Second Chances

Chapter 2

Hailey's POV

I tossed down my pen in triumph over finishing what was hopefully my last piece of paperwork for the day. As a reward, I reached around my monitor to steal a fry from the container that Jay had left on his desk. I looked over my shoulder to see if he had noticed, but he was too busy discussing last night's game with Ruz and Kev. Ever since Burgess and Ruzek had gotten back with lunch about 15 minutes ago, the guys had been sitting around Kevin's desk, alternating between recapping the highlights, playing trashketball, and actually eating their sandwiches. I picked up my own sandwich, finally getting a chance to eat now that my paperwork was finished.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kim get up from her desk and hurry into the locker room. I glanced back at the guys, who apparently did not notice this new loss of a team member. Putting my sandwich down, I decided to go see what Kim was up to. As much as I loved the guys, there was only so long they could go before they partook in some form of semi-entertaining, semi-annoying shenanigans, and I had long ago learned that it was best to have backup in case their mischief favored the latter of those two characteristics. Besides, Kim had been unusually quiet all day, and I wanted to check in on her. We'd grown a lot closer since Vanessa had left to take a deep cover assignment. I think we had both been trying to avoid staying in our own heads for too long, but whatever the reason, I was glad we'd become friends.

I walked into the locker room, heading towards Kim's locker. "Hey, Kim is everything alright? You seemed a bit off to-" As I rounded the row of lockers, I was interrupted by her leaning over the trash can and throwing up. "Woah, hey, are you okay?" I asked, hurrying over to hold her hair back as she threw up again.

"I'm fine," she said, unconvincingly, as she sat down on the bench.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall and waiting for her to talk. Normally, I'd have nothing against her saying she was fine even if she obviously wasn't because, let's be honest here, I'm basically the queen of the I'm fine. But vomiting was the opposite of being fine, and I couldn't help but be concerned.

"Seriously, I'm fi-" her sentence was interrupted by her retching over the trash can.

Convinced she wasn't going to throw up again, she sat back down on the bench, and I walked over to the sink to dampen some paper towels for her.

"It's probably just a migraine..." I turned around both because she had trailed off and because I had finished soaking the paper towels. She was sitting with her head in her hands and muttering under her breath. After a second, I was able to make out what seemed to be oh my gosh over and over.

"Kim?"

"This can't be happening again," she whispered, more to herself than to me.

"Kim, what are you talking about?" When she didn't respond, I came up with the best thing I could think of that might help her. "Kim, do you want me to go get Adam?" This had the opposite effect I had intended, and her breathing sped up.

I quickly walked over and shut the door because, while I had no idea what was going on, I did know that if I was in her shoes I wouldn't want anyone else walking in on whatever this was. By the time I returned, she was almost hyperventilating, and I was concerned she was going to have a full on panic attack. I squatted in front of her so that I was at eye level, and did what my brothers used to do for me when I was little and got scared and what I would do for Jay when his PTSD got bad.

"Kim, I need you to repeat after me, okay?" I began counting out of order, and after a second Kim did the same. Supposedly, this helps stop panic attacks because the part of your brain that is used to count non-sequentially would take over for the part that was responsible for freaking out, or something like that. I wasn't 100 percent sure on the science behind it or even if it was true. I did know that it had always seemed to work for me, and it appeared to be having the same effect on Kim right now. After a few more seconds, her breathing had returned to normal. We continued to sit there in silence, her on the bench and me crossed legged on the floor. I played back what she had said in my head, and after a few seconds I was pretty sure I had connected the dots.

"Kim," I started hesitantly, "are you late?"

She nodded, before dropping her head back into her hands with a slight whimper.

"Hey, it's okay," I said moving next to her on the bench and putting a hand on her shoulder. At least we'd figured out what had triggered her attack.

"You can't tell Adam," Kim said, finally looking up. I nodded. "Promise me, Hails, you cannot say a word about this to anyone- especially not Adam- until I know for sure." Her voice cracked, "I can't do that to him. I can't hurt him again."

I pulled her in for a hug, and I could feel her trying to hold back sobs. I knew how much she blamed herself for what had happened. For weeks afterward, she and Adam could barely say a word to each other because she blamed herself for losing the baby and Adam blamed himself for not being able to protect her, both from getting hurt and from the grief. It was heartbreakingly obvious how much pain they had both been in, but there had been no way for any of us to take it away.