It was going to be just like last time. Not again. Not again. No. Please.
The light flicked off and she heard a ridiculous juvenile laugh. The door swung shut again.
A prank. Nothing more. He was just trying to freak her out.
But the lights off was just as bad—maybe worse—than a stranger touching her. Chelsea whimpered and dropped to her knees, hugging them. Her skates rolled her forward and she gently bumped against the wall. She collapsed against it and hugged her knees tighter to her chest. Hot tears poured down her face.
The dark.
She hated the dark.
Someone had to find her. Help her. Please. I’m here. Someone find me. The words swirled in her mind but wouldn’t make it past her throat. It might have been ten minutes or a hundred. Chelsea sat there, unable to move, frozen in fear.
“Chesty? Chels?”
Pisa’s voice. But she couldn’t answer. She was frozen, just like before.
The lights in the bathroom flicked on. A moment later, Pisa skated in, her eyes wide. “Oh, my god, honey. Are you okay?”
“Someone turned the lights off,” Chelsea said in a small voice. She sniffed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, sugar, it’s okay.” Pisa moved to her side and hugged Chelsea against her. “Everyone was wondering where you were. Did . . . did someone touch you?”
Pisa knew Chelsea’s secret. The reason why she froze in fear. The reason why she couldn’t stand the dark. She’d understand why Chelsea had just shut down in a stupid public restroom.
Chelsea shook her head. “Just a fan wanting an autograph. He . . . startled me.”
“Prick.” Pisa remained next to Chelsea. She rubbed her arm. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Do you need meds?”
Chelsea shook her head. “I’m fine. I promise.”
“Uh huh,” Pisa said, but she stood up and helped Chelsea back to her feet. “Call me crazy if I say I don’t believe you.” She leaned forward and wiped at Chelsea’s face. “Your eyeliner’s running all down your face, sugar. Black HellVet’s gonna take one look at you and bench you for the rest of the game if you don’t shape up.”
She nodded. “I’ll pull my shit together. I promise.” Somehow.
“You should have waited for me,” Pisa said, grabbing paper towels and wetting them so she could help with Chelsea’s makeup.
Chelsea nodded again, but even as she did, she hated herself a little. Why couldn’t she keep her cool enough that her friends didn’t have to treat her like a baby? Why was it the moment a guy touched her, she lost her mind? Hadn’t years of therapy gotten her past this point?
There had to be a way to get past this. Had to.
Or else she was going to be fucked up the rest of her life.
Chapter Three
Gretchen couldn’t stop hugging Chelsea as they stood in the doorway to Buchanan Manor. “I can’t believe it’s been three years since we’ve seen each other and I had to get married to pull you out of hiding!”
Chelsea laughed, squeezing her old friend and ex-roommate tight. “Oh, please! I’m not in hiding. I’ve been busy with derby. You’re the one who’s in hiding, what with all the book deadlines. I didn’t even know you were dating someone.”
“Aww, I miss you too.” Gretchen adjusted her nerd glasses and scanned Chelsea. “You look amazing, by the way.”
“Thanks, lady. You don’t look half bad yourself.” Gretchen was wearing a simple plain black cocktail dress with a long peplum ruffle at the hips that should have made her look stumpy, but instead, she looked curvy and luscious. With her vivid red hair and glasses, she was adorable.
“No, seriously.” Gretchen held up Chelsea’s hand so Chelsea could twirl like a ballerina. “That dress could be painted onto your body. And look at your legs. Damn, girl!”
“I work out a lot,” Chelsea said with a grin. She’d worn her wavy blonde hair down and loose around her shoulders to complement her tan. Her dress had no sleeves and was a tight body sheath in champagne that showed off her figure. She’d paired it with a tall pair of nude pumps and a single bracelet. “Lots and lots of skating. Wearing heels feels weird compared to something with wheels on it.”
“I’ll bet,” Gretchen said, eyes wide. She gave her head a small shake and then gestured at the grand house. “Welcome to the new home. I’ve traded up in roommates since you and I lived together. This one’s really fucking good in bed.”
Chelsea gave her a wry smile as she entered the immense manor house. “You’re a little out of the city now, though.”
“I don’t mind that. So who are you rooming with?”
“Pisa Hit. She’s my derby wife.”
Gretchen blinked. “Did you turn to the other team while I wasn’t paying attention? Because I’m seating everyone boy-girl tonight, but I can change that—”
Chelsea waved a hand. “Derby wife is a term for bestie. Pisa is my roomie and we hang a lot. Her real name’s Felicity.” Not that they ever called her that. Pisa would have punched her in the arm at the thought. She knew no one really liked to talk derby half as much as a derby girl, and tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “So . . . what are you writing now? More of that space stuff?”
Gretchen made a face as she led Chelsea into the spacious mansion. “God, no. I’m writing nothing, and it feels amazing. I’m noodling with the idea of a cookbook, but for now, I’m a kept woman. Don’t tell Audrey.”