Page 21 of Hold Me Closer

Nadia

I t's nearly midnight when I call Teo for the third time, worried that he hasn't called me yet. When he texted me hours ago, he said he was going to the hotel and then calling. I haven't heard from him since. Not even a text.

His phone goes straight to voicemail this time, and my stomach churns.

Something is wrong. I feel it in my bones.

I send him a text.

Me: Hey. Just checking on you. I hope you made it back to the hotel safely and just fell asleep or something. I love you.

I perch on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hands, hoping he texts back, but he doesn't. The message says delivered, but it never swaps to read.

Maybe he is asleep by now. It's late in New York. Really freaking late. But the knot in the pit of my stomach tells me I'm banking on false hope. Something happened. Teo wouldn't just forget to call me. He wouldn't just turn his phone off and not tell me that he was going to sleep.

We may still be getting to know the grown-up versions of each other, but he hasn't changed that much. In every way that matters, he's exactly the same Teo he's always been, especially when it comes to me.

My phone rings in my hands, startling me. I fumble it, nearly dropping it to the floor before I finally manage to get it to my ear.

"Teo? Are you okay?" I ask, unable to hide the worry in my voice.

"Hey, hon," Olive says, sending disappointment crashing through me.

"Oh. Hey."

"Do you have a minute? We need to talk."

"What's going on?" I grip the phone so tightly my knuckles ache.

"A reporter dug up your past faster than I anticipated," she murmurs, her voice soft. "He was waiting outside the stadium for Teo tonight to try to get confirmation."

"No," I whisper, anxiety clawing through me. No. God, no. He wasn't supposed to find out like this. I was supposed to tell him. "I-is he okay?"

"I'm not sure," she says. "He walked off, hon. No one has seen him since. I spoke with his publicist. His teammates are out trying to find him."

A sob threatens to choke me. I fight it back, trying desperately to hold it together.

This is my fault. God, this is all my fault.

I was such a coward, scared to tell him the truth, afraid to hurt him, worried about dragging up more of the past. And now, he's hurting anyway.

He probably hates me. Worse, he probably hates himself.

He shouldn't. It was never his fault that I needed help. Being run off the road did that. Almost dying in the resulting accident did that. Waking up in a hospital with tubes and wires running all over me did that. Feeling like I had no control did that. Not Teo.

The accident ripped apart the seams of my life, and I didn't know how to stitch them back together again.

Teo was always the strong one, the one who held me together.

When it was time for me to be strong for myself, I didn't want the responsibility.

So, I ignored the warning signs. I ignored the fissures.

I ignored every road sign along the way until I couldn't even make it through a day without the anxiety medication I was buying from a classmate to push down the PTSD symptoms clawing at my mind every damn minute. None of that was his fault.

And it wasn't his fault when the anxiety started getting out of control again, and I needed to recalibrate.

That's just life with PTSD. You get better, but you never fully heal.

Sometimes, you need to recalibrate. You need to do the work all over again.

I recognized the signs that time, and I did the work.

"It's going to be okay," Olive says, her voice gentle. "We're going to fix this. Just give us time."

But…I'm not sure this can be fixed. The whole world knows now.

My big secret is out. I'm not the perfect princess everyone thought.

My past is littered with pain and trauma, things I never wanted to share with the world.

I wanted to keep them hidden and pretend they didn't exist. Because if they didn't exist to the world, then it was almost like they didn't happen at all.

But they did.

Zoya was right. Teo and I never moved on.

We're still stuck back there. We never got past it.

We just…froze in time, unable to move, unable to breathe.

We shattered to pieces, and we're still tangled in the wreckage, our pieces still scattered.

We keep scattering them because we never healed.

We hid. And pain is the inevitable price.

No one escapes the past unscarred. I don't know why I thought we would.

"I've gotta go," I whisper to Olive. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Hang in there, Nadia. We're going to fix it."

I disconnect, curling up on my side on the bed.

They can't fix it. It's up to us to do that.

And I don't even know where to begin. But I want to do it.

I want to heal. I want him to heal. I don't want to be free of it.

It's part of us, part of our story. But I'd really like for it to stop fucking hurting so much. Is that too much to ask?

I pick my phone up, my fingers trembling as I send Teo a message.

Me: I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry you found out that way, Teo. I never wanted that. It was never your fault. I never blamed you. Please call me.

He doesn't respond. He doesn't call, either.

But I don't give up. Not this time. We did that once—we gave up. We didn't fight. And the past may still be hanging over us like a shroud, lingering in the corners, but that doesn't mean I haven't learned something from it. It doesn't mean I haven't grown.

I know what I want. I know what I'm willing to fight for now. And I'll wait for him forever if that's what it takes. I'll fight forever if that's what it takes. But the past and all its scattered, jagged pieces and painful memories doesn't win. Not this time.

We do.

One way or another, we do.

I leave for the studio early in the morning, my phone still silent. I didn't sleep all night. I just laid there…thinking. Refusing to fall apart. I did that once. It didn't work out so well for me. So, I'm not doing it again.

I'm learning from my mistakes. Even if it freaking kills me.

He's worth it. He's always been worth it.

God, I hope he knows that, too. More than anything, he deserves to know that he's worth it.

I stumble outside, blinking against the harsh rays of the sun, to find reporters lined up at the end of my driveway in overwhelming numbers. For a minute, I just stand there, frozen in shock.

"Miss Mikhail, is it true?" someone shouts.

I cringe away from the question, refusing to answer it.

I owe Teo an explanation before anyone else.

Maybe someday, I'll tell the rest of the world my story instead of letting them tell it themselves.

Maybe I won't. That's my choice. Right now, I can't think about that.

He's the only one I owe answers to. He's the only one I need to explain anything to. And he's the one I'm worried about.

"Come on, Miss Mikhail," one of the guys Teo hired to keep them off my property says, coming forward to escort me to the Uber idling in the driveway. "Ignore their bullshit."

"Thank you," I whisper gratefully as he steps between us, using his bulky body to create a wall. It doesn't mute the roar of their questions, but it keeps them out of sight as we hurry toward the car.

"Is it true that Teo Kirby retired to go on tour with you?" someone shouts when I'm nearly to the car.

I stop dead in my tracks, my heart thumping against my breastbone. "What did she just say?"

"Uh, I believe she asked if Teo retired to go on tour with you," my guard says. "It's all over the news this morning, Miss Mikhail."

No. Oh, no.

I practically trip over my own feet, racing back toward the house. I don't breathe as I shove the key into the lock, frantically trying to get the door open. I fall through it, keeping myself upright with my hand clutched around the handle, and then stumble toward the living room.

"Please," I whisper, my hand shaking as I grab the remote and turn on the local sports channel.

Teo's face is the first thing I see.

"It's over for Teo Kirby," the reporter says. "His team announced early this morning that he's officially parted ways with the LA Sabres and the league, taking early retirement. No word yet on his plans, but I have a feeling we'll be seeing him on tour with a certain pop princess soon."

He gave up football. Why?

God. Do I even need to ask?

He did it for me. To give them something to talk about other than my past. Because that's what he always does. He protects me. Even when it means breaking his own heart.

My phone dings with an incoming message. I grab it, my vision blurry as I lift it toward my face.

Teo: I choose us, butterfly. Always.

I cover my mouth, dropping heavily to the couch as I fall apart, sobbing.