The plastic clung to my fingers as I opened the gift. Inside was a black, bedazzled jersey with Pader written in large block letters on the front. The rhinestones sent rainbows over the walls, sparkling in the sunlight that poured through the living-room windows.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s beautiful.”
I turned the jersey over and stared at Adam’s number on the back. Emotion swelled in my throat. My mom didn’t know about the breakup because I hadn’t told her. It was easier to handle on my own.
“I love it,” I said, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She headed back to the front door, and I walked up the stairs, breathing in short spurts. By the time I made it to my room, my composure was gone. I pressed my back against the inside of the door and cried, letting go of all the emotions I couldn’t keep buried.
This wasn’t my first go-round with heartbreak. I knew what it was like to cry myself to sleep, to want someone I wasn’t sure I was meant to have. I knew what it was like to wait on a phone call that never came and to hope the next day would be different. I knew what it felt like to have my heart returned to me in pieces, smashed by a guy I’d trusted more than I should.
Adam wasn’t Seth, and this wasn’t the same situation, but it still hurt. I missed Adam. I needed Adam. But sometimes life had its own plans.
I wasn’t the Claire who’d moved to this town, but I was stronger for the hand I’d been dealt. Even if it took a while, even if it meant I repeated my mistakes, I would get through this, too.
I would survive Adam Meade.
22
Learn
“Thank goodness for youthful company! These old people are driving me nuts.”
“Hello to you, too.”
Wanda grinned as I closed the door behind me, cutting off the sound of the hospital staff.
“I can’t stay long,” I said, “but I come bearing gifts.”
“I thought you were staying for Adam’s birthday party,” she answered. I shook my head, and she frowned. “Now, that just won’t do. As a hostess, you’re supposed to help serve cake and whatnot. Granted, the cake is far from perfect. I’m hoping he’ll be too hungry to notice.”
“I’m sure Adam will like it regardless.” I handed her his birthday present, a large bag with printed balloons, different shades of tissue paper, and twirly ribbons wrapped around the handle. “Wasn’t sure what to get him, but this was the best option.”
“If he doesn’t like it, he can get over it,” she answered. She gave me back the present and I put it on the windowsill, where a bouquet of flowers sat. “Those are from your parents,” she said, smiling. “The nurse brought them in yesterday. Said it was the most beautiful arrangement she’d ever seen. Tell them I said thank you, please.”
“I will.”
I took a seat on the couch and glanced at the Western on the TV. Wanda followed my gaze, but I felt her attention shift and looked at her again. Her green eyes were sunken into her pallid face, exaggerating the weight she’d lost while in the hospital. Gone was her perfectly curled hair. Gone were her rosy cheeks. Still, she smiled. Despite the battle she was waging, she still smiled.
“What?” I asked, grinning.
“I’m glad he found you.”
My stomach knotted, and I swallowed hard, feeling the smile slide from my face. He still hadn’t told her.
“Wanda—”
“Oh, I know,” she said, waving me off. “He didn’t have to say it, it’s written on you both. I’m sorry I interfered.”
I relaxed, releasing the breath caught in my chest. “It wasn’t just about Alabama,” I answered, shaking my head. “It was about everything—Auburn, long distance, my ex. I kept things from him. That’s on me.”
“Don’t shoulder all the blame, dear. It takes more than one person to tango.” She turned off the TV and let out a sigh. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, cooped up here in this room. If I know one thing about my grandson, it’s when he’s torn. He’s torn on what to do. The way you look, I can see you are, too.”
“I think Adam’s made up his mind,” I replied.
“I think he puts up a good front,” she answered.
She held up a hand, releasing a deep, hacking cough. I stood and grabbed a large cup from her tray. She took it willingly, her thin fingers enveloping my hand before I could retreat.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I will be,” she answered. Her smile had softened, wearing sadness that wasn’t there before. “I love my grandson,” she said, looking at me. “He’s the light of my life, one of the things I’m most proud of, but he’s stubborn. He makes up his mind, sets out to do whatever it is he’s doing, and doesn’t think twice about whether he’s on the right path or not. Now, I don’t know who initiated this break of yours. I don’t know the details, and I don’t need to know the details. What I do know is he was the happiest he’s been in a long time. You did that, Claire. You brought out parts of him I hadn’t seen since before the accident, parts I was afraid he’d buried for good. You made him laugh, you made him smile, but most important, you made him feel. I know love when I see it, and that boy is still head over heels for you.”
“I screwed up,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes.
“Then learn from your mistakes,” she said. “Learn from this experience, learn from all your experiences.” She tilted her face into view as I swiped tears from my cheeks. “Life isn’t about everything we do right, dear. It’s about everything we do wrong. It’s how we take our mistakes and use them to our advantage. Use what happened to make it right. I have faith you’ll know what to do.”
“What if I don’t?” I answered. “What if I ruined us for good?”
“You didn’t.”
There was a knock on the door, and Wanda’s respiratory therapist poked his head inside.
“You again,” she said.
“Me again.” She swore, and he stepped into the room. “Three times a day,” he reminded her, grabbing an object from the shelf.
“Should’ve thrown that in the hazardous materials bin,” she answered. She looked at me and frowned. “Looks like I’ve got a date with this guy, but remember what I said. Everything can be fixed. Let go of the stubbornness and find your way.”
“And you think he’ll forgive me?”
“I think he already has.”
* * *
Wanda’s words stuck with me. They replayed themselves over and over, cementing themselves in my mind.
Stadium lights illuminated BB&T Field, burning bright against the winter night. Thousands of people flocked there for North Carolina’s 2A State Championship game. Everyone wanted their team to win.
“Did you talk to Adam?” my mom asked, her eyes scanning the field as a country singer finished an a cappella rendition of the national anthem. I shook my head, and she frowned. “I’m sure he’s anxious,” she said. “Your father was a bundle of nerves.”
I focused my attention on the field and found Adam near the middle, black tape wrapped around his wrist and a black jersey with the same number as mine. I wanted to talk to him, but there was only one place his head needed to be—the game.
A whistle blew, and he tossed the football to one of the team’s sports techs. He, Tate, and another guy participated in the coin toss, then jogged back to the sideline.
“You ready?” my mom asked, waving her foam finger as the team took the field.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The first two quarters flew by in a blur of pass completions, yardage gained, and first downs. We went tit for tat with the opposition, equally matched in speed and strength.
As halftime approached, the other team was up by five, and no one on either side knew which team would take the title.
The time dwindled to zero. My dad and the guys left the field, and the marching bands took their place. Their musical compilations were broadcast over the intense PA system,
and cheerleaders ran up and down the sidelines trying to keep the crowd’s energy up. It was something to fill the break, but when the players finally exited the locker rooms and returned to the field, everyone was focused again.
The second half was a defensive battle. The opposition blocked our path to the end zone, and we kept them out of ours. It was a back-and-forth string of fourth downs, punts, and quarterback sacks, and it was easy to tell Adam was feeling the pain.
As the clock wound down in the last quarter, Tate received a punt deep in our own territory and ran it all the way back to the other team’s forty-yard line. On the next play, Adam took the snap and shuffled back in the pocket, looking to pass as the receivers ran their routes downfield. They were too heavily covered.
He tucked the ball in his arms and ran it to the outside himself.
Bam!
Bodies collided and pads smashed together as Adam was tackled by a guy three times his size. Adam rolled onto his stomach and lay there for a minute.
My breath left me in a rush as a sickening feeling swept through my veins. Both sides of the bleachers grew eerily quiet as my dad and the trainer ran across the grass. When Adam stood, I finally felt like I could breathe. He was okay.
Second and six, 1:04 remaining
“Set. Red five. Red five. Set. Set. Hut!” Adam caught the ball and pitched it to the tailback, who shot through a gap and wasn’t taken down until the twenty-yard line.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, his voice deep. “There’s a flag on the play. Unnecessary roughness, defense, number ninety-six, fifteen-yard penalty. Pader first down at the five-yard line.”
First and goal, 0:56
“Black twenty-three. Hut!” The center snapped the ball, and Adam tucked it to his chest before shifting left and handing it off to a running back.
“Get in there,” I urged, my voice a murmur among the crowd. “Get in there. Get in there.”
He was stopped at the line of scrimmage. With both teams out of time-outs, the clock continued to count down.
Second and goal, 0:23 … 0:22 … 0:21 …
“Hut!” Adam received the ball and shuffled backward as a defensive tackle broke free and sprinted straight at him.
“Throw it!” I screamed. “Throw it!”
Adam ran from the tackle, searching for anyone to receive the ball, but he was sacked.
Third and goal, 0:08 … 0:07 … 0:06 …
Adam stood several yards back from the line and lifted his foot. The ball flew behind the center straight into his hands.
… 0:05 … 0:04 … 0:03 …
Tate darted into the end zone, covered by a defensive back. He pivoted as Adam pulled the ball back, thrust his arm forward, and launched the ball in his direction.
… 0:02 … 0:01 …
At the back of the end zone, Tate jumped, finding the ball in his gloved hands. He came down on top of the defensive back, with one foot in bounds on the red-and-black-painted grass.
“We won! We won!”
My mom wrapped me in a hug, tears streaming down her face. They did it. They were North Carolina 2A State Champs.
The bleachers emptied in a frenzy, with most of the people making their way to the field. My dad was waiting at the low wall, his arms outstretched for my mom. He pulled her into a tight hug, kissed her firmly, then hugged me. Beaming and covered in Gatorade, he was the happiest I’d ever seen him. He earned it.
My eyes scanned the crowd for Adam. He stood on the sideline, smiling as he talked with teammates. Eventually, there would be a time to seek him out. We’d talk about this victory, talk about everything else between us, and work out our issues. This wasn’t the time. He deserved his glory.
I passed through a thick crowd of people, leaving him to his celebration. When I reached the edge of the field, though, I heard my name.
I turned, hearing my name again.
There were so many people, so many potential possibilities, but I saw him as he said my name a third time. My stomach knotted and nausea rose in my throat.
Standing along the fence, wearing a navy-and-gold letter jacket bearing a B, was Seth.
23
Mistakes
Anger, sadness, frustration, memories—everything fought each other in an instant.
I hadn’t seen him since that day in Baker Heights when I’d stood on my porch and watched him walk away from me. Everything was broken—my relationship, my plans, me. He’d left without a thought, pretending like everything we ever had was irrelevant. And now he stood here, staring at me with the same intensity he always had.
He took a step forward, and I took one back, knocking into an elderly man who was passing through the crowd. The man stumbled, and I caught him, my cheeks flushing red.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, helping him straighten. “I didn’t see you there.”
“No worries,” he answered, winking as he adjusted his cane and continued on his way.
“Claire,” Seth said again, his hand finding my shoulder.
I froze and my breath left me. I was too scared to turn around and face him and too pissed off to understand why he had his hand on me.
“Get your hand off me,” I said.
He stepped around me, lowering his hand as he came into full view. His eyes were rich brown, full of caution and intrigue. His brown hair was shorter now, close cropped and gelled. He had scruff where he didn’t before, a sharpness to his features, and a smile that should’ve knocked me off my feet.
“I’m sorry,” he answered. I moved to step around him, and he blocked me. “I just want to talk,” he said. “That’s all I want to do.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” I tried to go again, and he blocked me. “Dammit, Seth. Go away! I don’t want to see you. I thought I made that clear.”
“And I’m still in love with you. I thought I made that clear.”
I shook my head, trying not to deck him. “You don’t get to come here and say that to me. You have no right to be here. This is my town. My home. My life. Get your own.”
“Baker Heights isn’t the same without you!” he answered. “I’m miserable there. I’m miserable every time I pass your old house, every time one of our songs comes on the radio. Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to skip school, find you, and never let go? I was an asshole, okay? But I want you back. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“You’re too late.”
When I tried to walk past him, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back. I spun, landing a hand on his cheek. “Get your hands off me!” I yelled, yanking my hand away. “Or you’ll get more than slapped next time.”
Seth rubbed his cheek, his eyes narrowing in my direction. “You’re a selfish bitch, you know that?”
“Yeah, but you’re an arrogant prick who is too moronic to understand what the phrase go away means.” I took a step back, not even caring we were making a scene. “You can’t show up here, expecting me to forget everything that happened! You broke it off. You didn’t want me. You wanted your freedom, and you wanted a fun senior year. Well, congratulations. Hope it was everything you expected it to be.”
“This wasn’t what I wanted.”
“And crying in my room all summer wasn’t what I wanted, either, but it happened, and I dealt with it. I survived. So will you.”
Seth’s lips spread into a thin line, his expression resolved to the truth. We were done. End of story. Nothing he said or did would ever change what he broke, and for the first time it looked like he understood.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” he said, putting more distance between us. “If I could go back and do it again, it would’ve been different.”
“Then learn from your mistake. I did.”
He surveyed me quietly, neither of us moving as people walked by. “You will always be the first girl I ever loved.”
“I’ll be the one that got away,” I answered.
He turned, disappearing into the crowd that slowly exited the stadium. Once he was
out of sight, relief flooded through me. Our conversation was about more than Seth, more than his flaws or how he made me feel. This was about me, realizing what I deserved and what I wanted.
I wanted Adam.
The crowd on the field had thinned, making it easier to navigate. I found Adam talking to Tate in the end zone, laughing together like they always did. He looked at me over Tate’s shoulders, then nodded my way. When Tate turned, it took him point two seconds to split off and move to a different group.
“He could’ve stayed,” I said, stopping in front of Adam.
“You looked like a woman on a mission. Didn’t want him to get caught in the shrapnel,” Adam answered. He pushed sweaty hair from his brow, the dark strands staying plastered to his skin despite the effort. “So what’s up? You want an autograph?”
“Tempting, but no. I wanted to see if we could talk tomorrow.”
“We can talk now.”
“No,” I answered, shaking my head. “This is your night. Go enjoy it. Tomorrow. Lunch?”
“Can’t tomorrow. I have to go to the hospital.” He shifted the weight on his feet, his brows tugging together. “Something’s wrong. You okay?”
“No.”
“Then we’ll talk now.”
He held out his hand, and I took it, following him toward a multistory structure on the other side of the field. It was quieter there, where the chaos and excitement of the stadium hadn’t quite reached. He stopped and leaned against a metal railing, studying me with intent.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Seth was here.”
He straightened and craned his head toward the field, but I squeezed his hand to regain his attention.
“He’s gone,” I said. “But I knew after I talked to him that I couldn’t just sit around pretending like this is okay. It’s not. None of this is okay.”
I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath as I tried to find the words.
“I’m not perfect,” I said. “I’m irrational, I’m emotional, and when Seth started texting me, I was conflicted. That relationship didn’t end well, so when I moved here, all I wanted to do was finish this year, get out, and go to Auburn. I thought it would be easy. Then you came in and wrecked everything.”
Surviving Adam Meade Page 18