with a complex answer. The Jeopardy countdown sound plays in my head as I piece together my thoughts.

“All I’ve wanted was for Connor to be held responsible for his actions, but when that didn’t happen, I just wanted to disassociate from the entire thing,” I admit. “I didn’t want anyone knowing because if they did, I’d have to think about it and talk about it, but nothing would change. Now that people are realizing he’s a shitty person, I’m … I don’t even know. Pissed they found out what happened, but happy that they finally know. It feels contradictory.”

“When you were assaulted, it consumed you. You were up in arms, ready to burn PlayMedia down. You were ready for everything that may happen.”

“Yeah.” I rest my chin in my hands. “I guess so.”

“You weren’t ready for this,” she reminds me gently. “You went to a talk show to support your boyfriend and left having your personal life revealed to a lot of people. You didn’t have any control in that situation.”

“So you think it’s a control thing?”

“I think that’s part of it.” She nods. “Not having control is how this all came into the public eye … it’s understandable why you’re mad. It’s hard to make your story your own when someone else tells it. You also felt like you were finally in control over your life, and Blake threw a wrench in that.”

“Did you know that if you Google my name, the first two search pages are all about Connor and PlayMedia? I’ll forever be attached to them.”

“It’s something that happened to you, Ella, but it isn’t who you are.”

She’s right, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I sink further into my seat, fighting off tears. I’m not sure how my body is still producing more; I feel like I should be all cried out at this point.

“I don’t want Blake to think that what he did was acceptable, even if it wasn’t on purpose. The means don’t always justify the ends.”

“It’s more common than you’d think,” she reveals soothingly.

“Oh, is it? You have other clients whose boyfriends have gone on a talk show and went into detail about their girlfriend’s trauma?” My body flinches back at how harsh my words are. “Sorry … that was rude of me.”

“It’s okay.” Cindy ignores my bitchiness. “A lot of people—whether it be a dad, a sister, a boyfriend—have anger and hate toward the person who hurt their loved one. Unfortunately, they don’t realize how their responses can traumatize you even more. It’s why a lot of well-meaning people make crappy decisions.”

“How would I even go about forgiving him?”

I can’t imagine my life without Blake, but I also don’t know how to reconcile who he is with what he did. This isn’t like he left the toilet seat open or forgot an anniversary.

“Even if Blake didn’t hurt you purposefully, it still takes a lot of strength to forgive someone. You’re not making excuses for his behavior or condoning it, but you are choosing to accept what happened, acknowledging how you feel about it, and then moving on from it.”

All I want to do is move on, but it’s like I’m trapped underneath a layer of fog. Everything is heavy and hurts. The ache in my throat grows stronger. I’ve been getting a lot better at actually allowing myself to feel my feelings the past week, and it’s been just as cathartic as it’s been painful.

MY YOUNGER brOTHER may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s also a secret sweetheart. He told me he’s home for the weekend because he didn’t have a hockey game, but I know it’s really to check up on me. It’s nice having him here. He can’t solve my problems, but he can keep me company as I hibernate on the couch.

“Morning,” my brother greets me. “Want coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Tyler reappears a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. After handing me one, he settles onto the other side of the couch.

“What are you doing up so early?” he asks.

It’s 6:30 a.m. I usually sleep until at least 8:00 or 9:00 a.m. on the weekends if I can.

“The race is on soon,” I admit with a slight blush.

“And you’re going to watch?” I can’t tell if he’s impressed or bothered. “You’re such a masochist.”

“Big word for such a small brain,” I tease him. “Do you want to watch with me? I could use a buddy.”

“Can we cheer if Blake crashes?”

He smiles slyly, flashing a dimple that matches my own. I lean over and smack him on the arm. The memory of Blake’s crash in Baku still haunts me even though he’s been in a few minor ones since then.

“Kidding, kidding!” Tyler chuckles under his breath. “Have you guys talked recently?”

I shake my head. It’s only been a week without talking to Blake, but it’s my own personal hell. Dante forgot to write about the tenth circle, but I’m there and am more than happy to fill him in. The worst part about it is that the person I want holding my hand through all of this is the person who put me in this position in the first place.

“You know I’ve got your back, right?” Tyler says after a few minutes. “I’ll kick Blake’s ass if you give me the word.”

It’s a toss-up who’d win that fight. “I appreciate it, Ty.”

He releases a deep breath, biting his lip in concentration. “If I were in Blake’s position, on that show, I can’t say I’d do anything differently than he did. I mean, I probably wouldn’t have kept talking, but I couldn’t have sat there calmly while someone said that shit about the guy who assaulted you.” He pauses. “Remember when I had a one-game suspension last year?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Tyler got into a bar fight and ended up breaking someone’s nose. No one pressed charges, but Tyler’s coach suspended him nonetheless.

“I overheard some guys talking,” he says slowly.

My curiosity is piqued since Tyler’s never spoken about it. “About what?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yep.” His lips come together, making the last letter end in a popping noise. “You.”

I wait for him to say more, but he just sips his coffee. “Well, what were they saying?”

“They told me they liked your podcast,” he admits. “Listened every week.”

“That’s bad?”

“They asked me why you’d leave such a cool job.” His voice is strained. “Said PlayMedia was the best and that they’d met Brixton before and he’s a fucking legend … the GOAT.”

“So you beat the shit out of him?”

“Mm-hmm.” Tyler shrugs aloofly. “All I’m saying is I get his reaction. It’s up to you if you forgive him or not, but it’s obvious how much he cares about you, even if he has an ass backward way of showing it.”

My phone dings with a text from Josie. She’s been sending me voice memos of her singing a variety of songs including “Irreplaceable” by Beyoncé and “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor. I truly never know what a text from her is going to be, but I appreciate that about Jos. I haven’t watched any press conferences from this weekend, but she’s keeping me up to date. Apparently, today’s is action-packed.

JOSIE BANCROFT

A reporter just asked why you aren’t here, and Blake ripped off his microphone and left the room.

OMG. Theo’s telling everyone about his skincare routine.

Lucas is now talking about some football game?? I think he means American football, not ours.

These boys do not know how to handle a crisis well. This is comical.

Okay, Blake’s back. He’s giving his statement. “Please respect and refrain from asking me questions about my personal life. Unless it pertains to the race, it has no place in this conference room.”

Totally get why you’re not at the race (fully support you), but I miss you, babes!!

I can’t help when my lips curl into a smile at her rapid-fire texts. Tyler takes the remote and changes the channel to ESPN. We catch the tail end of the press conference. Seeing Blake, even through a screen, makes my heart flutter wildly. As angry and upset as I am, I still miss him. I miss him so much it feels hard to breathe sometimes. I’m homesick for a person.

The race is a nail-biter. Blake’s performance highlights that he’s at the top of his career, but Harry drives just as well. I know Blake tries not to listen to what people are saying, but it’s hard to ignore the question at the forefront of everyone’s mind, including the broadcaster’s. Can Blake win a championship that’s so close? The last Drivers’ Championship that was this tight was a few years back when he beat Lucas by a mere five points. With only two races left in the season, the pressure is seriously on.

I make a last-minute decision to text him after the podium ceremony.

ELLA GOLD

Great win today. I was rooting for you.

BLAKE HOLLIS

That means the world to me, baby. Thinking of you constantly. I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I’m so incredibly sorry.

ELLA GOLD

It was weird not watching a Grand Prix from the pit garage.

BLAKE HOLLIS

It was weird not having you there. I miss you.

I edit my text back to Blake about ten times. I’m a writer and always have things to say, but my mind is blank. It’s an unfamiliar feeling—not knowing what to say to him. There are twenty-six letters in the alphabet and I somehow can’t think of a single combination that accurately expresses how I feel. So I say nothing.