She Runs Away (The Sheridan Hall Series Book 2)

by Jessica Calla

  We had no idea that would be one of our last times together…

  I pick up my pace. By the time I get to the house, my phone’s already buzzing. Jules is first.

  Wtf with this note? Call me.

  Then Chase.

  Can you come back please? Want to hang out tonight? Just us?

  I ignore their texts while my teammate, Ernie, shows me to the spare room.

  “Everything you need is here. We had a pledge clean it out for you. Bathroom is down the hall. Help yourself to anything.”

  “Thanks, man. I really appreciate this. I need a few days to decompress.” I let my bag fall onto the little bed that takes up half the space. A dresser and a small desk occupy the rest of the room.

  “No problem. I wish we could do more for you. We all miss you around the field.” I know the team feels terrible about my arm. I can’t think about it too hard or I’ll lose my shit all over again.

  When Ernie leaves, I plop down on the bed, fully clothed. I don’t even take my boots off. I fall asleep until a knock on the door wakes me. I forget where I am for a second then yell, “Come in.”

  One of the pledges peeks around the door. I can’t remember his name. “Um, there’s a girl downstairs who’s demanding to talk to you.”

  I scratch my beard. “A girl?” Must be Jules.

  “Yeah, a little blonde. Real pretty.”

  “Fuck.” I can’t deal with Megan now. Not here, not today.

  “Want me to get rid of her?” the pledge asks.

  I think about answering “yes” and going back to sleep. Instead, I hear myself say, “I’ll be right down.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell her.”

  I look at myself in the little mirror over the dresser and shake my hair with my fingers. I look like crap. My eyes are tired, I’m pale, and this beard is… damn. It’s horrible. I trot down the stairs to Megan.

  Only it’s not Megan—it’s Maggie.

  Maggie stands in the living room at the bottom of the stairs, surrounded by my teammates asking her if she needs anything. She’s in a pink puffy coat and tight jeans with pink snow boots. She looks like a Barbie, with her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears, peeking out from under her white knit hat.

  “Are you sure I can’t get you a glass of water?” Ernie asks her.

  “Really, I’m fine. Thanks though. I need to talk to Ben.”

  “I’m here,” I say as I fly down the stairs.

  She wiggles her fingers. “Hey.”

  The guys glare but scatter when I hug her. “Sorry about them. They see a cute girl and get all excited.”

  “They’re perfectly nice. How’s that hard head of yours?” She reaches her fist over my ear and pretends to knock.

  I tilt it back and forth in demonstration. “Better, thanks. Are you okay?”

  Maggie nods toward the front door, and I follow her onto the porch, zipping up my hoodie. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she says, “but I need to tell you something.”

  “You’re never a bother. What’s up?”

  “Megan’s staying.”

  I raise my eyebrows, but I’m not sure what to say. “Huh.”

  Maggie starts to babble. “Last night she had a really bad night, you know, with that bitch of a birth mother. Something happened with her dad too. Then she was sad about you, and I fought with her about leaving. I mean, I threw my brush right at her and nearly killed her. Then she had a dream about Frank. I ended up laying with her while she cried herself to sleep and—”

  “Back up.” I hold out my hand to stop her. “She had a dream about Frank?”

  Maggie nods.

  That motherfucking ghost. That motherfucking, matchmaking ghost. Maggie’s waiting for more of a reaction from me, but I don’t have one as I try to remember Frank’s words in the Buick.

  She exhales, her warm breath fogging in the cold air. “Anyway. I don’t know if it was the dream, or you, or me, or a combination of things, but she decided to stay. I thought you should know.”

  I shrug and fist my hands into my pockets. “I’m glad she’s staying.”

  “Me too.” She stares at me, but I have nothing to add.

  She tilts her head. “That’s it?”

  I shift and look to the sky before meeting her eyes. “What do you want me to say, Mags?”

  “Say you’ll make up.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and puts her hands on her hips. “You matched your questionnaires. You’re supposed to be together.”

  I shake my head. “Nah. We’re not going to be together. We never really were.”

  Maggie juts a hip. Her exasperated look reminds me of my mom. “Oh, Ben. You were together. Don’t be an ass.” Maggie’s not afraid to call me, or anyone, out on bullshit. She turns to leave but stops at the bottom of the porch. “You know Megan’s not like us.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You and me? We come from families. Real families with siblings we deal with and parental garbage and roots and friends and stuff. Meg never had any of that.” Maggie climbs back up the stairs to me. “She was raised by professional football players, flying around the country every week, house skipping with her aunt. She never wanted for anything, but the only thing she ever wanted that she never got is what we had growing up.”

  “And what’s that?” I scratch my beard as I wait for Maggie to continue.

  “Stability, Ben. She never had a normal home. That’s why she wanted to come to NJU and live in the dorms. That’s why she loved the small group in the basement. I think that’s even why she started to let you in. Once she had you, she had a sense of belonging. She thought her mother could give her that same feeling. She came to trust everyone, and we all let her down.”

  I shake my head and pace past Maggie. “I’ve apologized, Maggie. I don’t know what else I can do.”

  Her big eyes lock on mine. “I’m not here judging you. I’m asking you to cut her some slack. She’s still learning the ins and outs of, well, family.”

  “Family?” I turn from her gaze and walk to the end of the porch to lean against the railing.

  Maggie follows. “Well. Like, you have a shit ton of brothers, right? I imagine you don’t always get along—you fight, you yell, you scream. Meg’s never had to do that. Hell, she didn’t even want to tell any of us about her dad so she wouldn’t have to deal with talking about him.”

  “Megan’s eighteen. You make her sound like she’s a little kid with a social disorder.”

  She sighs. “You know how much I love her.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t know what any of this has to do with me. Okay, fine. I’ll cut her some slack or whatever you want, but I’m not really the issue here. If your goal is to try and get us back together, you shouldn’t be here working on me. You should be working on her. I’m out of ideas.”

  Maggie tilts her head and studies me. “So are you saying that you two being back together is up to Megan? That you’re in if she’s in?”

  She’s not helping my headache. I rub my temples. “I don’t know, Mags. I’m trying to make a new start. Look, I appreciate the talk. I’m glad Meg’s going to hang around, but I’m still healing. I came here to rest. To get away from all of that.”

  She rests her gloved hand on my bad shoulder. “I respect that. I do. I had to try though. The two of you are happiest when you’re together. I want everyone to be happy. Since Frank, we’re all falling apart. I want a new start. For everyone.”

  I pull Maggie to me, and she rests her head on my fleece. Is ‘happy’ possible? I didn’t think so, but for a while there with Megan, I was happy. “You’re a sweetheart.”

  She steps away, studying me. “Go get some rest and think about what I said. Don’t give up on her. Be patient. I heard that’s one of your best qualities.”

  Maggie jogs down the stairs again and turns to look at me. “Oh, and can you shave that beard already? It’s creepy. Even Frank would hate it.” I grin, thinking of my dream. “It’s time, Benjamin. Ne
w start and all,” she says.

  I smile and shake my head while Maggie walks away. A new start sounds good. I open the door to the frat house.

  Megan

  “So you’re not going to the wedding?”

  Juliet, Pooja, and Maggie wear towels and study themselves in the bathroom mirrors, their faces covered in some sort of gel mask. I dig my toothbrush out of my toiletry bag and search for toothpaste. “For the love of God, Juliet, and for the hundredth time, no. Why would I go to a wedding with someone who’s not even speaking to me?”

  “Because you love each other,” Maggie answers.

  “We were having sex, that’s all.”

  “It was more than that,” Juliet says. “Don’t be obtuse.”

  “Obtuse? We had a written contract, Juliet. I can show you. Sex. That’s it.”

  I vigorously brush my teeth as Pooja peels off her mask. “You’re lying, Meg.” Her dark skin glows as her face emerges. “Someday you’re going to have to face the truth.”

  I spit my toothpaste into the sink. “And what truth is that?”

  “The truth about how you feel about Ben.”

  I brush so hard that I’m afraid my teeth will fall out.

  “Yeah,” Juliet sings. “For once, Amelia, be honest.”

  I spit and stare at her. “You’re a bitch.”

  “See?” Juliet says to Pooja, pointing at me. “She can’t do it.”

  “What’s the big deal, Meg?” Maggie asks. “We’re your friends. Do you think we’re going to make fun of you or something?”

  I point my toothbrush at Juliet. “She’s his ex-girlfriend. Maybe it’s awkward for me to talk about him in front of her. Did you ever think of that?”

  Juliet scoffs. “You’re full of shit.”

  “You’re full of shit.” I spit the words back, even though she’s right.

  Juliet and I glare at each other until Pooja stands between us, calming us with her presence. “It’s time, Amelia Megan Smith,” she says softly. “Tell me how you feel about Ben.”

  I bite my lip to stop it from quivering. Damn Pooja. “I like him.”

  “Why?” she asks as Juliet and Maggie peel off their masks.

  “A million reasons.”

  “Give me a few.”

  I sigh and start to babble. “He’s sweet. He’s beautiful. He’s into football. He comes from a big family. Everyone loves him, and he goes out of his way for people. God, I love his chest—”

  “He does have an awesome chest,” Juliet pipes in as she studies herself in the mirror.

  “—and he makes me feel special. Pretty. Like I count.”

  Pooja smiles. What the hell am I saying?

  “You love him,” Maggie declares.

  Juliet nods. “Yep. You love him.”

  “Ugh. I hate you two.” I turn to leave.

  “Ut-ut-uh,” Pooja tsks. “You’re doing so well. Don’t bail now.” I turn around again and cross my arms over my chest as Pooja moves closer. “You love him.” Her words are quiet, and her eyes search mine as a wave of relief flows through me.

  I glare at the gorgeous evil crew. “Maybe I do.”

  “Well, duh,” Maggie says, huffing.

  Juliet smiles, claps, and goes back to her beauty routine. Pooja keeps her eyes on me. “Tell him. Be honest. It’s simple to fix all this.”

  “He’s done with me. I was mean to him.”

  “He’s not done with you,” Juliet says. “He’s hiding to act like he is, but he isn’t.” She towers over me as she glares down. “I like you, Smith. You fix this, or I will.”

  Maggie gathers her things and walks to the door. “She’s harsh, but she’s right. Fix it, or I’ll help Juliet fix it.”

  Pooja smiles, kisses my cheek, and follows them.

  When the mean girls leave me in the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. Do I want to fix this? Do I want to try? I think of Frank. Clean up your mess. Whenever I’m a mess, there’s always one number I call.

  He picks up on the first ring. “Princess!”

  “Will you help me fix things, Daddy?”

  I smile while we create a plan.

  I’ll let Ben have his days to himself. I’ll let him recover and think and do whatever soul searching he needs. But I’m not going to run. I’m going to try to work my way through the shit. If I fail, I fail. If Ben’s not there when I clean it all off, then he’s not. I’ll accept that.

  But hopefully I won’t have to.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ben

  When Grady Pisko shows up at the frat house, I think the guys are going to drop dead on the spot. He’s there for me, but they hijack him, asking questions, taking pictures, and getting autographs. Mr. Pisko deals with each of them graciously, giving them an entire hour before insisting I take a ride with him.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, but I don’t really care. He could drive me to the gates of Hell and I would still go.

  “The stadium,” he says as he drives the Lexus away from the frat house.

  “You’re going the wrong way.” I point behind us. “It’s on south campus.”

  He looks at me in the passenger seat. “Not that stadium.”

  Holy fucking shit. “You’re taking me to yuh… yuh,” I can’t get the words out. My heart is beating too fast. “Your stadium?”

  He laughs. “Yep. You’re coming to my house.”

  I stare at him, unable to form words, waiting for an explanation.

  He glances at me as he pulls away from NJU. “You’re back to staring at me? I thought we were over that.”

  I quickly turn away, and he laughs. “Listen,” he says. “I know you, Amelia, and Joe are going through some stuff now, but from what I hear, they’re both being too nice to you about the game.”

  “Did they put you up to this?” In a way, I hope this was Meg’s idea. Her way of showing she still cares.

  “No. This is all me. They don’t even know I’m here. I talked to Amelia after I drove you back after the accident and got to thinking about you, Riley. I know how much you love football. I can tell from the way you talked about it at the hospital. It broke my heart to see you come back to school and not get on that field.”

  “I can love football from off-field.” I hear my tone and don’t even believe myself. “I don’t have to play. You can tell Meg and her dad—”

  “This is between us, Riley. No Amelia. No Big Joe. Just you and me. And I practice tough love. I’m not letting you decide whether to not to get back on the field. I’m throwing your fat ass on the field myself.”

  “Hey!”

  “You got a problem?” He looks to me as he heads toward the Turnpike.

  I smirk. “No, sir. I don’t have a problem with Grady Pisko, the most famous wide receiver of my lifetime, throwing my fat ass into the middle of Mustang stadium.”

  “Don’t try to suck up now, Riley. It’s too late for that. You’re going to hate me in a few hours. I’m going to work you so hard you won’t be able to move tomorrow. And when you wake up in the morning, lying there in your bed all sore with your ice packs and your pain pills, you know what?”

  “What?”

  “You’re gonna be happy you’re alive,” he says, smiling the widest, whitest smile. He laughs, and I rub my beard, half elated and half scared out of my wits.

  * * *

  I pack the Buick for my weekend at home for George’s wedding and spring break, but before I find my way out of town, I stop at the football stadium. The NJU stadium this time.

  I walk through the entrance then across the field to Coach Linden’s office on the other side, prepared to leave the note I wrote him with his secretary. When I tell her who I am, she makes me sit and calls Coach.

  He comes out to greet me. “Riley,” he says, shaking my hand. “What can I do for you?”

  I think about handing him the note and running, but I don’t. A new start means confronting my fears. “I’m sorry. And I’m ready to come back.”

&nb
sp; He nods his head and pats my back. “Good. Come see me after spring break. I’m proud of you.”

  Even though I want to smile, I don’t. I try to match his serious tone. “Thank you, Coach.”

  When I turn to leave, he places his hand on my shoulder. “Wait.”

  Coach’s voice softens, so does my stance. He crosses his arms over his chest, studying me. “I got a call from the trainer for the Mustangs. He said the doctors over there took a look at you and you’re progressing nicely.”

  “Yes, sir.” Actually, the doctors told me that with some strength and conditioning, I can probably get my arm strength to about ninety percent of what it was before the shooting. I almost cried when I heard, but I held back since I was in the middle of throwing the football to Grady Pisko. I was throwing a football to Grady Fucking Pisko. I still can’t believe it.

  “I also got a call from Big Joe Smith. He said he’s a friend of yours?”

  Big Joe called Coach?

  Coach is staring, waiting for me to explain.

  “Oh… uh… I dated his daughter.”

  “He said good things about you, Riley, and begged me not to cut you.”

  “Oh,” I rub my beard.

  “I told him I wasn’t going to. That maybe I had been a bit harsh with you.”

  “Nah, I deserved it. I haven’t been a team player at all. I appreciate you caring enough to call me out on it.”

  “I do care. This team is my family.” He picks up a stack of mail on his secretary’s desk and flips through. “Did you have anything to do with Big Joe Smith offering to spend some time with our QBs?”

  I shake my head and grin. “I had no idea. He’s a good man.”

  He smiles at me. “I look forward to meeting him. Now go. Enjoy your break. Don’t eat too much of your mama’s home cooked meals though because you’re going to be working hard getting back into shape.”

  I groan but say, “Yes, sir.”

  As I cross the field, I take a detour and jog a lap around the hundred yards. My heavy breath burns in my chest—I’m not in shape, and I’m still sore from Pisko’s training session—but it feels good… right somehow. I look around the empty stadium that seems to scream at me, for me.