I force myself to laugh. “That was Owen.”
He pauses. “My bad. You were the good one.” He takes my hand, and we hug tightly. “Have a seat.” I do as he asks, and when he sits down, he asks, “You okay? You look a bit pale.”
I swallow hard. “I’m fine. I didn’t sleep last night. Shelli had the baby, so I didn’t get back until late, and when I did, I learned of what happened.”
“Ah, I’ll have to send her some flowers,” he says, writing a note. “As for Burnette, I think we have it under control. The coach of the softball team is having a meeting with the team, but from what she’s learning, the young lady was returning his affection but was extremely intoxicated.”
“But he still grabbed her where he shouldn’t,” I say, my breathing a little rushed. “I had a talk with them and told them they can’t just assume everyone wants them or that they’re comfortable. You have to know what you’re getting into.”
“You’re absolutely right, and until we get this all sorted out and both sides can come to a resolution, we’ll have to put Burnette on probation.”
“He deserves it. Nowadays, you can’t put yourself in that position. And I refuse to allow our house to have that kind of reputation.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’m glad we’re on the same page—though, I figured we would be,” he says fondly. “You’ve always been the level-headed one. Like your mom.”
I clear my throat, nodding. “Thank you.”
“I think it’s bullshit you can’t even leave the house to see your family without these kids throwing a massive shindig. I see loads and loads of laps in their futures.”
“Eh, maybe not loads. They all feel awful and keep apologizing for disappointing me.”
He nods. “They respect you. That’s great.” It is, but I’m still waiting for the ax to fall. “Okay, so the reason I called you in here—”
“That wasn’t the reason? I thought I was getting fired,” I interrupt, my eyes wide.
He laughs. “Not at all. I knew you could handle it. I’m not even mad. We’re gonna take care of everything, and it was a learning experience. It happens. They’re young.”
I swallow hard, trying to calm my breathing.
“But anyway, as I was saying, I talked to the coach of the gymnastics team and told him I needed you for the next week since my bench kid is gone for a family thing. He was sad to give you to me, but I promised the boys would come clean mats and move everything for the meet tomorrow, and he conceded.”
Why can’t I breathe? “Wait? What?”
I can’t see Callie if I’m not there. The team needs me.
“I need you to be my bench trainer for the next week,” he repeats once more, and I don’t know how to tell him I don’t want to. I’m already on thin ice with the whole situation playing out at the house. “You know, pass out sticks, tend to injuries, and it’d be cool if I can get you to warm up our goalies. You’ve got a wicked slap shot like your dad.”
This dark, anxious feeling fuels me to run, but I’m unable to move. I see murky spots as I try to focus on him, but it’s almost as if I have tunnel vision and now I can’t hear him. I feel light-headed, and I feel sweat dripping down my back. My mouth goes dry, and I feel like I might puke.
“Evan? Hey, are you okay?”
I’m not, though, and I can’t say that. I can’t get anything out but, “Call my dad.”
And then everything goes black.