I crossed to the bathroom, knocking. I tried the handle. “Reese?”

He didn’t answer.

Opening the door, my heart broke. There was no other way to say it. He sat on the floor in his sweatpants by the toilet. His knees were up as he did his best to curl himself into a ball. His head was in his hands, and I didn’t think.

Going to him, I said his name once, sliding to my knees and moving right between his legs.

A sob left him, but he opened his arms. Crawling into his lap, I straddled his waist and wound my arms around him, pulling him close.

His hands balled into fists at my sides, and he cried.

There were no words. Not like this, when it’s raw and new and has the power to change you forever. Nothing could take it away or soothe it, and the only thing I could offer was knowing he wasn’t alone.

I brushed his hair back, kissing his forehead and whispering over and over, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eventually I felt a presence behind us.

Twisting my head just enough, I saw Coach Winston at the door, looking utterly broken. Reese seemed oblivious. His tears kept falling, his head buried against me, and I just kept soothing him. I was doing the best I could.

Coach nodded to me and mouthed, “Thank you.”

I nodded back, just the smallest of motions, and he eased back. I heard the bedroom door click shut softly, and I assumed he would talk to Stan about whatever needed to be said to Reese.

Thirty minutes later, Reese pulled himself together, his eyes red-rimmed and still sniffling. He dressed for the day, putting on the suit Juan had brought with him the night before. I didn’t know what all happened on the day of a game, but figured there were team things he needed to attend to.

He stepped into the hall, and I was right behind him. Stan straightened in the hallway. He had dressed in a suit as well.

He noted our clasped hands and cleared his throat. “I’ll make sure Charlie’s in a room close by for you.”

Reese’s voice was raspy. “Thanks.”

And just like that, we gathered the rest of our stuff and headed out. I took Trent’s keys with me. Going downstairs, no one said a word in the elevator, but an SUV was waiting for us.

This was Stan’s doing.

On the drive to the stadium, he informed Reese, “I’ve chartered a private jet. A car will take us straight to the airport after your game. Your coaches are aware of everything. They’re on board for you to take the weekend. You’ll be expected back to the arena Monday morning for your game that evening.”

Reese nodded.