I clear my throat. “Yes, she suffers from memory loss, sporadic seizures—which can be avoided with medication—minor cognitive delays, and frequent headaches, which are easy to manage if she gets plenty of exercise. She was wheelchair bound for a year and still walks a bit off balance.”
Her eyebrow rises. “You’re very knowledgeable about your sister’s health. That’s impressive.”
“I’ve done some research.”
She nods. “We also provide counseling, as well as medical services and checkups. A full-time nurse is on her floor twenty-four hours a day.”
Damn. That sounds like heaven. It would mean I could rest easy knowing she was being taken care of.
I sigh, getting to the crux of the matter. “I don’t suppose you offer any financial aid options, do you? The cost is…steeper than I anticipated. I mean, I knew what to expect based on researching your facility online, but I wasn’t sure if you had scholarships or some kind of assistance?”
I’m just hoping maybe I missed something.
She gives me a soft smile. “No, but I understand your reticence. It’s quite the sticker shock.”
“How soon could you get her in if I paid the deposit?”
She looks at her calendar and taps her pen on the desk. “If you pay in the next few weeks, I can pencil her in for the first of May.”
Shit. That’s just a few months away.
I’m meeting with Leslie in a few days, and I’m anxious to hear what his offer is and how soon I can fight.
Mrs. Watson pulls me back to the present. “I hate to be a pain, but would you mind signing an autograph for me?” She blushes. “My son will go nuts over it. Our family has followed your career since you were in high school.”
“Of course.” Feeling at a bit of a loss and still reeling from the idea of figuring this mess out, I sign the piece of paper she’s slid over to me then hand it back to her.
“Great. Someday when you’re in the NFL, this will be priceless—not that I’d ever sell it.”
Right, but as a college student, I have zero money, and no one can give me money. It doesn’t make any fucking sense.
I nod and stand. More than anything, I just want to get out of here, talk to Leslie about the fight, and figure this shit out. I shake her hand and mumble a thank you for the hasty meeting she agreed to then make my way out the door.
Raven walks as fast as she can when she sees me, her face still red from the brisk wind.
“See…the…apartments…again? Please?” She hates Dad’s trailer, and I don’t blame her. I can’t keep running over there, trying to mesh two demanding worlds together into one.
I’m missing class today just to be at this meeting. God knows Dad isn’t the one to come. When I showed up today to pick her up, he was still asleep. I was the one to make us breakfast, help her pick out her clothes, put a load of clothes in the wash, and usher her out the door.
I ruffle her hair, forcing lightness into my voice. She’s sometimes quick to pick up on how I feel, and I like to think it’s flashes of the old Raven, the one who made straight As in school and was a normal sixteen-year-old girl.
“We only get one tour. How about some ice cream at Buster’s? You love their chocolate raspberry.”
Her shoulders shift in a vulnerable way, as if she’s preparing herself. “Pineview…won’t…let…me…in?”
I laugh and hook our arms together as we walk down the hall and head toward the parking lot. “It just takes time to get you signed up, that’s all.”
She sighs. “Wish…I…could…snap…my…fingers…make…everything…how…it…used…to…be.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat.
Delaney
He-Man: I’m sorry about the baseball party, Princess Leia. Forgive me?
Me: Why should I?
He-Man: Because we’re friends.
Me: Are we?
He-Man: I hope so. I left a gift for you at the front desk of the library. Did you get it?
Me: Yes.
He-Man: Well? Do you like it?
Me: What’s not to love about a full-size movie poster of The Princess Bride? Thank you.
He-Man: I may not be texting you as much. I’ve got some personal things going on, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you.
Me: What’s going on?
He-Man: Just…wait for me.
“Hey,” comes a husky voice, and I flip around, dropping the book I was trying to shelve.
It’s Maverick, and my eyes drink him in. His face appears tired, his expression somber as he studies me. It’s been almost a week since the party, and things are weird. When he showed up for class on Monday, I’d switched seats on him, opting to sit in the front row. Maybe it was a test to see if he would follow me. He didn’t. His eyes searched the room and found me, and though I saw disappointment there—or maybe relief—he took his usual seat in the back. On Wednesday, it was the same. He sat in the back, and I was down in front.
“We haven’t talked since the party,” Maverick says, bending down to pick up the book and hand it to me.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
He tucks his hands in his pockets and leans against one of the racks, his gaze studying me intently. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t show up for salsa this week. Things are on hold with me right now. My dad is going through some things, and I’m spending a lot of time with my sister.”
I give him a shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as I can when really I was devastated when he didn’t show. I stood outside the door until the very last minute, hoping he’d appear. I didn’t even have his phone number to text him.
“It’s fine. You did miss some great plantains though.” I’ve torn my eyes off him because he’s too handsome, and I stare down at the cart of books I need to get shelved. “I need to get back to this…so if you don’t mind, maybe we can chat later?”
He exhales and takes a step closer to me. “Delaney, I’m sorry…I just need to focus on football…” His voice trails off.
His words hurt, and it makes me angry that I’ve let my guard down and allowed him to get this close. “I’m sure you do have big things going on—football, and probably a different girl every night.” It’s not a fair assumption, but I can’t stop the words from coming out.
He frowns. “It’s not like that at all. I’m taking care of my sister, juggling classes and practice, and working through some other things.”
“What things?”
He stiffens and shutters his face, not giving anything away, but this nerd girl can read him like a book: he’s withdrawing. He doesn’t want to share. He doesn’t want me.
I let out a sigh. “Good luck with your life,” I say as I grip the cart and push it down the aisle.
Maverick
I’m at Carson’s Gym, and I grunt out my displeasure when I take a direct hit to the face from my sparring partner. Rio, the guy Leslie has paired me up with, dances away from me, grinning around his big-ass mouthpiece. His hits are sneaky and he’s got a mean left hook, but I’m bigger, faster, and light on my feet. Being in tune with my body and how it works is something I’ve always been good at. Boxing is second nature to me as well, something I took to in high school since my dad used to work here doing part-time janitorial duties.
My skill is the reason Leslie is interested in me—well, that and my name in football. He’s standing down on the floor watching us, a cold look on his face, wearing a slick tailored suit. I’ve already met with him this week, and he’s made it clear what he wants from me: a fight with another SEC football player. No rules, just me and another guy in a boxing ring. My gut churns at the prospect of putting everything on the line—my career, my whole fucking life.
A flash of white-blonde hair and a pink workout shirt coming out of one of the yoga classrooms gets my attention—right as Rio plants a hit straight to my eye.
“Shit!” I bark and back away into the corner. At this rate, I’ll really need to brush up on my skills if some chick in a tigh
t top is all it takes to lose my focus.
I look back to the hallway, and my heart pounds as I realize it’s Delaney—I know it from the Princess Leia buns she likes to wear. I haven’t spoken to her since the library, and that was a few days ago.
She strides toward the gym foyer, and it looks as if she’s been crying.
“Delaney! Wait!”
She pauses and looks over her shoulder at me, and once again I’m floored by how gorgeous she is. Wearing black yoga pants and a pink tank her breasts strain against, she is damn amazing, even with a tear-streaked face. Her cheeks are red, and she hurriedly wipes at them as I grab a towel and jump down from the boxing platform.
Her eyes widen as she watches me.
I call over my shoulder, telling Rio I’ll catch him later, and I give Leslie a quick nod. I’ve gotten enough sparring in today and I’m done.
“Why are you crying?” I ask as I come to a stop in front of her, still breathing hard from the boxing.
“I’m not.” She sniffs and turns her head away, giving me a view of her long neck, the soft lines of her jaw. My eyes greedily eat her up. I’ve missed her like crazy in class, and I’m a heel for not trying to explain things to her, but with the fight looming over me, I think it’s best I keep my distance. Even so, that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about her a hundred times.
“Why did you bolt out of the yoga class?” It’s an activity I didn’t even know she participated in.
She seems to gather herself slowly. “I know it seems silly, but Han Solo’s been missing the past two days. I’m sure you don’t get it…” Her voice trails off.
“What happened?” I take her arm and lead her over to a group of chairs in the foyer. Grabbing a box of Kleenex from the desk, I press them into her hand as she sits down.
She cleans up her face. “A couple of days ago, I let him out to stomp around like he likes to do, and he just never came back. I called for him and put out tuna fish on the back porch—nothing. It’s not like him.”
“Maybe he found a girlfriend?”
She shakes her head. “He’s been spayed. What if he’s in a ditch somewhere and I can’t find him?”
“So why are you rushing out?” I glance back at the yoga room. “I didn’t even know you took a class here.”
“The campus rec center has the worst yoga classes. This one is much better, and I needed to get out of the house and let off some steam.”
I nod.
“Anyway, my neighbor, Mrs. Wells, just called me. She thought she saw him on campus today near the fine arts building, and it’s the first ray of hope I’ve had. I’m on my way there to look for him.” She stands and holds out the box of tissues. “Thank you for asking.” Her voice is shaky yet cool, and I sigh. I don’t blame her for being standoffish with me.
“I’ll go with you,” I say, and she blinks.
“What? Why?”
I ignore that. I’m in take-charge mode, and when I see the coat she wears to class hanging near the door, I stride over to get it. Slipping it off the hook, I wrap her up in it and button it carefully.
She stands there watching me as I dash back to the boxing area and grab my gym bag.
I jog back to where she waits. “Now, let’s go find Han Solo.”
A smile briefly appears on her face and she gives me an odd look. “Are you sure? You’re…” She clears her throat, her gaze lingering on my pecs. “You’re half-naked and it’s cold outside.”
I grab my North Face off a hook and slip it over my bare chest. “I’m fine, Buttercup.”
Delaney
Maverick ushers me out into the cold and straight to his truck, a Toyota that looks like it’s seen better days. He opens the passenger door for me and gives me a hand up into the cab. He gets in on the other side, looks over at me, and squeezes my hand, surprising me. He’s being so…sweet and helpful. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod. I’m worried about Han, but I’m also discombobulated by seeing Maverick at the gym, even though Skye casually mentioned this week that she heard a lot of the football players come to Carson’s during the off season to take advantage of their programs.
Part of my reason for taking the yoga class here was hoping I’d run into him—so stupid, but I can’t help myself.
“Why were you boxing?” I ask.
He shrugs. “My dad used to work there and was able to get me a few lessons when I was growing up. I’m pretty good at it.”
“Is there anything you’re not good at?”
“Nope.” He sends me a grin and I try to reciprocate, but it fails. Things are still strange between us. I sigh and look out the window.
We pull up to the fine arts building, and I’m out the door before he even gets us parked. My gaze scans the horizon, looking past trees and landscaping and buildings, trying to catch a flash of black and white fur. It feels futile, and I don’t see anything that looks like him. At least it’s the weekend and campus is dead, so there aren’t a hundred bodies to look around.
“Han, where are you, little man?” calls Maverick as he takes the north side of the building and I take the south. Ten minutes of fruitless searching goes by as I make one more pass and then two across the quad in front of the surrounding buildings. Nothing is out here except for a few crazy squirrels and blackbirds.
I feel lost. Han #1 left, and now Han #2.
“Over here!” It’s Maverick’s voice, and I flip around to see that he’s holding a squirming Han about fifty yards away. Pure joy fills me as I take off running toward them. Breathing heavily from my jog, I come to a stop, take the fighting Han, and pet him until he calms.
“Maverick! Oh my gosh, where did you find him?”
He shrugs. “Would you believe he was in the dumpster behind the building? He must have crawled in there for food and couldn’t get out. I heard a tiny meow, opened it up, and there he was.”
I rub his head the way he likes, and he nips at my hand then purrs.
Looking back up, I notice Maverick’s jacket is torn and his shorts look askew. My mouth opens. “You got in the dumpster?”
He grins. “Dumpster diver, at your service.”
I throw my arms around him, somehow managing to not squish Han in the process. My lips graze his cheek for a second and he turns his head to meet them, but I pull away before that happens.
I react by looking down at my runaway cat. “What if no one had seen him all weekend? You probably saved one of his lives.”
“Undoubtedly. I hope he’s worth it.”
I sigh. “He’s all I have.”
“Well, you have me now.” He clears his throat. “He looks a bit frazzled. Let’s get you both home.”
We pull up at my house and it’s nearly dark. Skye’s car is gone, and I recall a text from her earlier saying she was staying at Tyler’s place tonight.
I’m still holding Han in my arms and he’s anxious to get down, so I get to the front door in a hurry. Maverick follows me, taking my keys from my bag and unlocking my door.
As soon as he gets it open, I plop the cat down and he takes off. “Now don’t run away again,” I scold him as he flounces toward the kitchen where his food and water are.
I gaze back at Maverick, who’s watching me.
“What?”
He shrugs as he leans against the doorjamb and brushes those gorgeous eyes over me. “Just like looking at you. I’m glad we found him.”
“Me too,” I sigh. “Well, thank you for taking me there and finding him.”
Maverick starts, straightening up. “Oh, I just realized we didn’t go get your car at the gym.”
I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going anywhere else tonight, and Skye will be back tomorrow.”
He chews on his lip. “Don’t you have plans?”
“Nope. You?”
“No.”
He watches me, studying me, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Do you want to stay for dinner? I can cook for us—you know, as a thank you for helping m
e find Han. I don’t think I would have been able to get him out of that dumpster even if I had heard him in there.”
“I’d love that.” An almost shy expression crosses his face. “I don’t think anyone’s ever cooked for me…you know, since my mom.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Come in.” I’m nervous, feeling him walking behind me as we enter the house and he checks out the place. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s all mine, built in the late eighties and only a block from campus.
Before I get to the kitchen, he grabs my hand, halting me. His expression is conflicted as he stares at me. “Hey, I’m sorry for being an ass lately, Delaney. I swear there’s no one else. I’m just—”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I get it. You’re busy.”
It seems like he wants to say more, but he lets my hand go, takes off his jacket, and tosses it across the back of the couch. I see his chest…his naked chest…and I swallow thickly.
Feeling breathless, I say, “Take a look in the fridge and decide what you’d like. I have a little bit of everything.”
“You did mention nachos once,” he says as he pulls out a pack of ground beef and holds it up.
I nod and he grins, making my face heat. “I did. Now move your ass so I can work my magic.”
“Can I watch?” he says softly, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against my fridge, perfectly showcasing his biceps and the ropes of muscle in his forearms.
I take a deep breath. “Sure. Hand me my apron, will you?” I say, turning on the stovetop and putting the beef in a pan. I tilt my head at the hooks along the back wall, and he strides over to pick up the black apron. He shakes it out and brings it over to me, and I expect him to hand it over, but he doesn’t; instead, he slips the loop over my hair, his hands brushing lightly over my shoulders as he spins me around to tie the back. Blood pounds in my veins at the way he handles me, as if he’s perfectly attuned to every nuance of my skin.
I Dare You Page 9