by Aubrey Irons
“Uh, honey?” He shakes his head patronizingly as he leans close to me. “Are you drunk?”
“She’s fine.”
Dalton’s voice cuts sharply in from behind me. He grabs my arm, pulling me back even as I struggle to focus on anything in front of me.
“I- I-” I’m mumbling, shaking my head and blinking as the reality of it all starts to pull me under. Dalton’s got me by the arm, escorting me out of the dining room and away from the host and tables full of guests staring at the crazy girl with grass in her hair.
“It’s going to be fine, Hailey,” he says quickly as he pulls me away.
No, it’s not.
And suddenly, without even really being aware of it, I’m screaming it out loud.
“No it’s not!”
The whole room goes quiet, silverware clattering to tabletops and heads turning to see what’s going on. The host is hopping from foot to foot, holding his hands up as if willing us to leave.
Dalton’s eyes burn into mine as he pulls me close. “Hailey-”
“No!” I shout again, not even caring who’s looking, or who’s listening, or who’s judging.
“Do not tell me it’s all going to be fine, or it’s all going to work out, Dalton!” I’m yelling as I push him away from me, shoving a finger into his chest. “Because that isn’t fucking true, is it?”
His eyes blaze into mine, his jaw tensing, though he says nothing.
“Is it?” I shriek.
“Um, hon,” the host steps forward, putting a hand on my arm. “I’m afraid I really do need to insist that you leave.”
“I’m leaving, okay!” I yell, yanking my arm out of his hand, pushing past Dalton, and storming out of the restaurant.
Dalton is right on my heels.
“Fuck, Hailey!” He yells, running to catch up to me. “I’m sorry, Hailey. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I whirl on him, my face livid, the tears already coming down my cheeks. “Why did you let us fall asleep?”
His jaw is tight, his eyes pained as he reaches out to hold me. I shake his hand away.
“I- fuck, I- Hailey, we just fell asleep!”
“Yeah, no shit, Dalton!” I know I’m angrier at myself more than anything else, and that Dalton doesn’t deserve my wrath. But he’s right here, right in front of me, and right now, he’s the object I can project this on, as horrible as I know that is.
“Hailey-” His face tightens as he narrows his eyes at me, shaking his head. “Hailey I wasn’t thinking-”
“Neither was I, and that’s the problem!”
The words cut through both of us like a slap, I can see it just from looking at his face.
I slowly shake my head, dropping my face into my hands. “Neither was I, Dalton,” I say softly. “About any of it.”
I turn and start to walk away, in the vague direction of campus.
“Hailey-” his hand catches my arm, pulling me around to face him.
“Let me fix this,” he growls, his face tight and his eyes searching mine. “How do I fucking fix this?”
And I want to give in. I want to bury my face and my tears and my pain in his chest and let him take it all away.
But that’s exactly why I’m here, right now.
My perfectly beautiful distraction.
And so I pull away instead, shaking my head. “You don’t, Dalton,” I say quietly, shaking my head as I take one more step away from the man I care about more than anything.
“You don’t fix this.”
He’s reaching for me, calling my name, but I’m heedless of it as I turn and walk way.
42
Dalton
Losing sucks.
Hailey walking away, ignoring my calls, staying away from my mom’s house, and not answering knocks on her dorm room door for the next week is a loss.
But even worse is knowing I failed her.
I’m not used to losing, I’m used to winning, no matter what it takes. Except there’s no game plan here with Hailey. There’s no fake hand-off, there’s no crowd-stunning seventy-yard touchdown pass at the buzzer.
And I hate to say she’s right, but after a week of it, I think she might be.
Because I have no idea how to fix this.
I fucked up, and I lost the girl - the girl; the one girl who meant it all.
And after that, it’s all sort of a blur. Practices become this bleed of pass-drills and flatline conversation with teammates. I’m vaguely aware of popping into a few classes here and there, I’ve got some memories of eating some food, and maybe even a few hours of sleep stolen at odd hours.
I’m aware of putting on my pads and my uniform for the game that next Saturday. I’m aware of the long walk up the gangway from the locker room to the field. I’m even dimly aware of the cheering, the band, the bright lights, and Coach with all my teammates huddling-up and hashing out plays.
I’m aware of briefly scanning the crowd, as if I’d somehow even see her in a crowd of forty-thousand people. I’m half-aware of stepping onto the field and up to the line. A voice I recognize as my own calls the play.
There’s the snap of the ball back to my hands, but then there’s nothing.
Nothing at all.
The visiting team locker room at Tallahassee U is almost totally silent after the game. But the whispered murmured conversations between players - as if we’re in some sort of memorial service or a funeral - go utterly silent as Coach steps through the door.
He’s not happy.
I mean shit, none of us are happy. The whole place is like some sort funeral - like we’re gathered on benches and bended knee to mourn a death or something. And the fucked up thing is, we sort of are.
We’re mourning the death of being untouchable, invincible, and unbeatable.
Because we just lost. Hard.
Well, no, I should amend that.
I lost.
I lost in front of the fans, and the cable sports networks. I failed spectacularly in front of the cameras and talent scouts.
Me.
This was no team fuck-up, this was me not being on my game. This was me, lost, scrambling, and everywhere but that football game. This was me with my mind squarely on her.
Like I said, losing sucks.
Coach is roaring at us, tearing us all down as if they all deserve it the same as me. But even when I’m only half-hearing him, I know that’s not true at all.
This is on me.
“Dalton.”
The rest of the guys are finishing getting changed when Coach beckons me over.
“Coach?” I stare at my feet as I step into the coaching office, wishing I could meet his eyes like a man in that moment but failing to do so. Shit, there’s a lot I wish I could do or say in that moment.
Sorry I let you down.
Sorry I let the team down.
And of course, the most important one. The one I want to tell him the most if I could just sack up and be the man Hailey seems to think I am. Or thought I was.
I’m sorry for hurting your daughter.
Except I don’t say any of those things. I just stare grimly at the floor.
“You wanna tell me what happened out there?”
I shake my head, my jaw tight.
Coach swears. “We talked about this, son. What is it? You drinking too hard again?” He peers at me as he leans close. “Were you drinking tonight?”
I shake my head again. “No, Coach, that’s not it.”
Because I am drunk, and fucked up, and loaded.
Except it’s not from anything out of a bottle.
“Then what? Grades? The team?” Jim pushes a hand through his silvered hair and shakes his head. “C’mon, Dalton, work with me here, son.”
He tosses his clipboard on the desk and leans back against it, crossing his arms over his chest and leveling his eyes at me. “A girl?”
My jaw tightens, and for a second, I want to tell him. For a brief half second, I want to tell him everything - tell him exactly how I
feel about Hailey, tell him how she makes me want to be a better man, how she makes me feel things I’ve never even considered feeling before. I want to tell him all those things and then take whatever fallout comes my way like the type of man I know he’d want me to be.
But I don’t.
“Well whoever she is?”
He sighs.
“Whoever she is, it’s not worth it. Get your head in this game, son. Step up, and fix what needs fixing.”
And right then, I do look up. Right then, we lock eyes for just a second, and right then, it hits me.
She makes me want to be a better man.
We’ve been hiding it all behind the banter, and the silly jokes, and the “oh it’s only a one-time thing” crap, even when the whole thing got bigger than I’m betting either of us ever imagined it would. Or could.
Yeah, damn right she makes me want to be a better man. She makes me want to be a better everything, because what I feel for her…well, shit. What I feel for her I’ve never felt before about damn near anything - not even football. She makes me want to move the fucking Earth off its damn axis, for her.
Except I’ve never told her that.
And right there, the painfully obvious hits me right in the damn face like a pass I never saw coming even if it was headed right at me.
Goddamn, I love that girl.
Not “like”, not “want to get a piece of”.
Love.
Jim shakes his head. “Well anyways, you coming back to campus on the team bus or are you catching a ride with Hailey and her friend?”
My body freezes.
“Hailey’s here?”
He shrugs, “Hey, I’ve been trying to get that girl to football games for eighteen damn years, I’m not even gonna ask what got her to this one.”
Fix what needs fixing.
I look up, and I’m meeting his eyes. And when I open my mouth to say the most serious thing I’ve ever said in my life, I’m facing him like a man.
Like the man she knows I can be.
43
Dalton
“Uh, I’m gonna go…pee, or something.”
“What?”
Roxie nods towards me from the driver’s side of her car with a raise of her eyebrows. “Call me if you need anything, dude.”
Hailey turns, but by the look on her face, I think she knows it’s me before she moves.
“Hi.”
She takes a deep breath, leaning back against the passenger side of Roxie’s beat-up Subaru before blowing it back out. “Hi.”
Any other time, any other girl in the world, any other circumstances, and I’d be rolling my eyes at the thin response.
But I grin.
Hailey’s mouth goes small, and she looks away when I smile at her. “What are you doing here, Dalton?”
“Oh, I felt like driving to Florida to get my ass handed to me in front of forty-thousand people by a third-rate team. You?”
She grins, and she quickly looks away again to hide it, but it’s not fast enough.
And right then, it’s those first few times we met. Right here, it’s the blushing, nerdy science chick and the crude, foul-mouthed jock butting heads all over again. Except we’re so much more than that now, and we both know it. We’re so much more than the stupid, played-out stereotypes of ourselves that we’re “supposed” to be.
“The question, darlin, is what are you doing here?”
Before, if I took a step towards her like I do right there, it was to get under her skin.
Before, when I caught her gaze with my own and didn’t let it go, it was because I was trying to annoy her.
And before, when I didn’t stop moving toward her until I was practically touching her, with her back against the car, her breath catching in her throat, and her lip drawn between her teeth, it was because I wanted to wind her up.
I don’t want to do any of those things anymore.
Now? Now I just want her.
Her cheeks glow a dusky pink and her eyes dart across mine as she swallows thickly. “Dalton-”
“Why are you here tonight, Hailey?”
She blinks quickly. “To support my dad.”
“Bullshit.”
She frowns. “Excuse me?”
“I said bullshit.” My pulse roars in my ears, the rush of everything I’ve said and everything I still need to say pulsing through me like the rush of a win, or of a jaw-dropping pass. Only ten-thousand times more than that.
“Dalton, I don’t know why else you’d think I’d be here-”
“You know why I think you’d be here,” I growl. My hand moves up to her face, and her breath catches as I run my fingers across her jawline. “Tell me why you’re here, Hails,” I say quietly, my eyes blazing into hers.
“I told you-”
“Tell me you’re not here for me. Tell me you’re not here because you missed me even just a little bit.” I shake my head, my jaw tight. “Tell me you don’t feel even one tenth of what I feel for you, darlin, and I’ll walk away right now. Because if you don’t,” I take a deep breath. “If you don’t tell me any of those things, well, then I’m gonna go ahead and kiss you right here, right now.”
I can see her pulse beating in the soft shallow crevice of her collarbone, see the red heat that creeps into her cheeks, and the way her eyes go wide as they search my face. I see those perfect, pouty lips of hers tremble just a tiny bit, and I want to mash my own against them.
I want to taste her mouth, swallow her moans, take her breath away and tell her I am capable of being exactly the man she thinks I can be.
“Dalton, I-” She slowly shakes her head, her eyes seeking mine. “We can’t, Dalton.”
“Yes, we can, Hails.”
I can see the tremble in her lips, the rapid dart of her eyes as she blinks away the water brimming at the corners. “Dalton, you’re you, and I’m me, and in a few months after the wedding, we’re going to be even more.”
“I don’t care about all that.”
“Well you should!” She blinks again, looking past me and slowly shaking her head.
“Hailey-”
“No, Dalton.” She looks back at me then, and right there, I read every single thing in that look that words could never say.
Oh, fuck.
Because right there, I see it.
The timer’s run out, the fans are already leaving the stands, and the concession booth is turning off its lights.
Right there, I see that I’m still playing a game that I’ve already lost.
“Dalton, it’s just…”
She trails off, but I’ve already heard everything she’s about to say. No, screw that, I’ve said everything she’s about to say before. ‘It’s not you it’s me’. ‘It’s not the right time’, ‘you’ll only hate me’.
Yeah, been there, and I’ve said them all. And by some horrible twist of karma, it’s coming back to bite me now.
“Dalton, it’s just that-”
“Save it, darlin,” I say quietly. I move back, my hand dropping from her cheek as I nod. “Heard loud and clear.” I shake my head as I start to turn. “Heard loud and clear.”
And then I’m walking away.
I’m putting one foot in front of the other and feeling something in my chest tear in fucking two with each step.
But that’s the way it is, that’s the way it’s gotta be.
Hell, sometimes, you win, and sometimes-
I stop in my tracks.
No.
Hell no.
Sometimes you win, and sometimes you just have to work harder to make it happen. Sometimes you’re against the ropes, and sometimes life kicks you while you’re down. Sometimes your dad dies in a fucking senseless car crash when you’re nine years old. Sometimes, you get the shit kicked out of you after practice by third-rate players when you make varsity during your sophomore year of high school.
Sometimes you fall for the last girl on Earth you should fall for, and your whole world shatters.
; I’ve already lost? No way. Fuck that.
I turn, and when my eyes meet hers, I know the play and see the move like it’s clear as day, because it was there all along.
“I love you.”
Hailey freezes, and her eyes snap to mine. “What?”
I shake my head. I reject the idea of losing. And hey, after all…
I’m Dalton Cole.
I don’t lose. At least, not without putting it all on the damn line.
I storm back towards her, and she gasps as I cup her face in my hands. “I said-”
“No.” She’s shaking her head, “Please don’t say that.”
“I’ve never said that.”
She’s blinking back the moisture in her eyes as she stares up into my face. “So why say it now?”
“Because it’s true.”
It’s the simplest answer in the world, and it was sitting right in from of me. Hell, it was standing right in front of me that first day, in the backyard when I looked up from that pool and saw her walk out.
“I fucking love you, Hailey,” I murmur, my eyes burning into hers and my lips millimeters away from hers. “And you know what? There’s not a damn thing you can say right now that’s going to stop me from fucking kissing yo-”
She cuts me off with her lips, and then she’s melting against me. I groan as I wrap my arms around her, pulling her tight against me as our mouths bruise together, our breaths catching in time. She moans into me, clutching at me with her fingers and pulling me against her as I burn every single thing I’m feeling for her across those perfectly sweet lips.
“Well! This looks cozy!”
Hailey jerks away at the sound of Meredith’s bubblegum voice, and we both whirl around to see her standing there, grinning.
Oh, fuck.
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Okay, now this is going to make an amazing story.”
“Story?” Hailey’s voice is tight, and I turn back to see the look on her face like a deer in headlights.
Meredith chuckles. “Oh, sugar, this story. I mean, you and your star of a stepbrother?” She laughs, the sound like a fork grating against a plate. “That is too good not to write.”
Hailey’s shaking her head side to side, her eyes going wide. “No, you can’t write this.”