He jumped at Holly's touch. Thomas gaped at his chaser, wondering how he could possibly try to hide his anxiety, but---he looked back down at the letter in his hands. Tonight? It couldn't be happening tonight! Right now? Tonight was about his team, about the Arrows and their cup. It was too soon! Too early! How was he supposed to---he wasn't ready.
Thomas pressed his lips together, feeling ready to throw up. He couldn't just leave, could he? Though...they'd presented the trophy already, no one would miss him, he believed. Why was he even worrying? Obviously he had to go, but---his feet were rooted to the spot. He'd read about this, this crippling fear that most people went through when---
He couldn't breathe. Thomas ran a hand through his hair and attempted to speak, but his voice was lost. He'd never felt so completely thrown off course, and he'd been stabbed. Kidnapped! Kidnapped and stabbed. But now it felt like the past seven months had hit him like a collapsing tower, burying him under the rubble and unable to catch a breathe. Is this how he was going to feel for the rest of his life? Thomas didn't know if he could handle that. Maybe he should stay rooted to the spot.
But--he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. Thomas looked up at Holly and gulped. "Would you do me a favor?"
The woman smirked, crossing her arms, "Don't get all weird on me now, McCormack. What's wrong?"
"I need you to come somewhere with me," he said, folding up the letter and putting it in his pocket. "I need---someone."
"And your brain trust Broadmoor and Knightley can't help you?"
Thomas hesitated and then shook his head. "They don't---I just--"
Holly let out a breath, putting her hand on his arm. Whatever mess her captain was in, she wouldn't hesitate in being there to get him out of it. "You don't have to explain. You got me my first cup, I'll follow you just about anywhere."
"Thank you," he said, and with a quick glance around the pitch, gestured for Holly to follow him through the flaps of the tented area and out of the stadium.
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