Page 38 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

WHIMSY

Elias doesn’t complain when I put Jurassic World on. It’s been about a week since what I’ve dubbed the incident and I’m certain Elias would let Ebba, and I get away with just about anything still. I think if I asked him to buy me a private jet, he’d find a way to make it happen.

I cuddle up with my dinosaur, my fingers playing with the tail.

A large part of me feels silly for still being shaken over the incident.

It could’ve been a lot worse than what it was.

But I’ve never felt so helpless. I was so scared when Keaton stormed into the apartment like he did.

It was obvious he was drunk and not in his right mind, but that’s no excuse to attack anyone.

After rejecting Elias the previous night, I was fearful he might not return that night at all and that when he did what he might find.

I wasn’t sure what all Keaton might be capable of.

Elias has tried to get me to open up and talk about it numerous times, but I just … can’t. Every time I think about the fear that held me frozen when Keaton stormed in, I feel like hyperventilating.

Worse.

It could’ve been so much worse.

But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t awful.

“You really like that dinosaur, huh?”

“What?” I didn’t quite hear him as lost in my thoughts as I was.

“You really like that dinosaur?” He nods to the stuffed animal in my arms.

“I love it. I even named him.”

He chuckles. “You named him? You haven’t shared that with me. Care to tell me?”

“His name is Percy.”

He snorts. “Percy? How did you come up with that?”

I shrug, rubbing my legs together beneath the sheets. “I don’t know. He felt like a Percy. It was just a vibe.”

“A vibe?” he laughs, shaking his head. “All right. Whatever you say.”

“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, squishing Percy against my chest. “What would you have named him?”

“I don’t know.” He thinks for a moment. “Bill.”

My mouth pops open. “You mocked me for Percy and the best you come up with is Bill. Please.” I roll my eyes.

“Bill the Brachiosaurus. You have to admit that it has a nice ring to it.” His smirk makes me want to laugh, but I hold it in, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Percy is a better name,” I mumble.

“Whatever you say.” He adjusts the pillows behind him. “We both know I’m right.”

When the movie is over, I turn the TV off and burrow beneath the covers.

I haven’t been sleeping well since everything, but I haven’t had any nightmares since the first night when I woke up in the wee hours crying from it.

I don’t think Elias was aware. He was still holding me, but his breaths remained even.

He’s already knocked out, and I envy the look of calm peace on his face. Curling my hands beneath my head, I do everything I can to go to sleep. I count sheep, I visualize myself in a calm and soothing environment, I even script out a whole dream in my head but still sleep evades me.

When two hours have passed without me even drifting off, I shove the covers off and tiptoe out of the bedroom to the living space of the room.

I don’t have to worry about disturbing Ebba since another room opened up and she was able to get it.

Not that we weren’t happy for her to stay here, but she wanted her own space.

I think she was sick of Elias hovering over both of us like a worried mother hen.

I settle on the couch with my phone, opening my reading app and seeing if that can help quiet my mind.

It’s an embarrassingly short time when the bedroom door opens and reveals Elias silhouetted by the soft glow of his bed table light.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say softly, ducking my head in shame.

“The bed felt cold.”

I arch a brow. “That quick?”

“What can I say?” He strides toward me, and I try not to stare at his thick, muscular thighs. God, he’s toned and muscled in all the best ways. “I’m in tune with you. You wanna talk about anything?”

I shake my head. “Go back to bed, please. You have a game today.”

One I’ll be sitting in and cheering him on like the dutiful fake-WAG I am now.

“I’m worried about you.” It’s the genuine concern in his dark-eyed gaze that has my shoulders sagging. “I think you should tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t want to,” I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest—a classic defensive pose.

“Usually, the things we don’t want to do the most are the very things we should do.”

I look away from him. “I hate it when you’re right.”

When I turn back, he’s grinning. He sits down on the coffee table in front of me and taps my bare ankle.

“I’m not going to judge you for anything you say. You know that, right?”

I do know. Elias is probably one of the least judgmental people I’ve ever met.

I bite my lip, debating on what exactly I want to say.

“I think I feel guilty for being so upset. Other women have had it so much worse than what we did, but I…” I squish my eyes closed, the threat of tears a burn against my lids.

“I keep imaging the what ifs, all the different ways it might have played out if you hadn’t shown up.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life and I got mugged in London once. ”

He shakes his head in astonishment. “You got mugged? When? Working for me?”

I nod. “Wimbledon two years ago. I went into the city, and my wallet was stolen.”

“You never told me,” he accuses gently.

“You were my boss. I wasn’t going to whine to you about it. I handled it on my own.”

“We’ll circle back to that,” he warns, leaning into my space.

“But Whimsy, you need to realize that trauma is trauma. You don’t need to try to compare it to someone else’s.

Your trauma is the one you lived and you’re allowed to be freaked out by it.

You’re allowed to be scared and worried and angry and whatever the fuck else emotion you need to feel. ”

I pick at a loosening thread on the arm of the couch. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He nods emphatically. “In fact, I’d be pretty fucking worried if you were acting like nothing happened.

A man assaulted you—that’s what it was Whimsy, okay?

Don’t try to excuse his behavior because he was drunk.

He still knew what he was doing—he knew he was scaring you guys—and he did it anyway because he didn’t care. ”

“I see his face when I close my eyes,” I admit in a watery voice. “I don’t want to keep seeing it.”

When the tears come, I can’t stop them. They’re a torrent I haven’t truly released until now. I wanted to be strong, to not let what happened break me. But maybe it’s okay that it did—it proves I’m human after all.

With a quiet curse, Elias takes the spot beside me on the couch and wraps his arms around me. I melt into his hold. I needed this, I realize. Not just him holding me, but speaking my thoughts aloud. It’s helped.

“I’m always here if you need to talk,” he murmurs against the top of my head. “If you need a therapist, I’ll hire the best one. If you want to go home to your parents, I’ll book you a plane ticket right now. I care about you, Whimsy. I want you to take care of yourself.”

“I’ll be okay.” And I will be. Maybe not today or tomorrow or even next week. But eventually the trauma will lessen and I’ll only think of it occasionally.

Elias sits in the quiet with me for a while, just holding me, before finally he lifts me effortlessly in his arms and carries me to bed. He curls in behind me and cuddles me much the way I hold Percy to my chest.

This time, I do go to sleep.