It had truly been a shit show of a week. Knowing that the end of it would bring Trav's playoff game in Buffalo and the chance to see Kylie and Jason again, along with Donna and Ed, was truly the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.
Having him to confide in, to not be forced into pretending to be strong also prevented me from falling apart. There were two conflicting thoughts swimming around my head, keeping me awake at night and despite a crazy, intense practice week (and having to fully believe his insistence I wasn't bothering him), he'd helped me sort through each of them.
When I'd made the decision to stay in New York to work to give him the time to commit to focusing on the upcoming game, he was fully supportive so there was no second guessing, no guilt trips, no "but I can't keep you safe from there." He trusted my judgement, trusted that the people I employed would do everything in their power to protect me and understood implicitly that I couldn't let fear stop me from living.
It wasn't to say he didn't express concern or ask about the extra protocols being taken, because he loved me and his first instinct was the desire for me to feel secure in my surroundings. But he had faith in me to know what was best for myself.
That meant more than its weight in gold.
Kylie, too, had checked in a few times since. We didn't have enough hours in the day between the two of us for much more than a quick FaceTime call or a brief text exchange throughout the week, but the fact she reached out just reinforced the fact she was a good egg.
My parents tended to worry way harder than I did when things like that appeared in my orbit...which I didn't blame them for, not one bit. In a weird way, I kind of disassociated; it always felt so surreal for me that coping just revolved around following directions and being extra aware of what was going on around me when I left the house. Not to say I hadn't discussed it in therapy or with Travis; situations where I knew I could let my guard down completely, but it still sort of felt as though it were happening to a fictional heroine and not to me.
My mom and dad, though, they instantly became nervous wrecks. Austin, too, but he was a little less vocal about it. Separately, (though I strongly suspected they'd been in touch and had a discussion) they each encouraged me to miss the game in Buffalo, to tuck myself away somewhere nobody knew my whereabouts and lay low for awhile.
I knew where they were coming from; this was hardly our first rodeo. And their suggestion to "hide" wasn't new, either. Nor was my absolute refusal. I couldn't say for certain if it were me in their position and it were my daughter, I wouldn't ask her to do the exact same thing, but for me...they knew I'd say no. That wasn't how I wanted to handle things, allowing fear to win.
I knew I'd made the right call, the only call, really. Additional measures aside, there was no way I would miss a game so close to the end of the line.
"Bills Mafia is...intense," Trav had warned before I was due to fly in. "Passionate as fuck. Which is cool, don't get me wrong. They'll probably say some shit---"
It wasn't difficult to figure out exactly what he was getting at. We were both highly skilled at this stage to tune it all out. Nothing anyone said was going to affect how we felt about one another.
Travis knew that the past couple of days in particular had been rough and even with the awareness I could handle the overly passionate fans, he was protective, wanting to shield me from some pain being I was in a vulnerable place emotionally.
I appreciated the sense of careful concern beyond words, how he silmataenously held the belief I was strong as hell and yet, he wanted to do whatever he was able to do so I wouldn't be hurt.
