"I’ll call you tomorrow after I drop her off," Catherine said. "Tell Ryan I love her, Jamie, and tell her not to worry about a thing. Jennie’s in good hands."
"Once she knows you’re on the job, I’m sure she’ll be able to relax."
Ryan was able to relax a little once Jamie assured her that Catherine was fully up to speed on Jennie’s needs. After putting in her daily call to her father, Jamie convinced her partner to go to bed early, and for a change, Ryan didn’t toss and turn for too long. She still had a nightmare or two, but neither one woke her, and neither caused her to cry out during the night – allowing both her and Jamie to get a night of uninterrupted sleep.
Amanda had suggested some desensitization techniques, and on Monday morning Ryan went outside and tried to make herself approach the front gate, getting closer and closer until she realized there was no one there. She opened the small gate next to the mechanized one, and saw that the reporters were still in place; the security force had just moved them away from the main gate. Now the small group stood about fifty feet away, and when one of them spotted her dark head, he yelled, "It’s her! She is here!"
Her heart in her throat, Ryan ran for the house, panting wildly while she tried to keep herself from lapsing into another panic attack. She leaned against the door, then slowly sank to the floor, her legs too rubbery to hold her. Her body curled up into a little ball, the cold air seeping under the door chilling her sweat-drenched skin. "Jamie!" she cried out. "Come home! Please, come home!" But she knew her pleas were in vain. Jamie had left early that morning to play golf, and Ryan had to get through the next few hours on her own.
It took a long time, but the deep breathing exercises and calming mantra finally began to have an effect, and she slowly started to feel a little calmer. She still wasn’t able to move, though, somehow feeling safer with her body blocking the door. Hours later, she heard Jamie drive into the compound, and forced herself to get up and go upstairs. Her body was so stiff she could hardly move, but her iron will compelled her legs to carry her. If she knows I’m this bad off, she’ll never leave the house. And she obviously has to get out. She got into the shower again, letting the warm water ease her stiff joints, and when she emerged she didn’t leave the office until it was fully dark – refusing to even go down to the kitchen to have lunch with Jamie. She felt safe in the office for some reason, and she decided that she needed to do whatever made her feel safe – no matter how odd her habits seemed.
Mary Hayes paced in front of her team, her hands clasped behind her back, eyes half closed. "I’ve been coaching since I was 23 years old," she said, taking in a deep breath. "I’ve had a lot of highs and a lot of lows, but this is the lowest point of my entire career. Wins and losses are important – I know that sometimes I’ve made them far too important – but nothing – nothing is more important than loyalty. Loyalty to the sport… to the team… to your teammates. At least one of you doesn’t understand what it means to be a member of a team – and when I find out who you are, you won’t be a member of this team any longer.
"Ryan O’Flaherty has been through one of the most harrowing experiences a woman can go through. But her pain didn’t end when the carjacking was over. Someone …someone from her team… went to the tabloids and revealed that Ryan had an emotional breakdown when she returned from the Bahamas.
"That incident had to be one of the most humiliating experiences of that young woman’s entire life. Any of you who’d taken a moment to get to know her would have known that. But that didn’t stop you from selling the details of her struggle to a sleazy tabloid. I’d say that you should be ashamed of yourself – but if you had any shame, you never would have done this – so that’s a waste of my breath.
"I just want you to know that I’m going to do my best to find out who did this – and when I do, I’m throwing you off the team. I’m also going to try to force you to pay back as much of your scholarship as possible.
"You," she said as she walked down the line, looking every young woman in the eye, "are a traitor, and when I find out who you are, you’re going to regret what you did. You obviously have no pride – we’ll just see how you handle being humiliated. My guess is that you won’t deal with it with as much class as Ryan has shown."
"Welcome home, Mia," Jamie said when she reached her friend on Monday evening.
"James! I miss you. When are you coming home?"
"It’s gonna be a while," Jamie sighed. "Things aren’t going well, buddy."
Mia’s jovial tone changed immediately. ‘What’s wrong?"
"We’re both having a hard time, but Ryan’s really troubled. Things are just … well, they’re really hard right now."
"Tell me, James," she said. "What’s happened? You both seemed so good down in the Bahamas."
"We were good when we were there," she said. "But as soon as we got back, things got really intense. The reporters started to drive us mad, and Ryan was asked to leave the basketball team – everything just fell apart."
"Oh, Jamie, is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come down there and take care of you two? I could cook for you – if you tell me how," she said earnestly, making Jamie laugh for the first time in days.
"I appreciate the offer, honey, but we just need to be alone for a while. The reality of what happened has really hit us, Mia, and we’re both struggling. I’m talking to my therapist once or twice a day, and Ryan’s seeing someone down here, too. She was just getting into a good groove with her therapist when the reporters showed up down here, and now she’s afraid to leave the property."
There was a moment of silence, then Mia said softly, "Ryan’s not afraid of anything. I’ve never met anyone so brave."
Sighing heavily, Jamie said, "I agree with you, Mia. She’s a very brave woman. But she’s also very, very vulnerable right now. She’s been having panic attacks, like the one she had in North Carolina, and now she’s more afraid of the panic than she is of the actual events that are happening. It’s just horrible to see her like this," she whispered, starting to cry again.
"I’m so sorry, James," Mia said. "Thank God you’ve got each other. You’ll get each other through this."
"That’s part of the problem," Jamie said. "I’ve never felt so distant from her. We’re both really closed off, Mia. We don’t talk about the carjacking with each other, but that’s all that either of us thinks about. We really only open up to our therapists."
"Can you comfort each other physically?" Mia asked.
"No." Jamie said this with such finality that Mia couldn’t even form a response. "I shouldn’t say it like that," Jamie said. "I know we’ll be comfortable with each other again, but we can’t even consider it right now. A few perfunctory kisses are all we can handle." She took in a deep breath and said, "We don’t even hold each other when we sleep, Mia. You never realize how much something like that means until you don’t have it anymore."
"Jesus, when I think of how you were just a few days ago… I’ve never seen you so close."
"I know. It’s like we’re in a nightmare now, or that was a dream. I’m not even sure which is the real us."
"Oh, James, I feel so bad for you both. Isn’t there anything I can do?"
"Do? No, I’m afraid not, Mia. We just need time. Nothing will get us through this but time and tears."
Once it was dark, and she was sure no one could see her, Ryan turned off the outside lights and went over to the gym. She normally went to work out as soon as Jamie left the house, but today’s panic attack had ruined that plan.
A solid hour of work on the speed bag and heavy bag left her physically drained, but emotionally energized, then she sat at her drum set and whaled on the pads with every bit of strength left in her body. She sang so loudly that Jamie could hear her from inside the house. Eventually, the blonde put on a coat and went outside, trying to get a feeling for what was going through Ryan’s mind. But the songs that Ryan was beating out were so filled with angst and pain, the smaller woman couldn’t bea
r to listen. It sounded as if Ryan’s very soul were bleeding, and after just a few minutes of listening to her, Jamie went inside and cried for a solid hour, feeling her heart break for her tortured lover.
Ryan woke on Tuesday nearly a half hour before the sunrise. Even though it was early, she felt fairly rested, not even able to recall if she had experienced nightmares or not. She started to consider going for a run, then reality hit her and she remembered that she was a captive until the frenzy died down.
She was just about to pull the covers over her head and stay in bed until she had to call Amanda, when suddenly, in a stunning flash of clarity, she saw the situation as it truly was, not as she had imagined it to be. I’ve been allowing a bunch of nameless idiots to keep me from experiencing every bit of joy that I normally feel. I’m not able to be intimate with Jamie; I can’t go back to Berkeley; hell, I don’t even enjoy food any more. The mere thought of sex makes my palms sweat, and I don’t even pray in the morning. Every single thing that keeps me happy and calm has fallen by the wayside, and I’ve participated in this bullshit!
Her feet hit the floor with a determined thump, and at that moment she made up her mind that it was going to stop.
It was cold and drizzly out, so she dressed warmly. Her body was much colder than normal, but she knew that was mostly from fear. Her heart was beating rapidly as she laced up her shoes and took a breath to steel her courage. Jamie woke at just that moment, looked at her curiously, then sat straight up in bed, immediately alert. "Do you want me to go with you?"
Ryan went back over to the bed and smoothed the tousled blonde hair. She wanted nothing in the world more than to have her partner get up and hold her hand through this ordeal, but she knew that wasn’t the right thing for her. "No, but thanks for asking. I have to do this on my own."
Throwing her arms around Ryan’s shaking body, Jamie whispered, "I’m proud of you for even trying. I’m sure you can do this, baby. If not today, then tomorrow."
"Thanks," Ryan said, her voice strained and tight. She got up and left the room, and as soon as she cleared the doorway, Jamie was on her feet, going to the other end of the house to look through the windows closer to the gate – to watch her lover struggle with her demons.
As Ryan approached the gate, every instinct told her to go back to the house, lock the doors and stay there. Standing there in the driveway, her heart beating so hard that she feared it would burst from her chest, she actually considered dropping out of school for a term if this didn’t end soon; but as she heard her inner voice offer this suggestion, something snapped. I didn’t try out for the Olympic team because I didn’t want to drop out of school! And now I’m gonna let these idiots force me to drop out? I don’t think so! Her anger supporting her shaky confidence, she walked to the gate and tossed it open, nodding to the police officers who were engaged in a spirited discussion with the drivers of two news vans.
"It’s her!" someone cried. "Get the hand-held camera on her! Chuck! You’ve got to follow her!"
She shook her head, never making eye contact with any of the reporters. With a toss of her hair, she started to run, ignoring the pounding feet of the lumbering man trying to keep up with her, as well as the pounding of her own racing heart. Inexplicably, she began to see the humor in all of this nonsense, and for the first time since it began, she felt her anxiety lessen during a confrontation with the media. "Ryan!" the reporter gasped, the distance between them growing. "Gimme a break, will ya? I’m just trying to earn a living here!"
Smirking to herself, she put it in overdrive, pulling away from the man as though he were standing still. Surprising herself, she found that her heart rate began to calm even more the farther she ran. The pressure that she felt in her chest every time the media was near was completely absent. Amazingly, she also wasn’t running through gloom and doom scenarios as she had been every other time she was confronted by them. They can’t hurt me! she said to herself, marveling at her startling discovery, even though it was an exact recitation of the mantra Amanda had suggested the previous week. They can’t do a thing in the world to me, other than shove a microphone and a camera in my face. I’m the one who’s giving them power by letting them force me to change my habits. Well, it’s over as of today! she pledged. I’m doing what I want … when I want to do it. If those jerks want to follow me, let ‘em! I will never talk to them … I will never look into their cameras. They can’t touch me!
By the time she returned home, she was completely resolved– she was through running from the press. If they wanted to follow her for the rest of her life – that was their choice. But no matter how many of them there were, no matter how invasive their questions, she was not going to change her habits, or allow them to hound her. She would no longer participate in her own victimization.
After pushing through the front gate, she ran through the kitchen door, grabbed Jamie in a rough embrace, and twirled her around the room. "I did it! I did it, Jamie!"
The smaller woman held her just as fiercely, her tears falling freely. "I’m so very, very proud of you!"
After gulping down a breakfast, that actually tasted like food for the first time in over a week, Ryan changed into dry clothes and got on the phone, reaching all of her brothers before they went to work. "We’re having a big party that’s gonna last all weekend, and on Sunday night we’re coming home. I’m taking my life back from the vultures," she said. "The old Ryan O’Flaherty is back with a vengeance!"
Amanda was very pleased for Ryan, and she enthused over her progress. She reminded her that the press was just one facet of her troubles, however, and warned that the "thing" itself would still be difficult for Ryan to deal with. Ryan unhappily acknowledged the truth of her comment. "I know there’s still a lot to work on," she said. "So far we’ve spent a lot of time talking about my fears." Clearing her throat she said, "I think it’s time we started talking about my anger. It’s about to eat me alive."
Later that day, Jamie was working on her journal when she heard a strange sound. It sounded as though it was coming from outdoors, so she got up to investigate, worried that a rogue reporter might have scaled the fence. What she saw made her smile; a full, warm smile that had been missing from her face for many days.
Ryan was in the driveway, playing some form of game between herself and a basketball. After watching in silence for a few minutes, the smaller woman was finally able to determine that the object of the game was to dribble the ball in as many odd positions as possible without stopping. Given Ryan’s creative nature, now slowly waking from slumber, she was able to conjure up many, many innovative positions, and Jamie found herself captivated by the display.
The blonde ran downstairs and quietly exited through the back door. She was about to speak, when Ryan started to dribble the ball down the drive – with her knees. Jamie had never seen such a thing, and she stood staring at her partner as she skipped down the long drive, the ball bouncing at a perfect 90 degree angle off the middle of each now-dirty kneecap.
Coming back up the drive, Ryan launched into soccer mode–bouncing the ball off her shoulders, then her head, then her knees again, coming up next to Jamie and saying, "Wanna play?"
"You are awesome," the blonde said.
"Nah. I could really dazzle you if I had the right balls. Two women’s sized outdoor balls, and you’d swoon."
"I’m swooning already," Jamie said "I’d ask how you do that, but I’m sure I’d get the usual answer."
"Yep," Ryan said. "Start when you’re about three, spend a few thousand hours at it, and anyone can do it!"
That night, a long, warm body slid into bed and curled around the occupant, who was nearly asleep. After more than a week of strained distance in bed, the blonde blinked in surprise, but tried to hide her shock at the warm embrace, commenting casually, "How can I be so tired, when we don’t do anything all day?"
"Stress takes more out of me than running a marathon. I can only assume that’s true for you, too."
"Yeah, I gue
ss you’re right." She looked into Ryan’s surprisingly bright eyes and said, "You’re looking very much like your normal self. Do you feel as good as you look?"
"I do," Ryan said, sighing deeply. "I could taste food for the first time in a week today. I really think I’m over the worst of this, babe."
Jamie snuggled close and hugged her fiercely. "I’m so glad to hear that. I feel a lot better today, too. Having you go for that run really gave me hope that we’re getting better."
"We are," Ryan whispered.
Seeing the receptivity in her posture, Jamie gently stroked her back, letting her fingers get used to the sensation once again. She was practically humming with pleasure, allowing herself to acknowledge just how much she’d missed simply holding Ryan. Fully content to hold and gently stroke her back, Jamie was once again surprised to feel Ryan shift slightly to make her touch travel a little lower. There was just a pause – no more than a second–then Jamie’s hand started to move again. They were both very quiet, their breathing even quieter than normal, while each tried to read the signals that the other was sending out. Slowly, but determinedly, Jamie’s hand expanded the territory it covered, slipping under the waistband of Ryan’s pajamas to slide over the smooth, creamy-white skin of her ass.
Hips started to twitch, heart rates picked up, rib cages expanded, legs shifted slowly open; every sign pointing to the re-awakening of their somnolent desire. Ryan grasped the small hand and placed it under her T-shirt, gliding it along her chest until it reached her breast. When the fingers closed around the nipple, Ryan moaned softly and pressed her pelvis against Jamie’s thigh.
With a lazy smile covering her face, Ryan felt the first tingling rush of sensation in her groin. "Oh, yeah," she purred when Jamie’s tentative fingers gave the nipple another squeeze. Grinding her vulva against the muscular thigh, Ryan felt a surge of moisture between her legs, and she reveled in the sensation, tossing her head back as she tried to savor each waking nerve-ending.
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