Driven_589066

Like a goddess, Cat thought, still groggy from the drugs she’d been given. A thrill went through her, centering in her abdomen and giving off an almost

palpable warmth. The Goddess is sleeping in my living room!

If she didn’t hurt so badly, she would have laughed at the absurd irony of it all. As it was, she was tired, and aching, and needed to pee in the worst way.

“Coach?”

Startled, Dylan yawned and stretched, her muscles voicing great displeasure at a night spent on the floor.

“Coach?”

She opened her eyes and sat up slowly, running long fingers through her disheveled hair. “Morning.” Her voice was thick, and husky with sleep. “How do

you feel?”

Cat groaned as she attempted to copy Dylan’s actions, stopping when her abused belly and ribs shrieked. “Kill me?”

“Sorry, I think we’ll keep you around for awhile.”

“Not even if I beg?”

“Not even then.”

Scowling, Cat slumped against the arm of the couch, her head spinning. “Help me sit up, will ya?”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Dylan quickly rose to her feet. “It’s probably best if you just stay here for now. I can bring you anything you need.”

“Alright, but the toilet’s gonna be a bitch to move.”

Dylan froze.

Cat smiled. “I think it’s probably better if you help me up.”

“I…think you’re right.” Moving in, Dylan slid one long arm around Cat’s shoulders and helped the young woman to a sitting position.

“Oh shit that hurts!” Cat grabbed her tender ribs and took a deep breath, which also hurt. She refrained from crying though she really wanted to. The only

thing that kept her from it was the fact that she didn’t want to look weak in front of her coach.

“Easy. Would you like some pain pills?”

“A dozen please. The best you have.”

“You can have one.” Dylan fished the bottle from her pocket and uncapped it. “Juice?”

“Please.”

Cat didn’t move a muscle while Dylan went to the kitchen for juice. “Anything broken?” she asked, wincing as she awaited the verdict.

“No. Just a few bumps and bruises.” Returning to the living room, Dylan handed a glass of OJ and one pain pill to Cat, then gently took a seat next to her as

the blonde quickly swallowed the medicine. “Do you want to call your folks?”

Cat’s eyes went wide. “Oh, God. You didn’t call them, did you?”

“No. I figured that’s your decision to make.”

Cat nodded fervently, relieved. “Thanks, Coach. My mother would freak and my father would be on the next plane. I don’t think I could deal with that right

now.”

Dylan took in a deep breath, aware that she was treading in dangerous waters. “I know this is none of my business, but if I were you, I’d probably call.” At

Cat’s look, Dylan rushed on. “You’re a public figure now, Catherine. And you’ve got a great family. Do you really want them to find out what happened to

you on the evening news? Or while they’re watching you play?”

Cat blanched.

Dylan smiled, laying a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “Think about it, okay?”

“Okay, I will.”

“Atta girl.”

Upon entering her home, Dylan was greeted by two yellow-eyed dogs who scampered around her with rear legs just about crossed. Rolling her eyes, she

led the pair toward the back door, chuckling as Siegfried elected to forgo his usual sniffing and headed for the first tree he could find, practically drowning

the poor Dogwood he’d hiked his leg against.

“Idiots,” she said with great affection. “Why don’t you just use the pet door?”

Having finished her business, Brunhilde strolled over and sat at Dylan’s foot, giving the tall human a pointed look. Dylan chuckled again, scratching

Brunhilde behind the ears. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Your big, mean, trained to attack and kill brother is afraid of the damn pet door. And you won’t go out

without him. God, you’re like an old married couple, sometimes.”

Brunhilde nudged her once, then went to romp with her sibling. Dylan stood, face tilted up to the cloudless sky. The sun felt good on her face, but was

making her more drowsy than she already was. She hadn’t slept much the night before, tossing and turning and awakening every two minutes to check on

Catherine. Not that she’d admit that to anyone but herself, of course.

Still, her nerves had eased considerably as she’d helped Catherine bathe and change her bandages, and by the time the young woman had slipped off to

sleep, comfortable in her own bed, Dylan was feeling a sense of satisfaction rare for her.

A cold nose shoved into her belly drew her from her reverie. “Alright, guys. I’ve got a game tonight, and if I don’t get some sleep, it’s not gonna be pretty,

so let’s go back inside, alright?”

She was left alone, laughing, as two dogs bolted back inside as if their tails were on fire.

Cat stared at the phone, not wanting to pick it up. Dylan’s words echoed in her head, and she winced at the remembering of them.

Sometimes she hated The Goddess.

Sighing, she picked up the phone and the button that dialed her folks. “Please don’t be home,” she mumbled when it rang for the third time. Please, please,

please.

“Hello.”

Shit. “Um, hi Dad.”

“Cat? Hey baby, what graces us with your lovely voice?”