The drinks appeared, and I grabbed them up, tucking one of my selections beneath my arm, and went over to the table.
“Hey,” I said as Rimmel untangled herself from her scarf.
“I think I’m trapped,” she said, dropping her arms and turning to me.
I laughed. The scarf was somehow twisted around her neck and in her hair. I set everything on the table, came to her rescue, and straightened out the situation, handing her the scarf so she could pile it on top of her coat.
“A girl tries to wear her hair down and this is what happens. If you hadn’t been here, I’d be in the back, begging for a stick of butter to get myself out of that contraption!” Rim gestured toward the scarf.
I didn’t even bother to hide my enjoyment of her clear fashion handicap. “Hmm, I think you just gave me an idea for my style channel.”
“Butter as hair detangler?” Rimmel flashed a smile.
“How to properly wear a scarf.” I corrected.
“Better include a segment on how to get the hell out of one if you can’t put it on right,” she muttered.
I laughed some more and pushed a cup toward her. “Got you a cider.”
She made a sound of appreciation and gripped the cup. “Thank you.”
I pulled my mocha in front of me, along with the small bottle of orange juice I’d grabbed out of the cooler near the register.
Rimmel gestured at the juice. “Couldn’t make up your mind?”
“It’s a girl’s prerogative to want more than one thing at once.” I uncapped the juice and took a sip. The slightly tart but sweet orange flavor burst over my tongue and slid down my throat. So good.
I reached for the mocha and wrapped my hands around it, letting the heat from the coffee seep into my chilled fingers.
“You’ve never been one to drink juice,” Rimmel said, sipping her drink.
I shrugged. “I think I need the sugar. I’ve been tired lately.”
“How’s things going?” she asked, lowering her voice a little, as if she were keeping our conversation private.
I was used to talking about my feelings, used to being asked about them, too. It seemed like that’s all I’d done since discovering Zach raped me and then tried to kill Braeden and me. The thing was I didn’t mind talking about how I was doing. It would have been perfectly natural to never want to talk about it. I think a lot of people go through that.
And yeah, at first it had been hard. But it helped. And I think by just getting it out there, by not holding it in, it made me stronger.
Rimmel and I had talked a lot in the weeks following the car accident and Zach dying. I hadn’t been the one to tell her about being raped. Romeo told her. I was glad he had so I didn’t have to. Sure, talking about it now wasn’t as hard as it used to be, but having to tell someone you were raped… especially a friend who cared about you…
I hated watching the horror and then the pity that always flashed in their eyes. By the time Rim and I were able to talk, Zach was already dead and I was just out of the hospital.
She was a good friend.
A best friend.
She never judged me. She never tried to tell me whatever I was feeling in a particular moment was wrong. It was like she knew emotions, even some feelings were fleeting, and experiencing them was all part of the process of healing.
Having a girl to talk to about what happened… well, it was easier talking to her about it than Braeden or Drew. They were too hotheaded for that. They got too upset.
Rimmel never wanted to punch things when I got teary eyed about being forced into sex. She just held my hand and let me cry.
“I’m good,” I answered, leaning in a little. “Therapy really helps.” I reached out and laid my hand over hers. “Having good friends—family—really helps, too. I finally feel like I’m getting back to normal, you know?”
She squeezed my hand supportively. “Minus the exhaustion inspiring the OJ consumption?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice.
I tilted my head to the side. “I think all the mental turmoil I had to work through is finally catching up to me physically, if that makes sense?”
Rimmel nodded. “Totally. It’s hard to focus on everything at once. For you, dealing with the inner stuff was way more important than the physical stuff. So now that you’re stronger mentally, it’s easier to notice how you are physically.”
Of course she understood. She might not have been raped, but she’d been attacked by Zach. She’d been through a lot with her family, too. Rimmel knew what it was to try and heal.
“I think…” I began and paused. Just because I was able to talk about what was inside didn’t mean it was always easy. Rimmel sensed my hesitation and gave my hand another squeeze. “I know rape is a physical violation.” I paused again to pull my hand away and wrap them both around my coffee. “But I think the bigger violation is emotional. The scars he left inside are so much larger than anything he ever left on me physically.”
Just coming to terms with being used in the way I was, in being treated like something other than human was something I might always struggle with.
“I’m really proud of you,” Rimmel said.
I glanced up, surprised. That was the last response I expected.
She smiled, noting the shock on my face. “You’ve changed a lot since we first met back at the beginning of sophomore year.”
I grimaced, and she shook her head.
“There was nothing wrong with the way you were back then,” she clarified, then went on. “You were always nice to me, even when I tried to be invisible to you. You’ve always been fun and carefree in ways I never will be. I always admired that about you. But you’re so much more than that. Instead of being a victim, you became a fighter. Instead of letting the pain of what happened eat you up inside—something I’ve done—you let it out so you could heal. You’re so strong, Ivy. Strong for being the person you are, for facing everything you’ve faced. I wanted to tell you that you really inspire me. I might not have been through the same things you have, but even so, I’ve learned a lot about having grace from you.”
Tears welled up in the backs of my eyes, and I blinked furiously. “I’m not wearing waterproof mascara,” I hissed low. “Now I’m gonna look a mess!”
Rimmel laughed. “I’m sure you have an arsenal of products in your bag to fix yourself.”
“Of course.” I sniffled and waved away the silly makeup talk. “I’ve definitely had a lot of support the past few months, a lot of it from you. You’ve taught me a lot about self-acceptance and how to be the real version of me. Thanks for always being a real friend.”
Rimmel pushed at her glasses and sniffled. “I’d been wanting to ask you something. I think now is a really good time.”
“Of course,” I said and dabbed under my eyes.
“Will you be my maid of honor?”
Well, there went what was left of my mascara. “Really?” I said, my voice wobbly.
Rimmel nodded. “There is honestly no one else I’d rather have standing there with me when I marry Romeo.”
“What about B?”
Rimmel laughed. “I think he’ll look better in a tux on Romeo’s side than on mine in a gown.”
“Seriously, though.” I deadpanned. “You should totally ask him to stand on your side. Can’t you just see his face?”
Both of us dissolved into a bucket of giggles.
“And the best part is he’d totally say yes because he’d never tell you no!” I added and laughed some more.
We laughed so hard people started to glance our way, but I didn’t care. It felt so good to laugh.
Once the laughter subsided, Rimmel groaned. “Speaking of. I haven’t even thought of dresses. Or flowers. Or anything.”
“I’ve got this,” I said, sitting up. “I can totally help you with everything.”
“Would you?” Rimmel’s eyes were hopeful. “Because Romeo’s mom is totally on me about everything. What do I want for this? What do I wan
t for that…? That woman is like in total wedding mode.”
“Things any better between you two?” I asked.
Rimmel made a face. “I’m trying. But you know…”
I nodded enthusiastically. “I get it.”
“I really would appreciate your help. With my mom not here…” Her voice trailed away, and sadness squeezed my heart. I hadn’t even thought about what it must be like for her to plan a wedding without her mother. “And my grandma is so far away. I’ve kind of been on my own with it.”
“You’re never on your own,” I insisted. “I’m always here. And so is B. And Drew. Trent, too.”
Her eyes grew soft and she smiled. “Thanks.”
We launched into a full-fledged wedding planning conversation. From the look on Rimmel’s face every time I brought up another detail, she looked more and more overwhelmed.
Finally, I sat back and said, “Are you sure you want a big wedding?”
“Honestly? I’d go to Vegas in a heartbeat. But Romeo wants me to have the fairy tale, and I think his mother would be heartbroken if we didn’t include her.”
I nodded. I understood that. My mother would be heartbroken if I went off and got married without her. Especially since I’m her only daughter and my brothers are boneheads who will likely never find women to put up with them. But I didn’t say that out loud because I didn’t want to make her feel worse about her own mother not being there. And on that note, I was going to have to come up with some way to make Rimmel’s mother a part of her day. It would mean so much to her.
“Well, let’s keep it simple, then. We’ll give his mom some things she can control and you can pick out the rest.”
“Really?”
“Simple can be very elegant.” I smiled. “I can’t wait to go dress shopping!”
She grimaced. “Oh, and don’t forget the engagement party his mother insisted on throwing us is next week. I need to come to the boutique and get something to wear. I know she’s gonna have press there. I think she invited the entire NFL.”
She said the last part with trepidation, and I laughed. “Sounds very formal.”
Rimmel put her head in her hands.
“You know what?” I said.
She glanced up.
“What you guys need is a real engagement party. One for you and Romeo, not for his mother’s society friends.”
“It’s been a long time since all of us went out to have fun.”
Months. It had been months and months. Christmas passed quietly, with B and me splitting our time here and at my parents’. Romeo and Rim were spread thin while he finished up his first season. Drew had been MIA a lot because of his job and racing.
And now here it was midwinter with spring coming fast. Things changed so fast. Pretty soon, it would be our senior year and then we’d be all be pulled in different directions. We needed to celebrate now.
We needed to be together now.
“What are you thinking?” Rimmel asked.
My lips curved up. “Smurf Balls.”
Rimmel grinned. “You want to have an engagement party at Screamerz?”
“Why not? We better do it now before we’re all too old and married to still think it’s fun.”
Rimmel snorted. “I don’t think Braeden will ever be too old for that place.”
I could totally picture him at the age of eighty, still trying to dance and telling everyone he still had it. What a goofball.
The endearing, fun thought made me realize that was a side of him that hadn’t been out very often lately.
“What is it?” Rimmel asked, practically reading my thoughts.
I grabbed the OJ and took a fortifying sip, wondering if Rimmel had noticed the changes in him as well.
Once I recapped the juice, I looked up to ask, but Rimmel was no longer looking at me.
And thank goodness, because the look on her face was fierce.
Very rarely did I ever see Rimmel look that way. The only times I’d seen her wear a similar expression was when someone was threatening her family.
Family = Romeo and B.
I rotated in my seat, wondering what in the world was causing such a momma bear look to come out of her.
And then I saw.
Standing right there behind me was a familiar face.
A familiar unwelcome face.
Missy.
Chapter Ten
Braeden
The second I entered Anthony’s office, all thoughts of whatever I had going on at home, in my head, and between me and Rome were tucked away for later.
This meeting was about my future, my hopeful NFL career.
It had been a long few months. Hell, when the idea that I could actually become a pro football player became a reality, I was excited as hell. Who wouldn’t be?
It was full throttle ahead.
But then my excitement was dimmed.
With everything else going on around me, it had been hard to keep up with the level of training I needed to keep myself viable. The truth was being a professional athlete took a lot of discipline. It took a lot of determination. This career isn’t something someone just woke up and was good enough to do. Even for people like Rome, who were born with raw talent, it still took a hell of a lot of work.
It wasn’t that I still didn’t want to be in the NFL. I wanted to play with Romeo again almost more than anything. The thing was sometimes it felt like I had to choose between Ivy and the game.
I was committed to Ivy one hundred and ten percent. I loved her. I loved her more than anything, and because of that, I wondered how I would balance a life with her and a life of football.
I knew it was possible. I watched Rome and Rimmel do it on a daily basis.
It was because of them I was here in this meeting and still actively pursuing this path. That and the fact I did want this and I knew the job would offer Ivy and me the financial stability we wouldn’t get anywhere else.
Anthony got the ball rolling. He became my official manager and sent in the application for me to enter the draft early. I was going to find out today if that application had been accepted. I would know in just a few minutes if the NFL would even consider me for the draft.
Then the real work would begin.
As if getting here had been child’s play.
Anthony was sitting behind his desk, his dark hair combed neatly and his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his tie long discarded. Over the back of the chair he sat in was his suit jacket and on his wrist was a gold watch that probably cost a shit ton of money.
“What’s all the hollering I heard out there from your mother?” he asked when Romeo and I stepped inside.
“We were shooting the shit in the driveway. Mom didn’t like it,” Romeo answered.
Anthony smiled. “Yes, well, your mother hates it when people are late.”
“Sorry about that,” I spoke up. “I was at the gym training.”
Anthony waved away my words. “It’s fine. I’ll be working from home the rest of the day. Besides, training is more important than sitting in meetings with me. Especially now.”
Romeo made a sound and slapped me on the back.
I held back my reaction to what those words might mean.
Anthony noted my reaction and smiled. “They accepted the application, Braeden. You are officially in the draft for the NFL.”
“Hells yeah!” Romeo shouted.
I laughed, feeling a little shell-shocked. I mean, I knew the possibility of it being accepted was really good, but still. I guess I hung on to the fact it might be a no because I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
Anthony stood up and offered me his hand, a genuine smile on his lips. I reached across the desk and shook it.
The door to the office opened, and Valerie stuck her head in. “I heard happy yelling!” she said.
“B’s in the draft!” Romeo told her.
Valerie hurried into the room with a large white bag in her hand. She set it down and rushed over and pu
lled me into a hug. “We’re so proud of you,” she said.
My chest tightened. Romeo’s parents had been in my life for a long time. They’d always treated me like a second son. Having them here and knowing I had their support was something that could never be replaced.
I hugged her back, and when she pulled away, she reached into the bag and pulled out a big purple hoodie. It had the Knights symbol on the chest.
I laughed.
“I got you this,” she said excitedly. “And I got one for Ivy, too.” She pulled out another one that wasn’t quite as large. I didn’t have the heart to tell her Ivy wouldn’t wear hers. She’d only wear mine after I wore it and it smelled like me.
“And what would you have done if my application had been denied?” I asked.
“Nonsense. Ron Gamble isn’t a dumb man.”
“Gamble doesn’t approve the applications, Mom,” Romeo told her.
“Oh,” she said and waved away the knowledge. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because it was approved.”
I took the hoodies and laughed. “Thanks, Moms.”
“You’re welcome, honey. It’s going to be so good to have both my boys on the same team again.”
The sound of a ringing phone drifted in the room from down the hall.
“Oh, that’s my cell. It’s probably the caterer about the engagement party. I need to get that.” She rushed from the room.
I lifted a brow at Romeo. “Engagement party?”
“Don’t ask,” he groaned.
Anthony laughed. “Any reason to throw a party.”
I draped the purple shirts over a nearby chair and then sat down. I was freaking pumped about my application being accepted. I was one step closer to playing pro.
I glanced between Rome and his dad. “She does know I might not end up with the Knights, right?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Romeo said. There was no room for argument in his voice.
“Unless you got a genie in a bottle somewhere in this house,” I quipped. “You and I both know the odds.”
Romeo made a face like the truth pissed him off. I knew he wanted me on his team. Hell, I wanted it, too. But I had to be realistic here. I couldn’t get my head or heart set on the outcome I wanted, because it would only make it harder if I got drafted on some team that wasn’t the Knights.
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