The Uber pulls into her dorm parking lot. We exit, and I draw her against my body as we make our way to her dorm. She looks up at me and gives me a carefree smile. “I’m totally happy with you.”
“I’m happy with you.” I squeeze her tighter and don’t let go until she unlocks her door.
“How’s the training going for the color run?” I ask.
“I’m up to running five kilometers now. Speed isn’t a concern. My goal was to complete it, not win it.”
“And your heart’s okay?”
“Yep, not one palpitation.”
“As long as you’ve been eating healthy and staying hydrated, I guess you’re fine.”
“Just fine?” She quirks an eyebrow.
“Oh, you’re more than fine.” My hands move down her slender curves and land on that perfect ass. I pull her against me. My erection presses against her stomach, but I don’t care. This girl gets me hard without even trying. “You’re perfect.”
Her hand cups my bulge. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I squeeze her ass cheek, and then, the lies I’ve been telling myself resurface, wiping away any self-confidence about our relationship. The moment was short, but the tremor in my hand was noticeable enough. Panic slams into me. I try pushing the thoughts away as Braxton’s words come back to haunt me. Whatever you do, don’t use my sister. No, the tremor doesn’t mean anything. My hand was positioned funny. That’s all.
“What’s wrong?” Shannon asks.
“Nothing, I just had a cramp.” I force my lips on hers and drown in everything Shannon. I don’t want to think about the condition that will keep me a forever bachelor. That will place me in a wheelchair like the old man from earlier. I don’t want it to be real. I just want to live in this moment. To feel and taste her. Shannon’s everything to me.
I walk backward with her to her bed, knowing I shouldn’t. The smart thing to do is to talk about my possible condition with her. To explain how I may end up with the same fate as my dad. How she may end up like my mom and be forced to take care of me. She pushes me until my back hits the mattress. My dick twitches in delight. He certainly doesn’t have any qualms about the future. Only the next few hours or so.
I crawl back and prop myself up with my elbows. “Are you taking charge?”
“Yes!”
“Hmm, I like this.” That’s the truth. Shannon wasn’t exactly shy. Being a virgin doesn’t make you timid, but the sting of her ex’s rejection made her vulnerable. I love seeing her take charge. She’s come a long way. She straddles my thighs and doesn’t waste time working my shirt up. I snag it off and toss it on the floor. I wrap my hands around her hips as she runs her hands along my abs.
“I can’t ever seem to get enough of you.” Her words hit close to my heart. I know what you mean, sweetheart.
“You’re my addiction.” I murmur. Our gaze meets, and I see every ounce of longing she has for me. I wonder if she sees mine as well. She starts unbuttoning her shirt, slowly. The sunlight pours in the room, and I’m so proud of how bold she is. I squeeze her hips tighter, and my breath leaves me. The tremor is back.
Fuck.
I try to remain relaxed and pawn it off as another weird angle, but I know what I have to do. And my fucking heart breaks. Don’t use my sister.
The material slips off her shoulder, and I groan at her lack of wearing a bra. She isn’t making this easy for me. But I can’t do anything with her. Not tonight. Not ever. And not when my worst fucking nightmare just resurfaced. Her shirt slips all the way off, and my groin has other ideas. She leans down and plants her lips on mine.
I shut my eyes, my heart thrumming. I can’t do this to her. I can’t burden her. I won’t allow this beautiful girl to be reduced to a shell of a woman like my mom.
Don’t use my sister.
“Baby.” I swallow down my remorse and place my hands on her shoulder. I push her back.
“Why are you talking?” She tries to lean closer, but I keep enough pressure to keep her at bay.
“Babe, we need to slow down.”
She stiffens underneath my hands, and I want to die. She deserves an explanation. But if I explain to her, she’ll make an excuse to stay with me. She’ll say how she doesn’t care. She’ll try to take care of me just like she did every other time I was hurt. She didn’t see the pain and mortification that comes with this disease. A disease that I more than likely have. I won’t have her become my mom. I should man up and break up now, but I’m one selfish son of a bitch. I want to spend one last night with her. I want this to be our last sendoff. But sex is off the table.
Don’t use my sister.
“O-Okay.”
I lean up and grab her shirt. “You better put this back on.”
She obeys, but I can’t unsee the hurt in her eyes. And it fucking guts me. But I know my limitations. There’s no way I can control myself with her lying next to me naked. I wish I could tell her the truth. Tell her I love her too much to burden her like I watched my mom all the years she took care of Dad. I will never put a loved one through that. It was torture seeing her give up her life to be his sole caretaker when he couldn’t even feed himself in the end. Lord knows the other things she had to do when I wasn’t looking. It aged her, and after he died, she wasn’t the same.
No, I can’t tell her. I know what will happen. She’ll say I’m overexaggerating things. Even if I develop ALS, I know she’ll want to take care of me. That’s what she does.
But I won’t burden the girl I love. This is why I choose to never have a girlfriend. I’m not worthy enough to keep her.
“I’m sorry, Shannon, I just—”
“No, it’s okay. We don’t have to do anything. Did you want to leave?”
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
I let out a relaxed breath. “Good because I want to hold you tonight.” Hold you one last time. She snuggles against my chest, and I squeeze her tightly. I curse God for bringing this type of burden on people. I continue holding her and cherishing every minute of her in my arms. When I’m confident she’s asleep, I kiss the crown of her head and whisper, “I love you.” Because I do. Even though, she’ll hate me in the morning.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Shannon
The morning light fills the room, but I don’t stir. I don’t want to face reality. Noah’s rejection still stings. Not even his confession of love when he thought I was sleeping eases the pain. Although admittedly, I liked hearing it.
I run my hands against the sheets only to find them cold and empty. Out of all the possible outcomes stemming from last night, waking up alone hadn’t crossed my mind. I jolt awake and find a fully dressed Noah. He sits on Cara’s bed with his elbows resting on his knees and chin propped on his fingertips as if in prayer. His face is stoic as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his back. My stomach clenches. I hate that I want to jump out of bed and pull him into a hug. To ease his pain away when I should be worried for myself. Those hazel eyes fixate on mine, but if I was expecting to get clarification on what he’s thinking, I’d be sorely mistaken. His emotions are locked so tight it would take a voice analysis device to crack his code.
“Good morning.” My words hold caution as I lift to a sitting position. I’d rather not believe there’s a correlation, but his mood shifted from fun to somber at the exact moment my shirt fell to the floor. I bring my hand to my chest. God, this can’t be happening. Not with Noah.
He straightens, bringing his hands to his knees. I steel myself from the impact. “I don’t know how else to say this, but I’ve been doing some thinking.”
My entire world comes to a halt. How can he be breaking up with me? He said he loved me. When I just sit here and don’t say anything, he continues, “I don’t think we should continue seeing each other.”
Tears spring to my eyes, but I stave them off with everything I have. He will not see me cry. “I don’t understand.”
“Your brother—”
> “My brother has nothing to do with this. He’s fine with us going out. Is he happy? No, but he’ll come around.”
Noah averts his gaze, and a piece of my heart dies. He’s really breaking up with me. This is actually happening. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
I scoff. “Harder for who? You? I-I-I don’t understand.” You told me you loved me.
“We both want something different out of this relationship, and your brother—”
“Back to him?” I screech.
“He told me not to ever use you. Last night when you talked about our future, I realized we weren’t on the same page. I’ll be graduating in the spring, and you still have two years left.”
But you said you loved me.
Him graduating isn’t the reason behind breaking up. That’s some bullshit excuse he’s using to pacify himself. “All I said was things were looking good for our future. I didn’t mean to imply we were getting married. What’s the real reason, Noah?”
His jaw clenches, and there’s a shake to his right hand. He immediately rubs his palm as anger flashes through his eyes. “That is the real reason. There is no future with us.”
I shudder from the darkness lacing his tone. “So, you thought what? We’ll carry on like we’re in a relationship until graduation. Was that the plan?”
“Something like that.” His chiseled jaw hardens, as if he wants to say more but won’t. But it’s his damn eyes. Those mossy-green irises reflect the hurt I’m feeling, further confusing me.
“What the hell is going on? Everything was fine until last night. What changed? Is it me? My heart?” I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth, my voice cracking. “Is it because I removed my shirt.”
“No!” He flinches. “Why would you think that? That has nothing to do with this.”
“Doesn’t it?” My voice cracks. I wipe away the traitorous tears that spilled over.
“You have to believe me. That had nothing to do with this.” He pushes off the bed and attempts to pull me into him, but I smack his hands away.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”
He sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do is hurt you.”
But that’s exactly what you’re doing.
“You were supposed to be different. I trusted you.”
I don’t understand how he can stand there looking so miserable when he’s the one doing this. He’s the one breaking up with me. He’s the one pushing me away.
“I never meant for this to happen. Trust me, it’s better to end this now before things get more serious.”
But you told me you love me.
“It’s a little too late for that now, don’t you think?” Maybe, he hasn’t been serious, but I sure have.
He runs a hand through his hair and looks toward the door. “There’s things about me you don’t need to be exposed to. I’ve never promised you forever. I’m not sure why you’re surprised.”
“You’re serious right now?”
“I need to concentrate on the game. It’s easy for your family. Braxton’s a superstar. Me?” He smacks his hand against his chest. “I’m not so privileged. I need to be on top of my game for the scouts.”
“You’ve been doing fine.”
“Fine won’t cut it, Sprinkles.”
I narrow my eyes at the flippant use of the nickname. “You know what I mean.”
“I already have Harry breathing down my back. Coach has already warned he’ll be playing him. I need this. Without Braxton’s approval, it makes it ten times worse.”
“So, you’re a coward who won’t stand up to my brother. You control your own destiny, not Braxton.”
“I’m not in control of anything, and I won’t be a burden.” He says the last part so low I almost miss it. He doesn’t give me time to respond. He does a one-eighty and stalks out the door. I gulp a much-needed breath. But then, the floodgates open to the worst pain I’d ever felt.
I curl into a ball on my bed and let the tears flow freely.
.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Noah
The house is quiet when I walk through the front door. Thank fuck. I’m in no mood for people right now. All I want to do is drown in alcohol and forget about life. I’ve been so diligent on proper nutrition and treating my body like a temple, and for what? To still be alone and miserable?
I head straight to the fridge and thank God for Garret and his cheap-ass beer. I grab the six-pack of Miller Lite, not caring they’ll get warm and taste like piss water by the time I drink them all. I don’t deserve any enjoyment from drinking. My only goal is to get drunk and make the hurt go away. Because seeing her hurt and knowing I can’t do anything about it stings like a motherfucker.
Miller’s woof breaks the silence as I sink into the couch. He patters across the floor until his head nudges my leg. I’ve missed the mutt. He adds character to the house. I twist the lid off and tip the bottle to him. “I bet you don’t have any problems with the ladies, huh?”
He cocks his head and barks at me. I run my hand through his thick golden fur wishing like hell circumstances could be different.
“At least your breath smells better. The Cartels must be taking good care of you.”
He nuzzles against my legs and plops on the floor, seemingly done with the conversation.
“Yep, I’m done, too.” Miller’s tail raises and lands on the floor with a lazy thump. I tip the bottle back and swallow, staring at nothing. “The thing is, I did the right thing even though it feels like the worst mistake of my life. She fucking hates me right now, and the worst part is, I can’t tell her the truth. She’ll never understand I’m protecting her from a miserable life.”
Miller stays quiet. I continue to drink. Three beers into my midday drunk fest, I pull up the email from the doctor’s office and hit delete. If testing isn’t going to prove I’m in the clear, there isn’t any point in keeping the email. I don’t need the constant reminder whenever I log on to my G-mail account.
The front door opens when I’m well into my fifth beer. The slight buzz isn’t doing jack shit for the misery still surrounding me. Every time I close my eyes and picture her hurtful expression, it’s like a jab to my heart. I put that look on her face. But it’s better to deal with it now, than later.
“A little too early for drinking, isn’t it? Especially from someone who doesn’t drink,” Dalton asks.
“Why not? My discipline has been all for nothing, anyway.” For years, I’ve been under a strict regime of proteins, carbs, and healthy fats. I allow the anniversary of my dad’s death to get plastered. I figure it’s a tribute—a big “fuck you” to the debilitating diseases. But all this strict discipline is for nothing if I’m already showing early signs of ALS. My regime was supposed to keep the symptoms at bay. I shouldn’t worry about this shit until I’m at least in my fifties. My dad was only in his forties.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Never mind. I’m just rambling.”
He swipes his hand over my collection of empty beer bottles. “I take it this is about Shannon?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re a stupid asshole. That’s what I think.”
“Don’t hold back.”
“I don’t get it. I thought you liked her.”
“I do.” I more than like her. I fucking love her. This is torture. The only time I’ve ever felt this kind of loss was when we buried my father in the ground.
“Then, why did you break up with her?”
“I can’t be with her.”
“Why the hell not? Braxton was coming around.”
I look down at my hands. There haven’t been any more shakes today. But isn’t that just nature’s cruel joke of toying with you? Once you think things are back to normal, it slams into you. “There are things about me no one knows. I won’t burden her with my problems.”
It’s the closest I’ve come to admitting
a problem to someone. I can only hope he doesn’t press for what it is because I sure the hell won’t tell him. No one on that baseball field will ever find out.
“Look, man, if it’s about the draft or whatever, I get it. But I know Shannon. She loves you. She’ll stick by you no matter what.”
“Which is precisely why I have to let her go. I won’t be a burden.” She can’t get any more attached.
“You’ve already broken her heart. Isn’t that burden enough?”
When did Dalton become the philosopher of the house?
Braxton bursts through the door. Fire blazes behind his blue eyes, but the flames dissipate the moment his gaze lands on me. Huh, I must look as bad as I feel. One thing I know for sure, the buzz I’m currently sporting does nothing to dull this ache in my heart.
“What the hell are you doing?” Braxton drops his gaze to the empty beer bottles and shakes his head. I brace for the onslaught of his anger. In fact, I look forward to him getting in another punch or two. I’ll welcome anything to distract this emptiness.
“I’m doing what you wanted. I broke it off.”
Braxton rubs his hand along his face and studies me for a beat. I wait for it, but the yelling doesn’t come. Instead, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I know. Cara called. I don’t understand, though.”
“Doesn’t matter. You win.” I grab the last bottle and twists the top off. “You called it from the beginning.”
“I was hoping you’d prove me wrong, bro.”
I take a swig of the piss water before responding. “You and I both knew that wasn’t a possibility.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Shannon
“Oh my Gawd.”
I glance over at Todd. His fingers fan across his chest as his critical gaze slides along my oversized CU baseball sweatshirt I stole from Braxton and back up to my messy bun. The judgment turns to pity as he takes in my puffy eyelids. Outside of slicing up cucumbers, I tried to get the puffiness gone, but nothing helped.
Behind the Count: Cessna U Wildcats Book Two Page 21