Coach King Ch. 09bymxwtt©
The following is the ninth installment of the Coach King series. If you haven't yet, I recommend reading the other chapters before you read this one.
To my regular readers, thank you for your feedback on the previous chapter, as always it is highly appreciated. This and the last chapter have been the toughest so far to write. You're the ones that keep me going.
Roy paced back and forth impatiently. Where are they? He asked himself. Helen and Kayla were supposed to have arrived over an hour earlier. It wasn't like them to be late without contacting him, usually by a text message. He went to his laptop to check his e-mails; nothing but spam and a video Mike had sent him of a flatulent hippo farting and creating a huge bubble in its water tank.
He was growing nervous, and was tempted to call one of their phones. He'd sent both of them a text message but had received no reply. This wasn't like them, this wasn't like them at all. I need to calm down, Roy told himself. Perhaps the storm last night had blown a tree over and blocked the highway, and it was still being cleared.
Roy turned the radio on, and tuned it to the local station. It played a variety of music, depending on the time of day and gave the regional news. Right now it was Country hour, not exactly Roy's favorite genre but he was waiting for the news that should come on in a few minutes. If there had been any problems on the highway it was sure to be announced then. Keith Urban's latest hit faded out and the voice of the exuberant morning announcer came over the speakers.
"New details regarding the tragic accident last night on Highway 303. It has been confirmed by Connecticut state police that the driver, Kayla Ward of Riverside, is dead after losing control of her vehicle while driving to Wood Creek last night at approximately nine-thirty. Ms. Ward had just finished teaching a class at the Riverside Studio for Arts and Dance, and was on her way to a friend's house in Deer River. The tragic event has rocked the community. We'll keep you updated on additional details as they are released. Our deepest condolences to Ms. Ward's family and friends. She was only nineteen.
In other news, the Riverside Raptor's..."
Roy blinked dumbly. It wasn't possible, that couldn't be right. He'd heard the name wrong. Kayla... Roy realised his hand holding his cup of coffee was shaking, he sat down on the couch and set his mug on the table. His eyes stared blindly in front of him, waiting for tears to come, but they didn't. All he felt was anger, complete and utter rage. The wrath turned inwards, eating away at him. He couldn't be here, the walls of the house were boxing him in, staring at him accusingly.
It was his fault. Kayla would never have been driving to Helen's house if he hadn't suggested they go to New York, if he'd for once showed one speck of backbone. She would have gone home, and she would have been safe. She would have still been alive. She isn't dead! Roy pleaded with himself, refusing to accept it as the truth, afraid that if he did it would make it so. He had to know for sure.
A kernel of hope bloomed inside his chest, it was small but it was bright. News stations got things wrong all the time. He ran to the kitchen, and picked up his phone. He dialed Kayla's home phone number. It took a few rings before someone finally answered.
"Hello?" a hoarse George answered.
"George, I just... On the radio... They're saying..." Roy stammered.
"It's true, she's... Fuck man, I can't believe this... Kayla, my little girl..." he began to cry on the other end.
"I'm so sorry," Roy said, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.
They were quiet for a while, both unable to speak.
George collected himself, "Thanks for calling Roy, I'm going to go now."
"Of course. I'm so, so sorry," Roy said fighting to keep his emotions concealed.
The phone went dead.
Roy put the phone down. His hands had begun to shake once more, and he found that his cheeks were wet. How had that happened? Suddenly a wave of grief washed over him, drowning him, making it difficult to breathe. He gasped for breath, feeling as though he'd been punched in the stomach. He felt ill, a physical pain developed in his chest. For a moment Roy thought he was going to have a heart attack. He sat down on the cool linoleum floor, legs splayed out in front of him.
Roy stared directly ahead, gasping for air, his gasps turning to sobs. He slammed his fists against the floor angrily, hard enough to hurt. Tears dribbled down his cheeks, leaking out of his eyes unwanted and leaving wet tracks behind as they dripped off his chin and splattered on his t-shirt. I should have protected her, she trusted me, she loved me, and I let her die. Why? Why did she have to be taken? Why now? When everything was going so well?
He forced himself to not be consumed by his grief, he couldn't let that happen. Roy couldn't allow himself to breakdown again, not like when he'd found out about Lorie's infidelity. He had to be strong, he had to get a hold of Helen. But how? He couldn't simply go over to her house, what if her mother was there? Roy hated himself then. Hated that he'd brought them into this relationship, hated what he'd done to Kayla and to Helen. Hiding away, sneaking around because what they were doing was wrong but he didn't have the self-control to stop. He was the adult, he should have stopped it.
But it was too late for that now. Now, Helen needed him. Roy stood, finding strength where he didn't know he had it. Self-loathing and love for Helen driving him forward, he got to the door and grabbed his jacket. He stumbled out to his old Volvo and fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. Finding them he got into his car and fired up the engine.
He backed out of his driveway onto the highway and sped off. He drew his phone out from his jeans and called Helen's cell. There was no answer. He called the home phone, it rang and rang. Nearly half a minute passed before there was an answer.
The tone of utter grief in Helen's voice nearly brought Roy to tears again.
"Helen? It's Roy," he said.
"Roy," she said drearily, sounding relieved.
She began to cry, "Kayla... Roy, oh God, she's..."
"I know, I'm on my way," he said.
"Oh thank God, I don't think I can be alone anymore," Helen said, her voice sounded weak and raw from crying.
"Where's your mother?" he asked.
"She's gone. She and Aunt Pam decided to go to that resort in Waterbury for the week," Helen said, talking to Roy was helping her calm down a bit.
Roy was still trying to process what was happening.
"I'll be there in a few minutes," Roy said.
"Be careful," Helen said.
They said goodbye and Roy kept driving.
When he arrived at Helen's house Roy sprinted up to the front porch and knocked on the door. He was shocked when he saw Helen. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark rings beneath them, she looked like she hadn't slept at all. Her hair, usually carefully combed and washed, lacked its usual lustre and hung limply around her face. More than anything, she looked small and weak. Helen was quite short to begin with, but now she seemed to be folding in on herself. She seemed frail, her head hung low, her shoulders slumped forward from exhaustion.
Helen fell forward into his arms, and he held her tight. She trembled against him, her body shaking and convulsing against his as she began to cry once more. The moan of sheer agony that escaped her matched that which Roy held inside. Her tears flowed freely, and he held onto her, letting her cry. He fought back his own tears, there'd be time for that later. Right now he needed to be Helen's rock, to take Kayla's place as her consoler. It was a number of minutes before Helen was strong enough to pull back and let him into the house.
They went down to the basement, and Roy sat on the couch. Helen grabbed the blanket folded over the backrest, laid down and used his lap as a pillow. She wrapped the blanket around herself tightly, and clutched at the knee of the leg her head rested on. Roy wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, holding her tightly. They stayed like that, the contact giving the other strength. Both stared off in front of them, unseeing.
"She said she loved me," Helen finally said softly.
"What?" Roy asked.
"That's the last thing she said to me, when she called to tell me she was on her way. She said me she loved me," Helen said.
Roy thought back, trying to remember the last words Kayla had said to him. He thought it was her wishing him a good spring break, and giving him that naughty smile she'd mastered. Roy felt himself smiling at the memory, and felt bad. He shouldn't be smiling, she was gone, forever. He'd never see her again, never speak to her again, he'd never feel her body next to his again. Suddenly he couldn't hold back anymore. His chest convulsed, and he fought valiantly to keep the sobs at bay but they would not be denied.
Helen felt him shaking and sat up beside him, putting a consoling hand on his shoulder. It was bizarre seeing him upset, he was always so strong, so stoic. She straddled his legs and pulled him into a hug, his face buried into her shoulder as he began to cry.
"I'm so sorry Helen," he said, apologising both for crying and for what had happened to Kayla.
"It's fine Roy," Helen said consolingly.
This wasn't how it was supposed to work; he was supposed to be comforting her. Roy's weakness infuriated him, but being held by Helen like this made everything feel so much better. He pulled her against him tightly, squeezing her against him as he wept openly. Helen began to cry as well, tears flowing out from her already red eyes.
They held each other like this until the tears stopped and Helen finally fell asleep, her head resting against Roy's chest. She'd been up all night weeping, feeling scared and lost. She hadn't called her mother, and she didn't know why. She hadn't called anyone. Whenever she'd felt like she had last night she'd always called Kayla, it was always Kayla who was there for her.
It was always Kayla who comforted her, who led her through the grief, the pain, the confusion, and it was Kayla who made things better. But she was gone, and Helen had felt helpless, as if nothing could ever be right again. But this felt right, being with Roy, having him hold her in his arms and protecting her from the world. She never wanted that feeling to disappear. And if that was possible, maybe one day in the distant future, things could be alright again, and maybe one day she'd be able to feel happy once more.
Roy sat there, with Helen's body on top of his, holding her as she slept. It couldn't have been very comfortable, half-sitting half-laying, but it she didn't seem bothered to move so he didn't either. There was no clock, so he wasn't sure how long they spent like this. It must have been at least an hour, though it could have been much longer. Time seemed to stop, to become insignificant in light of everything that was happening.
Helen woke up feeling somewhat better; she looked up and saw that Roy was staring off into space, deep in thought. She reached up and ran her hand along the side of his cheek. He looked down at her, the grief still clear on his face. She wanted to make him feel better. She wanted to feel better, even if it was just for a little while. Helen drew herself up along his body and brought her lips to his. Roy resisted at first but she was persistent. His mouth opened and her probing tongue ran along his, gently exploring the familiar space. It was comforting, it felt good, and he felt guilty.
Roy began to withdraw but Helen pursued him, maintaining the contact between their lips desperately. Helen needed this, she needed him now more than she ever had before. Roy brought his hands to the back of her head, cradling it gently as he pulled her mouth to his. They said nothing, allowing their bodies to fall into the rhythms that were familiar. The caresses were reassuring, the kiss comforting, and the press of the other's body against their own soothing. Helen's pubic mound pressed into Roy's groin, and his body responded. He felt a stirring, and she felt it to. A slight moan escaped Helen, and she pressed herself harder against Roy's growing erection.
She was wearing an overlong white t-shirt and nothing else, her usual attire when Kayla was coming over for a sleepover. Helen fumbled with the zipper of Roy's jeans, undoing the button and drawing out his stiff shaft. His manhood throbbed in her hand, the familiar girth and warmth pulsing in her grip as she directed it to her slick opening. They moaned in unison as Helen lowered herself onto Roy, the kiss ending. The right side of Helen's face nuzzled into the crook of Roy's neck, her heavy breathing filling his ear as she began to gyrate her hips in his lap. Roy held her to him, one hand behind her neck and the other pressing into the small of her back.
Helen whimpered softly and pressed her lips to the indentation immediately above Roy's collarbone. They made slight adjustments to their positioning, joined together at the groin, Helen was able hear his pulse with the way her ear pressed against his throat. Blood coursing through veins beneath his warm skin, his heart beating powerfully, steadily, a calming thud, the rhythm of it was comforting. Kayla's heart had stopped beating, her skin was cold now, her body broken and lifeless. How long had she lived? Helen wondered. Did she suffer? Was it instantaneous? Was she scared? Lonely?
Roy heard a sob escape Helen.
"Helen," he said gently, stroking the back of her head gently.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to fight against the pain.
She tried to start moving again, rising herself from his lap and once more lowering herself against his shaft. Roy held her still and ran his hand along her back consolingly.
"Helen it's alright, we don't have to," he said.
"I want to," she said softly.
Helen started to move again, and Roy let her. Her range of motion increased, her breasts pressing into his chest firmly as she lifted herself on and off his lap. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she kept herself moving, fleeing the emotions that were threatening to overcome her, burning them away in the pleasure she got from Roy's body like the rising sun does a morning fog. She'd run her final conversation with Kayla through her mind over and over. I love you. I love you.
Her voice echoed in Helen's head and she fought to never forget those words, to not lose the sound of her voice, the shape of her face, the feel of her body. The way she laughed, yelled, cried out in pleasure. The feel of her caress, the way her hand felt when she'd held it, the expression her face took on when she was about to get them into trouble. That slight smile, the grin reserved for Helen and Roy alone, the one's she'd loved.
Helen rode Roy frantically, a manic energy coursing through her body. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, her breathing became laboured. She shifted positions, gripping the back of the couch as she drove herself up and down, forcing his cock into her, pushing herself back onto it violently. She was desperate to feel good, to make him feel good. To escape the pain of what was happening for even an instant, to flee from the searing agony that raged inside and that threatened to consume both of them. She rode a wave, threatening to fall back into the brackish sea of torment she'd found herself in, thrusting her hips desperately, her physical desire drowning out the war drums of the approaching army about to pillage her of happiness once more.
Roy held on desperately, sailing along with her to the peaks of pleasure, far above darkness. Her t-shirt had hiked up, exposing her buttocks as she rode him in a frenzied passion. He rested his hands on her bare flesh, steadying her as she brought the two of them the release they so desperately needed. She kept pushing herself, ignoring the burning of her legs from the exertion, fueled by the drive to reach climax. Helen's hands gripped the back of the couch tightly, her knuckles turning white and elbows locking tight as she rode him.
A tremble began at her center, a little ripple that radiated out to her extremities. Roy heard Helen groan and held on as her thrusts became ragged. She lowered herself onto him, burying his shaft deep inside her body as the little ripple became a wave, and another, crashing over her body, pleasure coursing through her entire form. Her pussy quivered around Roy's cock, his pulsating organ ready to erupt. Helen slumped on top of Roy, her chest heaving against his as her climax overwhelmed her, occupying every corner of her being, giving her the brief moment of peace and happiness she so desperately needed.
Helen felt Roy tense up beneath her and his hips thrust up into her powerfully. She brought a hand to the back of his neck, holding his face to her, both of them crying out their pleasure into the other's shoulder. Roy gave a deep moan and Helen felt his hot seed splash inside her womb, filling her channel with his cum. Her hips gyrated, her pussy continuing to spasm around Roy's twitching manhood as he came for her. They shared a moment of tranquility, losing themselves in one another's bodies, extracting a temporary happiness from one another when they thought it impossible. Then they came down, Helen's body ceased to shake, Roy's shaft no longer pumped his seed into her, and they became still.
The couple breathed deeply against one another, eyes closed, trying to hold on to what they'd just felt. But the warmth eventually faded away, even wrapped as they were in the arms of the one they loved, and soon they felt the cold talons of grief overcoming them once more. Helen sobbed into Roy's shoulder and his body shook as he fought back his own. They held each other, together facing the grief, no longer alone in their sorrow, though still feeling its vicious bite. The tears slowed, their breathing became regular, and still joined the grieving couple was overcome by sleep.
Roy awoke a few hours later to a sound that caused his blood to turn cold.
"Helen?!" a female voice came from upstairs.
He shook Helen's shoulder and her eyes opened blearily, she smiled at him.
"Helen! Where are you?" the voice called again.
Helen's eyes widened in terror, "Mom," she breathed.
No. They couldn't be caught, not now, not after everything they'd been through. Helen stared at Roy, her eyes wide and pleading him to come up with something. Hide. That was Roy's first thought.
"My car," he whispered, realising the flaw.
"Shit," Helen said, she'd been thinking the same thing.
"Helen?!" Alison called from upstairs.
"Coming!" Helen yelled, disengaging herself from Roy.
"Pants," Roy said, gesturing to her naked lower body.
She ran over to the laundry machines, searching through a pile of clothes. Helen came up with a pair of gym shorts. She pulled them over her legs frantically while Roy zipped up his jeans.
"Let me do the talking, just go along with what I say," Helen said.
Roy nodded and they went up the stairs. Good thing we weren't in her bedroom, he thought to himself. They reached the top and Helen collected her thoughts, she went through the door and saw her mother. All the excuses she'd come up with suddenly evaporated.
"I...I...," she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.
She'd lost Kayla now she was going to lose Roy. Alison wrapped her daughter in her arms and hugged her tight.
"It's alright honey, let it out," she said, smoothing down her daughter's disheveled hair.
Roy came through the door, meeting Alison's eye.