Losing Memphis: A NA Sports Romance (NE University Book 3)

by Hannah Gray

  Pulling out my phone, I’m bummed when I see no new notifications. I haven’t heard a word from Lane all day. The past few days, we’ve been texting a little bit more. He even called me once after my phone call to him on Draft Day four days ago.

  When I push the front door open, the sun hits my face. It feels so nice after a few days of rain.

  Holding my hand above my eyes to shade them, I see someone leaning against my car.

  My face breaks out in a full, cheesy grin when I see who it is.

  Pushing off the car, he walks up to me. Cupping my cheeks, he presses a soft kiss against my lips.

  After he releases me, I stand there, frozen in this moment. We’re just … being us. Comfortable and familiar. My heart grows so big that I think it might explode out of my chest.

  When he grins, his dimple pops out, basically turning me into a puddle on the ground.

  “Hi there,” he says, intertwining his fingers with mine.

  “Hi,” I answer. Probably looking like an awkward-ass schoolgirl with a crush.

  It hits me that we’re in plain sight, for the world to see. Which means that Trent could see.

  “You know, as much as I love this little bout of public affection you’re giving me, Trent could be lurking somewhere nearby,” I joke.

  “That’s no longer a problem, babe.” He winks.

  “What?” My eyebrows pull together. “Why?”

  “Because I grew a set and told him,” he says like it’s no big deal at all.

  “Was he mad?”

  His lips turn up in a smile. His dimple pops out yet again, making me want to jump his damn bones. “He wasn’t thrilled. But he accepts it.”

  I want to ask him what this means. Or if it means anything at all. Are we still just two people who have sex? Or are we going to start a relationship?

  This moment is so sweet though. And even though I know a huge part of his heart is back in Michigan right now, he seems happy. That makes me remember something—that I now know what was haunting him in his dreams.

  He’s been giving me as much of himself as he can, and it hasn’t been easy for him. I know I shouldn’t have—and in a way, I feel like I betrayed him—but I did some digging on what had happened to him back in high school.

  I really couldn’t find out a lot. But from what I did see, a girl named Abby Leland along with a kid named Tyler Henders had been in a bad car accident. I still don’t fully know how Lane ties into it all, but I’m sure by the way he struggles, he somehow was.

  “Wait, when did you come home from Michigan?”

  “This morning. Just need to finish up a few things for graduation, and then I’ll go back.”

  “So, you’ll be here for a few days?”

  He nods. “I fly back next week. I’m here for six days.”

  My cheeks heat up. “Oh, good.”

  He pulls me against him, and his lips go to my neck. “So, let’s make these six days worth it,” he murmurs, his stubble tickling my skin and awakening the animal inside me.

  Oh, how I missed him while he was away.

  forty-three

  Memphis

  The last five days have been pure and utter bliss. Other than when I have to student teach during the day. Don’t get me wrong; I still love teaching. But this thing with Lane is overtaking my entire world, and I find myself unable to get enough.

  After an awkward conversation, Colton has backed off. He confessed he liked me more than he led on. He also couldn’t help himself but to “warn” me that Lane would hurt me. But at least I don’t have to worry that I’m leading him on.

  Climbing over the middle console, I scoot myself back into the passenger seat. I reach down on the floorboard for my jeans.

  Lane smirks. “Who knew Memphis Montgomery was the type for side-of-the-road sex?”

  “Oh, shut it.” I point at him. “It was not on the side of the road, wiseass. It’s a long, abandoned dirt road.”

  “Same thing. Either way, you just had to have your way with me,” he jokes, turning the truck around and heading home.

  “Oh, yeah”—I roll my eyes—“basically took advantage of you.”

  “Yeah, you did,” he tries to say in a serious tone but fails miserably.

  At dinner earlier, we just couldn’t stop rubbing against each other under the table. Both feeling that spark inside of us that ignites every time we are together. What started off as him resting his hand on my thigh ended up with our clothes off and us having sex on the side of the road. Incapable of waiting that twenty minutes to drive home.

  Unable to stop myself, I think that things are different now. They sure seem like it. I don’t want to pressure him by asking what we are or aren’t though. A part of me fears he’ll freak out and say, I told you we’d never be anything other than this. So, I have been playing it cool.

  We’ve gone to dinner a few times this week, and we’ve talked about his goals for the NFL. He also seems genuinely interested in my future goals as well.

  The thought that May is only two days away makes me sick. Graduation is in a little over two weeks, and then he’ll be leaving for Florida, away from me. I can’t imagine not seeing him or sharing these moments like we have. I’ve never felt so connected to another soul in my life. I also fear that maybe I never will.

  I know he’s trying to figure out his situation with his dad. He told his parents he’d stay in Michigan and help with his care. But his dad said absolutely not.

  From what he says, his dad’s illness is still at the beginning stages. But I know with ALS, it progresses at a fast speed. Which breaks my heart for Lane and his entire family.

  Lane’s voice breaks me from my thoughts. “What are you thinking about over there?”

  “Nothing really, just that it’s been a good five days.”

  “It has. It’s about to get better too,” he says, reaching for the volume dial.

  “Nothin’ but a Good Time” by Poison blares through the speakers.

  Lane starts smacking his hand on the steering wheel. “Come on, Miss Adventurous. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  I shake my head. “No freaking way. I have the worst singing voice.”

  I’m not lying. I really do have a terrible voice when it comes to singing.

  He starts belting out the lyrics. Reaching over, he nudges me. “Come on, you ol’ stick in the mud. If you do this …” He looks like he’s crafting an idea in his head. Which is scary. Tipping his chin up at me, he smirks. “Tell you what. When I get back next week, I’ll even volunteer to come into the library and read a fucking book to the kids during story time.”

  Now, that catches my attention. There are so many kids who idolize the campus football players. They’d flip if Lane came and read a book to them.

  Reaching over, I shake his hand. “Deal.”

  The chorus comes on, and we must look like two crazy people as we yell out the song lyrics. He even goes as far as pretending he’s playing a damn guitar when we’re at a stoplight.

  When I glance over, his face looks so carefree. For once, it isn’t holding a hundred pounds of pain. He’s just … living a normal college kid’s life.

  He turns toward me, belting out the words to the song. As stupid as I feel, I sing them right along with him.

  We pull in front of my apartment just as the song ends. Both of us winded from taking part in what was likely the two worst singers on the planet attempting to sing a song. But I don’t even care. I have never laughed that hard in my life.

  Leaning over, he grins and kisses my forehead. “You know what, Memphis Montgomery?”

  “What’s that?” I ask, ready for one of his sweet, sexy compliments.

  “You”—he looks in my eyes—“are one terrible singer.”

  “Hey!” I punch his chest. “I thought I did pretty good,” I lie. “You are the one who sucked. I was going to invite you inside, but after that comment, I’m second-guessing it.”

  “In that case, you are the next Taylo
r Swift.”

  “That’s more like it.” I turn to push my door open, but before I can, he’s jumping out of his and jogging around the front of the truck to open it.

  I have no idea where this is going, but I know I don’t want it to end. Even though he told me it would.

  For the third night in a row, he stays the night.

  Snuggling against him, I gaze up at his handsome face. “What time is your flight back tomorrow?”

  “Five fifteen,” he answers, running his fingers through my hair.

  I gasp. “In the morning?”

  Chuckling, he leans down and kisses my cheek. “No, you goof. At night.”

  “Oh, good.” I look at the clock, and it’s nearly eleven thirty at night. “I was going to say, you’d be exhausted.”

  He gives me a sleepy smile and yawns. “You worried about me, Miss Montgomery?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am,” I admit. Crawling on top of him, I kiss his neck. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”

  He pulls me closer, and I can hear his heartbeat as I cuddle against his chest.

  “I’ll miss you too. A lot,” he says somberly.

  I drift off to sleep, lying against his body. Which has become not only my favorite place, but also my safe place. It’s clear that I’m falling for a man I was never supposed to. But I don’t regret it for a second.

  forty-four

  Memphis

  Lane’s stomach growls, and mine must want to communicate with his because not seconds later, my own stomach lets out a god-awful noise.

  Standing up, pulling the sheet with me, and wrapping it around my bare body, I look back at him. “We’re both starving. I’m going to make us my favorite meal.”

  “Pancakes?” he guesses and then glances at the clock. “It’s ten forty-five, so since it’s still technically breakfast time, I’ll allow it.”

  “What are you even saying? It’s pancake time all day, every day,” I deadpan.

  Throwing on my sweats and tank top, I head toward the kitchen.

  “Hey, can I print something off from your laptop?” Lane calls behind me.

  “It’ll cost you five dollars,” I yell back.

  “You’re so funny,” he says. “Not.”

  I smile to myself. I love that we can tease each other so often, yet the times we’re intimate are so intense.

  Pulling out everything for the pancakes, I begin mixing it up.

  “Hey,” I yell, “what do you want on your pancakes?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “I’m doing chocolate chips on mine.” No answer still. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  When he still doesn’t answer, I head to my bedroom to make sure he’s okay and find him still in bed.

  “Hey, why didn’t you answer me?”

  Lane stares at the computer screen with a look in his eye I’ve never seen before. He looks angry—really angry. But worse, he looks hurt.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, confused.

  His eyes cut to mine, and they are so dark that I don’t even recognize them. “Gee, Memphis, I don’t know. What the fuck is this?” he barks, flipping the screen toward me.

  An article covers the screen. One I read a few days ago, but I’m positive I exited out of it. I know I did.

  “How did you—”

  A bitter laugh escapes him. “If you are going to look up things that you don’t want others to see, you should clear your history.” Pushing himself off the bed, he stands and shoves the laptop at my chest. “Otherwise, when someone goes to Google, your history will pop up.” He leans toward me, his eyes now narrowed to slits. “Just for future reference, in case you want to stalk your next fuck buddy’s past.”

  His last words cause me to flinch.

  Pulling his shirt over his head, he pushes past me and out my bedroom. He almost reaches the front door when I run to catch him and throw myself in front of him before he can go.

  Thank God Ava isn’t here to see me act like a complete psychopath.

  “Lane! Stop!” I cry out, grabbing his arm. “Let me explain!”

  His nostrils flare with every deep, shaky breath he takes. I barely recognize this man standing in front of me.

  “No,” he growls through his teeth.

  “Please,” I beg. “It isn’t what you think. I wasn’t just snooping for the hell of it, Lane.”

  I know I sound desperate. And that’s because I am. He just started letting me in. I can’t lose him. Not now.

  Moving closer to me, he stares into my eyes with nothing but pure vengeance. “I don’t give a fuck why you were snooping. Because at the end of the day, all that matters is that you were.” His eyes are filled with so much rage but also so much hurt. “You couldn’t wait to do your little research on what exactly the demise of Lane Rivers was. What exactly made him so fucked up. Could you?”

  Hot tears run in streams down my cheeks, making it hard for me to even see him clearly anymore. “It wasn’t like that, Lane. Please.” I step forward, pushing my head into his chest. “I just wanted to help you.” I sob against him, “Please listen to me.”

  Taking hold of my wrists, he forces me backward, away from him. “Help me? How the fuck would finding information about my dead girlfriend help me?”

  I can’t stop the tears from flowing like a river. I just wanted to find a way to help this poor, beautiful, yet broken boy. And instead, I hurt him.

  “Because …” I squeak. “Because the very first time we hung out, you cried in your sleep. You cried for her. The memories of it still haunt me.” Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I look at the floor. “You walk around with so much pain. I can see it.”

  I can feel the anger radiating off of him. “You don’t see shit,” he hisses.

  “I just wanted to help you. And in order to do that, I needed to know what you were dealing with,” I say, wiping my eyes again. “Please. Don’t leave.”

  “If I wanted you to know, I would have told you myself, Memphis,” he says through gritted teeth.

  I nod as the tears continue to pour out of my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  It’s clear that his anger is also coming from a place of shame. He’s ashamed that I saw the articles. He knows now that I’m aware of what happened his senior year. His deepest and darkest secret.

  He sidesteps me, reaching the door handle.

  They say love makes you do crazy things. I see that now as I throw my arms around his back and try to stop him.

  “No!” a shriek leaves my mouth. “Don’t do it, Lane. Don’t walk away right now! If you do, you know things will never be the same.”

  Flipping around, he gets an inch from my face. “They won’t ever be the same. How could you possibly think they would?”

  “I love you,” I blurt out.

  His facial expression tells me exactly how he feels about my confession.

  “What the hell did you just say?” he growls.

  “I said, I love you. And—” I’m close to hyperventilating. Talking gets more and more challenging, the more he pushes me away. “And when you love someone, you help them.”

  He looks dumbfounded and then livid. A bitter smile reaches his lips. “I told you what we were. I told you not to expect more. You knew better than to fall in love with me.”

  The next words out of my mouth have me preparing for the backlash that is Lane Rivers. He’s already someone I don’t know right now. Sure, I got a taste of this when I lied about being a virgin, but this? This is a whole new monster.

  “I think … I think that you love me too.”

  He flinches but then bounces back to anger quickly. “Are you fucking kidding me, Memphis?” his deep voice booms. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  He takes a few steps toward me, and I back up until I’m against the wall. As he hovers over me, his chest heaves.

  “I don’t love you. I have never loved you, and I will never love you. I don’t love anyone besides my family and—” He grimaces, and I
know it’s because he can’t bear to say her name out loud—Abby.

  I don’t speak, just cower to him as he stands in front of me. I know he’d never hurt me. I’m not scared of him in that way. I’m scared that he’s going to say something we can never bounce back from. Something so harsh that it’d be unforgivable.

  “You’re being cruel,” I cry.

  “I tried to warn you. You wouldn’t listen. I told you I’d be the villain in our story.”

  “You deserve to be happy,” I whisper.

  His lips turn up into a punishing smile. “And what? You think that’s with you?” He laughs. “Let me tell you one more time so that you understand me.”

  He tips my chin up to look at him. But the tears in my eyes cause my vision to blur.

  “I don’t love you, and I never will.” Just when I think he’s done, he adds in one last painful dig, “We were fucking, and that’s it. And now, we aren’t.” Releasing me, he shrugs. “In fact, I don’t ever want to see your traitorous face again.”

  And there it is. Those brutal, vile words I was afraid were going to come out of his beautiful mouth. And now, they are out there in the world. Nothing can take them back. There is no time machine where I can rewind time and plug my ears before he says them. Which makes me pathetic—that I would turn my head and claim ignorance when it came to him. But I understand more than ever that this isn’t him talking. It’s his pain. Even so, I deserve better than this. So much better.

  Something inside of me snaps. Shoving him backward, I yell in his face, “Do you think this helps, Lane? Do you?” I pound my hand against his chest. “Do you think it’s good to sabotage everything in your life? Don’t you get it? You’ll only end up a lonely, drunk guy with no friends or family left. Is that what you want?”

  His cold eyes stare at me with zero love inside of them. “That would be better than ending up with you. Someone I can’t trust.”

  This poor, tortured boy. He can’t even get outside of the darkness to see that he doesn’t actually belong there. He deserves to find happiness. Or at the very least, to forgive himself. Time and time again, he will self-sabotage any relationship he has. Never accepting love and ending up alone. Because he truly thinks that’s what he deserves.