I squeezed Emmie back, appreciating that she knew exactly what I needed to hear. “I love you girls so much, you know that?”
“Of course you do,” she said, waving me off. “Let’s get back out there. Celia, did you say you were buying popcorn?”
“Yep. You get the sodas.”
Feeling a million times better, I followed them out, but stopped just a few steps later when I saw Clayton leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom.
He was obviously waiting for me and pushed away from the wall as he saw me.
“Oh hey,” I said, looking around. “Uh, I need to go find Brady and talk to him.”
Clayton glanced at Emmie and Celia before training his eyes back on mine.
“Don’t worry; they know pretty much everything,” I said, reassuring him that he could speak in front of them. “They’re okay.”
Clayton exhaled and shook his head, looking apologetic. “Brady left.”
Emmie gasped right as my heart felt like it dropped into my intestines. “What?”
“Sorry, Paige...er...” he shook his head, obviously not sure what to call me. “He was pretty upset about... Anyway, he left.”
He left? He didn’t even stick around to give me a chance to explain. My mouth dried up and I looked around for somewhere to sit down, but we were in a bare hallway with not a chair in sight. I took a few deep breaths as I tried to sort myself out. Brady was gone.
“What did he say?” Emmie asked. “He had to have said something.”
Clayton looked at her and shrugged before he turned to me. “Not really. He didn’t say much of anything other than a bunch of colorful words I’m not going to repeat. I’m really sorry I blew your cover; I didn’t know.”
“How do you even know him?” I asked, fighting fresh tears over Brady leaving. I tried to tell myself that maybe he needed some time to process what he’d just learned. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. He’d left because I’d betrayed him by not telling him the truth about who I was.
Clayton spoke, bringing my focus back to him, “I met him in the airport right before Christmas; he was heading to California but then we got to talking and he said he was trying to find a girl—Brooklyn—and that she was in London. I was heading there to bum around for the holidays and he decided on the spot to trade in his ticket and come with me. I never would have guessed in a million years that it was you. When we got there and didn’t find you...he thought he had the address wrong, but now...” he sighed. “It was agency business wasn’t it?”
I nodded.
He cursed. “I should have known the second I recognized you. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. Although it was kind of his fault since as a fellow agency brat, I felt like he really should have known.
“My parents are civilians now—they have been for a long time—so it’s not quite second nature anymore. I’m really sorry, Pai...Brooklyn. What can I do?”
The last thing I wanted to do was return to the hockey game and pretend things hadn’t just gone totally fubar. “Please tell me you have a car?”
He nodded.
“Drive me back to campus?”
“We’ll come with you,” Emmie said.
“No,” I said, not wanting to ruin everyone’s day. Danny was on the way to the arena to see her and Celia wanted to watch the game and I didn’t need them to babysit me. “You two stay here. I mean it.”
“You sure?” Celia said.
I nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine,” I said, lying like crazy. I almost laughed at how easily the lies came out of my mouth. I turned to Clayton. “You okay driving me?”
“Of course,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a set of keys.
“I’ll see you later,” I said to my friends and fell into step beside Clayton as we left the arena.
It felt weird. Like I should ask him how he’s been all these years and what he’s been up to. I hadn’t seen him at any of the dances or other school events before, at least that I remembered. But I didn’t feel like small talk or catching up. I was too worried about what had happened and figuring out how to fix it.
Clayton seemed to understand that I wasn’t up for chatting and kept quiet until we got into his car, a silver BMW sedan. “Maybe we can catch up to him,” he said as he started the car.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Please just take me to Rosewood. I need some time. I need to figure this out first.”
But really, I was just terrified that I’d completely ruined things with Brady. Forever.
~ ♥ ~
I got up to my dorm room and closed the door behind me before I took my phone out of my pocket. I wasn’t surprised to see there were no messages from Brady (I had to scroll through several from my friends to make sure—Chelly and Kaylee seemed to have needed to check in with me personally and even Jared had sent a message asking if I was okay) but I was still disappointed at the silence from him. More than disappointed: scared.
As much as I wanted to just hide in the closet, I knew I needed to deal with this right away. Brady wasn’t the kind of guy I wanted to let stew about what I’d done.
I took a breath and opened a new message. Sending him a text was a cowardly way to talk to him, but technically I had been prepared to talk to him back at the arena after a few minutes in the bathroom to regroup; he was the one who had bolted.
I’m sorry about what happened. I wish you hadn’t left-I wanted to explain.
I could see him typing back almost immediately. You lied.
Ouch. But he was right and there was no denying it. I closed my eyes for a second before I responded. Yes. But it was necessary. I promise.
Why?
Security, I tapped out.
What? Are you afraid of me?
No, it has nothing to do with you. It’s a family thing.
There was a long pause while I waited but he sent nothing back, making me panic. When I couldn’t stand it even a second longer, I sent: Can we meet? I need to talk to you in person.
I held my breath for the next long pause before his message came. No.
My heart lurched in my chest. I never would have imagined he’d deny me the chance to explain. Brady, please.
I told you I can’t deal with lies. But then I find out you’ve been lying to me since the day I met you. You would have kept lying to me if Clay hadn’t recognized you.
No, I typed. I was going to tell you.
There was yet another long pause and I could almost hear his thoughts, his doubts. He didn’t believe me and I couldn’t really blame him. It was a thin story and if I had been in his shoes, I probably wouldn’t have believed it either.
Does my mother know who you are? He asked.
No. No one does. Did. Until today. I felt like I should come clean to him about the conversation with his mother, but was afraid that if he found out I’d kept that from him, too, it would be even worse. Keeping secrets with his mother seemed like another layer to my deception, but one thing at a time.
There was a really long moment when he didn’t type anything and I somehow resisted the urge to fill the gap. His response finally came. And while I shouldn’t have been surprised, it still hurt more than anything. How will I ever be able to trust you?
The tears came then, because I knew without a doubt he was done with me.
Still, I couldn’t give up yet. Please, Brady. Let me explain.
No.
You said you loved me. It was the very last card I could try to play.
How can I love someone I don’t know? We’re over. Please don’t text me anymore.
Nope, I’d been wrong before: This last message was the one that hurt more than anything.
~ ♥ ~
When the girls returned, I was thankfully done with the tears, but the effects of my crying jag were still all over my face: red eyes, blotchy complexion. Not to mention the crumpled tissues scattered around me on the bed. I was like a breakup cliché, all I needed wa
s a tub of ice cream.
“Oh no,” Emmie said as she rushed over to me and knee-walked across my bed until she could pull me into her arms. “What happened?” she said into my hair.
So of course that started the tears back up again. The rest of the girls came in behind her and took spots on our beds, looks of pained sympathy on their faces.
I took a breath. “It’s over. He’s done with me.”
“After you explained about your dad and everything?” Chelly asked.
I looked at her over Emmie’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t let me explain.”
“What?” Emmie pulled back out of the hug and looked at me. “How could he not let you explain?”
I shrugged. “He wasn’t interested in what I had to say. He’d made up his mind and wouldn’t even let me start.”
“He hung up on you?” Kaylee asked.
Er... “Not exactly,” I said. “We were texting.”
Emmie shot me a look. “Texting? Really? You need to do this in person.”
“I tried. He won’t meet with me.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Chelly said, incredulous.
“He owes you a chance to explain. Especially after he stormed off from the arena,” Kaylee said.
“I seriously thought he and Jared were going to get into it,” Chelly said. “He was so mad.”
I winced. “I know. He’d asked me not to lie to him and then Clayton recognized me and...”
Chelly shook her head. “No. I mean yeah, he was mad, too, but I meant Jared. He doesn’t really understand what happened other than you and Brady got into some sort of disagreement, but he’s really protective and just assumes Brady did something wrong. He was really worried about you.”
While I appreciated Jared’s concern, what had happened was still my fault. “Brady didn’t do something wrong, though. This one’s on me.”
Chelly nodded. “I know, but still, he didn’t like that Brady just took off on you.”
“He owes it to you to hear what you have to say,” Kaylee said.
I shrugged, pressing a tissue to eyes that now wouldn’t stop leaking. “He knows I lied to him. For him, that’s a deal-breaker. He said he doesn’t even know me.” I hiccupped at that as the emotion overwhelmed me.
“Look,” Emmie said, her stern tone drawing everyone’s attention to her. “All he doesn’t know is your name and about your dad’s job. He still knows you. I’ll even bet he’s in love with you. You. The girl he took riding and made out with in a barn.”
Well, technically, two barns, but...
“He told the dean he loves me,” I squeaked out. “When she caught us kissing.”
My friends all gasped at that.
“He told the dean that he loves you? His mother?” Chelly asked, as incredulous as the rest of us. “Right in front of you?”
I nodded.
Chelly whistled as Kaylee let out a, “Wow.”
After a moment, Emmie went on. “That’s what I mean. Your name doesn’t change who you are. If he loves you, he loves you, not your name.”
“No, but...” I looked down at the shredded tissue in my hand. How could he ever trust me? If I didn’t trust him enough to tell him my secrets, how could he trust me with his heart?
“But nothing,” Chelly said. “We need to fix this.”
Her determined voice got my attention, especially considering the fact that she’d said ‘we’ need to fix it. As much as I appreciated that these girls had my back in all things, Brady was not the kind of guy who would do well to be badgered by my friends, a couple of whom would never take no for an answer.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Please. Let me do this. I’m not done trying, but I need to do it on my own.” As I said it, I knew it was the truth. I couldn’t just let our relationship die from a text message. Emmie was right: I did need to talk to him in person.
The good news was, I knew exactly where to find him first thing Monday morning.
Unstable
It felt weird going to the stables in my regular school uniform but I wasn’t there to ride so it made sense to get dressed for class. I’d considered coming down for the start of practice to catch him before he began, but didn’t want to possibly throw Brady off his coaching on his first official day back. So I forced myself to stay in bed much longer than I wanted to (I’d tossed and turned all night worrying about this conversation, so it’s not like I was sleeping) and got ready agonizingly slowly, biding my time.
Finally, I made my way down and peeked into the arena just to make sure he was there. Sure enough, he was, standing in the center of the circle of riders calling out to the girls as they rode around him. I noticed right away that he wasn’t wearing his tight riding breeches and wondered if that had something to do with the conversation we’d had. I’d always known he took his job coaching very seriously and teasing him about his pants had been a mistake. He must have hated hearing that girls looked at him that way.
Although, a part of me was selfishly happy that he was wearing regular pants if it meant the girls weren’t ogling him.
Right. Because they wouldn’t ogle him in a pair of well-fitting khakis.
But it did say something more that he wasn’t wearing the breeches. But what? That he wished he’d never caught my eye? Or that he now felt like a piece of meat when surrounded by hormonal females? Ugh.
Unable to tear myself away, I watched as he coached the girls, allowing myself to see what practice looked like from the outside. Not that it was a surprise, but just watching him like this confirmed that he really was an excellent teacher, both constructively critical and encouraging at the same time. We all worked harder because of him. Not just his pants, him, because we wanted to impress him and show him that we were as good as he told us we were. It was kind of amazing to think that a nineteen-year-old could be such a wonderful teacher, but the evidence was right there in front of me.
I wanted to be in that circle and suddenly wished I hadn’t quit the team, both so I could see him and also because after just a week away from it, I missed riding. Of course I had been on a horse as recently as two days ago when we’d gone for the trail ride date but that wasn’t quite the same. No. That had been completely different.
Speaking of the trail ride date: how had everything gone from perfect to completely ruined practically overnight? As I watched him standing there, his hair mussed up just the way I liked it and his eyes intense and focused on the girls, I had to fight back the tears because I really had screwed things up in a big way.
Don’t be so negative, I told myself. You’re here to fix it. You can fix it. Channel your friends who reminded you that if he loves you, he will forgive you after he cools off.
I wasn’t completely convinced, but my friends were smart and rational and what they’d said made sense and if it was one of them, I’d have likely given the same advice. I felt marginally better after giving myself a little pep talk using their words.
Not wanting him to see me, and pressing my luck every second that I stood there, I retreated from the arena and went back to the barn. I was in regular shoes, so I didn’t enter Charlie’s stall, instead standing by the door and stroking his face while I waited for practice to be over, knowing I’d see Brady as he checked into the office like he did after every practice.
As I heard the first scuff of hooves coming into the barn, my heart kicked up about fourteen notches. I took a few long breaths, trying to calm myself, but neither the breathing nor rubbing Charlie’s velvety nose did anything to calm me. Adrenaline flooded my bloodstream and it took everything in me not to bolt out of the barn. Maybe all that kept me there was the memory from the day before—how the last time I’d bolted from him, I had managed to make things worse.
So I stood my ground, as hard as that was.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck prickled.
“Ms. Prescott,” he said behind me a second later. Those two little words stiffened my spine as they spoke volumes about what he was thinking
about me and my fake name. None of it was good, that much was obvious.
I dropped my hand from Charlie’s nose and turned, schooling my expression before facing Brady.
“Coach Fleming,” I said and then had to clear my throat and try to mentally calm my heart.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his frosty tone making me want to climb into a stall and cry the rest of the day away. But I was here to fix things.
“Can we talk, please?”
His eyes were hard and cold, his voice steely like the blade of a sword that felt like it was aimed at my already damaged and frail heart. “You’re not on the team anymore; we have nothing to talk about.”
Oh God... “I’d just like a few minutes of your time,” I said, keeping my eyes on his, pretending I wasn’t shriveling inside.
“I don’t think so.”
I’d told myself I wasn’t going to beg. Right. That plan was so ten minutes ago. “Please,” I whispered as my throat began to tighten and I feared soon I wouldn’t be able to speak at all.
He stared at me for several beats before he shoved his hand through his hair and nodded. “Fine. In the office,” he said and then walked past me.
I quickly followed him, worried if I didn’t stay right on his heels, he might change his mind. We went into the empty office and he turned to face me, folding his arms across his chest.
I glanced over my shoulder toward the open door. “Should I close that?”
“No,” he said decisively. Fine, okay, so he didn’t want to be alone with me. It didn’t make much sense since I hardly expected he felt like kissing me at the moment.
I waited for him to say something, but it was obvious he was waiting for me to begin. I resisted the urge to fidget under his intense glare. “So, uh...” I exhaled and tried again, forcing myself to look up into his eyes no matter how angry he looked. “I’m really sorry about not telling you who I really am.”
He worked his jaw but didn’t say anything.
I had no choice but to come completely clean to him. “My father works for a national security organization and his job puts him at risk of terrorist attacks. That’s why I’m here and under an alias.”
Hitting the Target Page 13