Don't Kiss the Quarterback: Billionaire Academy YA Romance Book 5

by Catelyn Meadows

  “What about you? You’re just okay with this?” I turned to Tate.

  He stared at the coffee table in front of us. My baby book still lay wide open. “I guess so. My parents have been separated a lot longer than yours have. I didn’t know your dad cheated on your mom with my mom though.” Having Tate blurt it out like that struck like a knife to the chest. I couldn’t breathe.

  Both of our parents ducked their heads.

  My thoughts shot off like a broken sprinkler head, gushing water where it wasn’t needed. Every angry thought I’d had over the years, thoughts that had scoured my brain and given me sleepless nights, went on a rampage.

  “You destroyed our family,” I said through my tears.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Was he, though? I wanted to spew the other thoughts coursing through, but I couldn’t. My anger, my pain, was strangely dousing.

  Dad was being so open, so repentant, and that made it hard for my bitterness to linger. I wasn’t sure I’d been in love, but for the first time, I could see where Dad was coming from. I sort of cheated on Chravis without meaning to. I mean, I didn’t choose to like Carson or have Tate turn my head. Both of these things just happened, and in my defense, I did break up with Chravis before I let things go any farther with Tate.

  But this was so different. My parents had been married. They’d made the ultimate commitment, to love and cherish each other until they died. Not to mention his commitment to me, to be my dad, be a part of my life. How could I accept my dad’s lame excuses and let that go?

  “I owe you an apology as well, Bailey.” Laurel’s timid, solemn voice tiptoed through the tremulous silence. Tate tightened his hold on my hand, whether out of reassurance for me or to obtain the same support from me that he’d been offering, I couldn’t tell. “I have no excuse either, only that I fell for your father when I shouldn’t have. We both made mistakes. I don’t know how to expect you to forgive us, but I hope you can find it in your heart to try.”

  To forgive us. Even now, she spoke as if she and Dad were a package deal. Dad’s heartfelt apologies, Laurel’s hopeful pleas were like magnets. Against my will, or going along with my will, I couldn’t tell, I lifted my face to meet theirs. They were blurry puddles caught in the wake of my tears.

  “I love you, Bailey Bug,” Dad added. “I’ve always loved you.”

  Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wiped them away, and Tate took advantage of our freed hands to put his arms around me and allow me to cry on his shoulder.

  Before I knew what was happening, the coffee table slid away. I was lifted to my feet and held against my dad’s chest in a way I hadn’t been since I was a child. Days of scraped knees and bike accidents, of fights with friends and deceased pets came to mind, days when Dad comforted me just like this.

  He cradled a hand behind my head. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

  I gripped his shirt while other days resurfaced. Picking me up from school, buying me a new phone, a bracelet sitting in a drawer in my dorm room, a binder filled with pictures I never knew he had.

  “I love you,” I told him.

  Dad held me tighter, and then other arms joined our hug. Tate and Laurel closed in too. Someone rubbed my back. Someone wiped my tears. And in that moment, I could feel the jagged edges of my shattered heart being filed down and rearranged, made to fit together in a way they hadn’t in so long.

  I didn’t know how long we all stood there together before one of us pulled away, then another, and another, until we stood in a circle. I didn’t know what to say, and considering the continued Nothing being spoken, neither did anyone else. There was a kind of mending happening, though, and that type of healing didn’t always need words.

  Laurel wiped tears from her cheeks as well and gave me a sweet smile. She held Tate’s hand, letting it swing between them, while Tate’s other hand remained on my back. I waited for a teasing, mocking remark, but he just gazed at me with a warm, comforting expression. That look was solid, unyielding. It let me see more of him than I ever had before.

  Last of all, I glanced at Dad with a little gasp of realization. The gleam, the adoration in his eyes, was unmistakable. Yes, our family was different now, but I could never mistake the glimmer in his eyes for anything but love. My dad loved me. I loved him too. He was trying.

  Laurel’s phone chimed, and she glanced at it. Her face instantly brightened. “Perfect!” she said before checking herself. “Sorry. I hope that’s not out of line. I’m just happy for this bit of news.”

  I was grateful for the topic change, and for her cheerful tone to break through the emotionally tense moment.

  “What is it?” Dad asked.

  “HGTV has finished their documentary of the warehouses. My retailer is going to start listing them first thing tomorrow, which means if you’d like to see them, Bailey, we need to do it tonight.”

  Tate wiped a final, stray tear from my cheek. He gave me a reaffirming look that said we’ll talk later, and then turned to his mom. “That’s great. When is the episode going to air?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, exhaling as if she’d been holding on to quite a bit of stress. I had to say, being featured on a show like On the Block on HGTV would be enough to make anyone antsy, let alone the gushy moment we’d all just had. I was grateful for her humility and kindness. Things could have turned out entirely different if she hadn’t been so repentant.

  “Congratulations, dear,” Dad said, squeezing her hand. Then he turned his attention to Tate and me. “What do you all say for a trip into Seattle to finish the evening off?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seattle was about half an hour away from the town of Legacy Lake. I’d never been into the city itself before, so the minute the skyline came into view from the freeway I found myself staring. Buildings climbed skyward, pinned with the notorious space needle, which towered taller than any of the other structures. With the sky’s starry blue background and the hazy sweep of clouds, I was awestruck.

  On the backseat beside me, Tate scrolled through his phone. This sight may have been nothing new to him, but I loved it.

  I nudged his leg. “Doesn’t your sister live here too?”

  “She does,” Tate said. Resting a hand on his mom’s seat in front of him, he asked, “Are we going to see Ally?”

  “We can. Steve and I stopped there yesterday, but Bailey, would you like to meet my daughter?” Laurel asked over the seat.

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I’d like that very much.”

  I expected to go to a facility of some kind, but about ten minutes later, Dad pulled up in front of a regular old house. It was a single level, blue siding with a simple but well-kempt yard.

  “She lives here?” I asked. The evening air was chilly. The sun hadn’t yet set, and a cool breeze swept in from the ocean.

  “With several others who have special needs too,” Laurel said. “She has friends here.”

  “Is that why you don’t have her live at home with you?”

  “She prefers it here,” Laurel said with a smile, knocking on the door.

  A woman wearing nurse’s scrubs answered. “Hey there, Mrs. Monroe. Mr. Monroe. You here to see Ally?”

  “Hi, Cindy. We are. Is she up? I’m sorry we didn’t give much notice.”

  “It’s all right. They’re all gathered around getting ready to watch a movie, but she’ll be glad for a visit.”

  Cindy welcomed us inside. There was dark blue carpet, ordinary couches, but the feeling in this home was much different than what was in Dad and Laurel’s house. Not that they wouldn’t have loved her and taken good care of her there, but this felt more like a home, like the homes I’d grown up in. Pictures of kids with disabilities lined the walls, kids being hugged, kids performing in the special Olympics.

  We were led through the brief hall and into an open seating area. Several lounging recliners with leg rests elevated held occupants who couldn’t quite seem to hold themselves still or who stare
d up at the ceiling as if they saw something there.

  One woman—about twenty years old, I would guess—sat at a dining table in the adjacent room. She glanced up at Cindy as she approached. “Hey there, Ally,” Cindy said, taking the woman’s hand. “Guess who’s come for a visit?”

  Ally glanced around. Her hair was the same shade as Tate’s honey brown. It was tied away from her face with a scrunchie. She wore a baggy t-shirt and sweats, and thick socks enwrapped her feet. Cindy helped her to her feet, and she took shuffling steps as a bright smile cast over her face.

  “Hi, Mom,” Ally said with a breathy tone and a bit of a delay.

  Laurel opened her arms and pulled Ally into a warm hug. “How’s my girl today?”

  “Painted my nails. See?” Ally held out her hand. Laurel took it and Dad moved in as well.

  “That’s really nice, Ally,” Dad said.

  She turned to him and gave him her big, warm smile too. “Hi, Steve. Are you my dad?”

  “I am,” he said with a smile.

  This pronouncement didn’t hurt. I got the feeling this was something she asked often, and he gave her the simplest answer he could. She deserved to have someone answer as a father should.

  She took a few shuffling steps forward. “Hi, Tate.”

  “Hey, Ally,” Tate said, putting his arm around her for a quick embrace.

  She glanced to Dad and Laurel, pointing a finger at Tate. “Tate my brother.”

  Laurel grinned and patted Ally’s shoulder with a reaffirming nod. “He is your brother. Tate is your brother.”

  Then Ally’s attention shifted to me. Her smile fell, her finger continued to point. “What’s your name?”

  I moved in, not quite certain how to act. I hadn’t been around many people with disabilities before, but I tried to act as normal as Dad, Laurel, and Tate did. “Hi,” I said.

  “This is Bailey,” Tate said.

  “Bailey?” Ally asked. Her eyes held a special, inquisitive glow just for me.

  I couldn’t help but return her sweet smile. “Yes.”

  “You name Bailey?”

  This time I could tell she wanted my answer. I smiled. “Yes. My name is Bailey.”

  Ally’s face lit up with delight. She offered both of her arms and I responded, giving her a willing hug. It was the warmest hug I’d ever had. Then she patted my hands and smiled. “Bailey, sister?”

  “Bailey is my daughter,” Dad offered.

  “I’m your friend,” I told her with reassurance. I couldn’t bring myself to call us sisters. That would make my situation with Tate a little too on the weird side.

  Her smile beamed once more. “Bailey, friend,” she said, pulling me into another hug and patting me on the back.

  We sat with Ally around the dining table and had a similar conversation again several times. Laurel attempted to ask Ally what she had done that day, what movie they were going to watch, but Ally remained incredibly focused on their relationships with each other, as though she needed their status with one another repeated multiple times. She also asked my name a few more times, though I supposed it might take a few tries before she could manage to remember me.

  Eventually, Cindy announced that it was time for Ally and the others who lived with her to get ready for bed. We all hugged once more and said goodbye.

  My heart was warm as we made our way to the car. I squeezed Tate’s hand. “Your sister is amazing,” I said. She was something special, something indescribable. A precious spirit.

  “Yeah, she is.” He smiled and we finished our trek to the car.

  The drive to Laurel’s warehouses took about fifteen minutes to get through traffic to the other side of Seattle. The area was unimpressive at best. Several large, brick buildings loomed in an unremarkable street. Some had dark streaks painted across their exteriors to advertise products no longer available.

  “This entire district has been our project,” she explained as we journeyed along the seemingly abandoned streets lit only by tall lights on every corner. “Many of these warehouses were once used during the Great Depression but have since fallen into disrepair. It was either renovate or tear them down.

  “This is it here,” Laurel pointed eagerly toward the largest building on the right. “I was here for the filming. They interviewed me right there, in front of the new entrance.” She indicated the modernized rotating door marking the entrance into the warehouse.

  “You mean you’re going to be on the episode?” I asked, impressed in spite of myself.

  Laurel grinned as Dad parallel parked beside a parking meter. We exited. The night air had turned chillier. Dad put a few coins into the meter, and then Laurel unlocked a side door and turned on the lights.

  The main area was a chic lobby that you might find in a hotel. Laurel guided us along the way, pointing out mishaps and things the construction crew faced when gutting the interior, when adding in rooms and elevators. One construction worker found a box buried within one of the walls they tore down. It was filled with love letters.

  “How romantic,” Tate said, smirking at me.

  I swallowed, and we made our way to the elevator. It opened to the third floor. “This entire floor is the unit,” Laurel said. “Once the elevator opens, it’s going to be that person’s home. They have to have special access to even enter.”

  “This is really incredible,” Tate said, circling in place and surveying the space. “I haven’t seen this since you finished.”

  I never knew a space like this could look this immaculate. I never would have guessed it to look this good from the building’s shabby exterior. Modern conveniences were added to older features, and the combination created a chic finish. Exposed brick lined one wall, while glass blocks served as a barrier between another section.

  “What do you think?” Laurel asked, smiling. She rested her hands on her hips and stared with pride at the hard work she’d put into this.

  “Great job,” I told her. “Did you stage this?”

  “I did. I helped with the new floor plans and then selected all of the fixtures and final touches.”

  “I love it,” Tate said, putting his hand on his mom’s arm. She patted his hand.

  “It’s really nice,” I said. I wouldn’t exactly call this place comfortable—like Dad’s house, this looked too staged to be anything I could kick my feet up in—but regardless, I could see the appeal. It was high-end to the max.

  Dad and Laurel made their way into the kitchen and began discussing details about the countertops and what the construction crew faced when replacing the plumbing. I meandered to the massive windows peering out into the city. The view was breathtaking. This area was so secluded, and the unit so high up, I supposed it didn’t matter all too much if people looked in and saw what was going on in here.

  “You okay?” Tate asked. He stood behind me, resting a hand on the exposed brick beside the massive black window. The glass shot our reflections back at us, though while I was looking at myself in the glass, Tate was looking at me.

  I faced him. “Yeah, I am. Thank you, you know. For earlier. For being so amazing during that whole tangle.”

  “I’m glad you were all able to talk things out. I think my mom really likes you.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. The truth was, I liked her too.

  “What did you think of Ally?” he asked. “I hope she didn’t...embarrass you or anything.”

  I placed a hand on my heart. “Are you kidding? She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

  His relief was evident. “Good.”

  “Something’s bothering you, though, isn’t it?” I asked. Tentatively, I put my hands on his waist.

  Tate allowed his gaze to sweep over me, and the gleam in his eyes was so approving, so loving, I shivered. He stroked my hair away from my temple. “Bailey, I don’t want this to be fake between us.”

  I couldn’t breathe. “You don’t?”

  “No. I...I thought that would be obvious after our last kiss
but... I don’t even know how to say this.”

  Say it. I craved to hear whatever it was. Maybe his words could help add some sense to the quiver of emotions raging in me too.

  His hand slid to the side of my neck. His thumb stroked the skin along my jaw and sent more shivers trailing down my spine one delicious bead at a time. “I had to talk to you, to see how you felt because ever since that kiss at our parents’ house? I can’t pretend I’m not crazy for you.”

  “Crazy?” Okay, heart, you can slow down. Any time now.

  “I want you to know ever since the bonfire, the way I feel about you hasn’t been fake at all. You asked me why I jumped Carson. At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought it was because your dad asked me to look out for you. But after that I kept looking for you in the halls. I kept thinking about you, about your voice. I kept typing out texts and then deleting them. I even stopped by your room a few times and then told myself not to bother you.”

  His words sent a thrill through me. Was he really feeling the way I did? “You did?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a sheepish smirk. “So, what do you think?”

  I rested my hand on his. “I—I like you too,” I said. “I mean...I really like you, Tate. Head over heels, like you. And I just don’t really know how to handle it. I mean, I’ve never felt like this before for anyone.”

  “I know. Me too.” He stepped closer. My heart caught fire. “Bailey?” His voice was the perfect pitch for quiet corners and hidden longing.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you...I mean, would you like to go to Homecoming with me?”

  My eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  Bashfully, he ducked his head and ran a hand over his hair. “I know. I wanted to ask you a little better, like, more romantically than this. Flowers or something. But this seemed like the perfect moment, and anyway. Will you? What do you think?”

  He expected me to think at a time like this? “Tate, I would love to.”

  His gaze turned shrewd. “But?”

  “I want to go with you more than anything,” I said, trying to figure out how to explain what tumbled through my thoughts. “I just—what if people find our we’re...”