She Runs Away (The Sheridan Hall Series Book 2)

by Jessica Calla

  I do the lap for Megan, allowing myself to think about her only for the time it takes me to get around. Maybe the universe gave me Megan so that I could reconnect to football. Maybe she’s in my life so I can meet Big Joe and Grady Pisko. Maybe being with Meg had nothing to do with loving her. Maybe it was about loving myself and the game.

  Then I picture Meg’s face when she greeted me in the Student Center, so excited to have met her mother. I recall her telling the cop on the Turnpike about her crush on me. I remember how she felt leaning on me at The Study before Carly showed. It’s hard for me to accept that those amazing moments with Sweet Meg were about football.

  But maybe they were.

  My feet pound the ground as I slow to a walk, my heartbeat returning to normal. I lay on the fifty-yard line, and the grass tickles my neck. I take a deep breath and look to the sunny sky. This, right here, is my new start. This is where I belong.

  Megan

  “Amelia!” Penny says as she opens the door to her townhouse. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  The Friday night buses from NJU to Fort Lee are few and far between, so I’d spent a small fortune and Ubered my way. “I know it’s late, but I wanted to talk to you. Are you busy?”

  Penny bites her lip the way I do when I’m nervous. “Well…”

  She pushes the door open. My father’s sitting at her dining room table.

  I look past her into the house. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

  Penny follows me into the dining room. “We were talking. Mostly about you."

  My father’s expression is unreadable—just a blank, neutral face. What the heck did I walk into? “Really?”

  Dad rubs his forehead. “I told Penelope that you know I’m gay.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure what else to say. Penny moves toward the table, gesturing for me to sit, but I don’t move. “Where’s Brendan?”

  “Sleeping at my friend’s house,” Penny answers. “Can I get you anything?”

  I look at my dad, trying to read him for signs of stress. Besides the head rubbing, he seems pretty calm. “No, thank you.” What is he up to? “Can I have a moment with you outside, Dad?”

  He raises his eyebrows and glances at Penny. “Certainly. Please excuse us.”

  He follows me to the front porch. After we step outside, I shut the door behind him.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper-yell and grab my head in my hands. “Are you paying her again? Why did you tell her I know?”

  He moves closer, matching my volume. “I’m taking your advice. You were right. If she knows that you know, maybe her motivation for threatening to out me lessens. I’m cleaning up my shit.”

  I had told my father about my Frank dream. I still tell him everything. “It seems calm in there. Should I be worried? What’s the game plan?”

  Dad hugs me and kisses the top of my head. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Follow my lead, princess. I’m going to bluff my ass off.” There’s a twinkle in his eye that I haven’t seen in a while.

  I groan. “Now I’m worried.”

  “Don’t be. Worst that happens is the entire world finds out I’m queer. I’ll still have you, right?”

  “Of course.” I sigh and shake my head. “Crazy old man.”

  “That’s all I need. Let’s go.”

  Inside, Dad explains to Penny that since I know about the secret, he no longer cares if Penny goes to the press. Penny looks to me, her eyes wide, twisting her hands and biting her lip. “You know?”

  “I know everything. That’s why I left that night when you asked for money. Dad told me how you’ve been blackmailing him all these years. How you never wanted me. I didn’t want to believe it.”

  Her eyes widen. “Amel—”

  I hold up my hand. “How could you do that to him? To me?” I glare at her, thankful the table is between us so I don’t rip her head off. “I thought you were dead. I sainted you for it. For having to die and leave a little baby like me with her father. You didn’t deserve any of my love though. Not then, and certainly not now.”

  Penny glares at me, her eyes shooting daggers, and suddenly the sweet woman at the diner appears aggressive and scared, like a dog backed into a corner. “I needed to survive. I did what I had to do.”

  I fight the tears as I approach her. “You didn’t have to do it this way. Money’s just money.”

  “That’s easy to say when you have it,” she barks, sitting between dad and me.

  She’s right, I know. I never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from. “You could have asked. You could have been a part of my life, and you know what?” I point to my father. “He would have supported you for the rest of your life if he saw that you loved me.”

  A tear rolls down my cheek. Dammit.

  “You played this all wrong, Penelope,” Dad says.

  Penny’s bottom lip quivers, and she starts to cry too. I turn my back to her but can’t stop myself from listening to her words. “I had no idea that loving you would be so easy. Getting to know you these past couple of weeks has been amazing. It’s true what I told you. I was young and scared. An addict. I didn’t know until Brendan how being a mother opens you up, the love you feel. I always loved you, Amelia. I was just… weak. I’m so sorry.”

  I wipe the tears from my cheek and take a step away. Dad walks to Penny’s side, kneeling in front of her. “How sorry, Penny?”

  She looks at him and he touches her cheek. For a brief second, I picture them somewhere like Sheridan Hall, eighteen years ago, young and in love. For another brief second, I see Ben and me.

  “Are you sorry enough to stop threatening me? Are you sorry enough to make this work? For Amelia? For Brendan?”

  Penny nods through tears. “Yes.”

  She throws her arms around dad, and he lets her, holding her in his big arms. He looks at me over her shoulder and tilts his chin and shrugs. I shrug back. I’m not ready to accept her apology, and I trust her about as far as I can throw her. At least for now, his secret is safe.

  We’ll see, I mouth to dad. He winks at me, and I smile.

  * * *

  On Saturday morning, I pound on my floormates’ doors bright and early. “Wake up!” I shout. They scream obscenities as I bang the lid of the one pot we keep in our lounge kitchen. “Up! Everyone in the lounge,” I scream. “Now!”

  “Fuck you, Meg,” Rodrigo yells through the door of room two.

  I laugh and say, “Let’s go! I don’t have all day.” I have a lot to do today. I have a lot of shit to clean up.

  One by one, my floormates shuffle to the lounge like zombies, rubbing eyes, yawning, cursing me out. Poppy and Darcy are nowhere to be found, but I didn’t expect them to be a part of this discussion anyway. When the others settle in, I thank them for joining me.

  “What the fuck do you want, Smith?” Rocco barks. “It’s barely six.”

  “Rise and shine and good morning!” I say the words extra cheerfully to annoy them. “I’m sorry for the early hour, but I have to bolt out of here in a few. I’m here to apologize for being a total sketch case lately.”

  “Great,” Win says. “All is forgiven. Going back to bed now.” He starts for the door.

  I block his way. “And… to formally invite you all to Miami.”

  Suddenly, they aren’t so cranky. Their frowns turn to grins. As they start to murmur and ask questions, I hold up my hand, quieting them. “Please hold all questions.” I hold up my phone. “Courtesy of Big Joe, I have emailed each of you a ticket. A plane ticket. Non-stop, round-trip from Newark to Miami, for Monday morning.”

  Pooja jumps up and down. “Really? We’re going?”

  I smile and continue. “When we arrive in Miami, a driver will take us to my favorite house, which I refer to as ‘the Miami house.’ This lovely home boasts five bedrooms with oceanfront views, a private beach, and a kick ass pool.”

  My floormates cheer and yelp. Maggie hugs me. “This is so great! I have to pack.”

  Whil
e the others talk amongst themselves, I whisper to Maggie, “You’re okay with Winston coming?” Winston and Pooja talk excitedly in the background. I’m still mad at him for what he did to Mags, but he’s one of us. If I’ve learned anything these past couple of months, it’s that we all have issues.

  Maggie takes my hands. “Of course. It will be fine. Thanks for doing this, roomie.”

  “Oh no!” Juliet gasps.

  We all freeze to look at her. Her hair is in a knot on top of her head and her legs go on for miles under a pair of NJU boxer shorts. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to looking at her—even right out of bed she looks beautiful—but now I’m not intimidated by it. She’s her. I’m me. We’re different, but we’re the same in a lot of ways.

  “Ben,” she says. “What about Ben? We can’t leave him here.”

  They all look to me. Chase cringes, Rocco huffs, and Maggie taps her foot.

  “Yeah, Meg,” Maggie says. “What about Ben?”

  I sigh. “Don’t worry about Ben. I have a plan. Cross your fingers that it works.”

  Pooja catches my eye and smiles, Maggie softens, and Chase stops cringing. But it’s Juliet who says, “It’s about fucking time.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Ben

  Two hundred and five Sycamore Lane in Evander, Pennsylvania is the picture of chaos on the morning of my brother’s wedding. We all wanted to stay at the house for George’s last night as a bachelor. We spent the night playing cards and drinking, which was fine—a ton of fun, actually—until this morning when five hungover men in a house with two bathrooms needed to shit, shower, and shave. Not to mention that nine-month-pregnant Sam needed to pee every five minutes and Mama Riley needed to primp.

  Dad disappeared early with the dog. “Gotta take the old girl for a walk,” he’d said as he rushed out with Busterina before my mother could hand him the list of chores she needed him to do. Evan picked up the slack though. He’s a total mama’s boy.

  Last night at the rehearsal dinner, I’d watched George and Li. The way they looked at each other, the way he kept his eyes on her whenever she left his side, the way they smiled when they talked to each other. It’s like they’re a perfect match.

  Then I thought of Megan. My perfect match. I remember the times we ate together and the times we watched the games. Our runs, our walks, our sex, our talks. I wonder if, to an outsider, we looked like George and Li.

  After the dinner last night, I’d almost drunk called her to beg her to meet me here and be my date. Then I remembered she didn’t want me. New start, I reminded myself.

  Instead of calling her, I’d convinced Nathan to shave my face. For a drunken ass, he did a good job. The blood was minimal. Afterward, I dragged myself to bed in the little room I’d shared with Evan all my life and passed out.

  The morning is rough though, and by the time we all have our turn in the bathroom and put on our tuxes, it’s lunch time. Mom drops a glass when she notices I shaved and looks up to the sky and literally thanks God. Dressed in her robe, she says she’s “ninety-five percent ready” as she tiptoes around the shattered pieces of glass on the kitchen floor. Mom’s a total weirdo, but we can’t help but love her.

  When we’re all getting antsy and bored, Mom cooks about twenty grilled cheese sandwiches and piles them on a plate. “Don’t get dirty,” she yells, as we devour them like animals. She’s throwing napkins at us as the doorbell rings. We look around at each other to assess if anyone is missing. “We’re one-hundred percent, minus your father. Who can that be?” Mom asks.

  “I’ll get it,” Nathan offers.

  Sam throws his balled up napkin at me, and George declares he may throw up. When Nathan returns, he stares at me.

  “What?” I ask, snagging the last sandwich out of Evan’s hands.

  Nathan points behind him. “Why is Big Joe Smith at our door asking to see you?”

  I choke on my sandwich as my brothers question me. Except George, who is face down on the table.

  “Big Joe? The Mustangs?” Sam.

  “Our Big Joe?” Evan.

  “Which one is Big Joe?” Mom asks, rubbing George’s back.

  “What the fuck, Ben?” Nate.

  “Don’t use that language in this house.” Mom.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Poor George.

  “I have to pee again.” Pregnant Sam.

  My brothers follow me to the front door, except Sam who takes Sam back to the bathroom.

  Sure enough, Big Joe is standing on my porch. “Mr. Smith. What are you doing here?” My brothers are at my back, crowding me like idiots. I shove Nate with my elbow.

  “Benjamin! You shaved! I don’t want to bother you, son.” Then he says to my mom, who is peeking over my brothers, “I apologize, ma’am, for intruding on your family’s day.”

  My mother, smitten, pushes to the front and touches her hair. She doesn’t seem to remember that she’s in a bathrobe. “Oh, never mind. I apologize for my boys’ rudeness. They’ve all been dropped on their heads numerous times. Please, come in.” She grabs his arm, pulling him into the house. Nathan does a squeal and a happy dance—the same dance I did when I first met him.

  “Holy shit. Joe Smith is in our living room,” Evan says.

  “Evan! Language! Would you like a drink, Mr. Smith? A grilled cheese sandwich? Please sit down.” She points him to the couch.

  “No, really. I don’t mean to interrupt. I know you have a wedding to get to. Who’s the lucky groom?”

  George raises his hand from behind us.

  “You look a little peaked.” Big Joe laughs. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll be fine.”

  George gulps. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Call me Joe.”

  Nathan and Evan yelp. “Call him Joe? Holy fuck!”

  “Language!” Mom yells again. “Let’s let Ben talk to Mr. Smith. Everyone out.”

  I push through them and sit next to Big Joe on my couch. Nobody listens to mom, so I yell, “Get out!”

  When they all scatter, I apologize to Mr. Smith and ask him what’s up.

  “I’m sorry for busting in on your brother’s wedding day. Did you find someone to go with?”

  I hadn’t. I only wanted to go with Megan, and she bailed. “I’m on my own tonight, unless you want to be my date.”

  Mr. Smith laughs his deep laugh. “I think your brothers would get jealous.”

  “You’re right. We spent a lot of time being your fans.”

  “I appreciate that,” he says.

  I grin and sit up, leaning on my knees. Mr. Smith mimics my posture.

  He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize. I handled the whole thing with Amelia horribly and ended up hurting all of you. I hope you know it was never my intention to break you up.”

  “Yes, sir. I know that. I’m the one who called you. I take full responsibility.”

  “She misses you.”

  “She doesn’t want to speak with me,” I say. “She was clear.”

  “She was distraught,” he barks. “Did she tell you what happened that night with her mother and me?”

  I shake my head.

  “I took your advice and came clear with her. I may have been a little needy. She wanted to support me, to come back, to hide out in the penthouse and take care of me. I was so tempted to let her too. But we talked and something happened. We both grew up a little, and she decided to give it another try at NJU.”

  I purse my lips together and nod slowly, not sure why he feels the need to explain all of this to me. “I’m glad she’s staying.”

  “I tend to spoil her, but honestly, between Frank, her mother, me, and even you, she definitely deserves a little understanding.”

  When I don’t answer, Mr. Smith says, “I’m glad you and Pisser made it to the ‘Stangs, and you recommitted to football.”

  “Thank you for putting in a good word with Coach,” I say. “And offering to meet with the team.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I love the g
ame, like you do, like your teammates do, like Coach Linden does. The game is worth the effort, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So what about Amelia? You’re giving up on her when she needs you the most. Isn’t she worth the effort too?”

  I hide my face in my hands then look back up to him. “I’m not going to save her anymore. I’m starting over, and she should too.”

  Mr. Smith rubs his forehead like he has a headache. “You know, after you got shot, all I heard about from Amelia and from everyone on the news was how you were such a strong kid—a fighter. What a load of crap that was.”

  I jerk away from him. Is he for real? “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve barely shown any fight since I’ve met you. It took Pisser kidnapping you to get you back on the field.”

  “You don’t know what I’ve been through. Nobody does.”

  “That’s true, but—”

  “I tried with Meg. I did. But I can’t fix what’s wrong with us. I screwed up with Frank. I screwed up with Juliet. I screwed up with Megan. She doesn’t want me.”

  Mr. Smith scrunches his face and sings, “Megan doesn’t want me, Megan doesn’t want me. That’s all I hear from you. What do you want?” He points at me.

  I blurt out my first thought. “I want things to be easier.”

  “Well, too bad.”

  We stare each other down for a long second. I ball my fist and think about punching the wall.

  Big Joe’s face softens. “What else do you want?” This time, his voice is quiet, like the answer should be obvious. “Without all the whining this time.”

  Asshole. I rub my chin, thinking my beard is still there to hide behind. “I…”

  “What?”

  When I don’t answer, can’t answer, he pats my back and stands. “I came here to apologize, not to harass you. Again, I’m sorry for my role in what happened between you and my daughter.”

  I appreciate the apology, but his degrading pep talk brings my mood down a notch. He holds out his famous hand, and I shake it then follow him to the door.

  He turns to me at the door. “I try to do what’s best for Amelia. Sometimes I fail. Listen, can you walk me to the limo?”