Chapter 44: Hidden Scars: Chapter 43

vibrating and lighting up since I got up yesterday morning. I have an unknown number of new emails, text messages, social media direct messages, and missed phone calls. My voice mail has been full since six am. I had to use Jeremy’s phone to call Lily’s school to make sure she would be safe. They informed me that our father will not be allowed on campus and she will not be leaving the campus until the allegations against our father were cleared or she graduated, whichever happens first. Being a rich prick has its advantages sometimes.

The video Lily’s friend, Callie, uploaded Friday night was apparently seen by the right person and it’s now everywhere. Despite being deleted, someone was able to download it and reupload it. It’s made the rounds in medical circles and hockey circles. It’s only a matter of time before it hits mainstream media outlets. I’ve had more reporters call me than I can count.

I’m so overwhelmed by all of it, I’m numb. Jeremy is worried, I can see it on his face, in the way he watches me, but I can’t comfort him. I can barely live in my own head right now.

“Preston.” Jeremy’s voice has me looking up from the ringing phone in my hand. “Turn it off.”

“Is that going to stop the implosion of my life?” I hate the tone of my own voice but I can’t stop it. I have no control over anything and I’m falling the fuck apart.

There’s a knock on the hotel door and he sighs as he goes to check the peep hole then opens it. Coach strides in with purpose.

“Carmichael, I’ve spoken to the school administrators at length this morning. You are not to say anything publicly, no social media, emails, nothing. If you decide you want to make a statement, the legal team will negotiate with a reporter to get you interviewed or they will help you write up something to post if that’s the way you want to go.” He hands me a business card. “This is the legal office that works with the university. They have been made aware of the situation.”

“Thank you, Coach.” I run the card between my fingers, focusing on the texture of the expensive cardstock and raised letters.

“The front desk says there are already reporters outside waiting for you, but after the media circus that was at the game last night, I’m not surprised.”

I nod, accepting what he’s saying but not really absorbing it. After the first period, the reporters were so bad I went to sit in the locker room by myself so they would clear out some.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go to the home games this week.” I flick the business card. “I’ll be a distraction. The focus should be on the game, not on me.”

The older man puts a hand on my shoulder. “The team stands behind you, so we will carry on like usual.” He squeezes my good shoulder as a knot forms in my throat. “Get dressed, we’re going to leave a bit early for the airport, just in case the reporters slow us down.”

Jeremy leans against the wall next to the bathroom with a small smile on his lips, the bracelet I got him for Christmas on his wrist. I love that man.

He’s already showered and half-dressed while I’m still in fucking pajamas. We had breakfast here in the room so we wouldn’t have to deal with people but really, I barely picked at it. I’m not hungry. That’s worrying Jeremy too.

Coach leaves and Jeremy walks over, his unbuttoned shirt fluttering open when he moves. He stands between my knees and cups my face, leaning down to kiss me softly. His beard is getting long and I like it a lot more than I had expected to. The hair is soft against my palm when I kiss him.

“Let me help you get dressed, and if you’re a good boy about it, I’ll suck your dick before we leave.” He’s trying to distract me, but I’m not even interested in an orgasm. Not right now. Jeremy is a fixer, sitting back doesn’t sit well for him. He needs a task but I can’t give him one. I can barely think for myself, much less for someone else. I’m either angry or numb, there’s nothing else left.

I lean my face against the bare skin of his abdomen and breathe. It’s a weakness, seeking comfort from another, but somewhere along the last few months, I’ve learned to rely on Jeremy. Heavily. I can’t handle anything without him anymore after a decade of doing everything on my own.

Sometimes I disgust myself.

His hands run through my hair and I relax against him.

“We’re going to be okay,” he tells me with conviction. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”

I wrap my free arm around his thighs and lean more of my weight against him.

“I love you,” I say with my lips against the flesh between his belly button and his pants. Goosebumps break out on his skin and I let myself feel the bumps with my tongue.

Maybe I should suck off instead. If I can keep his body satisfied, he’s less likely to get tired of me and leave. Right?

Jeremy lifts my chin until I’m looking up at him, tears welling in my eyes and making him blurry.

“I love you, Preston. I’ve got you” His hand slides across my cheek to cup my neck under my ear and brushes his thumb along my face. “Let’s get you dressed.”

He heads to the hanging bar behind the door and grabs my garment bag, walking it back to the bed and unzipping it. I haven’t ironed any of it. Hopefully it’s not too wrinkled.

“Do you want to try to take a quick shower or are you good from the one last night?”

“I’m good,” I also put on deodorant right before going to bed so I should be good on that front too. I unstrap my sling and Jeremy helps me get it off without moving my arm too much. It takes both of us, but we manage to get the shirt off and my dress shirt on.

“You know, the nurse, Jessica, mentioned that you could benefit from talking to someone, like a therapist.” Jeremy mentions as he helps me into my shirt.

“I barely talk to you about it. You really think I’ll talk to a complete stranger? One that my father can pay off?” I shake my head and am grateful when Jeremy drops the subject.

Having him button it up is sexier than it should be. The button up shirt is easier at this point, but I feel like a tool wearing it to the airport.

“Why is it so hot to dress you? Shouldn’t it be the opposite?” Jeremy grins at me.

“I’m feeling very pampered right now.”

I stand and start shoving at my pants but lose my balance and stumble into the bedside table.

“Jesus, let me help you.” Jeremy pins me with a hard stare and I let him pull the rest of my clothes off, then use his shoulder to steady me as I step into the clean boxer briefs and jeans. He stands as he pulls everything up, tucking my half-hard dick into my underwear while biting his lower lip.

“Sure I can’t blow you?” He tucks my shirt into the pants and buttons them, making a point to run his palm over my dick as he finds the zipper.

“One of these days…” I trail off, but Jeremy is not concerned.

“Oh yeah?” He lifts an eyebrow and grabs my jacket.

I shake my head at him. “You love being manhandled.”

He chuckles as he lifts the jacket onto my shoulders and finds the sling for my arm.

“I really do.”

Once my shoes are on and Jeremy finishes getting dressed, we head out to the elevators where a few of the guys are all waiting. Honestly, for a bunch of brutal hockey players, we look remarkably normal in jeans and hoodies.

Since my shirt isn’t crisp with a fresh ironing job, I can’t help but rub my hand down my front and button my jacket to cover as much as I can. Didn’t Coach say there are reporters outside? Why didn’t I iron my shirt? Now I’m going to look disheveled in any pictures they post.

We crowd into the elevator, all wanting to get going, the guys still chatting around us. I square my shoulders and wait against the back wall.

“Hey, man, how are you feeling?” Mathews asks me.

“I’m fine.” I know he’s trying to form some kind of relationship, a friendship, but I don’t have the mental capacity for it. Is he asking about my shoulder or the family secrets that have been splashed across the internet? I don’t know, it doesn’t matter, and I don’t care. All I want right now is to hold Jeremy against me, but there are cameras in here. I don’t know if whoever watches those tapes knows who we are, but my face is currently being plastered all over the internet. The last thing I need is for my sexuality to come out publicly and further complicate matters.

The elevator doors open and everyone falls silent and freezes. Shit. This is probably my fault.

“Everyone out, let’s go.” Coach waves us out of the cramped space and into the lobby. “We are going to have to push through the crowd to get to the bus. The hotel staff has agreed to help us form a barrier to get everyone in the bus, but we have to move fast.” He takes a deep breath. “This is not a hockey game and these people are not athletes, use as little physical force as you can to keep them out of the way, but do not hurt them if it can be avoided.”

Guilt eats at my stomach.

“Put a hand on the shoulder of the person in front of you so you don’t get separated.” Assistant Coach Scott tells us. We form a line of sorts and Jeremy stands behind me. The guys look around and without anyone saying a word, they form a line on either side of me, creating a wall. Brendon and Paul on one side, Willis and Carpenter on the other and Mathews in front of me.

What are they doing?

I don’t understand.

“We got your back, buddy.” Brendon winks at me.

Jeremy’s hand lands on my good shoulder and he gives me a squeeze. Why are they protecting me? I’m causing them more shit to deal with. They could get hurt out here just trying to get to the fucking bus.

“We’re a team,” Carpenter says. “Nobody fucks with you but us.”

Before I can respond, the coaching staff ,along with some uniformed hotel staff, move to the doors, the team following. Coach steps out, says no one will be making any statements, then the doors open and we rush the crowd.

Almost thirty big hockey players moving quickly and with determination toward anything will make people move. Most of the reporters jump out of the way before they get trampled.

“Preston, has your dad abused you?”

“Preston, do you have any proof of these abuse allegations?”

“Why have you waited so long to come out against your father?”

Questions are thrown at me left and right and it is so hard to ignore them. I want to rip into these assholes who have no idea what my life is like, pummel their faces until they understand the way my world has worked. But I don’t. The crowd forces us closer, my teammates pressed against me making me feel claustrophobic and itchy.

I let my teammates get me safely to the bus, shoving people out of the way. We bottleneck at the doors, only one of us can fit through at a time. The people directly in front of me hurry onto the bus and into seats to get out of the way while they make room for me to get on. Someone yells “Fuck off!” and I think it was Paul, but I don’t stop to look.

I’m able to get into the back row, letting Jeremy in first then sitting down and staring straight ahead.

Jeremy slides his hand onto my thigh and I ignore it. I can’t break right now.

“We need to be extremely careful right now.” I tell Jeremy without looking at him. “If it gets out that we’re together, the reporters will hound you too.”

“Do you think I care?” I can feel the heat of his stare on the side of my face.

“I do.” I say, looking pointedly at Jeremy. He just squeezes my thigh but doesn’t respond.

Everyone gets on the bus, our bags are loaded, and the driver pulls away from the curb, even as reporters try to cling to the vehicle. Some even get into cars and chase us across town to the airport. Great.

The entire drive I stare forward, ignoring everything around me. Coach passes out flight information and tickets, reminding us about what we can and cannot have in our carry-ons. Jeremy has a backpack that he shoved some of my shit into, but it’s not my problem. At the airport, the guys once again form a barricade around me to keep everyone but Jeremy back.

It’s both humbling and confusing. They have no good reason for it. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to everyone.

That makes sense to me. I can’t protect him right now myself, so I appreciate them caring enough about him to do something.

We grab our bags and, as a unit, move inside to check in. People turn and stare, pointing and whispering, some taking their phones out and recording us.

I’ll never understand people. We’re checking into our flights. What is so damn exciting about it that you feel the need to record it?

We all get checked in, give our bags to the people at the counter, and head to security to wait in line.

We’re almost to the metal detectors when a rush of reporters runs in and spots me.

“Oh, come on,” I huff, turning my back to them and ignoring them.

“Preston, do you have anything to say about the sexual assault allegations that have been made against your father this morning by a former patient of his?” A man yells across the space, making sure it echoes enough for everyone in the airport to hear.

Sexual assault? That’s news to me, but I guess not all that surprising. I don’t have time to think about all this, I just want to get back to school and hide in my dorm room, alone with Jeremy, and decompress.

My eyebrows pinch together and I flick my gaze to Jeremy, who’s looking at me just as confused. What the fuck is this guy talking about? Is he baiting me to get a response?

“Next!” The security agent yells and I step forward with my ticket and driver’s license.

“Business or pleasure?” The bored tone almost makes me smile.

“Going home.”

He looks at the ID with a black light and stamps the ticket before handing them back to me.

“Have a good day,” he looks to Jeremy who’s standing behind me. “Next!”

I move along to the metal detectors, and since my arm is in a sling, they have me step aside and wand me. Jeremy has to help me get the jacket off, which is mildly humiliating in public.

The agent waves the wand over me, front and back, rubs some paper shit over my hands and sticks it in a machine. Jeremy finishes and waits with me, some of the guys have moved on to the gate now that there’s no reporters since they can’t get through security without a ticket.

I’m itching to get to the gate and look up what new allegations have been thrown at my father. The agent clears me and Jeremy, Brendon, Paul, Carpenter, Willis, and Mathews walk with me to our gate at the other end of the facility. During our walk, I pull out my phone and Google my father’s name. Immediately, there’s article after article of the story on mainstream outlets.

I’m so caught off guard I stop walking mid-stride, Jeremy runs into me and I reach back for him, grabbing a handful of his shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Brendon asks, but I turn to look at Jeremy, my chest tight.

“I-I-” I want to tell him but I can’t get the words out. I wasn’t his only victim? What the fuck? He’s been hurting people for years.

A woman has come forward saying she was sexually assaulted during a consult, another one says she was forced into a surgery she didn’t want. There’s an article saying some of his previous coworkers reported him to hospital admin but it was swept under the rug.

Tears well up in my eyes as a realization hits me. One of the previous hospitals could have stopped this, could have saved me, but they chose money over people.

“Hey.” Jeremy scans the room around us. “What is it?”

All I can do is show him my phone as the world crumbles around me. My hand is still gripping his shirt, like he’s going to run and I can’t let him.

“You good?” Paul asks, but I don’t answer. I can’t. How am I supposed to process this? I was left in the hands of my father because of .

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jeremy swears under his breath and pockets my phone. He looks around again before stepping into my personal space. His chest bumps mine but he doesn’t reach for me. “I know you’re on the verge of breaking down, but you have to hold it together for a few more hours. What do you need right this minute?”

I wrap my arm around him and drop my forehead to his shoulder. Jeremy wraps his arms around me, careful of my bad shoulder. The guys pull the circle tighter around us, putting arms on each other’s shoulders to try to block out anyone’s view of us.

“I’ve got you,” Jeremy whispers against the side of my head, kissing my hair.

I want to break. My knees almost buckle because money, power, and lies were more important than my suffering. Than the suffering of innocent human beings. I choke back the tears threatening to overtake me, shoving them behind the wall I’ve lived behind for years, forcing the mask back on my face that’s harder to do today than it was yesterday and last week. Jeremy has cracked my walls and used the holes to scale them. My once impenetrable fortress is held together by glue and popsicle sticks. One good hit and it’ll crumble around me, leaving me vulnerable.

Jeremy’s hand slides under the edge of my shirt until his palm rests on my stomach. The contact anchors me to the here and now, making my mind let go of the past and the what ifs. I close my eyes and focus on the warmth of his skin on mine, our breath mingling, and that intoxicating woodsy, smoky, spicy scent he wears. With only a few lungfuls of him, my heart rate drops and the impending emotional breakdown recedes, if just for a few hours.

The sounds of roller bags, people talking, and the announcements on the intercom become clear and I’m able to stand on my own. I quickly meet Jeremy’s eyes and nod, turning back around, and without a word, the guys do too. I scan the faces and see more of my teammates than when I stopped. Why are they here?

“You good, man?” one of the newcomers asks, giving me a chin lift.

With confusion still clear on my face, I give him a nod and we continue to our gate. There’s a crowd of people watching and whispering but I don’t pay them any attention.

The gate isn’t much farther and the team has blocked out a few rows of seats so Jeremy and I are surrounded by them. I appreciate it more than I can tell them, even though I know it’s not for me. I’m grateful they care enough about Jeremy to go out of their way to help him, just in case something happens to him. He’s always with me, so if I’m cornered or attacked, Jeremy will be in the middle of it as well. I can’t protect him right now. I can’t protect myself.