by Kat Kenyon
“Yeah. I’m not going home.” I throw myself down on one of the futons, lounging on the big pillows. “I’m working at Dixon through this week for the benefit of you gorgeous people, then I have a couple weeks off. There’s plenty of stuff happening on campus and I’ll be able to rest.”
I take a bite and chew, nearly sighing in relief. Smiling at Mike, I remind him, “I have one more performance before Christmas and I’ll be able to practice the entire time. It’s not like I’m the only one. You guys have to stay, along with a handful of other students.”
He looks at me like I’m insane. “That doesn’t sound like a break.”
“You’re here,” I say smiling. And the guys are here. Well, most of them.
Bay tosses me a small bag and nearly crashes in the futon. “You know I’ll take you home with me.”
“Thank you, but don’t worry about me. I don’t know why it’s so weird, none of your asses get to leave for more than a couple days either.”
“True.” Mike laughs, crunching down on a handful of chips.
Kevin nods, his dark eyes getting sad for a moment before clearing. “I’m not leaving for Christmas either.”
“You’re not?” Mike and Bay turn and look at him.
“Nope,” he says. “We get to dress for the game, which means I may play, and I want all of my fams there. The cost, time, and trouble are too much to do two trips, so we’re putting the money to having everyone come here. So, I’m crashing here and seeing mi familia in a couple of weeks to celebrate.”
“Well, shit.”
“You can come home with me,” Mike says.
“No, fucker. You already complain how much it’s gonna suck for you. Don’t share the misery thank you.”
“True.” Mike turns an evil smirk on Bay. “I notice no invitations for Kevin.”
“No!” Bay flips him off. “I’ve got five sisters. Fuck you, Kevin. Stay away from them.”
Kevin practically leers at Bay, giving a grunt that says everything he thinks about that. “I’m nice to sisters.”
“I catch you near even one of my sisters, I’ll smack a bitch up.”
Mike and I laugh at Bay glowering like a champ and Kevin’s dirty grin as he eats his sandwich.
“You really shouldn’t talk about your family like that. Family’s important,” quips Kevin, keeping his eyes on his food. He doesn’t see the throw pillow coming at his face until it hits the sandwich on the way to his mouth, knocking something from it into his lap.
Heaving in laughter at Kevin’s unamused face when he looks up from the lost food, I realize I haven’t felt this way in weeks.
Petulant, that’s how he looks when he throws his nasty wrapper at Bay. “There are people starving in Africa and you’re trying to waste food?”
In no time, Bay and Kevin are wrestling on my floor, trying to smear the leftovers on each other’s face.
They ignore me when I tell them not to get my shit gross. They ignore my protests, and after, they pack us into my room to watch sports. They know to ignore my yawns, keeping up the compliments and insults, which are so foul at one point, it hits my gag reflex.
No political correctness here; I’m not sure these guys know what that is.
It’s their choice when we watch one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen, accompanied by foul, fucked-up commentary that makes it one of the best times watching a movie I’ve ever had. As it comes to a close, I’m reminded of other nights, other moments.
I wonder if I could really pick up the phone. The idea scares me.
Am I weak?
Does he want to hear from me?
I don’t know how he knows what I’m thinking, but Mike pulls me into his side, giving a short squeeze.
“He misses you.” Mike’s whisper in my ear breaks into my internal debate, and it’s like he’s reading my mind.
“You don’t know that.”
The other two are still yakking it up and don’t hear us over their own yelling at the replay of SportsCenter.
“Yeah, yeah I do,” he says, squeezing my hand and smiling, leaving me on the edge of an abyss.
I don’t know what to do. I cut us off, and it was the right thing. But what’s the right thing now?
I need a sign.
Chapter Nineteen
Tyler Blackman
Even with finals over, I’m still running my ass off trying to get things done.
Coach is all over me, and he’s not wrong.
It’s clear to everyone I’ve dropped too much weight, and worse, my energy’s low. I’m keeping up my performance on the field by killing myself, but I walk off the field from practices feeling hollowed out. No matter what I do, I struggle with my appetite, and it’s killing my ability to recover from workouts and keeping me from doing my job.
I’m falling apart, literally. Bruises that used to heal are now lingering and there’s no real recovery happening after I push too hard. I don’t know how I’m still moving, let alone practicing.
I don’t know how to fix it either, but I have to do something in the next couple of weeks. That much was clear from today’s practice.
I heaved over a garbage can twice, my body cramping around an empty stomach, sending the shakes and clamminess all over me.
I close my eyes for a moment before tossing my pads into my locker.
They’ve let me do my own thing all year because my work ethic and routines were working. Now, I face a full takeover of every part of my training and nutrition if I don’t get my shit together because what I’m doing to myself right now isn’t working.
The last thing I want is micro-management of my life. That’s what Dad did, and I don’t need it from my coaching staff. Dad’s finally irrelevant, and I want to keep my life in my own hands.
I’m going to use these weeks out of class to try to find a way through this shit.
At least you’re not going home during break.
Since my schedule is packed, Mom’s coming here. With the divorce, there are no happy holidays for either of us this year. Neither of us is pretending things are normal. Instead, we’re spending Christmas together, then she’ll go back and play war games with Granddad. She’ll run the gauntlet of her side of the family, getting through the uncles, aunts, and cousins who will be all over her for information, and going to events with Granddad.
Mom is Granddad’s favorite, always has been, so right now he wants to kill my dad for hurting her and me, but she’ll still be stuck with the vipers in his house. Being there for an extended period isn’t fun, but she’s doing it to keep Granddad from being alone with them, and to keep me out of their crosshairs.
I’m glad I’ve got an excuse not to go. Family or not, I’d rather be here, where I’ve got teammates around to hang with if I get too bored. I can focus on studying film, memorizing the playbook, working with the position coach, and digging in to every element of my job.
And eat…you have to eat!
“Hey, dumbfuck!”
We just spent an hour running routes and McVey’s arm looks perfect. While my split times are slow, they’re still faster than most of the leagues’. Now, my fearless leader’s standing behind me, purposely antagonizing me. Again.
“Love you too, douche.” Grabbing my shower bag, I let his shit roll off my shoulders, heading for the showers. I need to rinse the stink off, get into warm clothes, and get some calories.
“You will,” he says, chuckling.
I side-eye him and continue to the showers. Everyone else is just getting in from the field and filling the room with raucous chaos that bounces off the steel lockers. A few minutes later, McVey enters the shower stall next to mine.
“You have plans tonight, dumbfuck?” He sounds too happy, and it’s like poking an open wound for fun.
The nickname is chapping my ass.
Glancing over at him for a split second I’m greeted by a smirk.
“Do you have something to say that’s actually useful?” I snap at him.
H
e chuckles in response and I ignore his whistling as I finish cleaning up and walk out. I’m only at my locker for a couple minutes when McVey stands behind me, still in a towel, a quirky grin on his face.
“Have I lied to you or misled you once this year?” he asks, two rock-hard forearms in front of him as he gets serious.
I’m too tired and too raw for this. He and I have always been good, but he’s pushing me on the one area he shouldn’t. “No, you’ve been great, even if you’re ticking me off right now. Why?”
His mood gets tense, making me feel defensive, exposed.
“Just answer one question, Blackman. Just one, and answer as honestly as you can.”
Ignoring him, I finish toweling off as fast as I can, throwing on my jeans before I look at him again. He’s still standing there, waiting.
“Okay. Yeah. Yes, what?”
“Do. You. Love. Her?”
My view of the room narrows. He’s dead serious, waiting for the answer to a question that doesn’t need one.
You are seriously asking me this shit?
Do I love my girl? Mine…or she was mine. Her absence, loss, is a hole in my chest where my heart used to be, and my throat closes for a moment. I don’t know how there’s a doubt in anyone’s mind, but he’s waiting for me to answer.
“Yes,” I choke out. “I love her.”
Falling back against the lockers, I shake my head at him. “I thought you got it, man. I’d do anything for her. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing…what I’m trying to do.”
What little strength was left in my muscles seeps into the floor. “She doesn’t want me anymore. With good reason. I’m trying to give her what she wants.”
“So, you’re moving on?” he asks, head dropping to his chest.
I close my eyes, trying to avoid the image of her with someone else. “No. But she has.”
“No, dumbfuck—” My eyes pop open when his foot shoves my shin. “I told you before. She’s still there. She’s still waiting. And she loves you. She’s still in love with you. She still wants you. So, do all of us a favor and get the hell out of here. Go get her. Tell her you love her. Tell her you’re sorry.” He nods for the door. “Go get the girl back!”
“You’re serious?” Dangerous hope blooms, deadly in its power to destroy me.
“I wouldn’t joke about this. I’m positive.”
He’s serious. He’s not saying something he’s guessing at. He believes it. I risk looking him in the eye and the world feels like it opens up.
Holy shit, he knows it.
Fuck!
I feel a surge of energy and I’m in motion, flashing forward, throwing on a shirt and racing for the door.
I’m flinging it open when a shout stops me.
“Dumbfuck!”
I turn and look back at him.
“Shoes!” he says, gesturing to my open locker.
Suddenly, I realize the team is surrounding us, laughter filling the room. My teammates are in various states of undress, big grins spreading across their faces even as Bay slaps my socks and shoes into my chest. I can’t get them on fast enough and I can’t be embarrassed, heading for the exit as soon as I can, Mike throwing my hoodie at me as I shove open the doors.
I don’t care how crazy I look. I’m just hoping McVey’s right…and sorry is enough.
• • • •
I’m going crazy. I love her. I can’t be without her anymore and each step represents a tiny spark of hope trying to gain ground—and a ton of trust in my captain.
There’s no sound for a few moments after I knock. Microseconds sit on my chest like decades.
Please be here.
Knock. Knock.
Shuffle, shuffle. The sound may be the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in weeks.
Thank God!
When the door opens, my throat closes, tears springing to my eyes. Fuck. She’s so damn beautiful. Hair down, no makeup, and she looks like an angel. I had her, and I’ll do whatever she wants.
“Ty.”
“Can we talk?”
She sucks in her lip. She still looks so sad, and I know she’s going to shut me down again.
Please don’t shut me down, baby. Please!
Walking away is something I don’t know if I can physically do, even as I die a little.
“Come in,” she says softly, stepping aside, letting me enter.
The shuddering breath I take is as much for oxygen as it is to make sure this is real. The step inside feels like it stretches across the Grand Canyon, taking me from death into life, no matter how long with her I get. I haven’t been in here for two months, and I don’t want this to be the last time.
She let me in. Don’t fuck this up!
She surprises me by walking through the main room and heading for her bedroom, sitting on her bed while bundling up in a blanket.
She looks beaten down and that kills me. She’s ready for me to hurt her, I can tell by the way her eyes keep looking to the side, unable to meet my gaze for more than a couple seconds.
She was so strong, and I broke off pieces she needed. Pieces I’m happy to replace and reinforce. I want to wrap her up and piece her back together.
“Ty, why are you here?” Her quiet question pulls me back to now, where she’s waiting for me.
Here goes.
“I’m here because I can’t be anywhere else.”
Shit, that’s not the first thing I wanted to say.
“What?” she asks, confused. Her eyes close, the core of her soul locked up behind her lids, and I panic.
No, no, don’t shut me out!
I’ve already botched the beginning, so I talk fast, hoping that she won’t close her eyes again.
“I don’t deserve another chance. I know that, Rayne. I deserve nothing after everything you gave me.” I take a big breath. This is the first time she’s let me talk since she showed up at my door and I blew everything to hell. I need to get it right.
Her eyes are open now, and it looks like she’s hoping I fix this as much as I am.
“I know I did everything wrong. I didn’t know how to do it right. I didn’t know how to feel about feeling good for the first time, or how to handle all the things that came at me at lightning speed. So, I fucked it all up.”
I feel myself shake as I drop in front of her, my hands finding her calves. I’ll beg if I have to, even on my knees. So now, I’m eye level to startled crystal blues that are locked on mine.
“I knew how I felt about you from the moment I met you, and so do you. I just cracked under pressure—I fucked up, Rayne. I broke us both and there’s no excuse or sorry good enough for that. I’m old enough to know better.” My eyes burn.
So many fucking opportunities to get it right.
“I knew the minute you walked away how to do it right. And it was too late. Fuck, baby.”
“Don’t call me that,” she whispers, trembling.
“Don’t call you what?”
“Baby.” Her hands twist, gripping each other as her eyes start to glisten.
“You will always be my baby,” I tell her because it’s the truth. It won’t matter if she forgives me or not, I’m hers. And I will love her, always.
Our eyes meet and our connection flares, the old pull just as strong.
“Ty. Please. It hurts.” Her eyes overflow even as her head drops in defeat.
I’m doing this wrong!
“Do you miss me?”
Her eyes rise and meet mine. Beautiful blues with pain that matches mine. I feel her. And this has to stop. She’s mine. I’m hers. I’m not doing it wrong, because I’m not leaving her.
“You miss me?” Her sob is the only answer I need. “Do you still love me?”
Pretty nails dig into the backs of my hands, her blanket falling off her shoulders as she physically lets me know how much it hurts.
“I love you. I know how to say it now. I fucking love you. I. Love. You,” I murmur.
I’m half-expecting her to yell or hi
t me, but instead, we collide and I wrap around her as she collapses into me. Her body is an electric wire against me. Lifting her face to mine, I stroke her tear-streaked cheeks. The hope that sparked in the locker room is alive in her eyes, and I’m shocked and so fucking happy. I’m holding her…my girl…
It’s not normal how beautiful she is when she cries. I’ve seen other girls cry and they look like shit. But as the tears fall, she’s even more gorgeous.
“Do you still love me? I need to hear you say it, because I love you, Rayne Mathews. I am, so fucking in love with you, I can’t function without you.”
Her whisper’s so soft, I almost don’t catch it. “I’ve done nothing but love you. But what does that mean?” she asks, her hands slowly moving, dragging up my arms, as though she’s afraid to believe.
“It means I’m yours. If you’ll take me. No one touches me and I touch no one, and not because it’ll get me into trouble, but because the idea makes me physically ill.”
I pause thinking about Shay, about Val, and shudder. “I only want you. I never wanted anyone else, but I didn’t know how to do things right. I’ve learned what I needed to. I’m not afraid anymore, of my dad, of the future, of myself. The only thing that scares me is not having you, and that fucking terrifies me.” Swallowing around the knot in my throat, I beg, not knowing if it’ll work or not. “I don’t deserve another shot, but I’m asking for one anyway. I can’t fucking breathe without you.”
Long, slim legs unwind and extend around my hips and my fingers find themselves in her hair as she gets closer.
Stroking her brows, cheekbones, jaw, chin, lips, and neck, I take in every line, every angle. Her off-the-shoulder shirt lets me stroke her collarbone, lightly brushing over silky, pale skin until her breath catches, bringing my eyes back to hers.
“Take me back, Rayne. Please.” She shudders and my forehead falls to hers, as my hand wraps around the back of her neck, holding her to me. “I’m dying here. I can’t do this anymore.”
Tears fall that I can’t stop, no matter how many times I try to swallow them back. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I swear I won’t hurt you again. I swear I won’t fail you again. You won’t ever, ever be alone again, you’ll never have anything but my best.”