“How concerned should I be about working with her? Is she going to make my life hell?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Things weren’t that serious between us, and I’m sure she’ll behave professionally.”
Meredith doesn’t seem so convinced. “Okay,” she says anyway. “How was your day?”
“It was good; I’m in great shape.”
“I could’ve told them that,” she grins, causing me to laugh. “When do I get the tour? Do you practice in the arena you play in?”
I shake my head. “Some teams do, but we have a separate arena for practice. I have a full
day off next week; we can go then.”
“That’ll work as long as I don’t have PT and we’re back in time for me to go to work.” She pauses with a frown. “It’s weird to think I have a regular normal-person day job.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
It can’t be easy. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to do anything outside of the league. Once I retire, I want to stay as involved as I can be. Meredith is struggling, and she hasn’t even officially retired yet. That’s something that’s nagging me in the back of my mind, too. If she is able to return to the game, does that mean we’re over again? I don’t want to think about that until I have to.
She seems lost in her head while I finish cooking. Without me having to ask, she gets the plates and fixes our drinks. I watch her intently. She eats slowly, mostly just poking and moving her food around. When she does speak, she surprises me with what she asks.
“Do you think everything happens for a reason, Noah? Like do you think when bad things happen to us, there’s some reason behind it?”
The pain she feels shows as she pinches her brows together, frowns, and that dead void is ever-present in her gaze. I hurt. I hurt in so many unimaginable ways, Noah. What bad thing is she thinking of? Her injury? Her relationship with Vance? That doesn’t seem to match the emotion she’s showing me. Why hasn’t she shared whatever it is that’s causing her so much pain?
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “It’s life. All we can do is make the best of it and keep moving forward.”
She doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer. “I wish you could’ve been there with me. It might’ve made it easier somehow to have at least one person to lean on.”
I frown. “What are you talking about? You could’ve leaned on your parents or your friends. You weren’t alone, Mere.”
Her eyes widen a little in surprise, but then it disappears as she nods. “Right. You’re right.”
She’s hiding something. There’s something more she hasn’t said yet. I don’t question her immediately because she stands to put away her dish and then leaves me alone in the kitchen as she disappears down the hall. Does she not trust me? I’ve never done anything to cause her to mistrust me or doubt my ability to be there for her. She’s the one who walked away and stayed away until now.
With a sigh, I quickly clean up the kitchen. I lie down on the couch to watch TV when she reenters the room, now wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I hold out my hand for her to lie with me. My fingers immediately begin playing with strands of her hair, running through it or twirling it around my forefinger. I’ve always loved her hair. It’s the perfect shade of brown to make those dark green eyes stand out.
What happened at dinner keeps replaying in my mind. I don’t think I can let it go. I keep my voice low and gentle, not wanting her to close up on me. “What happened when you didn’t think you had someone to lean on? What were you talking about?”
It’s like I pressed a button to cause her body to lock up on me, all her muscles tensing and her chest pausing mid-breath. “Nothing,” she answers in this weak voice.
My eyes squeeze closed. It’s a struggle to keep my voice even, and I can’t help the undercurrent of anger. “Don’t lie to me, Meredith.” She doesn’t say anything for a few painful moments, and I sigh heavily as the anger fades to leave the heart of my emotions behind: fear. “How are we going to work if you won’t talk to me? You came back to me to put your life together. You want me to help make you better. How can I do that if you’re not telling me what I need to know, so I can help? Do you not trust me? I don’t understand.”
Meredith lifts her head and places a finger over my lips to make me stop. She looks even more pained than before. Her eyes are watery, then tears give way to tumble onto her cheeks. I reach up to wipe them away.
“I trust you. It’s nothing like that, Noah, I promise.” Her eyes drop to where the tattoo is underneath my shirt. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
“Not ready to talk about it with me?” I ask, hoping that’s she’s talked to her mom, even though I know she hasn’t.
“With anyone.”
Fuck. It has to be something big because she’s still crying. Those few simple tears have become more frequent, her breathing is shaky, and she’s trying to hold it together. She’s struggling when all she has to do is tell me, so I can better comfort her. I wait. I wait for her to make that decision to confide in me and let me into her past. It looks like I’ll be waiting awhile.
“You’ll tell me when you’re ready?”
She nods, but it doesn’t bring me any comfort. However, I need to trust that she’ll keep her word.
“Okay. If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here, no questions asked.”