AN: TW FOR MENTION OF PHYSICAL ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN WWE OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!
Thursday, after school:
"Don't give him space for the take down, Jeff! There we go, tight grip on that arm bar," Shannon Moore shouted, coaching Jeff through practice with John Morrison. This week was all about working on submissions, floor work and wrestling. The big match was two days away, naturally, Jeff and his team were going extra hard with the training sessions.
"All right guys, bring it in for the day," Shannon called into the ring. "Trish? You got Jeff?" On cue, the short blonde woman reappeared from the break room, holding cold water bottles and an energy drink for Jeff.
"Yeah, I got it from here, Shannon," Trish called out, carefully stepping into the ring and walking over to Jeff's corner.
Shannon and John carefully observed the duo from their corner in the ring, this new arrangement had been going on the past week, as well. Trish would join in watching Jeff's training, at first, it was partly due to still having their English assignment to work on. But they got that finished and out of the way that Tuesday, and they were going to present their project in class tomorrow morning, they both had a good feeling about it. So why was Trish still hanging around? Truth be told, she wasn't ready to give up her afternoons with Jeff. It took some time convincing Shannon that she wasn't going to be a distraction, and true to her word, she mostly minded her business during their training sessions. Instead, she occupied her time working on her college essays and applications, sat away on an old beaten leather sofa with her laptop in her lap. It wasn't until Jeff mentioned Trish's Vaseline comment to Shannon, that Shannon asked the girl for help with Jeff's corner.
"We're gonna go catch some lunch and leave you two lovebirds alone," Shannon teased Jeff with a wink, leading a laughing John out the ring and gym.
Trish giggled and grabbed the stool from the other side, sitting down in front of Jeff, she handed him a water bottle. "Thanks. So what do you think Doc?" Jeff asked, watching as the girl sorted through her self made first aid kit. She pulled out a face towel, setting the bag aside and leaning forward to wipe at the beads of sweat on his forehead. He held his breath at having her this close to his face, he could smell the fresh mint off her lips.
"Nothing too bad, Hardy," Trish replied honestly. He and John had only been doing floor work this week, there was minimum to no damage done every time. "Though, you do need a shower," Trish mocked, scrunching her nose up in mock disgust. "You reek of too much testosterone and sweaty pits," she teased.
"Hmm, do I now, Stratus?" He replied, leaning forward to take the hand she still had over his forehead, a mischievous grin on his face. "I don't know, I was thinking maybe you could use a hug."
"Don't you dare," she replied, getting up slowly from her stool, watching as he did the same. "I'm serious, Hardy," she tried her best to sound serious, as he slowly stalked over to her with his arms held out.
Trish barely had time to turn around and run, before she felt his hands wrap themselves firmly around her waist. He gently picked her up off the floor, with her back to his bare chest. "Take it back," he whispered into her ear.
She did her best to ignore the butterflies in her tummy at the closeness. "I wouldn't want to be a liar," she taunted back, turning her head slightly to get a better look at him. He truly was handsome, with his gentle features and loud style.
"That only leaves me with one choice," he stated in a singsong tone. Jeff set her back down on her feet, his hands on her waist slowly inched toward her sides and before she had time to register what the feeling of his hands on her was doing to her, he began his assault of tickles.
If there was one thing about Trish Stratus, it was that she was extremely ticklish. She threw her head back on his shoulder laughing at the rain of tickles Jeff was inflicting on her. "You know what you've gotta to do end the pain," Jeff laughed alongside her contagious laughter.
In an attempt to weasel her way out of his hold, Trish grabbed one of his hands and tried turning her body around. The quick and unpredicted move instead caused them both to go tumbling down onto the mat beneath them. In his quick thinking, Jeff shifted their position so he took most of the fall, Trish landed on top of him.
"Fuck, Trish," Jeff lean up on his elbows, looking at the small woman laying face first on his chest. "Are you okay?" He asked concerned that he had accidentally hurt her.
Trish in response, pulled her face up from his bare chest laughing at their current predicament. "I think I might be the one who needs a shower now," she giggled, letting her hand rest over his heart.
Jeff chuckled, bringing his hand up to brush back some of the blonde strands of hair that had stuck to her face. He kept his hand on her face as her laughter died down and she stared down into his eyes, meeting his intense gaze. Trish licked her lips and felt her breath hitched, as Jeff closed his eyes and slowly moved in closer to her.
"I hate woman!" They both pulled away from each other, at the sound of the gym's doors roughly being slammed, echoing through the room. "They're so stupid and dumb," came the frustrated voice of Matt Hardy, who paused once his younger brother came into view. "Oh, sorry, Trish, didn't know you were still here," Matt replied. "What are you two doing anyways?" He asked looking at the time on his phone, as far as he knew, Jeff should've been done with his practice now.
"Nothing!" The pair both replied quickly.
Trish got up from Jeff in an instant, holding a hand out to help him up. He took the hand, giving her a tight squeeze before he was forced to release her once again.
"Well, I better go and get started on my homework," Trish said, as she pulled her shirt back into place.
Jeff watched as she hopped out of the ring and walked over to retrieve her belongings on the sofa that Matt now occupied. "Sorry about what I said earlier, Trish" Matt replied.
"No, hard feelings, Matthew—I think men can be lame sometimes," she added, smiling in Jeff's direction, who returned her smile. "See you tomorrow morning, Jeff," Trish said quietly before she stalked out the front doors.
He watched her as she left, chuckling to himself at her last comment. He had been so close. She was right there, if he had just gotten the chance to close the small gap between them. Why didn't he kiss her again? Oh, that's right, his brother and his impeccable timing… again.
"This better be important," Jeff called to Matt, who was sat with his arms across over his chest. An angry scowl on the older brother's face. "It is!" Matt cried out dramatically.
Jeff rolled his eyes and grabbed his purple tank top off the top rope, slipping it back on he jumped down from the ring and took the seat next to Matt.
"I asked Amy to move in with me, and she broke up with me!" Matt confessed.
"Woah, back it up there for me—you asked her what?" Jeff asked suddenly staring at his brother like he had grown two heads.
"I asked her to move in with me, with us," Matt said. "I had gotten the okay from dad to use the basement and I had this big proposal and everything. And instead she tells me she thinks we're moving too fast and she wants to take a break. Can you believe her?" Matt groan shaking his head at the respond he had gotten from his longtime girlfriend.
"Matt," Jeff sighed. "We're only in high school, bro," he started up.
"So? We've been together since my freshman year, we're going to be together for the rest of our lives—what's wrong with wanting to take the next step?" Matt asked, still not understanding why everyone was so against his idea.
"Had you and Amy talked about moving in together before your sprung this on her?" Jeff asked, needing to piece together all the information that led to his best friend and brother breaking up. He wasn't too shocked about the breakup, per say, anyone could see how distant Amy and Matt had grown—anyone but Matt it seems. But still he was shocked that in the end it was Amy, who had suddenly pulled the plug on their four year relationship. He had given them at least until the end of senior year.
"Well, no, not really," Matt trailed off into his thoughts, sinking further into the sofa. "But she could've told me no, she didn't have to go and rip my heart out and stomp on it—she literally told me she doesn't think she's in love with me anymore, Jeff," Matt said. "What can I do?" He asked, turning to his younger brother for advice. He was Amy's best friend, well, after Trish that is. That's it! Trish! "Has Trish said anything to you about Amy?" Matt asked with a renew excitement to his voice.
"No… and had she, I certainly wouldn't be telling you," Jeff replied honestly.
"Some brother you are! What happened to bros before hos," Matt said.
"And you wonder why Amy broke up with you," Jeff retorted.
"Jeff, this is serious," Matt sighed, running a single hand through his curly hair. "You have to help me win Amy back," he said.
"I don't know, Matt… maybe Amy wasn't wrong about you two needing a break," Jeff replied. "Take the time and figure out if you even want to go back to being in a relationship with someone who doesn't seem to want to progress in the way you want," Jeff offered. He loved Amy, but Matt was his brother and he wanted the best for him. For both of them.
"That's it!" Matt jumped off from the sofa, with a new determination to his life. "Jeff, you genius!" Matt replied, pulling Jeff up from his seat and kissing his forehead.
"Uh… Matt?" Jeff asked. "Care to fill me in here bro?"
"I'm going to become the man, Amy always wanted me to be! I'm going to focus more on school, I'm going to quit working at the diner and see if Shane's old man will still hire me for that mechanic job," Matt stated proudly. "Oh, and I gotta take it easy on the drugs too."
"Matt, that's great and all, but do that all for you," Jeff responded.
"Jeff, you don't understand I'm nothing without Amy," Matt replied. "This will win her back for sure, trust me," Matt said.
"Alright, but I'm not getting involved," Jeff replied seriously, he wanted no parts of his brothers messy and broken up relationship. "And leave Trish out of it too," Jeff warned.
"You're no fun," Matt replied. "What were you two doing before I got in here by the way?" Matt asked, finally acknowledging the moment he seemed to walk into the two all over each other in the ring.
"Leave it alone, Matt," Jeff replied, already walking away towards the locker room to retrieve his bag.
Matt followed closely behind, leaning on the row of lockers. "You really like her, don't you?" Matt asked.
"No…" Jeff replied quietly, avoiding his brothers eyes as he slipped his hoodie back on and tried ripping the gauze from his fists.
Matt stepped in to further assist, helping Jeff peel back the rest of the gauze from his hands, he stepped back once he was done and ruffled Jeff's green hair. "It's okay to feel something for someone other than yourself, baby bro," Matt replied trying to reassure his younger brother.
"I don't need a pep talk, Matt," Jeff sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking towards the exit with Matt not too far behind.
"I'm just saying, don't miss your chance," Matt replied, holding out the door as the two stepped outside the gym. "Hey, you want to get fried before dinner?" Matt asked, pulling out some weed from his back pockets.
"I thought you said no more drugs?" Jeff asked
"Yeah, but that didn't include weed!" Matt replied. "C'mon, I parked my car in the back."
Jeff shook his head, laughing to himself at his brothers antics.
Thursday night:
Trish walked into her house that evening, still replaying the moment she shared with Jeff back at the gym. What would've happened had Matt not barged in and interrupted? The thought slightly scared her. She knew he was going to kiss her, what scared her was that she really really wanted him to. She wanted to let her guard down and just let it be, but she also knew she couldn't… right?
She was interrupted from her thoughts, at the sight of her mother stumbling down the stairs with a swollen eye and bruised cheek. "Trish, help me!" Her mother quickly walked up to her, crowding behind her, her hands trembled as she used Trish as some sort of shield. From what? Trish didn't have time to ask questions, as her father came stomping down the same set of stairs.
"Trish, move out of the way," her father angrily said, stopping right in front of Trish and a scared Alice Stratus. Trish had always been told to mind her business, but she could feel her mothers sharp acrylic nails digging into her shoulders. Her body shaking with fear, Trish herself was scared, but Alice had come to her for some sort of protection and she suddenly felt the need to stick up for them. For her mother.
"No," Trish replied.
"No?" John Stratus replied, not quite sure he had heard her correctly. Her refusal to move further angered the man. "Very well," he replied. "I tried, I really tried, Patricia," he said.
In a move no one saw coming, he swung his head back and collided with Trish's own. He head butted her. Her vision blurred and her head rung with a throbbing pain, she fell back into Alice's arms. That was the last thing Trish remembered before she slipped into unconsciousness.
Friday morning:
She awoke to an annoying bright light shining in her eyes. "Hmm, okay, I don't think she's concuss," a voice she recognized as the family's private doctor said. "She just needs some rest and the oxys should help relieve the pain," he said. "How hard did you say she hit her head?" He asked someone in the room.
"I'm not sure, I got the call from school that she had taken a pretty nasty tumble at cheer practice," came the reply from a woman. Trish instantly recognized her mother's voice.
She struggled to open her eyes, the pounding ache of pain coming from her head. She instinctively lifted a hand to her forehead, feeling bandages wrapped around her head. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," came the voice of their doctor, Dr. Green. "The gash doesn't require stitches but it was still pretty nasty," he replied, getting up from the bed and walking over to Alice, the two talked before she led him out the room.
Trish tried sitting up… how had she gotten into bed? The pounding in her forehead was intense and she shut her eyes tight as she tried to release some of the discomfort she felt.
Alice walked back into the room, her martini already in hand. "Good news! The doctor said if you apply the gel he prescribed everyday, there shouldn't be any scarring!" she replied happily, taking a long sip from her glass.
"Mother….," Trish groan, flopping back down onto the mountains of pillows on her bed. "What time is it?" She asked, peering at her mother from one eye.
"Mhmh, I believe it's ten in the morning, Sweetie," she replied nonchalantly.
"Ten in the morning?!" Trish asked. How long had she been unconscious for? And her dad… where was he?
As if reading her mind, Alice sat down on the end of the bed, padding Trish's leg. "Now, now, sweetie, the doctor said you should get some rest," she replied. "Your father left early for his weekend trip," she said calmly, finishing the remains in her glass cup.
"I have an English project to present…," Trish slurred, her eyelids felt heavy all of a sudden and she struggled to stay awake. "Jeff…," she said quietly through harbored breaths.
"There will be other projects, Trish," Alice replied, standing up from her spot she walked over to the door and shut the lights. "Just let the medication do its job, sweetheart," she said before leaving Trish to surrender to her sleep.
Saturday morning:
She woke up to her phone buzzing on the nightstand. Grumpily she reached a hand out for the device, the sound irritating her already throbbing head.
She had ten missed calls and about thirty unanswered text messages. Most of which came from Jeff Hardy. She looked at the time and date on the screen, Saturday 11:00am. Fuck, how had she slept through a whole day? Damn oxys, she thought—damn father she corrected herself.
She opened up the messages from Jeff and read through the last few ones.
'Jeff: hey where r u?'
'Jeff: and to think, u thought I'd be the slacker in this group'
'Jeff: so we totally aced that!! wish you could've been here to see,'
'Jeff: are u okay??'
'Jeff: call me when u get the chance'
She also had a few messages from her friends, Mickie and Amy, mostly wondering about her whereabouts.
'Amy: Jeff is freaking out, ur still coming to the fight tonight right?'
Fuck. The fight—that's tonight. She wanted to go and show her support, she wanted to cheer him from his corner, see him in all his glory and see his hard work pay off.
Reluctantly she carefully sat up and took her time standing up from the comfort of her bed. She walked over to her en-suite bathroom, groaning at the pain the bright lights brought her. She stared into the mirror, and started to unwrap the bandages around her head. She needed to asset the damage for her own. She winced at the nasty gash on her forehead, she brought her fingers up to the slightly split skin. That asshole! She bitterly thought, biting her tongue in pain as she slightly touched the split. 'Good news! The doctor said if you apply the gel he prescribed, everyday, there shouldn't be any scarring!' As if that was her biggest concern—and not the fact that her father had literally head butted her into unconsciousness.
She splashed some cold water onto her face, determined to make it to Jeff's fight tonight. She grabbed the marble sink for support, breathing in deeply as she stared at the red gash on her forehead. It was taunting her, reminding her that she had to find a way out of this hell.
…..
Saturday night:
Trish had done her best to disguise her injury, but the gash was still so raw and hurt whenever she tried to go anywhere near it with her makeup brush. She opted instead for a bandage big enough to hide the damage from wondering eyes. She huffed as she stared at her reflection one last time. She looked ridiculous! How could she walk around the club and not draw attention. 'You've got this, Trish!' She gave herself one final pep talk before she left and got into Amy's car, who was waiting for her outside her driveway.
"Woah, Stratus you look hot!" Amy said.
"Do I, Amy?" Trish replied, turning to fully look at her friend.
"Yikes, what happened there?" Amy asked, referring to the bandage over Trish's forehead.
"I tripped over and hit my head on my dresser," Trish replied smoothly, she bit her lip, already hating how she sounded like her mother. Making up lies to those closest to her, to protect her family's reputation no less.
"Well, at least you still look smoking—of course, only you could pull off the bandage," Amy joked, starting the car up and heading towards their destination for the night.
Trish had on tight black leather pants and a matching halter top, she had curled her usually straight her and she kept her makeup light. She didn't need to draw anymore attention to her face.
"You think?" Trish laughed. "I might say, you're looking pretty hot there yourself, Dumas. Trying to impress anyone in particular, anyone you want tell me about?" She teased.
"Not unless you want to tell me about you and Jeff," Amy laughed.
"Me and Jeff? There's nothing there for me to report on," Trish rolled her eyes.
"Whatever you say, blondie," Amy teased.
"I'm the boring friend, remember?" Trish playful poked Amy's side, recalling what Amy herself had said about Trish.
"Yeah, but that was before I knew you had the hots for Jeff," Amy said.
"I do not have the hots for Jeff!" Trish scoffed.
"Oh, please, I thought the oblivious act was cute at first, but now it's just getting annoying," Amy said, poking fun of Trish's crush for Jeff. After all, Amy was Trish's best friend for a reason; the girl could read her like a book.
"Oh, yeah? How about we talk about what's really on everyone's mind—you my dear friend, are in love with Adam," Trish stated confidently.
Amy took advantage of the red light and turned her head to look at her best friend, a huge grin on her face. "If I admit that, will you finally admit that you're have it bad for Jeff?" Amy challenged.
"You know what? Just drive, Dumas," Trish replied, crossing her arms over her chest as Amy laughed at her.
……
When they had finally arrived to the reclusive club, Amy took Trish's hand and lead her through the sea of people. "It's packed tonight!" Amy shouted back to Trish over the loud music, she could already feel the discomfort the loud thrumming was causing her head, but she did her best to push through it.
"So tell me again how does one fight in a nightclub?" Trish shouted over the music.
"Oh, you'll see," Amy laughed.
"Hey guys!" Amy greeted as they came to a stop at the bar where they found their friends—John Cena, Randy Orton, Mickie James, Maria, Shane Helms and Adam Copeland gathered around.
"Trish! You made it!" Mickie pulled Trish into a tight hug.
She had to dismiss the odd look Randy Orton gave at the interaction. "Yeah," Trish replied with a tight smile, feeling self conscious as they all stared at her.
"What's with the bandage?" Shane asked her.
"Is it a Nelly thing?" Maria asked innocently.
Bless her heart. "I tripped down the stairs and hit my head on the floor," Trish replied.
Amy snapped her head in Trish's direction. "I thought you said you hit your head on your dresser?"
Damnit. "I guess I hit my head so hard, I forgot," Trish laughed, hoping they'd let it go. The rest of the group didn't seem to question the slip up, Amy however kept her eyes on Trish.
"So where's Jeff?" Trish asked wanting to get the attention off herself.
"Getting ready in the locker room with Matt and Shannon," John was the one to reply.
"Locker room?" Trish asked, looking around the club and back to her friends. What was she missing here?
"We should start heading down, Jeff's on in 10 minutes," Shane replied looking down at his watch.
"I've got 500 on Hardy, he better not let me down," Randy replied.
"C'mon, Trish, let's get your feet wet," Adam said, getting up from his seat with the rest of the group as they head to a steel door. Adam knocked on the door and a big man opened it, coming out with a serious look on his face. "Password?" His deep voice asked.
"Hello, to you too, Braun," Adam replied.
The man simply crossed his arms in response.
"Dead man walking," Amy replied confidently, looking up at the man who in turn stepped aside to let the group in.
"He just looks scary, but deep down Strowman is a big teddy bear," Amy informed Trish, as they walked down the pair of steps and into a new room.
The space was equally as crowded as the outside, if not more. Groups of teenagers and adults gathered around a makeshift ring. The ring in question was surrounded by steel chain fencing and there was an older guy in a referee uniform in the middle. There was even a dj booth and Trish could make out Candice Michelle and her minions at the front of the ring. Figures, Trish rolled her eyes.
The lights suddenly turned off, and a loud voice would be heard through the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for!" The lights in the ring flashed on and she felt Amy grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to the ring.
"In one corner, weighing in at 225 pounds—the challenger, The Architect, Seth Rollins!" The crowd booed as a man in a black robe stepped into the ring.
"And in the other corner, at a combined 225 pounds, the undisputed champion—The charismatic enigma, Jeff Hardy!" The announcer shouted, as the crowd cheered and roared at the sight of Jeff, who came out with Shannon and Matt.
Trish and Amy squeezed their way into the front, besides Candice and her friends, who rolled her eyes at the sight of Trish. "Didn't think these were your thing, Trishy," Candice sneered. "Nice bandage," she and her friends laughed.
"Candice can you shut up for one second?" Amy replied.
Candice never got a chance to reply as the bell rang to signal the start of the fight, shifting all of their attention to the two men in the ring.
Seth started stalking Jeff around the ring, as Jeff watched his every move from his position in the middle. Both men suddenly locked in, testing out jabs and kicks on each other. It wasn't until Jeff landed a punch to Seth's face, that Trish all of a sudden felt uneasy. Seth managed to get a good shot to Jeff's exposed ribs. Trish felt beads of sweat decorating her forehead. Jeff was able to recover from the blow and delivered a loud hit straight to Seth's nose. The punch echoed through the loud crowd and Trish's throat felt very dry. Jeff never let up from his punches, delivering punch after punch to Seth's bleeding face. Trish felt her ears pop and her vision blur, she was having a hard time breathing now. She could barely make out the crowd cheering and the ring announcer shouting through the microphone.
"Trish?" Amy called, looking at her friend with concern. "You okay?" she asked.
Trish couldn't find any words, she simply nodded her head and shut her eyes. "I ne…I need—I need a second," she stuttered over her words, pushing her way through the crowd as her breathing kept coming in harsh labors and everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. She could barely make out someone calling after her, as she hurried out of the swarming room and pushed up the first door she could find.
She barged into the vacant room and slide down the wall, she tucked her head between her knees and tried to get her breathing back under control. She had flashbacks of her father punching her mother's face, of that slap he delivered to her last summer and the head butt from two days ago. She could feel tears gathering in the corner of her eyes and she could hear her own heart beat pounding rapidly.
She heard the door burst open before she felt a set of hands on her shoulders, she flinched and looked up through her blurred vision at Jeff Hardy.
"Trish?" He called out quietly. He had seen her during his fight, at the front of the crowd with Amy. He called after her as the announcer raised his hand in victory and declared him the winner via knock out. But his focus had been on her retrieving figure and he quickly chased after her.
"Hey, look at me," he replied, gently picking her face up with his hands. "You're okay," he whispered. He didn't know what was wrong, but he wanted to comfort her, he needed to help her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, where he rubbed soft circles over her back. His other hand brushed through her hair gently, as he whispered reassuring words into her ear. "I've got you, you're okay," he repeated.
Trish tucked her face into the crook of his neck, her hands tightly holding onto his shoulders. His smell was helping her calm down and she tried her best to focus on his heart beat, the warmth and comfort his embraced offered her. They sat like that for what felt like an eternity before Trish was finally able to breathe normally again. She picked her head up and looked up at him.
"Jeff, I'm sorr—,"
"Shh, don't. It's okay," Jeff interrupted her, his hand pushing back some of her hair off her face. "Are you okay?" He asked gently.
"Yeah… I am now," she replied, biting her lip and trying to avoid his eyes. How embarrassing Trish.
He wasn't having any of that, he gently picked her chin up and looked into her eyes. "You want to get out of here?" He asked.
"It's your night," she began. "You should go back out there and celebrate your win," she replied quietly, hating herself for running his moment.
"I can take you home?" He offered, noticing as she froze up at the suggestion. "Or we could go back to my place?" He asked.
"If you don't mind," she replied timidly.
He kissed her forehead in response and gently forced them to stand up. "I'll be right back," he replied before dashing out of the janitors closet Trish had ended up in.
Trish took a deep breath and wiped her sweaty palms on her pants, she was a mess. He had just won the fight of a lifetime and here she was ruining it with her own problems and emotions. Okay, so maybe, a panic attack was pretty serious—but still, she couldn't help but feel like she had ruin his night.
Jeff came back into the room and draped his leather jacket over her shoulders before she had time to further chastise herself. "I know a back door out of here," he replied, taking a hold of her hand and leading her out of the room.
True to his word, Jeff led them out a door, away from the crowd and out into a parking lot. He did his best to shield her from any wandering eyes, as he walked ahead towards his truck and held the door open for her.
Once they were both suited in the car, Jeff turned the radio on and kept the volume pretty low. She figured he was doing it for her sake. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
"Does that bandage on your forehead have anything to do with why I was left without my Juliette yesterday?" He asked as he kept his eyes on the road.
Trish leaned her head against the window, enjoying how the cold glass cooled her flushed face. "Yeah, something like that," Trish replied tiredly. It had been a long last few days and her body was still recovering from the harsh impact her father had unleashed on her. She closed her eyes at the thought of him and allowed herself to surrender to her slumber.
...
He quietly pulled into his driveway and slowly put the car on park, not wanting to startle his sleeping companion. He didn't know what was wrong but he could tell she needed all the rest she could get.
He walked over to the passenger side of his truck, unbuckled her seat belt and effortlessly lifted her into his arms as he carried her bridal style into the house. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck. It was a habit he had noticed she had, and one he had already grown fond of.
He gently laid her down on his bed and pulled the covers over her. Jeff sat down besides her and smiled to himself as he finally was able to get a good look at her that night. She had curled her hair, the golden tassels made her look even more stunning if possible. With as much lightness as possible, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, smiling to himself as she subconsciously leaned closer into his touch. He frowned at the sight of the big bandage over her forehead, not for the first time that night he wonder what the story was there.
"The oxys are setting in," he heard her mumble in her sleep.
"Oxys?" Jeff asked.
She forced one eye open as she responded to him. "For the pain," she explained. "I didn't want to miss your fight," she whispered as she shut her eye again, cuddling deeper into the pillow. The smell, his smell, always brought a comfort she couldn't quite understand yet.
"Does it hurt?" He asked referring to her forehead.
She simply nodded her head.
"Get some rest, Stratus," he whispered, shutting off the lamp on his nightstand. He went to get up when suddenly he felt her hand grab onto his wrist.
"Can you stay?" she asked so quietly, that he nearly missed it altogether. "Please?"
"Uh, sure, I can sleep on the floor—let me just go grab some extra blankets," he replied, not in any position to refuse her.
"Don't be silly," Trish replied. Using the hand on his wrist to her advantage, she pulled him back down onto the bed and gently pushed him back to lay down. Once she was satisfied with her work, Trish curled up on his side, with her head resting on his chest, she nestled herself further into his side before she gave into her sleep.
Jeff froze at the proximity, his brain working overtime at their current position. Having her in his bed was one thing altogether, but sleeping in his bed with her cuddled into him was nearly enough to cause him to lose it. He wanted this, he wanted to go to sleep like this every night and wake up with her in his arms. He wanted to protect her and he wanted to love her. For now, though, this was more than enough and he was finally able to convince himself that this was okay, that Trish had wanted this too. With that final thought in mind, Jeff wrapped his arm around her small waist, he lean his head down to place a lingering kiss to the top of her head where he later rested his chin before he closed his eyes and allowed himself some much needed rest.
Sunday morning:
When Trish awake that morning, she noticed a few things. For one she wasn't in her bed, thoughts of last night instantly flooded her memories. What a mess you are, Trish. The second thing was that she had awaken lonely in bed, sans Jeff Hardy. That had been a bold move in itself, she was definitely going to blame the meds for that one, even though sleeping in Jeff's arms had been some of the best sleep she had gotten in years.
"You're awake," she turned her head as Jeff came in through the door, holding a small plastic bag in his hands. "I got you your own toothbrush from the corner store," he said, setting the bag aside and fishing through it. "I also got you some Vaseline and a gauze pad," he said, pulling out the goods and setting them on the nightstand. Jeff then walked over to his wooden dresser and pulled out a folded shirt, a pair of boxers and sweat pants. "Here," he said handing here the pile of clothing. "Bathroom is first door on the left, there's some clean towels in there for you."
She was too stunned to speak. "What's all this for?" She asked.
"We're having a lazy Sunday," Jeff replied. "Dad left some pancake batter in the fridge, you want blueberries or chocolate chip?"
"Uh… surprise me," Trish finally replied.
"Alright, I'll go get everything set up and you can meet me down in the kitchen once you're all done, cool?" He asked.
"Yeah…," Trish bit her lip. "Cool," she replied.
...
Trish stepped out of the steaming shower and wrapped a towel around herself. The burning water had help calm her nerves and relax a little, she still couldn't believe she was actually allowing herself to go along with Jeff's plans for a lazy Sunday in together, in his house, nonetheless.
She carefully unfolded the clothes he had given her and slipped on the shirt and boxes, she had to tie the sweat pants extra tight. She once again laughed at the sight of herself in his clothes, she was basically drowning in them. She let her hair down and carefully combed her fingers through any knotted curls the night before might have created. She slipped on the slippers he had left outside the door for her and followed the scent of pancakes into the kitchen.
She leaned on the entryway and stared at Jeff, who was standing behind the stove flipping some pancakes over on the grill. He looked so at ease, like he knew what he was doing in the kitchen, with his own grey sweatpants and white tank top on. His green hair was held back by that white bandana she loved so much, not for the first time, she couldn't help but acknowledge how attractive Jeff Hardy truly was.
"You should take a picture," Trish jumped as Matt Hardy walked around from behind her, laughing at catching her checking his brother out.
Trish blushed and walked over to the table, hoping Jeff hadn't caught the moment.
"Morning, bro," Matt greeted Jeff, walking over to the fridge and drinking straight out from the orange juice carton.
"Matt," Jeff acknowledged, walking around the kitchen island with two plates stacked with pancakes. He set a plate down in front of Trish and took the other seat in front of her.
Matt came over and took the seat besides his brother. "What? I don't get no pancakes?" Matt asked, tearing a piece out from Jeff's stack.
Jeff simply rolled his eyes in response.
"Nice clothes, Trish," Matt teased, turning his attention to the younger woman. "Woooah, what happened to your forehead?"
Shit. She had forgotten all about the gash on her forehead, forgetting to wrap it after her shower. Subconsciously she lowered her head, trying to do her best to curtain the split with some of her hair.
"Don't you have a job interview to get ready for?" Jeff suddenly asked Matt, annoyed with his brothers lack of awareness.
"Oh, shit! You're right," Matt said, quickly getting up from the table and grabbing his car keys from the glass bowl on the kitchen island. "Alright, guys wish me luck," he shouted over his shoulders, disappearing out the kitchen.
"Sorry about Matt," Jeff said. "He can be a little—,"
"Obnoxious?" Trish finished for Jeff.
Jeff chuckled in response. "I was going for more unaware, but I like your take better."
They both laughed, each going back to their plate of food.
"I can go home if you want, you don't have to continue to entertain me. You did more than enough for me yesterday," Trish broke the silence.
Jeff put down his fork and picked up his mug of coffee, taking a single sip as he watched her over the rim of the cup. "Do you want to go home?" He asked her.
"I don't want to continue to impose," she replied.
"You still haven't answered my question," he said.
"I mean, if you don't have any other plans, then I guess I could stay….," Trish trailed off, biting her bottom lip.
"I told you what the plans were, a lazy Sunday," he smiled. "Now finish up your pancakes, I worked hard on those," he teased.
...
After breakfast, Trish helped Jeff clean up the table and dishes. He took her small hand in his and lead her down into the basement where he instructed her to wait for him on the sofa. He came back shortly after, with the plastic bag from earlier back in his hands. Jeff sat down in front of Trish and retrieved the petroleum jelly and padding.
She watched as he covered his finger in the jelly and gently covered the open wound on her forehead. He wiped the remains off his fingers with a napkin and then proceeded to rip open the gauze pad before he covered the gash with the most careful approach possible. Once he was done and satisfied with his work, he sat back and smiled at her. "All done," he declared.
"Thanks," she replied smiling. "But I'm not letting you take credit for the Vaseline," she joked.
"I wouldn't expect anything less," he laughed. "Speaking of, you never did tell me how you knew that," he recalled.
"My mother," she replied quietly.
He nodded his head. "And your forehead? How that happen?" He finally asked her. He had to admit it was a pretty big gash—it wasn't anything he wasn't used to, of course, but seeing something so horrific on someone like Trish didn't make any sense to him.
"I hit it on a kitchen cabinet," she lied.
"Must've been a pretty tough cabinet," Jeff replied.
"Marble," Trish quickly answered. "I'm a total klutz," she tried laughing off, hoping he'd be satisfied with her answer enough to move on from the topic of her just in general. "How about yourself? I'd say you came out pretty unscathed from your bout with Rollins, huh?" She asked switching the topic onto him.
"Yeah, a few minor bruising on the body, but nothing I haven't had before," he replied.
"I can't imagine how Seth walked out of there," she said.
He froze at her words—remembering the sound of crunching bones as he punched Seth's face repeatedly, his blood splattering on Jeff's face, the crowd cheering for him to continue his dominance over the other guy. He also remembered how Trish reacted to the fight last night and figured now was about the best time to bridge that topic.
"Last night, when you ran off… what happened?" Jeff asked.
I see, we were still interested on talking about me. "What do you mean?" she asked playing dumb. Maybe he hadn't quite caught on to the traumatic experience she endured that night.
"When I went to follow you," Jeff paused, licking his dry lips as he carefully studied her, wanting to see her reaction at his next words. "I'm pretty sure, you were having a panic attack," he spoke softly.
Trish sighed, averting her eyes to her hands as she played with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers. Okay, so he wasn't as clueless as she had hoped. Of course, he wasn't, Trish—the guy quite literally talked you down from the edge. "I don't know honestly…," she spoke lowly. "That was the first time something like that has happened to me," she answered truthfully. She was fully aware she had a panic attack but she didn't know what set it off, or more specifically why the episode had chosen then of all time to make a present.
"When my mother, uh, passed away, I use to get these really bad night terrors," Jeff shared, clearing his throat. "My father use to have to make sure all the windows and doors were closed just to be safe, he couldn't even grieve his wife in peace because he was too busy worrying about his boys, about me specifically," he said.
"How did you cope?" Trish asked softly.
"Not well," Jeff chuckled lowly. "But eventually things got better, mentally I got better and then slowly things went back to normal—well, our new normal," Jeff replied.
"You're a really strong person, Jeff," Trish replied honestly. She couldn't imagine having to go through a loss so traumatic and significant at such a young age. Jeff was always so kind to everyone, smart and independent, he truly was amazing.
"Thanks," he replied. "But, uh, what I was trying to get at, Trish… is maybe you have some unresolved trauma or stress?" He tried asking, knowing it wasn't an easy topic to breach, but he wanted to try and help her. Seeing her so vulnerable and scared like that did something to his heart, his soul and he just wanted to make it go away. Scare her demons and fears away, he could take them on, he could help her deal.
Trish considered his words for a moment, thinking about the weight of them. If only you knew, Jeff… it did however, offer her some insight to what could have possibly triggered her panic attack, her home life in itself was a load of anxiety waiting to implode. She could see the abuse was getting worse, hell, her father had started to include her in his torture. What a true family man she thought bitterly.
"Trish?" She heard him call, she must've been quite for too long.
"Sorry, I, uh, was just thinking about what you said and I don't know, I can't think of anything," she lied. She couldn't tell Jeff, she couldn't tell anyone really, what would people say? The mayor beating on his own family? The town would have a field day, and the last thing she needed was people's sympathy and sorry looks. No, instead, she had to continue to deal with it in silence and stick to her plan. She had to get the fuck out of this town and away from the man she called her father.
"Can I ask you something?" She asked him, turning to give him her full attention.
"Anything," he replied without hesitation.
"What are you plans after high school?" She asked curiously, they had never really discussed it. She knew she was applying to every college out of state, hoping to study medicine and maybe even become a doctor down the line. Again, she had every bit of her life post graduation plan down to the smallest detail.
"Umm, I don't really know, I guess help my dad around the land—keep an eye on Matt and see what else Mark has up for me," he answered truthfully, he had never even considered anything else. His own needs always came last, Matt and his dad were his only concerns and he was going to continue to do whatever it took to help them out.
"I see," Trish replied, thinking to herself. He was a really good writer, probably the best in their class, she never once found any flaws in his papers and he always helped her with her essays. "Stanford has a really good writing program," she informed him, observing him carefully.
"Stanford?" He asked. "Is that where you're going?"
"Maybe, if they'll have me," she replied. "They have their own medical department," she said. Truth be told, she'd take any offer she could get, but Stanford would be a dream too.
"They'd be lucky to have you," he replied.
"Yeah, they'd be very lucky to have you too," she said.
"Me?" He laughed, turning to face her and see if she was serious. When he saw that she was, he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "I can't afford something like that," he replied.
"There's some great scholarships and grants available, Jeff," she added.
"College isn't for people like me, Trish," he replied.
"Why not?" She pushed.
"It's just not," he said. "Enough about college talk, let's see what movie is on tv," he replied, ignoring what she said and trying to move on from the topic altogether. He turned the tv on and started surfing through channels, hoping to land on something worth watching.
Trish watched him, biting her lips as she took in what he said. Such wasted potential, she thought. He was one of the smartest guys in their school, if not the smartest. He deserved everything the world had to offer and more, she thought to herself.
"Are you going to the senior camping trip?" Jeff asked her, bringing her back to the present.
"Yeah," she answered.
"A group of us are heading up a few days earlier to properly celebrate without teacher supervision," he said. "You should really come."
"Is Amy coming?" Trish asked.
"She could—I know it's going to be hard on the group with her and Matt's breakup, but I think they can be cordial," Jeff answered.
"I'll ask her," Trish said, shooting off a text to Amy about the trip.
"Cool, I'll let the group know," he replied.
"Who all is going?" She asked.
"The usual—Shane, Shannon, John, Randy, Mickie, Maria, Victoria, Matt and myself," he told her, he really wanted her there. He enjoyed his time with her, getting to know her—he wanted to know more.
"Cool, count us in," Trish replied as she had just gotten the okay for Amy.
R ? Xoxo