Strong arms wrapped around me, and I was guided outside by a female officer. “Someone call the paramedics,” she said into her radio. No. I didn’t need paramedics. I needed to get to Oakley. “Sit down on the concrete and put your hands over her head.”

I helplessly did what she said as she spoke into her radio again. Outside, blue and red lights flashed across the pavement. My throat kept closing up. My vision was speckled with anxiety. “I think it’s a panic attack,” another officer said.

I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again only to see Oakley thrashing against the cops holding him so he could get to me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as they forced him into the car. And when the door was slammed shut, locking him inside, my chest constricted.

“Fuck,” I croaked.

“Hey, girl,” the female officer said, sounding impatient. “Who do I need to call for you?”

I tilted my head back and let the events of the night swallow me whole. “Call Coach Howard.”

* * *

I was sitting on a bench outside the police station when Coach Howard emerged from his car. He refused to acknowledge me, though we had locked eyes. It was four in the morning. The remnants of my panic attack still rocked me to my core, and I couldn’t shake the impending sense of doom traveling up my spine. Everything was ruined. Everything.

I continued to sit outside, waiting for word. The police officers got my statement, and I made sure to tell them about Chuck grabbing me. They asked if I wanted to press charges for assault, and I told them yes. I was tired of letting people from my past run all over me. I wasn’t the same girl that left a crying mess. And I certainly wasn’t going to let him get away with tormenting me any longer. Besides, it would help Oakley’s case if a judge knew he was defending me. I didn’t even have to be a good publicist to know that.

Coach Howard stayed in the police station for five hours. Given that it was the weekend, I doubted a judge was able to release Oakley until Monday, but surprisingly, they both emerged from the station a little after nine.

I immediately stood up when I saw them, and Oakley ran to my outstretched arms. “I was so fucking worried about you,” he whispered against my neck before pulling away to look me over.

“Both of you get in my car right now. It’s a miracle the press isn’t swarming this place already,” Coach Howard grunted. I lowered my head and clutched Oakley’s hand as we made it to Coach’s rental sedan.

“What in the hell happened here tonight?” Coach seethed. He was so angry he was barely able to get the words out.

“That asshole grabbed her, and I just saw red—” Oakley started to defend himself.