Copyright(C)2022KandiSteiner
Allrightsreserved.
Nopartofthisbookmaybeusedorreproducedinanyformorbyanymeans,electronicormechanical,includingphotocopying,recording,orbyanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystemwithoutpriorwrittenconsentoftheauthorexceptwherepermittedbylaw.
Thecharactersandeventsdepictedinthisbookarefictitious.Anysimilaritytorealpersons,livingordead,iscoincidentalandnotintendedbytheauthor.
PublishedbyKandiSteiner
EditedbyElaineYork/AllusionPublishing
CoverPhotographybyRenSaliba
CoverDesignbyKandiSteiner
FormattingbyElaineYork/AllusionPublishingPrologue
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
ChapterTwenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ChapterTwenty-Eight
ChapterTwenty-Nine
ChapterThirty
Epilogue
EpilogueTwo
TheWrongGame
MorefromKandiSteiner
Acknowledgements
AbouttheAuthorTotheoneswhohavebeenstrangledbythedarkhandofgrief,
whohavefoundthestrengthtostand
evenwithitsheavybootonyourchest,
tothosewhocontinuetolive
evenwhenitfeelsimpossible…
thisone’sforyou.
Holden
TheNorthBostonUniversitylockerroomwascompletelysilentonthefirstdayofspringtraining.
Myteammatessatinfrontoftheirlockersorleanedagainsttrainingequipment,eyesontheflooraswewaited.Thesilenceroaredlikethehumofanairplaneengine,vibratingthrougheverychestinthebuilding.
Iwantedtotakecharge,topumpmyteamup,tohavesomegrandspeechthatwouldsoothealltheirworry.Ilongedforsageadvicelikethekindmyunclesgavemeintimesofstress,fortherightwordstomakeeveryonebreatheeasier.
Butthetruthwas,Iwasworried,too.
DespitehowI’dsomehowmanagedtoredirectmyteam’senergyafterourbowlgameloss,Iknewasmuchaseveryoneelseinthisroomhowmuchanewcoachwouldchangethings.
Anewcoachmeantnewdrills,newwaysofdoingthings,newplaysandtacticsand—possibly—newstarters.
Thatwaswhatscaredeveryoneinthisroomthemost.
Andevenifwedidallgettokeepourspots,wewereinunfamiliarterritorynow.Nothingwouldbethesamethisseason.
AlleyessnappedtothedoorwaythatledintothehallwhenCoachDawson,ourdefensiveendcoordinator,swungthroughit.Onhisheelswasourspecialteamscoach,ouroffensivecoordinator,andourtrainerstaff.
Andthen,attheveryendoftheline,CoachCarsonLee.
CoachLeesharedafewsimilaritieswithourlastcoach.Hewasbrutalinhistrainingcampswhenheworkeddownsouth,hehadazero-toleranceattitudewhenitcametoanyofhisplayerssteppingoutofline,andheexpectedgreatness.
ButhewasdifferentfromCoachSandersinmanyways,too.
Forstarters,hewastwentyyearshissenior,whichsomehowmademerespecthimevenmorejustbecausehe’dbeencoachingballbeforeIwasevenborn.Healsohadabitmoreofaradicalapproach,onethatgothimheadlinesfordoingthingslikemakinghisteamrunhalfthelengthoftheFloridaPanhandleoneweekendafteralosstoateamtheywereexpectedtobeateasily.
Weallstoodwhenheentered,likesoldierscomingtoattentionfortheirsergeant.
Hesweptintotheroomwithpurpose,hissaltandpeppergrayhairstyledinaneatwaveandpartedtotheside.Hewastall,atleastastallasourtightendandnumberonepaininmyass—KyleRobbins—andbuiltlikeatrain.Therewererumorsthatheranalotofdrillsalongsidehisplayers,asiftoshowthemthatifafifty-something-year-oldcoulddoit,itwasembarrassingiftheycouldn’t.
Onelookathimtoldmetherumorswerelikelytrue.
Hewastan,evidenceofworkinghardinthesundayinanddayout,andhisdarkeyesheldnokindnessastheysweptovertheroom.Hebenttowardthemantohisright,talkinginahushedvoicetoournewassistantcoachwhomhe’dbroughtwithhim.Iwatchedthetwoofthemconversingastheymovedtowardthecenterofthelockerroom.
Thatwas,untilshewalkedin.
IalmostthoughtitwasRileyNovo,ourkicker,atfirst—becausesheandourPublicRelationsCoordinator,GianaJones,weretheonlygirlsweeverreallysawinthelockerroom.ButthegirlwhoswungthroughthedoorbehindCoachwasnooneI’deverseenbefore.
Herlong,leather-brownhairflowedoverhershoulderslikechocolatewaves—andthatwastheonlythingsoftabouther.Everyinchofherfacewasetchedintosevereprecision,herjawset,bow-shapedlipsflattenedintoatightline.Inaredcroptanktopandblacktrackpants,Icouldtellshewasfit,hertoned,goldenstomachpeekingthroughthegapbetweenthetwo.Shewasslight,narrowhipsandleanarms,whichmadeheramplebuststandoutevenmore.
Ineverypossibleway,shewasacompleteknockout.
Butitwasn’therbodythatheldmecaptive.
Itwasn’therhair,orthegracefullineofherneck,orthearrogantindifferencewithwhichshestrodeintotheroom.
Itwashereyes.
Warm,endlesslydeepbrown,framedbythicklashesthatsweptacrosshercheekswitheveryblink.
Andhaunted.
Justlikemine.
“Atease,gentlemen,”CoachLeesaidwithasmirkthatlookedalmostunnatural,likehehardlysmiledatall.Heheldouthishandsandsignaledforustositoncehewasinthecenteroftheroom.“Andlady,”headdedwithapointedlookatRiley.
Therestofthecoacheslinedthewallbehindhim,givinghimourfullattention.
“IknowI’vealreadymetafewofyouduringmytourshere,butI’mexcitedtofinallygetrealtimewitheachandeveryoneofyou.Iwon’tpretendlikeI’mblindtohowuncomfortableanduneasythisallmustbeforyou.I’mnotjustanewplayer,I’manewcoach—andIknowhowthatcanshakethingsupmorethananythingelse.”
Iswallowed.
“ButIwantyoutoknow,I’mnotheretochangeeverything.Obviously,alotofwhatyouhavegoingherehasbeenworking.It’sanhonortobewalkingontothisteam.”Hepaused,hanginghishandsonhiships.“It’llbeevenmoreofanhonortogiveyouthelastpushtothefinishline,tobetherewhentheycrownuschampsattheendoftheseason.”
Thatmadeseveralplayersexchangelooksofdeterminationanddelight,thatfirethatI’dstokedattheendoflastseasonjustonegoodpokeawayfromroaringagain.We’dplayedinbowlgamesthelasttwoseasons,pullingNBUbackfromanembarrassingtenyearsoflacklusterperformance.Butwhilewe’dwontwoyearsago,we’dlostourmostrecentone—costingusourshotattheChampionshipTitle.
Andthiswasmylastyeartogetthere,towinitall,tosealmyspotasafirst-rounddraftpickintotheNFL.
“It’sthefirstdayofspringtraining,”Coachsaid.“AndIdon’twanttousethisprecioustimebabblingonaboutmyself.We’llgettoknoweachotherastheseasonprogresses.Fornow,IwanttointroduceyoutoCoachHoover,”hesaid,gesturingforthemanwho’dwalkedinnexttohimtocomeup.“Hooverismyright-handmanandwillprobablybecomeyourfavoritepersonintheworldbecauseifanyonecantalkmeoutofmakingateamrunlaps,it’shim.”
CoachHooversmirkedasCoachLeeclappedhimontheback.
“Andthis,”hesaid,wavingahandbehindhim.“Ismydaughter—Julep.”
Aknotformedinmythroat,toothicktoswallowpastasalleyesshottothedark-haired,dark-eyedgirl.
Hesitantly,shesteppeduptohisside,thoughshedidn’tsmileorshowanyounceofemotionotherthanaslightraiseoftwofingersfromwhereshe’dfoldedherarmsacrossherchest.
“Julepisroundingoutherjunioryear,andforsomereason,lovesmeenoughtotransferfromourlastuniversityandfinishoutherdegreehere.She’smajoringinsportsmedicine,andshe’llbeinterningunderthetrainingstaffontheteam.”
Myheartratespikedatthethoughtofherbeingaroundallthetime,atthemereinferencethatshemightbetheonetostretchormassagemebeforeagame.
Coachpaused,somethingmoreseverewashingoverhisexpressionashisjawhardened,eyesnarrowing.
“Andletmebeextremelyclear,”hesaid,scanningtheroom.“IfanyofyouevensomuchasthinksaboutflirtingwithJulep,letalonehavingtheballstoaskheronadate,youwillhavemetoanswerto.She’snothereforyoutoogleover.She’sheretowork—justlikeyou.IimaginesinceyouhaveRileyNovoasateammate,Idon’tneedtolectureanyfurtherthanthisaboutrespectingfemalesintheathleticindustry.”
Rileysmiledalittleatthat,obviouslyimpressed,andJuleprolledhereyeslikeshehatedthatthiswasaconversationthatevenneededtohappenatall.
Allthewhile,Iwasburningfromtheinsideout.
Becauseallmylife,footballhadbeenmyoneandonlyfocus.ItwasallIcaredabout.Itwasmyreasonforwakingupinthemorning,andtheonlythoughtthatconsumedmewhenIlaidmyheaddownatnight.Itwasmylifeline,mymuse,thecenterofmyattention.
Butinonefatalmoment,thatfocusshifted.
JulepLeewasthecoach’sdaughter.Shewascompletelyofflimits.
Andyet,IknewrightthenandtherethatIhadtohaveher.Fivemonthslater…
Julep
“Iamnothelpingyouputastripperpoleinthemiddleofyourlivingroom.”
Mydadfoldedhisarmssternlyacrosshischest,caterpillareyebrowsfurrowedthewaytheyalwayswerewhenhewasyellingatoneofhisplayers.
“Helpmeordon’thelpme,it’sgoingup,”Itoldhim,fittingthechromeextensiontothepolebeforetighteningthescrews.
“There’sagiantwindowthatfacesthestreet.”
Ijustshrugged,indifferent.“ThenIguesstheneighborswillgetafreeshow.”
Dadscowledmore,andIwishIstillhadthehumanemotionofjoyleftinsidemesoIcouldsmileandputhimatease.Instead,Iputthepoleasidelongenoughtoclimbtomyfeetandwraphiminahug—massivearmsacrosshischestandall.
“I’llgetcurtains,okay?”
Hedidn’tseemconvinced.
“RememberwhyIloveit,”Itoldhim—beggedhim.
Theinhalehedraggedthroughhisnosewasenoughtocauseadraftintheroom,buthesoftenedwiththeexhale,uncrossinghisarmsandhuggingmeinreturn.Hepressedaquickkisstomyforeheadbeforepullingback.
“Iknow,”hesaid.“Doesn’tmeanIwanttoseeit.”
“Fairenough,”Iconceded.Then,Ihungmyhandsonmyhips,chewingtheinsideofmycheek.“Thankyou,Dad.Forlettingmedothis.”
Henodded,thenmadehiswaytothekitchentocontinueunpackingaboxthatdidnotincludeachromeapparatusIwouldbeclingingtowhilehalfnaked.
Idecidedtowaittoputthepoleupuntillater,settlingonaboxlabeledbedroom,instead.Itwasamiraclemyfatherwastrustingmeenoughtoliveonmyown—well,witharoommate,butwithouthim.Itwasthefirsttimeinmynewadultlifethathe’dgrantedthepermissiontodoso,andIhadafeelingitwasbecausehefeltguiltymovingmeinthemiddleofmyjunioryearofcollegelastspringwhenhetookthejobasheadcoachoftheNorthBostonUniversityfootballteam.
NotthatIcared.
Itwasn’tlikeIleftagroupoffriendsbehind—likeIhadanyfriendsatall.I’dgivenupontryingtoestablishanythingclosetoarelationship,friendlyorotherwise,sincethenightIlostmysister.
Asiftheuniverseheardmythoughts,IopenedtheboxonthefloortofindapictureofAbbylookingbackatme.
Whatwasleftofmyheartstutteredatthesight,attheneonblueeyes,thewidesmile,thewayshehuggedmywaistlikeIwasherbestfriendwhileIstoodtherelookingannoyedwithlife—likealways.
ButIdidn’tcry,didn’tpickupthepictureandrunahandovertheglass,didn’tdoanythingotherthansetitasideandcontinueunpackingthepersonalitemsbeneathit.
Thefrontdoorburstopen,andIglancedupatthefrazzledgirlwhostumbledthroughtheentryway,armsloadedwithshoppingbags.
Shepausedatthesightofme,herdarksunglassesslidingdownhernoseabit.Shearchedabrowoverthem,takinginthelengthofmeasIdidthesametoher.
Iknewwithoutaskingwhoshewas—MarySilver,mynewroommate.
We’dfoundeachotherthroughanappthatremindedmeofadatingapp,exceptitmatchedyouwithpotentialroommatesintheBostonarea,instead.We’dboth“swipedright”oneachother,andafteracouplenightsofconversing,decidedwecouldtolerateeachotherenoughtolivetogether.ThatwasmaybewhatI’dlikedmostabouther—shewasn’tbubblyandannoying,shewasn’ttryingtobemybestfriend,shewasn’texpectinganythingotherthanformetopaymybillsontime.
Ifeltthesame.
Myfirstimpressionofherinpersonwasthatshewasgorgeous.ThatmuchIascertainedwithinseconds.
Herlongblondehairwasstyledinwavesoverhershoulders,hermakeupimmaculate,blush-paintedlipsandcat-linedeyesthatmademewonderifshediditprofessionally.Sheworeaforestgreendresscoveredindelicateflowers,herlushhipsandthickthighsstrainingthefabricandcallingattentiontohercurvesIwasalreadyenviousof.Shepairedthatdresswithaleatherjacketitwasfartoohottobewearingandblackcombatboots,andInotedthetattoosvisibleonherlegs,hersternum,thepiercingsthroughtheseptumofhernose,andliningbothherears.
Asubtletiltofherchinwasherfirstgreeting.“Hey.”
“Hey,”Isaidback.
Dadpausedwherehewasunpackinginthekitchen,andthoughhelookedpleasantenoughontheoutside,Iknewashisdaughterwhathewasthinkingasheeyeballedmynewroommate.
Mary’seyesdriftedtothehalf-builtpoleinthemiddleofthefloor.
“Youdance?”
Ishrugged.“Tricksandcombosmostly,butIdancesometimes,too.”
Shenodded,bottomlippokingoutlikeshewasimpressedandmaybealittlesurprised.“Cool.Justdon’tbreakanything.Iwanttogetourdepositback.”
Withthat,sheslidpastmeandDadboth,onherwaydownthebackhallwaytowardthestairsthatledtoourrooms.Sheglancedintothekitchenasshepassed.“’Sup,Pops.”
Iactuallyfeltthecornersofmymouthtiltupatthat,athowmydad’seyebrowslidintohishairlinewiththegreeting.
OnceMaryclimbedthestairsandshutherbedroomdoor,Dadlookedatme.
“Sheseemsnice,”Isaid.
Heblinkedbutrefrainedfromsayinganythingelseandwentbacktounpacking
Bending,IheavedtheboxI’dbeensiftingthroughintomyarmsandcarrieditupthestairs,too—tomyownbedroom.ThehouseMaryandIwererentingtogetherwasancient,thewoodfloorscreakingwitheverystepandtheplumbingadelicatesituationIwassurewouldgiveustroublemorethanonce.Iwasprettysurewe’dbehauntedatnightbyaghostfromtheRevolutionera.ButIlovedthenaturallightthatstreamedthroughthelargebaywindowinmyroom,lovedtheideaoffillingmyspacewithplantsandallmyfavoriteyardsalefinds.
Ifinallyhadaspaceofmyown.
Icouldn’tblamemyfatherforworryingaboutme.IhadgivenhimeveryrighttoafterthewayI’dcompletelylostcontrolofmylifewhenAbbydied.Betweenthepartying,thealcohol,thedrugs,andthenumbnesswithwhichIgavemyselftoanyboywhowantedme…Ihadturnedintosomeonenoonerecognized,mostofallme.
Iwouldhavedoneanythingtofeelsomething,eventhoughitneverworked.
Mymothergaveuponme.Ididn’thateherforit,mostlybecauseIwastoobusyhatingmyself.Butitsurprisedme,theeasewithwhichsheseemedtodismissmeafterthethirdorfourthtimeIshowedupattheirhouseinthemiddleofthenightandpukedonthelawn.Iwasluckythatmyactionsdidn’tendmyparents’marriage.Butsomehow,theymanagedtoholdontoeachotherevenwhenItestedeverylastnervetheyhad.
ButwhileDadandIhadmovedhereforhisnewjob,she’dstayedbackhomeinAlabama.
Sheclaimeditwasbecauseshelovedourhousetoomuchtoleaveit,thatthechurchwouldn’tbeabletogoonwithouther,thattheyogastudioswouldn’tbethesameinNewEngland.
Iknewitwasbecauseshewashappyforthechancetogetawayfromme.
Dad,ontheotherhand,hadneverlosthope.He’dneverlostfaithinme.Andsomehow,thatwasworse.
I’dneverforgetthenightmyfatherbrokedownintearsatmyfeet,beggingmetogetstraight,togotocollege,tofindawilltoliveagain.
“Ican’tloseyou,too.”
Thosewordswouldhauntmefortherestofmylife.
AndsohereIwas,asportsmedicinemajorwhoonlydrankaglassortwoofwineaweek,tryingtodowhateveritwasthatwouldmakehimhappy.Becausetherewasn’tashotinhellthatI’deverfindthatstateofbeingagain.
TheleastIcoulddowithmymiserablelifewasmakehisalittlelesshardtobear.
RockmusicstartedblastingfromMary’sroomasIgottounpacking,pullingoutahollowgoldenBuddhastatueI’dpickedupatanestatesaleafewyearsagoandsettingitonthefloornexttomybedsidetable.Piecebypiece,IfilledmynewbedroomwiththevasesandpaintingsandstainedmirrorsandtchotchkesandwhateverelseI’dthriftedovertheyears.ThespacebecamemoreandmoreeclecticasIdidso,andeachnewadditionmademefeelalittlelessdeadinside.
Ilikedsurroundingmyselfwithotherpeoples’stories,likedthethoughtofhavingapieceoftheminmyownlife—asifstrangerscouldfeelalittlelesslonelywithjustasimpleconnectionlikeanold,chippedteacup.
Eventually,IcamebacktothepictureofmeandAbby,andIcarefullysatitonmydeskbeforemyeyescaughtonsomeoneintheyardofthehouseacrossthestreet.
Thehouseitselflookedasdecrepitastheonewewerelivingin,thepaintpeelingandroofindesperateneedofnewshingles.Theporchwaslitteredwithbeercansandbottles,andtherewasamassivekidpassedoutontheporchswingwithoneleghangingoffitholdinghimsteady.
Butthatwasn’twhatheldmyattention.
Fromdownstairs,Icouldonlyseethefrontofthehouse,aswellastheoldhalf-rottedfencethatsurroundedthesideyardandwrappedaroundtheback.Butuphereinmyroom,Icouldseeoverthefencecompletely.
AnditwastheboyinthebackyardIcouldn’tlookawayfrom.
I’lladmit,boyseemedlikethewrongtermtodescribehim.Hewasshirtless,histhick,ebbingmusclesgleaminginthesunlightasherippedweedsfromabedofflowers.Sweatranalonghischiseledbackashedid,andwhenhesatbackonhisheelstowipehisforeheadwiththebackofhisforearm,Ifrowned.
HoldenMoore.
Irecognizedhiminstantly.ItwasimpossibleforanyonenottoknowwhotheNBUquarterbackwas.AndgiventhatI’dstudiedunderourathletictrainersoversummertrainingandwatchedthemworkonhisshoulder,wraphisanklebeforeeverypractice,andtorturehimwithacombinationoficebathsanddeeptissueworkeachweek—I’dhaveknownhisbodyanywhere.
I’dalsohaveknownthatheadofhair,thickandadark,sandyblondthatremindedmeofthebeach.Andthoughhisheadwasdown,focusonthegarden,Iknewthedimplesthatframedhissmile,theonethathadpoppedonhisleftcheekthefirsttimehelaideyesonmeduringspringtraining.
MaybeIwasshockedtoseehimlikethat,tendingcarefullytoabedofflowersinsteadoflaunchingafootballdownthefield.MaybeIwasfascinatedtoseehimdoinganythingotherthanfootball—whichhadseemedtobetheonlythinghecaredaboutsincethemomentIfirstmethim.Ormaybetherewasasmallpartofmethatwasn’tcompletelydead,apartofmestillcapableoffeelingatouchofheatatthesightofashirtless,muscledmansweatingintheNewEnglandsun.
Hestood,glovedhandwrappedaroundtheneckofablacktrashbagfullofweedsashedraggedhimselfbacktowardthehouse.Hesetthebagasideandgrabbedawaterbottle,drinkingforonlyamomentbeforehedumpedtherestoverhead,thewatermixingwiththesweatalreadylininghisarmsandabdomen.
Then,hefroze,frowningasifhesensedsomething.
Andhisgreeneyesshottome.
Icouldhavehidden.IcouldhavejumpedbackorpretendedtofocusonthephotographI’djustunpacked.IcouldhaveshiedawayandactedlikeIhadn’tbeenwatchinghim.Butinstead,Istoodmyground,holdinghisgazeashesquintedupatme.
WhenherealizedwhoIwas,hiseyebrowstickedupanotch—justbarelyenoughthatInoticed.
Foramoment,hejuststoodthere,staringatmeasIstaredathim.Butthen,hesitantly,heliftedhishandingreeting.
Iblinked.
AndthenIdrewthecurtainsshutandgotbacktowork.Holden
“Redthirty-two,redthirty-two.Set,hit!”
MarshawnWalkerwasabeastofablockpoisedinfrontofmebeforehesnappedtheball,tossingitbackthroughhislegsandintomyhands.Then,heimmediatelyshovedagainstthedefensiveplayerdoinghisbesttogetthroughandsackme.
IwasgratefulforplayerslikeWalkerandthetwomennexttohim,justafewwhokeptmesafeandallowedmethechancetoscanthefieldformyreceiver.
Everythingslowed—time,noise,myheartrateinmyears—asIsearchedfortheplay.Ourtightend,KyleRobbins,wascovered,unabletoshakeoursafety,ClayJohnson,ashejukedwitheverystep.IfoundBradenLocknext,atransferwhohadbeenkeyinourwinningstreaklastyear.Hewasjustoutofreachofthedefenderchasinghim,andwhenhecuttowardthemiddleofthefield,hiseyesjettingtomeashishandssplayedopenforthecatch,Ilaunchedtheball.
Itsailedoverwhereourmenwerescrappinginthemiddle,andLockcaughtiteasily,runninganothertenyardsbeforehewaswrappedupinatackleandbroughtdown.
Iclappedmyhands,smilingatthevictory.
UntilCoachLeeblewhiswhistle,andonelookatthescowlonhisfacetoldmehewasn’thappy.
“Moore!”
“Yes,sir,”Ianswered,alreadyjoggingovertolineupatattention.Therestoftheteamfollowedmylead.
“Didyoureadyourinstallpacket?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Anddidyouretainanyofthatinformation,ordiditjustemptyouttheothersideofyourbighead?”
Igrittedmyteethagainsttheinsult,knowingwellenoughfromworkingwithothercoacheswhohadasimilartrainingstylethatitwasn’taquestionhewantedmetoanswer.I’dforgottenwhatitwasliketoworkwithacoachlikehim.CoachSandershadbeensofterinhisapproach—firm,buttrustinginmeandmyleadershipabilities.
CoachLeehadwatchedmeeversincespringtraininglikeIwasanin-lawcampinginhisbasementwhohecouldn’twaittoberidof.
“Icalledaslant,”hesaid.
Thistime,hearchedabrow,whichtoldmehewantedaresponse.
“Defenseshuffled,sir,andthenewformationmadetheslantimpossible.Icalledoutthecoverageand—”
“Impossible?”CoachLeecutmeoff,steppingrightupintomychest.Ikeptmygazefixedontheplayersrunningadrilldownthefieldbehindhimashepeeredupatme.“Isthatwhatyou’regoingtosaywhenyoupullthatshitinagameandcostusafirstdown?”
Ifrowned.“Sir,Lockcaught—”
“Idon’tgiveaflyinghorse’sasswhatLockdid,hewasn’tsupposedtohaveactioninthatplayatall.”
“Coach,withallduerespect,wegotthefirst.Wegotthefirstandmore.”
CoachLeeshookhishead,watchingmelikehewasslowlyfiguringmeout.
Likehedidn’tlikewhathesawwhenhedid.
“Iunderstandyou’vebeenoperatingasaleaderonthisteamforyears,Moore,andIlikethat.It’simportant.”Hegotevencloser,hiscoffeebreathfindingmynoseashecontinued.“Butyou’retheCaptain,andI’mtheGeneral.Youreporttome.Youobeymyorders.Understood?”
Iswalloweddownmyannoyance,mylongingforCoachSandersandthewayheranthings.MaybeI’djustgottentoocomfortable.MaybeIwasspoiledwithacoachwhoIalsofeltlikewasafriend.
OrmaybeCoachLeewasjustaclassAsonofabitch.
“Yes,sir,”Ianswered.
“Good.”CoachLeenodded,steppingbackwithhiseyesonhisclipboard.“Burpees.Allofyou.”
Therewasastifled,collectivegroanbeforesomeoneyelledout,“Howmany?”
“YoustopwhenIsaystop,”wasallCoachanswered,andthenhewasinconversationwithourDefensiveEndCoordinator.
MyjawtightenedasIyankedoffmyhelmetanddroppeddownformyfirstburpee,notgivingintothetemptationtolookattheotherplayerswhoIknewwerewatchingmyeverymove.TheywaitedformetogivethemthelookthatIwasannoyed,thatIthoughtCoachLeewasbeingharsherthannecessaryandcallingbullshitpunishmentdrillsjusttobeadick.
ButIkeptmygazeeitherontheturfwhereIdroppedoracrossthefieldwhenIjumped,gettingmyrepsinwithoutahintofemotion.Ihadtosetthetone,andthelastthingourteamneededwasanyriftbetweenusandournewcoach.Hewasjusttryingtoassertdominance,togarnertherespecthefeltheneededtoruntheteam.
Itwouldn’tbelikethisforlong.
That’swhatItoldmyselfeachtimemyhandshittheground,evenasmychestburnedandmylegsachedandCoachLeelookedonlikeheforgotweweredoingburpeesatall.Buteventually,allthepainnumbed,myheadcleared,andIfellintoarhythm.
Jumpatthetop,handsup,handsdown,jumpback,pushup,hopfeetbacktohands,rightbackintotheexplosionuptomyfeetandrepeat.Overandover,Iranthedrill,gazedistantandoutoffocus.
UntilJulepLeecameintoview.
Herlong,sleek,brownhairwasupinahighponytail,swingingslightlysidetosideasshefollowedontheheelsoftheathletictrainerinfrontofher.Sheheldfasttoherclipboard,makingnotesasasilentstudyuntilthetrainerwouldpointtoaplayerandJulepwouldtakeover.Iwatchedin-betweenburpeesasshegentlymaneuveredthekneeofoneofourrookies,firingoffquestionsthatIcouldrecitesinceI’dbeenaskedthemamultitudeoftimesovermycareer
Doesthishurt?Howaboutthis?Scaleofonetoten,what’sthepainlevel?Whatkindofpaindoyoufeel,sharp,dull,pinsandneedles?Canyoubendit,straightenit,applypressure?
MyeyeskeptherasmynewfocuseachtimeIpoppedbackup,andIstrainedtofindanyemotioninthoseendlesslydarkbrowneyes.Butshewasthepictureofpoisedindifference.
Orperhapsshewasnumb,too.
I’ddonemybesttoavoidhersincethefirstdayshewalkedthroughthelockerroomdoorsinspringtraining.Shewasthecoach’sdaughter,andthereforeofflimitsineveryconceivableway.AsifIdidn’talreadyknowthat,Coachhadbeensuretoreminduseverychancehehad—ifhecaughtsomeonewatchingherfortoolongoroverheardajokeintheshowers.
Itwasn’tdifficulttofollowhisorders—atleast,notforme.Footballoutweighedeverythinginmylife.So,whenIcametomysensesandrealizedevenflirtingwiththethoughtofbeingfriendswithhercouldputmycareerindanger,I’dboxedupanyfantasyI’dhadaboutthedark-haired,dark-eyedgirlandshelvedthemhighenoughthatIcouldn’treachfortheminmomentsofweaknesses.
AndseeinghereverydayintightathleisurewithsweatbeadingatthesmallofherbackprovedIwouldfacemanyofthosemoments.
SoIstayedfocused,stayedcentered,andremindedmyselfoftheoneandonlygoalthatmatteredtome:goingproattheendofthisseason.
Butnow,InotonlyhadtofighttokeepmyeyesoffJulepatthestadium,butathome,too.
Becauseshewasalsomynewneighbor.
CoachLeeblowinghiswhistlebroughtmebacktothepresentinawhoosh,andonlywhenIstoppedmovingdidIregisterhowmuchpainmybodywasin,howhardIwasbreathing,howbadlymychestachedwiththestrainI’dputonit.Therestoftheboyscollapsedontothefield,andIjustbarelystayeduprightwithmyhandsbracedonmyknees.
Therestoftheteamcircleduparoundus,gatheringfromwherethey’dbeenrunningtheirownversionofhellishdrills.Theydidn’tseemenviousastheyjoinedusaroundCoach,andRileyhunganarmoffClay’sshouldersasZekecameuponmyoppositeside.
“Aren’tweallhavingfun?”Rileyteased,andClaymanagedtoflickheroffbeforehenearlyvomited.
Thethreeofthemfeltlikefamilytome.RileyandZeke,bothspecialteams,wereacoupleandhadbeeneversincetheirfreshmanseason—whichwasmyfirstseasonasquarterback,thankstotheshoulderinjurythathadredshirtedme.
I’dbeenworriedaboutRileywhenshefirstshowedup.IwonderedjustliketherestoftheteamifhavingagirlontheteamwasmoreofaPRstuntthananythingelse.Butsheprovedtoallofuswhyshewashere—becauseshe’stalented.Sheearnedmyrespectinthatfirstseason,andevenmorelastyearwhenshesteppedupasaleaderIcouldcounton.
AsforZeke,he’dbeenatopspecialteamsrecruit,thankstothefactthathewashellonwheelsandcameupwithmonsterreturnseverytimetheballsaileddownthefieldandintohishands.Iknewmanyofourtouchdownswerethankstothepositioninghesecuredforusinthatfirstplay.
Claywasthebestsafetyinthenation—period.Hewasagargantuanthingwiththeheartofapuppydog,andIwasconvincedtherewasn’taquarterbackinthiscountrywhowassafefromhimpickingtheirthrowandembarrassingthemwithatouchdownintheoppositedirection.Hewasoneofmyclosestfriends,secondonlytoLeoHernandez,ourstarrunningbackandoneofmyroommatesatwhattheteamaffectionatelycalledtheSnakePit.
AsifI’dconjuredhim,LeojoggeduptotheothersideofZeke,andhearchedabrowatwhereClayandIwerestilldoubledoverinpain.
“GottaloveFallCamp,”hemurmured.
“Alright,”Coachsaid,callingallourattentiontowherehestoodinthecenterofthegroup.“Hittheshowersandgetsomefoodinyou.Westartfilmatoneo’clocksharp,”headded,checkingthetimeonhiswatch.“Andleaveallphonesinthelockerroom.”
KyleRobbinsaudiblygroanedatthat,andtherestofussmirkedandexchangedlooks.HewasusedtogettingawaywithalotofshitwhenCoachSanderswashere,andhe’dgrownafollowingonsocialmediaforgivingbehind-the-sceneslooksatourdaytodayasateam.ButCoachLeehadputastoptothat.
Andmaybethatwastheonecallhe’dmadesincehisarrivalthatassuredmehehadtheteam’sbestinterestatheart.
Mypost-practiceroutinewasbrutal.
Ithadbeeneversincemyshoulderinjury—theonethathadmademesitoutmyfreshmanyearofcollege.OnceIwasclearedtoplayagain,Itookmydutytokeepthatshoulderinshapeandawayfromanyfurtherinjuryveryseriously.
Icebaths,deeptissuework,physicaltherapy—itwasallpartofmytraining.Andbecauseofthat,thetrainingstaffatNBUknewmewell.
“How’sitfeelingtoday,Moore?”JBaskedwhenIpercheduponthetable,freshfrommyicebath.
“Likeamillionbucks.”
HesmirkedatthesameanswerIgavehimeverytime—regardlessofwhethermyshoulderwasthrobbingornot.JBhadtakenmyrehabashisownpersonalchallengewhenIcametoNorthBostonUniversity,andbecauseofhowmuchtimewespentwithhimtorturingmethroughphysicaltherapyanddeeptissuework,we’dbecomegoodfriends.
AsgoodoffriendsasIcouldbewiththepersonwhohadthepowertobenchmeatanymoment,anyway.
“StilltakingyourNSAIDs?”
Inodded.“Everyday.”
Itwasmyleastfavoritepartofmymorningroutine,takinganti-inflammatorymedication,butIknewitwasnon-negotiableduringtheseason.IwantedtoavoidcorticosteroidinjectionsforaslongasIcould,andsofar,I’dsucceeded.
“Well,ifyou’renotintoomuchpaintoday,we’regoingtoholdoffondryneedlingordeeptissueandjustfocusonstrength.”Hepaused,lookingatsomethingonhisclipboardbeforehecalledoverhisshoulder,“Julep,whydon’tyoutaketheleadonthisone?”
Thetrainingsupplyclosetwasopen,andoutswungJulepatthecallofhername,thosedarkeyeslockingonmeonlybrieflybeforesheaddressedJB.
“Injury?”
“Rotatorcuff.Twoyearspostarthroscopy.Advancedstagerehab,”hetoldher,handinghertheclipboardinmyhandthatsomehowmademefeellikehe’djustshownheranakedpictureofme.
Hereyesscannedthepagesassheflippedthroughthem,takinginallthenotesJBhadmadeonmeovertheyears.Once,hergazeflickedtomine,andittrailedslowlydownthelengthofmybiceps,myabdomen,beforeslidingbacktothepages.
IsworeIsawafaintblushonhercheeks.
“JustworkthroughtheplyometricandI’llmonitorin-betweenotherplayers,”JBsaid.Withoutanotherword,heleftus,movinghisattentiontoadefensivelinemanwhojustwalkedthroughthedoor.
Juleplookedatme,andagain,hergazeslippedlowforabriefmomentbeforesheclearedherthroatandsweptherhandacrossthegroundinfrontofherasifitwerearedcarpet.“Well,whatareyouwaitingfor,aninvitation?Let’sgo.”
Myeyebrowshotupatthetone,butIjustsmirkedandhoppedoffthetable,followingherleadovertothetrainingarea.
“Let’sstartwithsomeeccentricstretching,”shesaid,eyesonherclipboardbeforeshepointedatthegroundbytheweightbench.“GoaheadandkneelandI’llgrabadumbbell.”
IshamelesslywatchedherwalktowardtheweightsasItookaknee,notingeventhroughtheleggingssheworehowtonedherhamstringsandasswere.Thatwasanassthattoldmeshetrained,too.
Whenshereturned,shehandedmeaten-pounddumbbell.
“Iwantyoutothinkaboutkeepingyourchestlifted,elbowbalancedonthatkneeasyourotateyourshoulderopenandclosed,”shesaid,demonstratingwithherownarm.“Moveniceandslow.”
IbitbacktheurgetotellherI’ddonetheseexercisessomuchIcouldperformtheminmysleep—mostlybecausethiswasthefirsttimeshe’devertalkedtome,andifshethoughtshewasbossingmearoundandshowingmesomethingnew,I’dletherthinkit.
“NewEnglandinthefallmustbealotdifferentfromwhereyouliveddownsouth,huh?”
Noresponse.
“Alabama,right?”
Whenshedidn’treply,Ikepton.
“Igrewupinthesouth,too.Florida.MovedherewithmyuncleswhenIwasakid.”Ismiled,despitethemixedemotionsthatwentwiththatmove.“Imissthebeach,butIdon’tmissthatheat.”
Aflat-lippedblinkofacknowledgementwasallIgotfromJulep.
Iprobablyshouldhaveshutupthen.Ifitwereanyothertrainer,Ilikelywouldhave.
ButIcouldn’tstopmyself.
“How’sitbeensofar?”Iaskedafteramoment.“Withthetrainingstaff,Imean.”
“Fine,”sheclipped.“Alright,let’smoveontopendulumswings.”
Istood,balancingmylefthandonatableforstabilitybeforeIbeganswingingmyrightarmsidetoside.“Doyoufeellikeyou’relearningalot?”
“Loads.”
“Whatmadeyouwanttogointosportsmedicine?”
Shesighed,clipboardhittingherthighbeforesheleveledmewithasternlook.“Thisisn’taninterview,Moore.It’srehab.Focus.”
Ismirked.“Couldbeboth,ifwetriedourhandatmulti-tasking.”
Julepignoredme,walkingmethroughthenextsetofexerciseswhileIwatchedhercuriouslyandtriedtoseeunderthehardexteriorsheworesoeasily.Therewasnothingevenclosetoasmileonherdusty-coloredlips,justsharpconcentrationoneverymoveImadeandthechecklistinfrontofher.
JBcameovertocheckonus,makingafewremarksbeforehewasgoneagain.Whenheleft,Itriedpokingthebearoncemore.
“Youandyourdadmustbeclose,huh?”
Julepstilled,pausingonlyasecondbeforeshepointedatthemedicineballontheground.Iknewwithouthersayinganotherwordthatshewantedmetodochestpassesagainstthewall.
“Somethinglikethat,”wasallsherespondedwithasIlaunchedintothefirstset.
“Gotanytips?”
Shefrowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youroldmanseemstohaveitoutforme,”Ianswered.
IthoughtIsawthecornerofherlipslift,anditwasstupidhowmuchencouragementthatslightmovementgaveme.
“Hedoesn’tlikeanyonewhoquestionshisauthority.”
“So,Ishouldjustbendoverandtakewhateverhewantstogiveme,eh?”
“Yourwords,notmine,”sheremarked,andforthefirsttimesinceI’dmether,hereyesdancedwithabitofamusement.
Ismiled,whichseemedtopullherbacktothemoment,becausewithaclearingofherthroat,hereyeswereontheclipboardagain.
“Isawyougardening,”shesaidafteramoment.
“AndIsawyou,”Ireplied.“Stalkingme.”
Themostunattractivesnortofalaughleftherthen,andsheaccentedthatnoisewitharollofhereyesbeforeshegavemethesignaltostopwiththemedicineball.Ihungitbetweenmyforearmandhip,archingabrowather.
“Don’tactlikeyouweren’t.”
“Iwasunpackingandhappenedtolookoutmywindow,”shecountered.“Notmyfaultyouwereshirtlessplayinginthedirt.”
“Iwaspullingweeds,”Icorrected.“Sorryifmyabsweredistracting.”
Anotherrollofthosebeautifuleyes.
“ShouldIwearashirtfromnowon?”
“Dowhateveryouwant,”shesaid,andthenshecheckedthetimeonherwatchandpointedtotheballformetostartagain.
“Idon’tknowifanyone’stoldyouabouttheSnakePit,”IsaidasItossedtheball.“Butwe’rekindofanopenhouse.Ifyoueverneedanightoutoranything.”
JulepgavemealookthattoldmeIwasafoolforevensuggesting.
Ishrugged.“Everyoneneedstocutloosesometimes.”
“Didyounotheedmydad’swarning?”
Herquestionstruckanyhumorinourconversationdownlikealightningstrike,andIcaughtthemedicineballbeforeturningtofaceher.
“I’mofflimits.”
“I’mjusttalkingtoyou.I’mnotallowedtotalktoyou?”
“You’reflirtingwithme.There’sadifference.”
“Someone’sfullofthemself.”
Herlittlemouthpoppedopen,browsfurrowingasshetookastepintomyspace.Thatonestepnarrowedallmyattentiontoherslightframe,herbust,herlipsasshepursedthemandfoldedherarmsoverherchest.
“It’snevergoingtohappen,QB.”
“Hey,I’mjustasofflimitsasyouare,”Iquippedback,testingthatdelicatespacebetweenus.“Somaybeyoushouldtakeastepbackandavoidlookingoutyourwindowifmebeingshirtlessisatemptation.”
Asifshejustrealizedhowcloseshewastome,hergazedroppedtomybarechest.
Iflexedmypec,andshescoffed,takingagiantstepbackward.
“Youreallythinkyou’resomething,don’tyou?”
Ishrugged.“Quarterbacksyndrome.Seemslikeyoumighthavesomeofthatinyou,too.”
“Trustme—youandIarenothingalike.”
“Oh,Ihaveafeelingyoumightbewrongaboutthat,JulepLee.”
Herfullnameshotoutofmeinanattempttobecute,ormaybeinanattempttorileherupevenmorenowthatIknewhowfunitwastoruffleherfeathers.Butinstead,itwaslikeabucketoficewateronafire,dousingherflameandsoberingherexpression.
“You’refreetogo,”shesaidwithoutemotion,andthensheturnedonherheelsandleftmestandingtherewonderingwhothehellI’djuststeppedoutoftheringwith.Julep
ThemusclesalongmyribcageachedasIstretchedaroundthepole,hangingbyonelegasIfoughttoreachbackfortheoppositefoot.IspunslowandseductivelytothemelodicvoiceofH.E.R.,inhalingdeepandexhalingthesameasItriedtomatchmymovementstothebeat.
Holdingtheinvertedshapeforacountofeight,Icarefullyreleasedmyfoot,reachingupbetweenmythighsforthechromeapparatusonlytopullmychestupandre-center.Iarched,lettingmyhairflowbehindme,revelinginthefull-bodyandmindescapeonlythiscouldaffordme.
ItwasshortlyafterAbby’sdeaththatIattendedmyfirstpoleclass.I’dsignedupmostlybecauseIthoughtitmatchedmyrebelliousattitudeatthetime.ItwasonemorewayIcoulddisappointmyfamily,onemorewayIcouldactoutandbethescrewuptheyallassumedIwas.
ButwhatIfoundinsidethatpolestudioendedupbeingmysavinggrace.
Itwasacommunityofwomenempoweringthemselves,takingbackwhathadbeentakenfromthemandre-inventingtheirsoulsfromtheinsideout.Thesewomenwereyoung,andtheywereold.Theywereallshapes,sizes,andcolors.Theywereeverycornerofthefeminineenergy.
Theyweresurvivors.
ItwasthemostsupportiveenvironmentI’deverbeenin,andmorethanthat—itwasthemostphysicallyandmentallychallengingendeavorI’devertakenoninmylife.
WhenIwasflowing,Icouldn’tthinkaboutanythingotherthanmybreath,mypointsofcontactwiththepole,ormynextmove.Therewasnospaceinmybrainforthinkingaboutmysister,aboutthemenwhotookherlifeandremainedfree,aboutmyfamily’sdemiseonceshewasgone.
Abouthowitwasallmyfault.
Iknewnothingwouldchange—notfortherestofmylife.Iwouldalwaysbehauntedbythatoneparty,bythatoneseeminglyinnocentbitofpeerpressuretoconmysisterintodoingdrugswithme.Itwassupposedtobeafunnight,onewewouldlaughaboutaswegrewolder,onewe’dtellourkidsaboutwhentheyteasedusaboutnotbeinganyfun.
Backinourday…
Instead,itwasthenightshetookherlastbreath.
Andso,polebecamemorethanjustawaytoexerciseforme.
Itbecametheonlywaytosurvive.
Mybreathsawedinandoutofmychestoncemybarefeettouchedthewoodflooragain,andIheldontothepole,heavingandstandingstillasmydizzinessslowlybegantofade.OnceIfeltokay,IstrodeovertothecoffeetablethatI’dshovedoutofthewayandunderourfrontbaywindow,snaggingmywaterbottleoffthetopofit.
Ichuggedthecoolliquid,moppingmyforeheadwithatowelasIconsideredwhattricksequenceIwantedtotrynext.IwassodeepinthoughtIalmostdidn’tnoticethepairofgreeneyeswatchingme.
IfeltthembeforeIsawthem.
Itwasachemicalbuzz,hummingrightunderthesurfaceofmyskinasIstoodthereinwhatwasleftofthefadingsunlightcomingthroughthewindow.IsnappedoutofthedazeIsoeasilyslippedintowithpole,stillbreathingheavilyasmygazefoundHoldenMoore.
Hestoodrootedinplaceonthesidewalkinfrontofthestairsthatleduptohishouse,onelarge,stuffedpaperbagineacharm.Hislipswereslightlyparted,andevenfromacrossthestreet,InotedhowhisAdam’sapplebobbedhardinhisthroatashiseyestrailedthelengthofme.
InordertosticktothepolethewayIneededto,Icouldn’twearmuchclothing.Andso,Istoodthereinablacksportsbraandblackthongtomatch,andIdidn’tbothertocovermyselfasthosegreenirisescarefullymadetheirwaybackuptoconnecttomine.
Firelickedalongmynavelthelongerhestared,thelongerIheldthatgaze—justlikeithadinthetrainingroomtheotherday.Therewassomethingsounwaveringlycockyabouthowhestood,howhecarriedhimself,howhepushedmybuttonslikeheknewwhereeverysingleoneofthemhid.
Somethingabouthimchangedwhenhetalkedtome,itseemed.Witheveryoneelseontheteam,hewascalm,constant,severe—aleader,throughandthrough.Butwithme,itwasasifhesawafleckofsomethingcoveredbydirt,andhecouldn’thelpbutscratchandscratchinthemissiontouncoverit.
Itannoyedtheever-lovingshitoutofmethatIwasintriguedbythatfact.
ItannoyedmeevenmorethatIlovedhavinghiseyesonme.
“Ugh,whatacreep.”
IjumpedalittleinsurpriseasMarysidledupnexttome,crossingherarmswithdistastewrittenineveryfeatureassheshookherheadandfrownedatHolden.
“Weneedtoinvestinblackoutcurtains.”
Ismirked,turningbacktofindHoldenstillstaring.HisgazeseemedstucktomeuntilitflickedtowhereMarywasbesideme,andhechuckled,adjustingthebagsinhisarmsandturningforthehouse.WhenIlookedbackatmyroommate,itwasjustintimetoseehertuckawaythetwomiddlefingersshewasflippinghim.
Inudgedher.“Subtle.”
“Idon’tcare.He’sbeingacreep.They’reallcreeps—thatentirefootballteam.”
Iarchedabrow.“YouknowI’mapartofthatteam,too,right?Andmydad.”
Marywavedmeoff.“That’sdifferent.I’mtalkingabouttheplayers.Emphasisonthewordplayer.Thewholelotofthemthinkstheyrunthiscampusandthateverygirlshouldjustfallattheirfeet.They’reassholes,”sheadded.“ThenumberoneassholebeingLeoHernandez.”
Ifrowned.“Leo?He’sbeensweettome.Alittleflirtatious,maybe,butharmless.”
“Trustme.There’snothingharmlessaboutthatstupidboy.”
Herfacehardened,thenhereyesflickedtomine,andwhenshesawmewaitingwithaliftedbrowforfurtherexplanation,shesuckedherteethandsweptherlongblondehairoveroneshoulder.
“Anyway.Wanttosmokeajointandorderapizza,orareyougoingtostripforourneighborsallnight?”
Iwinked.“Justtryingtokeeptheblockinteresting.Pizzasoundsgood.”
“Nojoint?”
Marywasalreadypullingoutherstash,thearomaoftheflowerhittingmeassheunpackeditfromwhatlookedlikeamakeupbag.
Iswallowed,hearttickingupanotchatthesight,atthefactthatitwascloseenoughIcouldmakeouttheresinstickingtothelightgreenandorangebud.
Butaflashofmyfather’sfacetwistedingriefhitmenext,andIblinked,knockingawayalltemptationwiththatonesimplegesture.
“Justpizzaforme.”
Thefollowingweek,myfatherannouncedthedepthchartfortheteam,andeveryonewasinatizzy.
Althoughfootballwasn’tmylifethewayitwashis,Iknewashisdaughterthatcollegefootballchartdaywasbig,notjustatourcampus,buteverycampusaroundthenation.Reporterswouldofferfullcoverageofthechartsforeachuniversity,andthuswouldbeginthepredictionsforwhichmatchupswouldprovethebestonesoftheseason.
Ofcourse,thisparticulardayheldmoreweightthanever—becausehewasthenewcoach.
Andhe’dshakenthingsup.
Ididn’thavetolooktoknowthereweresurprises,thatplayersusedtostartingfoundthemselvesslatedinthenumbertwooreventhreespots.Therewasaraucousenergyamongtheteamasweallfiledintothecafeteriaafterpractice,andwhenIfilledmytrayandturnedtofindaseat,itfeltlikeeverysetofeyeswaslaseredinonme.
“Hey,whydon’tyousitwithustoday?”
Iblinkedatthesoft,sweetvoice,andfoundmyselflookingdowntofindGianaJonestomyleft.Sheheldatrayofherown,hercurlyhairframinghersmilelikeahaloasshebeamedupatme.
“I’mGiana,”shesaidwhenIdidn’tanswer.“Iknowwehaven’thadmuchtimetogetheryet,butI’mthePublicRelationsAssistantCoordinator.I’llprobablybehoundingyouforaninterviewsoon,”sheaddedwithalaugh.“So,letmeatleastsitwithyouatlunchfirst.”
Itriedmybesttosmileback,noddingtowardtheroominasilentanswerforhertoleadtheway.IfIwasbeinghonest,I’dplannedontakingmytraybacktothetrainingroomandeatingnexttotheicebaths.
Butagain,Ifelttheweightofmyfather’sexpectation,thepressureofthehopeheheldontothatthismovewouldbegoodforme.Hewantednothingmorethanformetofindfriends,tofindpurpose,tobeokay.
I’dratherfakethatIcoulddothosethingsthanadmittohimthatInevercould.
IfollowedGianathroughthecrowd,ignoringthestaresfromplayersasIdid.Icouldn’ttelliftheywereangrywithme,likeIhadaninfluenceovermyfather’sdecision,oriftheywereintriguedbyme.
Iknewthatgamewell—theonewheretheytookbetsonwhocouldgetthecoach’sdaughterintheirbedbeforeanyoneelse.
Butthiswasn’tmyfirstrodeo.Ifanyofthemactuallythoughttheystoodachance,they’dendupdisappointedintheend.
Gianaslidintoaseatatatableinthemiddleoftheroom,pattingtheonenexttoherformetotake.ItwasrightacrossfromRileyNovo,theonlyfemaleontheteam.ShebeamedjustasbrightlyasGianawhenshenotedme.
“Hey,Julep.How’sitgoing?”
“Peachy,”Iansweredflatly.
RileyandGianasharedalookasiftheywerehavingasilentconversation.
“Don’tworryaboutallthis,”Rileysaid,wavingherhandatthetablesaroundus.“Someoftheteamisbentupovertheirpoorperformanceatcampthatwasreflectedinthecharttoday.”
Shesaidthatlastpartlouder,whichearnedhersomedisgruntledmurmursfromherteammates.Butshejustsmiled,cuttingintoherchickenandpoppingapieceinhermouth.
Gianasnickered.
“How’sitgoingsofar?”Rileyaskednext.“AnyoneIneedtosetstraight?”
ThetensioninmyshoulderseasedabitasIunwrappedmysilverware.“NothingIcan’thandle.”
“That’swhatwefigured,”Gianainterjected.“Wesawitthefirstdayyouwalkedinduringspringtraining.You’reusedtothiscircusjustasmuchasweare.”
“Whatmadeyougetintotraininganyway?”Rileyaskedbetweenbites.“Areyouanathlete,too?”
“Doespoledancingcount?”
RileycoughedalittleasGiana’seyesdoubled,andIwaitedforit—thejudgment,theinstantawkwardnessthatIwasmetwithmostofthetimewhenIletthatlittlefunfactslip.
“Um,hellyeah,itcounts!”Gianasaid,surprisingmewithalightsmackacrossmybicep.“Iwanttolearn!Imean,I’llprobablyfallonmyfacetryingbuthey,I’mgame.”
Ismiled—atleast,asclosetoitasmylipscouldgetnowadays.
“Ineedtobuildmyupperbodystrength,”sheadded.
“Liftingbookstoyourfaceeverynightdoesn’tcount?”Rileyquipped.
Gianastuckhertongueout.
“Ibetyou’restrongerthanyougiveyourselfcreditfor,”Isaid.
“Sheis,”adeepvoiceinterjected,andthenClayJohnsonsweptinandkissedGiana’sblushingcheekbeforetakingtheseatontheothersideofher.
“Youdon’tevenknowwhatyou’reencouraging,”sheshotback.
“Enlightenme.”
“Julepisapoledancer,andshe’sgoingtoteachme.”
OneofClay’sdarkbrowsshotup,andheassessedmewithanappreciativesmile.“Thissoundslikeagreatdealforallpartiesinvolved.”
Isnorted.“It’snotassexyasyouthink—especiallyinthebeginning.Alotofbruises.”
“Ididn’tseeanybruises.”
Iwentstiffatthefamiliarvoice,keepingmyeyesonmyfoodasalarge,warmbodyfilledtheseatnexttome.
“Thenagain,notthebestviewfromacrossthestreet.Maybeyoushouldinvitemeinsidenexttime.”
IturnedtofindHoldenwearingthatstupidsmirkhelovedtodonsomuch,thedimpleinhisleftcheekdefined.
“OrmaybeIshouldinvestinblackoutcurtainsandasecurityteam,stalker,”Irepliedsweetly.
“Whostalkedwhofirst?”
Irolledmyeyes,justasRileyknockedonthetablebetweenus.“Um,canwegetalittlecontexthere?”
“JuleplivesacrossthestreetfromThePit,”Holdenexplained.
“Noway!”Gianagushed,squeezingmyforearm.“Youhavetocomeoutafterthefirstgame.Winorlose,ThePitisalwaystheplacetobe.”
Iwrinkledmynose.“Soundslikeit.”
ThatearnedmealaughfromRiley.“Asidefromthefactthatitlooksandsmellslikeabachelorpad,itactuallyisprettyfun.”
“Hey!Noteverypartislikeabachelorpad,”Holdendefended.
“Yeah,yeah,weallloveandappreciateyourprettygarden,”someonesaidastheyroundedthetable,grindingaknuckleintoHolden’sheadastheypassed.LeoHernandezploppeddownintheseatononesideofRileywithagrinjustasZekeCollinstooktheoneontheothersideofher.
Andsuddenly,Ifeltsurrounded.
“Youshouldcomeoversometimethough,”Leoaddedoncehewasseated.“Andbringthatroommateofyours.”
“Youmeantheonewhohatesyou?”
Leosmirked,shrugging.“Theyallsaytheyhateme,butwordsarecheap.”
Hewinkedatme,andIletoutanincredulousbreathofalaughbeforepickingatthebroccolionmyplate.
ZekethrewhisarmaroundRiley,whisperingsomethingintoherneckthatmadeherblushandmademefeeluncomfortableforhavingwitnessedit.
“Disgusting,isn’tit?”Holdensaidinalowvoice,noddingtowardwhereZekeandRileywerehuddledtogether.“Although,I’dtakethisovertheshitshowtheyweretheirfreshmanseason.”
“Isn’titweird,”Iasked.“Twoteammatesdating?”
Heshrugged,shovelingahugemoundofriceintohismouth.Onceheswallowed,hesaid,“Notreallyanyofmybusiness.Aslongastheydotheirjobonthefield,Idon’tcarewhat’sgoingonoffit.”
“Soverycaptainofyou.”
Holdenwinked,andIfoughttheurgetogivehimanotherrollofmyeyes.
“Whataboutyou?”Iasked,wavingtheendofmyforktowardthebackcornertable.“Whichoneofthecheerleadersisyours?”
“Ohno,”Leointerjected,standingupenoughtoclapHoldenhardontheshoulder.“Capdoesn’tdate.”
“Wilsonishisonetruelove,”Clayadded.
Igavethembothalookofdisbelief.“Uh-huh.Sure.”
“Theytellnolies,”Rileysaid.“QB1doesn’thavetimeforagirlfriend.”
“Hemakestimefortheimportantpartofarelationship,though,”Zekeaddedwithawink.
IcaughtHoldenjustintimetoseehimgivingZekeawarningglare,andRileysmackedZekeacrossthechest.
“Ah—sothat’sthemove,huh?Pullacheerleaderintoyourbed,makeherthinkshehasachance,onlytobreakherheart?”
Holdenangledhimselftowardme,oneelbowonthetableasheleanedinandinvadedmyspace.Hisscentoverpoweredanythingelse,acombinationofhisspicybodywashandthemuskstillhangingonfrompractice.
“Isthisyournot-so-subtlewayofaskingifIhaveagirlfriend,JulepLee?BecauseIcansaveyouthedetectiveworkandtellyouthatIdon’t.”
Iscoffed.“LikeIcare.”
“Seemslikeyoumight.”
“Seemsliketheymightneedtoordernewhelmetstofityourbighead.”
Leocoughedtocoverhislaugh,nudgingRileywhowashavingthatsilentconversationwithGianaacrossthetableagain.
Holdenignoredallofit,onlyleaninginevenmore,hisbreathwarmonmylips.“Someofusaregoingouttonighttocelebratechartbeforetherealworkoftheseasonstarts.Youshouldcome.”
“Sincewhenareyougoingout?”Leoaskedwithascoff.
“Sincenow,”Holdenansweredwithoutlookingawayfromme.Ididn’tthinkitwaspossibleforhimtoleaninanycloserwithoutitbeingakiss,buthemanaged,andIresistedtheurgetobackdown.“Thatis,ifJulepjoinsus.”
Mynextinhalecameharderthantheonebeforeit,burninginawayIwasunfamiliarwithasthoseseagreeneyesdanced.
“YoukeepforgettingwhoIam,”Isaid,hopingmyvoicewasloudertohimthanitwasovertheroaringinmyears.
“Iknowexactlywhoyouare.”
Thatmademescoff.“Youdon’tknowanythingaboutme.”
“So,let’schangethat.”
Heshotthewordsbackatmesoquicklythatthetablewentquiet,everyonepretendingtoeatwhenIknewdamnedwelltheywerealltunedintowhatIwouldsayback.
Inarrowedmyeyes,rollingmylipstogetherbeforeIpressedjustafractionofaninchintotheslightspacethatstillexistedbetweenus.Iopenedmymouth,readytofirebackeventhoughIdidn’thaveanythinglockedandloaded.
ButbeforeIcould,adeepvoicerumbledthroughtheroom.
“Moore.”
Itwaslikearubberbandsnapping,howmyfather’svoicemadeeveryplayersitatattention.Theystraightenedtheirbacks,alignedtheirshoulders,andkepttheireyesontheirfood.
EveryoneexceptforHolden,whojumpedbackfrommelikeIwasonfirebeforestandinglikeafuckingsoldier.
“Sir,”heanswered.
Dadambledovertothetableslowly,atrayoffoodinhishandsashiseyessurveyedthescene.Helookedatthetableofplayers,atGiana,atme,andlastly,atHolden—atwherehewasinproximitytome.
Therewasnoverbalresponse,justaheadtiltfrommyfathertowardthedoor.HewalkedoutwithoutcheckingtoseeifHoldenfollowed—whichhedid,withoutsomuchasalookbehindatmeoranyoneelse.
Whentheyweregone,Leoletoutafizzofalaughthatsettherestofthetableatease.
“PoorCap,”Zekesaid,shakinghishead.“Can’tcatchabreakthisseason.”
Embarrassmentheatedmyneckaseyesslowlydriftedtome,andIclearedmythroat,forcingthebestsmileIcouldbeforeIgrabbedmytrayandstood.
“Ibettergetback,”wasallIquietlyofferedbeforeIwasjettingtowardthetrashcanstodumpmybarelytouchedlunch.
GianaandRileychasedmedown,stoppingmebeforeIcouldleave.
“Youreallyshouldcomeouttonight,”Gianasaid.“Wecoulduseanothergirlinthetroupewithallthis…”Shewavedahand.“Masculineenergyfloatingaround.”
Iglancedbehindthematwheretheplayerswatchedme,thentothedoormyfatherhadledHoldenoutof,andmychesttightened.
“Sorry,”Imumbled.“I…Ican’ttonight.”
Andthenbeforeeitherofthemcouldargue,Ibolted.Holden
“Youactuallysaidthat?”
MyuncleKevintriednottolaughasheasked,sharingaglancewithhishusbandwhowassautéingmushroomswithonehandandsippingredwinewiththeother.Itwasalookthatsaidcanyoubelievehe’stalkingtousaboutagirlinsteadoffootball?
“I’massurprisedasyouare,”Iadmitted,shiftingJoanneinmyarms.
Mycousinwastiny—justelevenpoundsandthreemonthsold—andshesleptcradledagainstmychest.Icouldhaveputherinhercriborbouncer,butIlikedhavingherthere,likedhavingsomeonesosoftandsweetandinnocenttolookdownatasIconfessedmyunfortunatestupidity.
“Icannotunderstandwhat’sgoingonwithme,honestly,”Isaid,exasperated.“WhenI’mawayfromher,I’mmynormal,logicalself.Irecognizethatthereisnopointinevenentertainingthethoughtofher.ButwhenI’maroundher…”Imadeaface,strugglingforwords.“It’slikeshescramblesmyfreakingbrain.AllIwanttodoisgetariseoutofher,gethertodoanythingotherthanfloatbymelikeanemotionlessghost.”
“Aghost?”
Inodded.“Ican’texplainit.Shejustseems…haunted.”
Myunclesglancedateachotherbeforepretendingliketheyhadn’t,asifIdidn’talreadysee.
“Didsheendupcomingoutwithyou?”UncleNathanaskedbeforecarefullyaddingthethin-slicedsteaktothepan.Itsizzledwhenhedid,thesteamthathitmynosemakingmymouthwaterinstantly.UncleNathanwasaphenomenalcook—whichwasexactlywhymyUncleKevinhadmarriedhim.
Becausehe’dbelivingoffEasyMac,otherwise.
“Ofcoursenot,”Ianswered.“AndthankGodshe’ssmarterthanIamanddidn’t,becauseitwouldhaveonlybroughtonmoretrouble.”
“Ithinkitwouldhavebroughtonfun,”UncleKevinsaid,smirking.
“That’sbecausetroubleandfunaresynonymousinyourbook,”Ipointedout.
Heshrugged,asifitshouldbethatwayforeveryone.
“Canyougrabtheasparagusoutoftheovenandstartplating?”Nathanaskedhim,andmyunclehoppedupfromhisbarstool,smilingathisdaughterashepassedbywhereIsat.Hereachedoutandranahandoverhersoftbabyhairs.
MyUncleKevinwasjusteighteenyearsolderthanme.Mydad,hisolderbrother,wasonlytwenty-onewhenIwasborn.NowthatIwastwenty-onemyself,itwasimpossibleformetowrapmyheadaroundthatfact.Icouldn’timaginehavingaseriousgirlfriendrightnow,letaloneachildtoraise.
Butmyfatherhadbeendifferentfrommeinthatway.
Wherefootballwaseverythingtome,mymomhadbeeneverythingtohim.
Theywerehighschoolsweethearts,andDadusedtotellmeallthetimehowallhe’dwantedwastomarryherandhaveafamily.Hewanteditsomuchsothathecouldn’tevenwaituntilaftercollegetogetstarted.Theyweremarriedtheirjunioryear,andbythetimetheygraduated,Iwasborn.
Mysistercametwoyearslater,andtheyhadwhatthey’dalwayswanted.Theyhadahousewithayard,twokids—oneboyandonegirl—andeachother.
TheAll-AmericanFamily.
Foryears,itreallydidseemlikewewerelivingthedream.Iwastooyoungtoappreciateit,tounderstandthatnoteverykidhadtwoadoringparentswhoactivelyparticipatedintheirlives.Ididn’tknowhowluckyIwasthatmyfatherspenteveryeveningafterworkwithmeandmysister,playingwithusintheyardorhelpinguswithourhomework.
Ontheweekends,heandMomnevermadeplanswiththeiradultfriends.Itwasallaboutusasafamily.Ifweweren’ttakingaroadtriporcampingorgoingoutontheboat,wewerehangingaroundthehouse,watchingmoviesonrainydaysorspendingthesunnyonesinthepool.
MysisterandIbothhadourownspecialconnectionwithDad.
MyfavoriteweekendsweretheoneshespentworkingfootballdrillswithmeintheparkdownthestreetwhileMomandmysister,Hannah,paintedtheirtoesorreadbookstogetherunderoneofthebigoaktrees.
Hannah’sfavoriteweekends,though,weretheoneswhenDadtookheroutsailing.
Whilesailingnevergrabbedmethewaymyfatherhoped,Hannah’seyeslitupthefirsttimeshewascarriedontothatboatasababy.Asshegrewolder,shealsogrewthirstierfortheknowledgethateverygoodsailorneededtosurvive.Shedidn’tjustwanttohelpDadbylearninghowtotietherightknots—shewantedtobehisfirstmate.
Andeventually,shewas.
Everyweekend,Dadwouldspendonedaywithme—usuallydoingsomethingfootball-related—andhe’dspendtheotherdayonthewaterwithHannah.
Momwouldjoinus,ofcourse,butaswegotolder,itbecameclearerandclearerthatshepreferredthelow-keydaysaroundthehousetotheadventure-seekingonthewater.Andso,sailingbecameDadandHannah’sspecialtimetogether,andMomandIhadourtimewhiletheyweregone.
Everythinginmylifewasperfect.Perfectparents,perfectsister,perfectgradesatschool,andperfectopportunitytoplayfootballforlife.Iwasgood,evenwhenIwasyoung,andasIinchedclosertoplayinginhighschool,Icouldfeelitinmybones.
Iwasdestinedtoplayproball.
Ididn’trealizeitthen,howfortunateIwastohaveallthatcomfortandenergytofocusonfootballbecauseIhadthebestsupportsystemintheworld.
NotuntilmyentirelifecrasheddownaroundmewhenIwasthirteen.
ItwasanormalsummerSundaymorningthedayithappened,ourkitchenloudandchaoticasMomwhippedupbreakfastwhilealsosimultaneouslypackingalunchforallthreeofus.Ihadfootballcamp,andDadandHannahwereheadedoutonthewater.
Theydidn’tusuallysailmuchinthesummer,becauseinFlorida—wherewelivedatthetime—itstormedalmosteveryday.Buttheforecastwasclearandthewaterwascalmandtherewasaperfectten-to-twelveknotsofwindblowingthroughthebay,sotheydecidedtomakethemostofit.
“Sunscreen,”MomhadwarnedHannahasshescrambleduptheeggsinthepan.“AndbringyourSPFshirt,too.”
Hannahhadn’tevenwhinedorcomplained.Shewassoexcitedtohaveamorningonthewaterthatshehoppedoffherbarstoolwhereshewasdrinkingherorangejuiceandsprintedupstairstogethershirt.
Dadhadchuckled,wrappinghisarmsaroundmymotherfromthebackandkissingherneck.I’dsmirkedandlookedaway,outthewindowtowherethecloudswerebreakingandthesunwasstreakingarayoflightoverourbackyard.Icouldn’twaittogetoutsideandplayfootball.
Mommadesurewewereallfedandhadplentyofsnacksanddrinkstotakewithusbeforeweallspilledontothedriveway.DadandHannahwentinthetruck,MomandItooktheSUV.IgavemysisterawetwillyonmywaytothecarandshescreamedandswattedatmeallwhileMomandDadshooktheirheadsbeforekissingeachothergoodbye.
Thatwasourlastperfectmoment.
Becausethatmorning,DadandHannahwentoutontheboat.
Andtheynevercameback.
“Ithinkyoushouldaskheroutonaproperdate,”Nathansaid,hiswordssnappingmebacktothepresent.
“Retweet,”UncleKevinsaidfromwherehewasplatingdinner.Helookedevenmorelikemyfatherfromthisangle,hisprofileshowcasingthesharpedgeofhisjaw,thethicknessofhisbrows.
“That’sbecauseyou’rebothsappyromanticswhodon’tthinkaboutconsequencesbeforeacting,”Ipointedout.
Neitherofthemargued.
“What’stheworstthatcouldhappenbyaskingherout?”UncleKevinprobed
“Otherthanhersayingno,whichatthispointshedefinitelywould?”Ishrugged.“Oh,youknow—Coachsittingmeonthebenchmylastseason,orworse,kickingmeofftheteamaltogether.”
“Hecouldn’tdothat,”Nathantried.
“Oh,buthecould,”Iarguedback.“Andhewould.He’smadethatabundantlyclear.”Isighed,shiftingJoanneinmyarmsasshecurledintomychest.“NomatterhowIspinit,JulepLeeisofflimits.Besides,Idon’thavetimetodateanyone.”
“Herewego,”Nathanmurmured.
“Idon’tevenknowwhyIbroughtthisuptoyoutwo,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.“IshouldhaveknownIcouldn’tmentionagirlwithoutyoutryingtoplanmyfutureweddingwithher.”
“Iwaspicturingmoreofanelopement,actually,”UncleKevinsaid,sweepinghishandsovertheairinfrontofhimliketheyweremakingascreen.“Italy.OrGreece!”
“Oh,Iloveadestinationwedding,”Nathanchimedin.
Ichuckled,standingassteadilyandquietlyasIcouldbeforemaneuveringJoanneintothebouncer.“Sorrytocrushyourdreams.You’llhavetosettleforfootballbeingmytruelove.”
“Fornow,”Nathansaid,andhewinkedatmyuncleKevinasiftheyknewallthesecretsintheworldthatIhadyettounveil.
ButIknewnomatterhowoptimisticmyuncleswere,thiswasonelovematchnoonecouldmake—noteventhem.
Itdidn’tmatterthatmydeadheartsparkedatthesightofJulepLee,orthatIfounditimpossibletostayawayfromher,nomatterhowmuchIknewIshould.
Intheend,itwouldneverbeus.
So,I’dsettlefortheannoyingquarterbackwhocouldgetunderherskin.
Andmaybe,withtime,afriend.
ThefirstcoupleweeksofthefallsemesterblewpastlikeafreshNewEnglandbreeze.
Asitdideveryseason,mylifebecameatornadooffootballpractice,weighttraining,filmandmeetingspepperedin-betweenafullscheduleofclasses,nightsofunendinghomework,andcheckinginonmyteammatestomakesuretheywereallontrack.Asacredpieceofmefiredupinthefall,comingtolifebeneaththepressuretoperformnotjustasanathlete,butasastudentandaleaderontheteam,aswell.
Ididn’thavetimetothinkaboutanythingotherthanfootball,andthatwasjustthewayIlikedit.
Myfavoriteofitall?
Thegames.
Wewonourfirsttwo,thehomeopeneragainstoneofourrivalsandourfirstawaygameagainstBuffaloUniversity.AfterourembarrassingBowllosstoendlastseason,thewinssetusupwiththemomentumI’dprayedforalloff-season,theentireteambuzzingwiththenotionthatmaybewecouldgettothechampionshipthisyear,afterall.
Forme,therewasnomaybe.
Therewasonlytheundeniablefactthatwewouldmakeittothatgame.
Andwe’dwinit,too.
Iwasared-shirtfreshman,whichmeantthattechnically,IcouldstayanotheryearandplaynextseasonforNBUifIwantedto.Butaftermylasttwoseasons,IhadtheattentionofscoutsandgeneralmanagersacrosstheNationalFootballLeague,andIknewifweperformedthesamewaythisyear,ifwewonchampionship?
Icouldgraduate,shiftmyfocus,andgointothedraftattheendoftheseason.
AndIcouldgoprointhefirstround.
Nothinglitmeuplikethatpossibility.Nothingmademyheadclearer.Nothingwipedawayanyandalldistractionslikehavingmydreamwithinreach.
ItwasbarbaricallyhottheMondaypracticeafterourwinagainstSHU,fallteasingusbybringingincoolernightswithoutbotheringtodothesameforourafternoons.Iknewintheblinkofaneyewe’dbeplayinginthefreezingcoldrainorsleetorevensnow.Buttoday,sweatdrippedintomyeyesasIhuddledwiththeregularoffensivesquadtocallourplay.
“Okay,regulars.Bluelizardwingright,forty-six,fullcross,ontwo.Ready?”
“Break,”theyallchantedwithme,andthenwewerejoggingtoourplacesontheline.
Theheatwasdizzyingasthesunmovedoutfrombehindtheclouds,andIscannedthedefensivelineup,theplayI’djustcalledlikeamovieonthescreeninmymindthatIranbackoverandoveragain,makingsuretherewasnothinginthewaythedefensewasliningupthatwouldcauseenoughissueformetochange.
Ifeltconfidentwiththecall,soIcalledoutthecuesagaintoeachsideofthelinebeforeIbentandwaitedforthesnap.
“Set…hut!”
Allnoise,allmotiononthelinefellintothebackgroundofmymindastheballhitmyhands.
Istood,ignoringthegruntinganddiggingofcleatsintothefieldrightthereinfrontofmeasIpulledbackintothepocketandsearchedformyreceiver.Itwastheperfectplaycall,andKyleRobbinseasilyfoundanopeningbeforeIsettheballsailingthroughtheair.
IonlyhadtimetowatchhimcatchitbeforeIwastakentotheground,notinasackbutintheaftermathofanoffensivelinemanbeingbroughtdownbytwodefensiveplayers.
Itshouldhavebeenaneasyfall.
Itshouldhavebeennothingmorethananuncomfortablepressureofweightasthoseplayerstoppledontopofme.
ItwasahitI’dtakenmoretimesthanIcouldcount,somethingI’dhoppedupfromunfazedeachandeverytime.
Butthistime,myrighthandshotoutforthegroundtobreakmyfall,andinstead,itgottwistedupinthelegsofoneofthedefensiveplayersgoingdownwithus.Iknewbeforewehitthegroundthatitwasbad—theangleofmyarm,theaddedweightthrowingmerapidlytowardthefield.ButIcouldn’tdoadamnthingaboutanyofit.
AllIcoulddowasbrace.
Snap
Ifelttheripthroughthefrontofmyshoulder,adrenalinepumpinginthenextbreathenoughtomakemequestionifI’dfeltitatall.
You’refine.You’refine.
Paniczippedthroughmeforonlyamomentbeforetheplayerswereoffme,andforasplitmoment,IthoughtIreallywasokay.
DominicBartelloreacheddowntohelpmeup.
ButwhenIliftedmyrighthand,painshotthroughmelikealightningbolt.
Igrimaced,grittingthroughmyteethasIfellbackontheturfandcoveredmyrightshoulderwithmylefthandasifapplyingpressuretoitcouldmakeitstopradiatingagonythroughmyentirebody.
Thepainebbedquicklyenough.
Itwasthepanicthatstayed.
IknewthatparticularacheaswellasIkneweveryplaybookI’deverbeenhanded.IknewwhenItriedagaintoraisemyarmandheardapop,clickrightbeforethepainintensifiedwhathadhappened.
Iglancedupattheplayershoveringoverme,attheirpalefacesasitsankinforthem,too.
Then,thetrainingteamwassprintingacrossthefield.
Theywereprofessionals.Theydidtheirbesttokeeptheirfacesschooledastheyreachedme,twoofthembendingdowntomylevelandimmediatelyreachingforme.OnewasJB,whoheldmygazetotrytocomfortmeashemovedmyarmindifferentdirectionswhilefiringoffthosequestionsIwassofamiliarwith.
Doesthishurt?Howaboutthis?Scaleofonetoten,what’sthepainlevel?Whatkindofpaindoyoufeel,sharp,dull,pinsandneedles?Canyoubendyourarm,straightenit,liftit,applypressure?
Eachquestionwasdrownedoutmoreandmorebymyrapidlybeatingheart,bythebloodpoundinginmyears.CoachLeewasstandingoverme,too,withhisarmscrossedandafrownetchedintohisbrows.
Iknewbyjustoneglanceathimthatwhilehewasconcernedforme,hisprimaryworryrightnowwaswhowouldfillmyspot.
Iignoredthewaymygutbottomedoutatthat,athowtheshowwouldgoonwithoutme.Ithadto.AndjustlikeIhadmyfreshmanyear,Ifeltdefective.Worthless.Iwasnolongerthenucleusoftheteam.
Iwasaliability.
Allintheblinkofaneye.
Myvisionblurredasthemomentstickedon,asJBmovedmethroughthesequenceoftestingthepain.Iwantedtolie.IwantedtofakethatIwasfineandignorethatfamiliarpinchofpaineverytimeitspikedthroughme.Butmyfacegavemeawaybeforetheliecouldfindmylips,eachgrimaceworsethanthelast.
Throughthechaos,IsawJulep.
Shewasstandingjustbehindthetrainers,behindherfather,herfaceexpressionlessasshelistenedtothemrunthroughthedrill.Iknewtheyweretryingnottoconcernme,butIheardthepanicinthetrainers’voicesthemoretheyworkedthroughthequestions,sawthelooksJBexchangedwithCoachthatsaidmorethananythingelsecould.
ButJulepwasassteadyasasteelbridgeinastorm.
Whenhereyesflickedtomine,Iheldthatserenegaze,willingittocalmme,too.
Butitwasnouse.
Myheartrioted,fearofthetruthpricklingmyskinlikeathousandneedles.
Iwashurt.
Iwasinjured.
Iwasn’tjustshakingthisoneoff.
“You’llbeokay,kid,”Coachtriedtoassuremeoncethetrainershelpedmetomyfeet,andhecarefullysqueezedmygoodshoulderbeforegivingthetrainersaknowingnod.
MyentirefutureflashedbeforemyeyesasJBandtherestofthecrewsilentlyledmeoffthefield,Julepquietlyroundingoutthebackofthegroup.Julep
YoucouldhaveheardapindropinthehospitalroomwherealltheNBUcoachingandtrainingstaffwere,butallIheardwasthedistinctsoundofadreamdying
IsilentlytooknotesasJBandtherestofthetrainersdiscussedHolden’sdiagnosisafterX-raysandanMRI.Holdensatontheexamtable,eyesunfocused.Eventhoughwewerealldiscussingquietly,Iknewhecouldhearus.
Thegoodnewswasthatnothingwasbroken.
Thebadnewswasthathehadtornhisrotatorcuffagain.
Fortunately,itwasjustapartialtear—tiny,really,andfarmilderthantheonehe’dsufferedasafreshman.Thatonehadbeenenoughtowarrantsurgery,whereasthiswassomethingwecouldhandlewithoutit.Hewasluckyithadbeeninadifferentpartofhismuscle,too,becauseifhehadtornitinthesameplacehe’dhadsurgery,we’dbehavingadifferentdiscussionrightnow.
JBwasalreadywalkingusthroughtherehabplan,discussingbestpracticeswiththestaffandmyfatherlisteninginandinterjectinghisownthoughts.Ofcourse,hisfirstquestionwaswhenwethoughtHoldenwouldplayagain.
AndIknewbywatchinghisbouncingkneethatthatwouldbeHolden’sfirstquestion,too.
Itwasn’taneasyonetoanswer.Hehadprettygoodmovement,andalreadythepainhadsubsided.Butweallknewitwouldresurface,especiallyatnight,andthatifhegotoutonthefieldandtriedtolaunchaballthroughtheair,he’ddoevenmoredamage.
Hehadaroadofrehabaheadofhim,butwewerealloptimistiche’dplayagain.
AndthoughIdidn’tsayit,Ihopeditwouldbethisseason.
MygazekeptslippingovertoHoldenasthestaffdiscussedhisfuture.Hesomehowkepthisshouldersbackandhischinraised,evenwithhisarminasling,evenasthedevastationofwhathadhappeneddancedinhiseyes.Itwaslikehestillfeltthatweightofbeingcaptain,ofbeingaleader,ofknowingtheteamwouldbelookingtohimastheircueonhowtoreacttothisnews.
Iwonderedifhewasalreadymakingaplan,alreadythinkingofwhowouldtakehisplace,howhecouldhelpthatteammatetransition,howhecouldsomehowstillbeapartofthewin.
He’dleftmealonethepastcoupleofweeks,hissolefocusontheteam.AnditwasinthattimeofhimnotbeinganannoyingflybuzzingaroundmyfacethatIfeltmyperceptionofhimchange,evenifjustmarginally.
Isawwhattheteamhadtoldmeabouthim—hisseverity,hispatience,hiscompleteandtotalconcentrationoneveryplay.Hewasn’tjusttunedinwhenhewasleadingtheoffensedownthefield,either.Hewasapartofeverydefensiveplay,too—talkingtoplayersin-betweenwhistlestomakesuretheyhadtheirheadsonstraight,huddlingwithmyfatherortheotheroffensiveplayerswithaniPadbetweenthem,evenbringingplayerswatertomakesuretheywerestayinghydrated.
ItwasthenthatIrealizedI’dseentherareversionofhimfirst:relaxed,flirty,almostabit…goofy,even.
Whentheseasonstarted,Isawtherealhim.
Andnow,watchingthemusclesofhisjawpopbeneaththeskinasheawaitedhissentencing,Iwonderedwhatversionofhimthisnewswouldbring.
“Julep,”JBsaid,snappingmyeyestohim.“You’vebeentheoneclosesttohisrehablately.What’syourrecommendation?”
Isippedabitofoxygenbeforeholdingmyheadhighandanswering,“Ithinkweneedtostartfromthebeginning.Maximalprotection.Heneedstobeinthatslingandlimitmovementasmuchaspossible.Wecanintroduceisometricstrengtheningandrangeofmotiontostart,withtissueworkandcoldcompression,obviously.Maybesomeelectricstimulation,”Iadded,thinking.“He’salreadyonhisNSAIDs,butwe’llneedasteroidinjection.Andhopefully,wecanmoveintomoderateprotectionwithintwoweeks,andgethimbackonthefieldbyOctober.”
Dadliftedhisbrows.“Youreallythinkhecouldbebackthatquickly?”
“Withhowminorthetearis,howstrongthosemuscleshe’salreadydevelopedaroundhisrotatorcuffare,andhowfamiliarhealreadyiswiththistypeofrehab?”Inodded.“Absolutely.”
JBsmiled,sharinganappreciativeglancewithmebeforehechimedin.“Thatistheexactlogicbehindmythoughts,althoughIwouldn’tbesurprisedifweneeduntilNovember.”
“He’sQB1,”Isaid,glancingbehindJBatwhereHoldenwaswatchingus.“He’sgoingtodoeverythinginhispowertogetbackonthatfieldwithhisteam.”
Holden’snoseflared,hiseyesflickingbetweenminebeforehelookedaway,staringstraightaheadatsomeanatomyposteronthewallinfrontofhim.
“JB,”myfathersaid,bringingmyattentionbacktoourinnercircle.“DoyouthinkJulepisreadytoleadthisinjuryrehabilitationonherown?”
“Yes.”Hedidn’tevenhesitate.
Dadnodded.“Good.Then,it’ssettled.”Helookedatmethen.“Youdeliverthenewstoyourplayer,givehimarun-downoftheplan,andthengethimhome.Makesurehehaswhatheneedstofollowyourrecommendedrecoveryinstructions.”
Idrewinashallowbreathbeforeafullinhalefoundme,andJBreachedouthishandformetoshakeitbeforeheleftwiththerestofthestaff.CoachstoppedbytosaysomethingtoHolden,whoonlynoddedwithagrimlookbeforemydadsqueezedhisshoulderandleft,too.
Then,itwasjustus.
Iclearedmythroat.“Well,itlookslike—”
“Iheard,”heclipped,hoppingofftheexaminationtable.“Let’sjustgetoutofheresowecangetstarted.”
HoldenwasquietasIdroveusoffthehospitalgroundsandacrossBostontowardthesuburbwhereourhouseswere.Hiseyeswerefocusedoutsidetherolled-downpassengerwindow,jawset,thosetrademarkdimplesnowheretobefound.
I’dalreadyrunthroughthelistofthingsIwantedtomakesurehehadathometogethisrecoverystarted—coldcompresses,anti-inflammatories,therightpillowtohelpelevatehisarmandkeephimfromrollingontohisshoulderatnight.Ofcourse,hehadallofthatandmore,andfortunatelyhelivedwiththreeotherteammateswhocouldhelphimwiththetaskshewouldn’tbeabletodoforawhile.
Likecombthatmessyheadofhair.
Itwasstrange,seeinghimallbroodyandsilent.I’dbeencontenttolethimmopewhenwe’dfirstleftthehospital,butnow,Ifoundmyselfdrummingmythumbsonthesteeringwheelandsneakingglancesathim,wonderinghowIcouldcheerhimupalittle.
Whichalsomadenosense.
Forreasonsunbeknownsttome,Isawabitofmysisterinhiminthatmoment.Irememberedhowsheneverfalteredinheroptimism,inherblindhopethateverythingwouldturnoutokay.I’donlyseenhersadahandfuloftimesinmylife,andeachone,I’ddoneeverythinginmypowertobringherusualsmilebackbecauseitfeltliketheworldhadtiltedoffitsaxisanytimeshewasn’twearingit.
I’dhearditfromplentyofplayersandstaffalikearoundthelockerroom,howHoldenMoorewassharp,focused,andserious.Andonthefield,Isawitformyself.
Butoffthefield?I’donlywitnessedhimbeinganinsufferablyjollyidiotintentongettingundermyskin.
Iwouldneveradmitittohimoranyoneelse,butIwishedforthatversionofhimnow.
MaybeitwasbecauseI’dbeenassignedtohim.MaybeIfeltabitofownershipoverhisrecovery,overhisemotions,too.
OrmaybeIwasjusttiredofsittinginasilentcarwithamopeyquarterback
“Youhavealotoffriends.”
Iinwardlycringedatthestupidstatement,butitwasthefirstthingthathadcometomind.
Holdensubtlyshiftedhischintowardmebutkepthiseyesonthebuildingsaswepassedthem.“Yousaythatlikeit’sabadthing.”
Iconsidered.“Notbad.Just…interesting.Atleast,tome.”
“Youdon’thavealotoffriends?”
“I’mnotsureIhaveevenone.”
Holdenturnedtolookatmethen,anditwasmewhokeptmyeyesontheroadthistime.Ithoughthewasgoingtopress,askmewhyorsuggestthathewassureIhadatleastonefriend.
Instead,hewatchedmeforapausebeforelookingoutthewindowagain.
“It’sgoingtobeokay,youknow,”Iofferedafteramoment.
Noresponse.
“Iknowyouprobablycan’timagineyourlifewithoutfootball,butyouwon’tbeoffthefieldlong.Andtheteamwillstillneedyou.”Ipaused,leaningoverabitbeforeadding.“Cap.”
Iwasaimingforasmile,butHoldenonlyswallowedandletoutalong,slowexhalelikethatbreathwastheonlythingkeepinghimfrombreakingdown.
Ichewedtheinsideofmycheek.Thiswasnotgoingwell
Then,Ishiftedinmyseat,holdingthesteeringwheelwithmyoppositehand.“Ah,it’snotfootballthathasyousoupset,isit?”
Holdenfrowned,turningtolookatme.
Iheldupmyrighthandandwiggledmyfingers.“It’sthatyouwon’thaveuseofyourhandforawhile.Your…”Iletmyeyestraildowntorestbetweenhisthighsbeforearchingabrowandmeetinghisgazeagain.“Goodhand.”
Hefrownedatfirst,confused,butwhenIwaggledmybrows,hisshotintohishairlinebeforeabarkofalaughlefthischest.
“Areyoumakingajokeaboutmemasturbating?”
Ishrugged,noncommittalasIturnedbacktowardtheroad.“Justsaying.Icanunderstandthatdisappointment.”
Somethingofabreathofalaughlefthimthen,andheshookhishead,anglinghimselftowardme.“Wow,soallIhadtodotogetyoutotalktomewasgetinjured,huh?”
“Ormaybeallyouhadtodowasstopstalkingme,”Iargued.“It’sbeennicetobeinthetrainingroomwithoutyoupesteringme.Andtopracticepolewithoutyougawkingfromyourdriveway.”
“I’vebeenbusywithschoolandball,”hesaid,andhissmiledroppedwiththatlastpart.Butthenheadded,“Andbehonest—youlovedhavingtheaudience.”
Isnorted.“Youwouldthinkthat.”
“Justsaying.Youstillhaven’tinstalledthosecurtains.”
“Ah,soyouarestillstalkingme.”
Holdenjustsmirked,andthenhisphonewasringing.Heglancedatthescreenbeforeanglinghimselftowardthewindowagainandanswering.
Twodeep,worriedvoicesfilledthecarthen.
“Whatthehellhappened?!”
“Areyoustillatthehospital?”
“He’sclearlyinthecar,Kevin.”
“Well,Iwasn’tlookingatthebackground,Nate!AndI’malittletooconcernedtobeaccuraterightnow.”
“Whatwasthediagnosis?”
“Don’tsaydiagnosis.Youmakeitsoundsoserious!”
Thiswentonforasolidminute,eachonetalkingovertheotherastheypepperedHoldenwithquestionsaboutwhathadhappenedandwhetherornothewasalright.Iglancedatthescreen,findingtwomiddle-agedmenwithconcernedexpressions.Onewastall,broad-shouldered,withsalt-and-pepperhairthatgaveoffmajorhotdadvibes.
Theotherwasabitleaner,withdarkhairandgreeneyesthatlookedjustlikeHolden’s.Hehadthesamesharpjaw,too,andthehollowed-outcheekbonesthatcouldhavegivenhimacareerinmodeling.
“I’mokay,”Holdenfinallysaidwhenthementookabreath.“Minortear.They’vealreadygotarehabplanoutlinedforme.”
Themenreleasedasynchronizedbreathofrelief.“Oh,thankGod.Wewereworriedsick.Doyouneedtostayhereforawhile?”oneofthemasked.
“Wecanmakeuptheguestroom,”theotheroffered.
ButHoldenwavedthemoff.“I’llbegoodatthePit.”
Isnickeredwhentheybothwrinkledtheirnoses,andonesaid,“Ugh,thatissuchadisgustingnameforaplaceofresidence.”
“Who’sthatdrivingyou?”theotheroneasked.
Holdenglancedoverhisshoulderatme.“JulepLee.She’sanewpartofthetrainingstaff.”
ThemenwentsosilentthatIglancedover,andwhenIdid,IfoundthemwithgapingmouthsandwideeyesastheyelbowedeachotherandgaveHoldensomesortoflookthatIimaginedhewassupposedtointerpret.
“Don’t,”hewarnedthemquietlybeforeanglingthephonesotheycouldn’tseemeanymore,andIcouldn’tseethem.
“Thanksfortakingcareofourboy,Julep!”oneofthemyelled.
“You’rewelcometodinneranytime,”theotheradded.
Ismiled,thoughmybrowsbentinamixtureofcuriosityandconfusionasHolden’sjawtightenedandhegavethescreenanotherwarningglare.
“I’llcalllaterwhenI’msettledin,”hesaid,andthenhecutthecallwithoutanotherword.
Irolledmylipstogether.“Theyseemnice.”
“Myuncles,”heanswered,shakinghishead.“Liketwomotherhens.”
“Theycareaboutyou.”
“Iguessthereareworsethings,”Holdensurmisedaswepulleduptohishouse.
Ismiled,consideringhowmuchhelookedlikehisuncle.I’dthoughtitwashisdad.
Immediately,Iwonderedwhyitwasn’thisparentswhohadcalled.
Itwasn’tmybusinesstoask,though,soIparkedinthedrivewayacrossthestreetfrommyown,andbeforehecouldreachforit,IunclickedHolden’sseatbeltforhim.
“Limitedmotion,”Iremindedhim,andIthoughtIsawhimrollhiseyesasIhoppedoutofthecarandroundedittoopenhisdoorforhim.
“Wow,howchivalrous,”hecommented,swinginghislonglegsout.Heunfoldedhismassivebodyfrommytinycar,gettingoutslowly.
Igavehimapatronizingsmile.
Butthen,oncehewasstanding,hesteppedintome,makingthatcurveofmylipsslideoffmyfacelikeoil.
Withhowmuchlargerhewasthanme,thatonestepshouldhavemademefeelsmall,shouldhavemademefeelintimidated.
Instead,itwaselectrifying.
Andhisnextwordsweresoft,smooth,andsultry,likehe’dpinmeupagainstthiscarrightnowifhewasn’tinjured.
“Whatelseareyougoingtohelpmewith,JulepLee?”
Iignoredhowmyhearthammeredinmychestashelookeddownonme,hiseyessweepingovermychestbeforetheymetmineagain.Then,Itiltedmychinup,defiant.
“Maybe…ifyou’relucky?”Irasped,liftingmyhand.Holden’sgazewasonmineuntilIextendedmypointerfingerandtappeditrightinthecenterofhischest.
Heseemedenrapturedbythatfinger,histhroattightasitheldhisfocus.Idraggedmynaildownthecenterofhischest,keepingmyeyesonthatnailuntilIhitthetopofhisabs.Theytightenedatthetouch,andIsmirked,lettingmygazeslowlywanderbackupasIloweredmyvoicetoalmostawhisper.
“I’llhelpyouwithyourdeodorantsoyoudon’tsmelllikesuchamoldyfoot.”
Isaidthewordssweetly,crinklingmyeyeswithanexaggeratedsmilebeforeIsteppedbackandgesturedforhimtoleadthewayinside.
Holdenlookedlikehewantedtopopoffwithsomesmartremarkofhisown,tongueincheekandeyeswatchingmelikeheappreciatedthechallengeIdidn’tevenrealizeI’draised.
Butifhedidhavesomethingelsetosay,heresisted—justasmuchasheresistedtheurgetograbhisgymbagoffmyshoulderwhenIretrieveditfromthebackseat.
Itkilledhimalready,notbeingabletotakecareofhimself.Ihopedasmuchashedidthathe’donlyhaveaweekorsoofthisbeforewecouldintroducemovementandgethimontheroadtorecovery.
Foralloursakes.Holden
IknewJulepwalkingmeinsidewasamistake.
IknewbeforeIopenedthedoor,leadingwithmylefthandwhiletheotherlaysuspendedinaslingaroundmyneck.Iknewbeforemythreeroommatespausedtheirvideogame,mouthswidelikethatofatroutbeforetheyhoppedupandrushedovertohelpJulepwithmybag.
Iknew,andyetIstillhadtowatchithappen.
Ihadnochoice.
“Hey,sweetheart,letmegetthat,”Leosaid,attemptingtotakemybagfromJulepwithawink.Icouldn’thelpbutsmirktomyselfwhenJuleppinnedhimwithaglareandshruggedawayfromhim,adjustingmybagevenhigheronhershoulder.
“WelcometothePit,”Kyleadded,tossinghisarmaroundhershoulder.“Towhatdoweowethis…pleasure?”
HiseyestraileddownthelengthofherwhileIgrittedmyjawandtriednottoboilover.Ihadabsolutelyzerorighttofeelanysortofpossessionoverthatgirl.
Andyet…
“Areyoubothfuckingstupid?”Bradeninterjected,andhegavemyroommatesmurderousglaresbeforehiseyessoftenedonme.“What’stheverdict,Cap?”
Iswallowed,glancingdownatmyarminthesling.“Cufftear.”
Thatsamesilencethathadburnedmyearsinthehospitalfelloverusthen,alleyesfloatingtomyalready-swellingshoulder.
“He’llbefine,”Julepsaidwhennooneresponded.“Andbackbeforetheseasonisover.”
Kylegrinnedfromwherehestillhadhisstupidfuckingarmaroundher.“Withyouathisbedside?Ihavenodoubt.”Heleanedinalittlecloserthen.“Andmyroomisjustdownthehall,ifyoueverwanttocheckonme,too.”
MyjawachedwithhowhardIclenchedit,butIdidn’thavetimetotellhimtofuckoffbeforeJulepleanedawayfromhimandpointedherfingerintohischest,hersmilewideanddazzling.“Hey,aren’tyoutheoneRileyNovoembarrassedinagameoffivehundredbeforemakingyoushavehernameintoyourhead?”
Kyle’sfacefellflat,andheremovedhisarmfromaroundherasLeoandBradenlaughedsohardtheybothdoubledover.
“Ilikeher,”Leostated,thumbpointedatJulep.
“Oh,joy.Mywholelifehasbeenmade,”shesaid,deadpan.
IknewwithouthimsayingitthatthatmadeLeolikeherevenmore.
Iclimbedthestairstomybedroom,Juleponmyheelsandtheguysblessedlyreturningtothecouchtocontinuethegamethey’dpaused.Everynowandthen,Iglancedovermyshoulderandwatchedhertakeinourhomewithanamused,yetsimultaneouslyconfusedexpressiononherface.
TheSnakePitwasaneclectichouse,filledwithmemoriesandrelicsofmanyNorthBostonUniversityplayerspast.Itwasfirstpurchasedin1982,giftedbythequarterback’sdadtohimandthreeofhisfriendsontheteam.Whattheythoughtwouldjustbetheirplacetocrashandpartyatintheirtenureattheschoolturnedintoahousefullofhistory,passedonfromgenerationtogeneration.WhogottoliveinthePitwasusuallyvotedonbytheentireteam,anditwasalmostalwaysthequarterbackandthreeoftheteam’stoppartiers.
Becausebalance,ofcourse.
Theyneededsomeonetoholdupthehouse,makesureitstayedingoodshape,andmadesuretheteamstayedontrack—bothonthefieldandoffit.Buttheyalsowantedplayerswhoknewhowtohaveagoodtimetokeepthelegendofthehousealiveandwell.Itwasoneofthetopplacesoffcampusforparties,especiallyduringfootballseason.
Andmycurrentroommatesmadesurethatreputationdidn’tdiewiththem.
Julepsmiledalittleaswewalkeddownthehalltomyroom,hereyeswanderingovertheoldphotosandoddknick-knacks,likealawnflamingothathadbeenturnedintoabeerbong,andabeheadedtorsoofahalf-woman,half-fishcreaturethatwasrumoredtohavegiventheteamof1999goodluck.
Theywonthechampionshipthatyear,soonsuperstitionalone,thatstatuewouldremainatthePitforever.
Inudgedthedoortomybedroomopen,andunlikeeveryotherbedroominthishouse,minewasactuallyclean.Imademybedeverymorning,usuallyhadacandleburningtokeepthebachelorsmellfrominvadingmyspace,andalwayskeptmybelongingstidy.JustoneglanceatJuleptoldmeallofthatsurprisedher.
“Itsmellsliketeakwoodinhere,”shecommentedasshesetmydufflebagonthefootofmybed.
“Justcoveringthemoldyfootstench.”
Sheactuallysmiledalittlethen,foldingherarmsoverherchestasshestartedwalkingtheedgesofmyroomandlookingaround.
Ipretendedtounpackmybag,allwhilewatchingherassheambledalongmydesk,mywalls,pausingwhenshesawsomethingthatpiquedherinterest.InotedhowshehoveredovermycopyofAtomicHabits,howhereyeslingeredonthephotoofme,Hannah,andourparentsontheboat.Thankfully,shedidn’taskaboutthem—justkeptrightonperusinguntilshehitmystackofCDs.
Shepickedoneup,chucklingbeforeholdingthecoverofJay-Z’sTheBlueprinttowardme.“Youknowyoucanlistentomusiconyourphonenow,right?Inbetterquality.”
Ishrugged.“IliketotakemyDiscmanonmymorningruns.”
Shelookedlikeshewastryingnottolaughasshepickeduptheancientwhiteandgoldrelicthatstillmiraculouslyworked.Shemarveledatthecordedheadphonesbeforeunclippingthelockandlookinginside.
“GreenDay,”shecommented.“Nice.”Shepaused,shakingherheadassheshutthecoveragain.“Youreallyrunwiththis?”
“Everymorning.”
“Why?”
Istilled,thetruthtothatquestionmakingmytonguesticktotheroofofmymouth.IthadbeenHannah’s,andI’dteasedherforlisteningtoitevenbackthenbecausewebothhadiPods.Butshe’dinsistedthatCDswerebetter,thattherewassomethingcoolaboutthem.Shethoughteverythingaboutthe90sandearly2000swascool,eventhoughshewasn’tevenbornuntil2003.
WhensheandDadhaddisappeared,I’dsnuckintoherroomeverynight,slippingherearbudsintomyearsandplayingthesameCDshe’dleftinthatDiscmanoverandover.
CrazysexycoolbyTLC.
Ittookmeyearstobeabletochangeit.
“IguessI’dworrylessifthatbrokethanifmyphonedid,”Ilied.“Plus,itfeelskindofnostalgic.”
Julepsmiledasifsheappreciatedthatanswerbeforeshemovedontolookingatallthepostershangingonmywall—thelargestoneofTomBrady.
“So,youruneverymorning,huh?”
“Ido.Partofmyroutine.”
Thatmadeherquirkabrowandturntofaceme.“Youhavearoutine?”
“Doesn’teveryone?”
“Attwenty-one?”Shesnorted.“No.”Then,shemovedovertomywindow,theonethatoverlookedthegarden.“Isthispartofyourmorningroutine?”sheasked,noddingtowardit.
“Yes.”
Sheshookherhead,leaningahipagainstthebottomwindowframeasshefacedme.“It’skindofstrange,youknow.Thatyou’reacollegequarterbackandyouliketogarden.”
“Andyou’reacollegeathletictrainerwholikestopoledance.”
Thecornerofhermouthsparkedupbutdiedquickly.
Andsuddenly,asifallthesourcesoffree-flowingairinthehousehadbeenplugged,theairgrewthickandheavy.Itwaslikewebothrealizedatthesametimethatwewerestandingjustafewfeetawayfromeachotherinmybedroom.
Alone.
I’dbeensofocusedonfootballsincetheseasonstartedthatI’dalmostforgottenhowstrikingshewas,howherlong,brownhairflowedoverhershoulders,herthicklashesframingthoseendlesslydarkeyes.I’dalmostforgottenthoselean,tanlegsandthenarrowangleofherwaist.Iletmyselftakeherin,letmygazewanderthelengthofherbeforeslowlyclimbingbackup.
Shedidn’tshyaway.Shedidn’tcoverherselforadjustherstanceormakeanysortofcomment—thoughwebothknewIwasrakingmyeyesovereveryinchofher.ShestayedperfectlystillandcalmuntilIfoundhergazeagain,andthenshetiltedherchinalittlehigher,andtheonlythingthatgaveherawaywastheslightbobofherthroat.
“I’llletyougetsettled,”shefinallysaid,hervoicesofterthanbefore.Shepushedofffromwhereshe’dbeenleaningagainsttheframeandmadeherwaytowardthedoor.“Limitedmovement,”sheremindedme,spinningtopinmewithanaggressivefingerpoint.
“Wait.”
Shehaltedmid-turn,something…newinhereyesasshepausedforme.
Ihookedathumbovermyshouldertowardtheen-suitebathroom.“Aren’tyougoingtohelpmeshower?”
Julepblinked,andthenscoffed,rollinghereyesandturningforthedooragain.“You’reluckyIdon’tdrownyouintheshower.”
Igaveheratoothysmilethen,eventhoughshe’dalreadyturnedandcouldn’tseeit.Butbeforeshegotallthewayoutthedoor,Icalled,“Thankyou.”
Shepausedagain,herbackstilltomeasshehoveredinthedoorway.
“Forhavingfaithinmebackthere.”
Herbacktensed,andthenhershouldersdeflated,andsheangledherchindownandbacktowardme,hereyesflashingoverhershouldersbeforehergazewasontheflooragain.
“Idon’thavefaithinanything,”shesaid.
Andthensheleft.
Julep
Twodayslater,Iwokeupattheasscrackofdawnfromanightmare.
ItwasanightmareIwasfamiliarwith,onethatmadenosensebutsomehowalwaysfilledmewithterrornomatterhowmanytimesIhadit.IcouldneverevenrememberitwhenIwoke.AllIcouldgraspwasthatIwasinadarkhousewithnowallsorwindows,thatIwascoldandscared,andthatIhadthedistinctfeelingthatI’dslippedoffthefaceoftheEarthandwaslostsomewherein-betweenwhereIwaspreviouslyandwhereIwassupposedtobenow.
Afterthepanicsubsided,thesweatingkickedin,andjustlikeithadcountlessnightssinceAbbydied,mybrainstartedinonplayingitsfavoritegameofattackingmeandkeepingmeawakewithendlessquestionsthathadnoanswers.
ItwasstilldarkasIfloppedbackandforthonmybed,tryingandfailingtofallbackasleepbeforeIfinallyrippedthecoversoffandangrilystormedintomybathroom.Ilookedlikehell,darkcirclesundermyalreadydarkeyes,skinpaleanddull.Isplashedsomewateronmyfacebeforehangingmyhandsofftheedgeofthebathroomcounterandstaringatmyreflection.
ButIdidn’tlooklong.
BecausethelongerIstared,themorelikelyitwasthatI’dseeher.
Abbymayhavebeenyoungerthanme,butwehadoftenbeenmistakenfortwins.Wehadthesamelong,thick,shiny,darkhair,thesameleanframe,thesamebuttonnoseandfulllips.Ourbiggestdifferentiatorwasthathereyeswereneonblueandminewereshitbrown—andIusedtotellherthatallthetime,howjealousIwasofhereyes.
Iwonderedifshe’dbeproudofme.
I’donlybeeninBostonforfivemonths,sinceDadmovedushereforspringtraining,butit’dbeenthebestfivemonthsI’dhadsinceshe’ddied.I’dhadafewdrinks,sure,butIhadn’tsmoked,hadn’tsniffedorsnortedorpoppedanythingotherthanAdvil.Iwasfocusedatschool,andonmyworkatthestadium—somuchsothatevenDadtrustedmeenoughtoletmeliveonmyown.
Henowtrustedmeenoughtoletmeleadrehabforhisquarterback.
Ihopedthiswasthefirstrealstepinmechangingforthebetter,inmeturningmylifearound.Thenagain,thelittleshredofhopeIheldwaspitifulbecauseIknewwhoIwasattherootofeverything.
Amonster.
AndtheonlyreasonIwashere,doingeverythingthatIwasdoing,wasbecausemyfatherdidn’tdeservetohavehisheartbrokenanymorethanitalreadyhadbeen.
IcheckedthetimeonmyphonewhenIambledbackintomyroom,groaningattheungodlyhour.Thesunhadn’tevenstartedpeakingoverthehorizonyet.ButIknewsleepwasn’thappening,soIquietlychangedintoshortsandasportsbraandslippedinmyheadphonesbeforemakingmywaydownstairs.
Itwasdarkinthelivingroom,saveforthesoftbitofbluestreaminginfromdawnthroughthewindow.IleftthelightsoffasIstretchedandgotwarm,andthenIslowlyslidthecoffeetableoutofthewayasquietlyasIcould.
Onceitwasinthecorner,Iwrappedmyhandaroundthepole.
ThatfirsttouchofcoolchromewaslikeabucketoficewaterdousingtheflameofguiltandpanicandpainI’dwokenupwith.Itsoothedmeimmediately,andItookmyfirstdeepbreathofthemorning,walkingaroundthepolebeforeIliftedmyinsidearmhighanddidadip,flyingbackwardintoagoddessspin.
Thatwasmylastbitoftrueconsciousnessforthenexthour.
Afterthat,Islippedoutofmymindandintomybody,lettingitmoveinwhateverwayitwantedtowiththecool,darklivingroomasitsstage.
Sweatbeadedonmyneck,slidingdownthecrevicesofmychestandalongmyabdomenthemoreImoved.Mybreathbecameshallowandragged,andyetIkepton,finishingonetricksequenceonlytostartanother.Tricksturnedintoflowswhichslowlyturnedintodance,andbeforeIknewit,Iwasslinkingonthefloor,exploringmovementwithmyarmsandlegsandtorso.
Ididn’tcomeupforairorconsciousnessuntilmybodydemandedhydration,andIpaddedbarefootovertothekitchenlongenoughtofillacupupwithwater,drainit,andfillitagain.Iambledovertothewindowthen,sippingfrommyglassasIwatchedthesun’swarmraysspreadacrossourlawnandtheoneacrossfromit.
ThelongerIstoodthere,themoremybreathsevenedout,andIletmymindwandertoHolden.
Hehadbeenmoodythepastcoupleofdays—though,rightfullyso.Iknewwithoutprobingtoomuchthathelikelywasn’tsleepingwellwithhisinjury,andthefactthathewasinthestagewhereallhecoulddowasresthadtobedrivinghimmad.Hewantedtoskipthispart.Hewantedtogettothedaywhenhecouldstartdoingsomethingaboutit,startworkingtowardrecoveryand,ultimately,hisreturntotheteam.
Sofar,he’donlybeenabletositonthesidelinesintheshadeandwatchhisteampractice.Andhedid.Hewatchedeverysecondofpractice,showingupearlylikeheusuallydidandalwaysbeingthelasttoleave,too.Then,hecametousinthetrainingroom,andwecheckedinonhim.
Therewasnothingforustodoyet,either.
Rightnow,hejustneededtorest.
IwasstaringupatwhatlittleofhiswindowIcouldseefromthisangle,wonderingifhewassleepinginortryingtomakeupsomenewmorningroutinesincemostofhisusualonewasoff-limits.Butthen,Isawmovementthroughtheold,rotted,woodengatethatledtotheirsidebackyard.
Icouldonlyseethroughtheslatsofit—thoughtheywerewidefrompoorinstallationorpassageoftimeorboth—butIsawenoughtoknowitwashimpiddlingbackthereinthegarden.
Mostly,becauseI’dputmoneyonnooneelseinthathouseevenbeingawakeatthishour,letaloneworkinginthebackyard.
Igrittedmyteeth,slammingmycupdownonthecoffeetable.
AndthenIwhippedopenourfrontdoor.Holden
“Whatthehell,Holden?!”
IpausedwhereIwasbentovermycucumbertrellis,aknifeinmylefthandwhileIheldaripecucumberinmyright.
“Dropthevegetable,”Juleporderedasshestormedupbehindme,andbeforeIevenhadthechanceto,sheleaneddownandrippedtheknifeoutofmyhandbeforetearingthecucumberoutoftheopposite.
“Whoa,relax,”Isaid,standingbeforesheknockedmebackward.
“Whatpartoflimitedmovementdoyounotcomprehend?”sheasked,slicingthecucumberstembeforeshestartedusingitasaweapontothreatenmewith.
TherewasmoreemotionrollingoffthatwomaninthosefewsecondsthanI’dseenintheentiretimeI’dknownher.Shewasradiantinherfiery,ragingglory—anabsolutevisionofmessyhairandtiredeyesassheworriedovermyinjury.
Ismirked,holdingmylefthandupinsurrender.“Iwasusingmyhealthyarm,”Inoted,wigglingmyfingers.
“Iliterallypriedthisbehemothoutofyourinjuredhand,”shepointedout
“Technically,it’snotmyhandthat’sinjured.Andnothingaboutthiswastriggeringpaininmyshoulder.”
“You’reimpossible.Whydidn’tyouaskoneofyourroommatestodothis?”
Isnortedatthat,hookingathumbovermyshoulder.“Theseguys?Theywouldnever.”
Julepglaredatme,usingthecucumbertopointattheoldwhitebenchbehindwhereIstood.“Sitdown,shutup,andtellmewhattodo.”
Ifrowned,tryingtodecipherthemeaninginthatjuxtaposition.Butthenshepointedatthebenchagainand,outoffearshemightbeatmeovertheheadwiththatcucumber,Isat.
That’swhenIrealizedwhatshewaswearing.
Theblackshortssheworeremindedmeofthekindthegirls’volleyballteamsported,Spandexinnatureandhuggingeveryslightcurveofherass.Theywereheartbreakinglyshort,thetightbandatthetopstretchingacrossherleanabdomenandwrappingoverherhipbones.Thesliverofherstomachthatusuallyshowedinthecropssheworewascompletelyexposednow,alongwiththerestofhernavel,allthewayuptothebandofthetinysportsbrathatmatchedhershorts.Itwassimple,blackandwithoutanysortoflogoorpattern,butitwascutinadeepVthataccentedtheampleswellsofherbreasts.
Myeyeshookedthere,somethingprimalstirringinmygutbeforeIblinkedandtoremygazeaway.
Iwasmetwithaboredblink.“Areyoudoneoglingmenow?”
“Probablynot.”
“Youactlikeyou’veneverseenagirlinabikinibefore.”
“Ihaven’tseenyouinabikini.”
Sherolledhereyes,thendroppedtoherkneesrightwhereIhadbeeninfrontoftheterrace.“Whatwereyoudoinghere,anyway?”
“Justharvestingtheonesthatareready.”
“Howcanyoutell?”
“Iftheylookbigenoughtoeat,”Isaidsimply.“Andifanyofthemaretoobigorhaveyellowatthebottom,they’reprobablyoverripe.Youcantossthosetotheside.”
JulepassessedthepileofoverripecucumbersIhadlyingbesidethebasketofripeones,andwithacurtnod,sheclippedthestemofonethatwasreadytoeatanddroppeditintothebasket.
Ididn’thatetheviewofwatchingherharvest,notwhenherassstretchedagainstthoseshorts,hercleavagecomingintovieweachtimeshemovedherarmtocutanewvegetable.Isatbackonthebench,stretchingmyleftarmoverthebackofit.
“Doyoualwaysboltintoyourneighbors’yardinyourunderwear?”
“It’sasportsbraandshorts,”shesaidflatly.“AndIwaspoling.”
“Thisearly?”Inodded,impressed.“SeemslikeI’mnottheonlyonewithamorningroutine.”
Shescoffed.“Asif.Ijustcouldn’tsleep.”
Somethingaboutthewayshesaidthatmademepause,mademewatchhermoreclosely.WhenIlookedpasttheleanlinesofherbodythatwasentirelytoodistractingtofocusonmuchelse,Icouldseethebagsunderhereyes,thefatigueweighingdownhershoulders.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.
Sheshrugged.“It’sfine.I’musedtoit.”
Ourdrivehomefromthehospitalpoppedintomymind,andIchewedtheinsideofmybottomlipamomentbeforeasking,“Whydon’tyouhaveanyfriends?”
“BecauseIhurtmyfriends,”shesaid—matter-of-factlyandasiftherewasnorefutingthatstatement.“AndbecauseIdon’ttrustanyone.”
“Notevenme?”
Shesnorted.“Especiallynotyou.”
“WhatdidIdo?”
Julepleveledmewithalook.“Otherthandisobeymyfather’sdirectorders?”
Herwordssoberedmethewayacoldshowerafteranightoutwould.Itwaseasytoforgetsometimes,howIcouldn’thaveher—especiallywithherdressedlikethat,lookingatmelikethat,andactuallyfuckingtalkingtome.Sincemyinjury,italmostseemedlikeshecaredaboutme…eventhoughallprevioussignspointedintheoppositedirectionofthatnotion.
Iwishedforsomesmart-assremarkbutfoundmyselfsilencedbythereminderofwhoshewas,whoherfatherwas,andallthereasonsIneededtostopgivingintomyinstinctsthatdrovemetowardher.
Andso,wefellquiet,andIwatchedherfinishofftherestofthecucumbersbeforeshesatbackonherheelsandlookedupatme.
“Anythingelse?”
InoddedtoacoupleholesI’ddugbackaroundourfence.“Well,Iwashalfwayintoplantingmypeoniesbacktherewhenthishappened,”Isaid,liftingmyrightelbowabit.
ShegavemeawarningglarewhenIdid,asifeventhatmovementwouldtriggermyinjury.
“Butit’sokay.Icanwaituntilnextfall.”
“Whynotplanttheminthespring?”
Ifrowned.“Everyoneknowspeoniesdobetterwhenthey’replantedinthefall.”
“Andbyeveryoneyoumeannoone,right?”
“Well,anyonewhoknowsanythingaboutgardening,”Iamended.
“Itdoesn’tmakesensetoplantthemnow.Everythingwillfreezeinthewinter.”
“Yes,butit’snotaboutthisseason.It’saboutnextseason.”
Julepblinkedatme.“You’resoweird.”
Ijustgrinned.
Iexpectedhertoletitgo,butinstead,shewavedformetofollowherovertomyhalf-finishedproject.Aftershepulledonmygloves,Iwalkedherthroughwhatwasleft,addingabitofcomposttothesoilalongwithsomebonemealandthensettingtherootssothattheeyesofthepeoniesfacedupward.Imadesureshedidn’tplanttoodeep,andonceeverythinglookedgood,Iinstructedhertobackfilltheholebeforewebothgentlyusedourfeettotampdownthesoil.
“Jeez,youranoverherebarefoot?”
“Didyoujustsayjeez?”sheshotback,ignoringmyassessment.
“Don’tchangethesubject.”
“LikeIsaid,Iwaspoling.”
“I’msurprisedyoudidn’trunoverhereinheels,then.”
“IwishIhadsoIcouldtakethemoffandgougeyoureyesoutwiththem,perv.”
Ismirked.“Youlovemyeyesonyou.”
Shepausedwhereshewastenderlyworkingthesoil,eyesonherfeetbeforetheyslowlycreptuptomine.Foramoment,sheletmeholdthatweightedgaze,andIsoakedupeverysecondofituntilshebrokeeyecontactandsteppedback,peelingmygardeningglovesoffeachhand.
“Whatgotyouintopole?”Iasked.
“Myfuturedreamsofbeingastripper,ofcourse.”
Ihonestlythoughtshewasserious,andInoddedappreciatively.“That’scool.Seemslikeareallydifficultcareer.Ifeellikeyouneedtohavethickskintodoit,putupwiththeassholeclientsandtheclubownersstealingyourwages.”
Julepblinkedatme.“Youidiot,Iwasjoking.”
“HowamIsupposedtoknow?!Youhavethesameexpressionforeverything.”
Thatearnedmethetiniestsmile,andshehookedahandonherhip.“I’mactuallykindofimpressedwithhowyoureactedtothat.Mostpeopledon’thaveanyrespectfordancers.”
“Oh,Ihavealltherespectfordancers.”
Julepgavemealook.“Don’truinit.”WhenIzippedmylipsclosed,sheshrugged,glancingbackatherhouseacrossthestreetlikeshecouldseeherpolefromthere.“It’salong,stupidstory.Let’sjustsayIwasdrowning,andpolewastheliferaftthatkeptmyheadabovethewaves.”
“Isitstilllikethatnow?”
Hereyesweredarkwhenshefacedmeagain,butinlieuofanswering,sheshookherheadandnoddedtowardtheflowerswe’djustplanted.“Whatgotyouintothis?Idon’tknowasinglegrownmanwhogardens,letaloneoneincollege.”
Withouthesitation,Ianswered,“Mysister.”
Ididn’tknowwhyitcameoutsoeasily,especiallywhenheraskingaboutmyCDsjusttwodayspriorhadmademeclamup.Maybetherewassomethingaboutthatmorning,aboutherhelpingmethatsetmeatease.
“Well,notjustmysister,”Iamended,grabbingthebackofmyneck.“Itwasafamilything.Mymomwastheonewhowasgoodatit.Shehadthegreenestthumb,”Isaid,smilingatthememoryofMomalwaysbeingcoveredindirt,stainsonthekneesofheroveralljeansandgrimeunderhernails.Sheusedtowearthisredbandanainherhairtoholditoutofherface,andonHannah’seighthbirthday,Momgotheronejustlikeit.“ButshetaughtmeandHannahwhatshecould.EvenDadhelpedout,takingontheweedsandsuch.”
TherewassomethinghollowinJulep’sgazewhenshesaid,“Soundslikeyou’retheAll-Americanfamily.”
“Wewere.”
Juleparchedabrow,andmymouthsuddenlyfeltdry.Iwonderediftherewasapossibilitysheactuallydidn’tknowmystory,giventhatitwasoneeverysportschannellovedtocover—especiallyasIapproachedthedraft.Ifanything,shehadtohavehearditfromthetrainingstaff,fromherfather.
Butthelongershestaredatme,confused,themoreIdoubtedthatsheknewasinglething.Andsuddenly,itfeltlikeI’dbeenstrippedbareinfrontofher,likeIwasstandingcompletelynakedunderherscrutinizinggazewhileshewaitedformetotellheraboutmybiggestscar.
Iswallowed.“Sorry,I…Ijustassumedyouknew.”
“Knewwhat?”Shefrowned,foldingherarmsoverherchest.
Therewasneveraneasywaytotellthisstory.Infact,IfeltasifI’dalmostbecome…coldwithit.Detached.“MydadandsisterdisappearedwhenIwasthirteen,”Iexplained.“Andmymomtookherlifeayearlater.”
Foramoment,shockcoloredJulep’sface,hereyeswideningashermouthpartedjusttheslightestbit.Butithappenedquickly,almostsoquickIwonderedifI’dseenitatallbeforesomethingelsewashedoverher.
Itwasn’tpity,whichIwasusedto,orsorroworanger,orthatlookIsawinsomegirls’eyeswhentheythought,“Ah,thisisit.He’sletmein.Thisismywaytohisheart.”
No,itwas…soft,subdued,andadistinctkindofsad.
Understanding.
Itwasthelookofsomeonewhotrulyunderstood.
“Disappeared?”
Inodded.“Wehadalittlesailboat,andmysister…shelovedtosailwithDad.Theytookitoutonedaywhentheforecastwasclear,but…”
Ishrugged,nothavingtofinishthesentence.Julepwassmartenoughtofigureitout.
“Youruncles,”shesaid,skippingoverthetraditionalI’msorryIwassousedtohearingafterrevealingthetruthaboutmypast.“Theytookyouin,didn’tthey?”
Inodded.“ThesummerbeforeIstartedhighschool.TheymovedmefromFloridaupherewiththem.”
“Ithoughthewasyourdadbeforeyoutoldme,”shesaid.
Ismiled.“Theylookalotalike.”
Julepbitherbottomlip,lookingdownatwheresheheldmygardeningglovesinherhands.Thosehauntedeyesthatmirroredmineflashedwithaghostofherown.
“What?”Iasked.
Sheshookherhead,swallowing,andstillsheclampedherteethdownonthatbottomliplikeifsheletgoofit,she’dtellmewhatwaswrong.
Likeitwouldbetheendoftheworldifshedid.
“Youknowloss,too,don’tyou?”Iasked—softly,carefully.
Butnotcarefulenough.
Julepsuckedinashallowbreathlikeshewasdrowninginamemoryandmyquestionhadpulledherupforherfirstbreath.Sheshovedmygardeningglovesintomychest.
“Ihavetogo,”shesaid,wordstumblingoutinarush,andthensheturnedanddartedacrossthebackyard.
ShewasthroughthegatebeforeIcouldsayanotherword.Holden
WehadahomegametheSaturdayaftermyinjury.
Welost.
Notforourlackoftrying,becausetheteamwasphenomenalonthefield.Offenseconvertedwhentheycould,defenseheldouropponentsfromtoomanypoints.Mybackup,BlakeRusso,hadbeenkickinghisasstolearnthenewplaybookthisseasonjustasmuchasIhad.Hehadbeenreadytogothelasttwoseasonsjustincasesomethinglikethishappened,andIappreciatedthathetookitseriouslywhenthetimecame.
Theyalldidgood.
Itjustwasn’tgoodenough
Eventhoughweonlylostbyseven,alosswasaloss,andweallfelttheweightofitaswemovedintothenextweek.Fortunately,itwastheweekIcouldactuallystartworkingonrehab,ongettingmyshoulderbacktonormal.
Ihadn’tbeenasoptimisticasJulephadbeenwhenIfirstgotinjured.Memoriesofmymajortearandthesurgerythatwentalongwithitwouldn’tletmebe.Butasweworkedthroughthefirstbitofrehab,thestretchingandisometricstrengthening—IwassurprisedathowgoodIfelt.
“Becauseyoulistenedtomeandactuallyrested,”shehadsaidafterourfirstdaywhenInotedmysurprise.
Itwasabouttheonlythingshe’dsaidtomesincethatmorninginmygarden.
Ithoughtwewerebreakingground,thoughtmaybeI’ddefrostedtheicequeen—evenifonlymarginally.Butafterthatmorning,shehadretreatedintoherself.Shewasn’tcoldwithmethewayshehadbeeninthebeginning,butshealsowasn’tsmilingortryingtomakeconversationthewayshehadbeeninthecaronthewayhomefromthehospital.
Still,rehabforcedhertobearoundme,andI’dneveradmithowmuchIlookedforwardtothosehoursinthetrainingroom.Itdidn’tmatterthetortureshewasputtingmethrough,howthesmallestmovementandexercisesmademefeellikemyshoulderwasburningoff.
Becauseatthebaseofitall,shestillhadthatlookinhereyes.
Understanding.
AnditfeltlikeI’dbuiltthefirstpillarofabridgebetweenus.
Atleast,untilthatpillarwasknockeddownbythehandofarealitycheckoneeveningafterpractice.
I’dsatout,again,watchingfromthesidelinesaswepreparedtoheadontheroadandfaceoffagainsttheRhodeIslandTrojans.Butevenfromthesidelines,IcalledoutwhatIsaw,coachedRussoin-betweenplays,andinstructedmyoffensivelinehowtohelphimgainalittlemoretimeinthepocketsohecouldmakehisthrows.Hewasn’tquiteasquickasIwas,andittookhimlongertofindtheplayerhewanted,todecide,towindupandmakethepass.
Everysecondcounted.
Bythetimewemadeitbacktothelockerroom,IwasexhaustedandjustassweatyasifI’dbeenonthefieldwiththerestoftheteam.Icarefullyremovedmyjersey,tryingnottoangermyshoulderthatwasstilltenderevenifIwasgainingbettermovementwithit.
Thelockerroomwasalivewiththechatteritusuallyhad,primarilybecauseKylehaddecidedwewerehavingapartyatthePittonight.Abigpartofmewantedtonipthatplanrightinthebud,buttheotherpartofmeknewtheteamneededthis—awaytoblowoffsteamafterourloss,tohavealittlefunbeforewetookontheTrojans.So,Iletitride,committingtothefactthatI’djusthavetosuckitupforanight.
IhadmyeyesonwhereIwastakingoffmycleatswhenthebuzzdieddown,andIlookedupjustintimetoseeJulepduckintoherdad’soffice.Sherattledoffsomethingtohim,andhenoddedandcheckedhiswatchbeforesayingsomethingback.Then,withasimplenod,sheroundedoutofhisoffice—andshedidn’tlookatasingleplayergawkingatherasshewalkedthefewshortstepsthattookherbackoutofthelockerroom.
Someoneletoutawolfwhistle,andthentheroombrokeoutintoamixtureoflaughterandtalkingagain.
“SweartoGod,Ihaveneverseenafinerassonanywoman,”Kylesaid,bitinghisknucklesanddoingalittlespin.
“Yeah,wellIhopeyou’vemadepeacewiththefactthatlookingatitisallyou’lleverdo,”Zekepoppedback.
“Pshh,justwhatapussy-whippedsimpwouldsay.”Kylewavedhimoff.“Justbecauseyou’resoftfromonlyhavingonegirlinyourbedfortwoseasonsnowdoesn’tmeantherestofusare.”
RileygaveKyleafakesmilebeforeflippinghimoffandheadingtowardtheshowers,clearlydonewiththeconversation.
“Youdon’tstandachance,”ClaytoldKyle,wipinghisforeheadwithatowelbeforehangingitoverhisshoulder.
Kylecrossedhisarmsonadevilishsmirk.“Isthatachallenge?”
“No,”Icutin,bloodpulsinginmyneck.“It’sareminderthatshe’samemberofourtrainingstaffandthedaughterofourheadcoach—whomadeitprettyclearthatshewasofflimitsthefirsttimehewalkedintothislockerroom.”
Everyheadspuntowardme,andKyle’seyebrowshotupbeforeheletoutahigh-pitchedlaugh.“Oh,that’srichcomingfromyou,Cap.”
Iblinked,lookingbackdownatwhereIwasuntyingmyothercleat.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“Sure.That’swhyyouhadherpracticallynakedinourbackyardlastweek,right?”
ThosedisrespectfulwordsaimedtowardJulepwereanincendiarydeviceonmyalready-frayedemotions.
MyteethnearlyshatteredfromhowhardIgrittedthemwhenIstood,andinaflash,IhadKylepinnedbytheneckagainstthelockers.HejustlaughedharderasIpressedintohisspace.
“Youdon’tknowwhatthefuckyou’retalkingabout,”Ispat.“Andifyouknowwhat’sgoodforyou,you’llshutyourfuckingmouth.”
“Careful,”hesaidwithawink.“Don’twanttohurtyourpreciousarmthere.”
Ipressedmyleftforearmevenmoreintohisneck,hatingthechallengeIsawinhiseyesbeforeClaycarefullypeeledmeoffhim,andZekesteppedin,too,pullingKyleintheoppositedirection.
“Alright,”Leosaid,exchanginglookswithClayandZekebeforesnappinghistowelbetweenmeandKyle.“That’senoughmachismofortoday.Neitherofyoustandachanceoffuckingthecoach’sdaughter,solet’sjustdropit,hey?”
“Speakforhim,”Kylesaid,noddingtowardme.HiseyesflickedtowardCoach’sofficetomakesurethedoorwasstillclosedbeforeheshruggedtheguysoffandpinnedmewithaglare.“Youmayhavehadherplayinginthedirtwithyouinherbraandunderwear,Cap,butit’llbemybedshelandsin.Ipromiseyouthat.”
Isurgedtowardhim,readytoplowhisfuckingteethin—shoulderbedamned.ButZekeandClaybothcaughtmeandshovedmeback,whichonlymadeKylelaughlikehe’dalreadywon.Hewinkedatmebeforedroppinghisshortsandsaunteringtowardtheshower,lettinghisdickswingthewholeway.
“Getoffme,”Igrowled,shovingmyfriendsawaybeforeIkickedmycleatstowardmylockerandreachedinformyshirt,tuggingitonabittooquickly.Myshoulderstung,butIignoredit.
Leosqueezedmyhealthyshoulder,heandtheothertwohoveringbehindmeasItriedtoschoolmybreaths.
“Coach’sdaughter,”hesaid,solowonlythefourofuscouldhearit.
“Iknow,”Ibitback.
“Thenfuckingactlikeit,”Zekeadded,andIturnedtofacehim,tofaceallthreeofthem,readytofightlikeananimalbackedintoacorner.
ButwhenImettheirgazes,Isawnothingbuttheconcernofmybrothers,myfriendswholovedmelikefamily.
Theycouldseerightthroughme,mywallsnothingbutglasstothem.
Iletoutalongbreath,myheadfallingbackagainstthelockerbeforeIshookit.“Yeah,no.I’mfine.Just…tired.”
Itwasasorryexcuse,oneIknewdidn’tfoolanyofthemastheyexchangedlooks.Buttheynodded,andLeosqueezedmyshoulderoncemorebeforereleasingme.
“We’llblowoffsomesteamtonight,”heassuredme.“Pong.You’reonmyteam.”
Inodded,thoughIknewnoamountofbeercouldmakemenotactlikeanabsolutepsychowhenIheardsomeonetalkthatwayaboutJulep—especiallyascumbaglikeKyleRobbins.Hewastheworstoftheworst,thekindofguyyouhatedasahumanbutdependedonasaplayer.Hewasthebesttightendinourdivision,whichmeantwewereluckytohavehim.Buthewasalsoadisrespectfulmisogynistwhocaredmoreabouthowmuchmoneyhecouldmakefromashoedealthanwhetherourteamwonthechampionshipornot.
Ididn’twanthimsomuchaslookingatJulep,letalonethinkingabouttouchingher.
TheproblemwasthatIhadnorighttofeelthatway,oractthatway.
IwaslosingmydamnmindoveragirlIshouldhavebeenstayingfar,farawayfrom.
“Hittheshower,”Claysaidtome,andhegavemealookthatsaidhe’dbetalkingtomelater,thathesawrightthroughthebullshit.
Theyalldid.
WhichmeantIhadbettergetmyacttogetherbeforeCoachLeestartedtonotice,too.
Julep
God,ifyoureallyexist,pleasestrikemewithalightningboltatthisverymomentandenditall
ThethoughtwasonlyhalfajokeasIpushedpastaaroundonmyplatelisteningtomyfathertellMarystoriesaboutmeasakid.Ofcourse,Maryleanedintoeveryword,smilingandlaughingandegginghimonwithquestionsin-betweenthrowingmewinksacrossthetable.
Traitor
Iwashappyshewaswinninghimover—firstwithinvitinghimtodinner,thenwithcookingsaiddinner,andnowbylaughingathisstupidjokesandactinglikeshewasinterestedinhisboringfootballtalk.Whenhe’dfirstseenheronmove-inday,piercingsandtattoosandleather-clad,Iknewhe’dbeenworried.So,thisdinner,hersofteninghissuspicion—itwasagoodthing.
Ijustwisheditwasn’tatmyexpense.
AndIwishedmyfatherwasn’tpretendingwehadsomegloriousrelationshipwhenthetruthwasthatwebarelykneweachotheratall.
“Wait,”Marysaid,chucklingasshewipedhermouthwithhernapkinbeforefoldingitinherlapagain.“You’retellingmethatJulep,theJulepsittingatthistablewithus,usedtotiebowsinherhair?”
“Everyday,”Dadsaid,beaming.“She’dmatchittowhateversheworethatday,andshehadaspecialoneforgameday.Brightblueandorangelikeheruniform.”
“Istillcan’tbelieveyouwereacheerleader,”Marysaid,snickering.
“Trustme,itwasn’tbychoice,”Igrumbled.
“Youlovedit,”Dadteased.
“No,Abbylovedit,”Icorrected,meetinghiseyes.“Ijustdiditfortheboys.”
Dad’smouththinnedintoaflatline,andanawkwardsilencefelloverthetableashereachedforhiswineandtookasip.
Mygazestayedfixedonhim,asifthistimemightbedifferentfromeveryothertimeIbroughtherup.Iwantedsodesperatelyforhimtoadmitit.Tosay,“Ah,that’sright.ItwasAbbywholovedcheerleading,wasn’tit?Didn’tsheusedtocheerthebirthdaysongtoyoueveryyear?”AndIcouldlaughandsay,“Shesuredid,evenwhenwewereteenagers.”
Then,we’dbothlaugh—evenifthatlaughterwasunderlinedwithsorrow.Butwecouldrememberher,sharethememoryofher,andkeepheraliveineventhatsmallway.
Instead,hestayedsilent,andIgrewmoreresentful.
Marygavemealooklikewhatthehellwasthat?
Ionlylookeddownatmyplate,countingdowntheminutesforthisdinnertobeover.
Toanyoneontheoutsideofthisdinner,itwouldseemIwasbeingabrat.AndIguessinmanyways,Iwas.ButIfeltthatlingeringgazefrommyfatherallthetime.Itwasn’tasbadasMom’s,whobarelywantedtoseemeatallanymore,butIstillfeltit.
Itwasthesadness,theworry,thefearofwhatmylifewas,andevenmoresoofwhatitwouldbecome.
Intruth,IcouldadmitthatIwasanungratefullittlesnotwhenitcametohowmuchheputupwithwhereIwasconcerned.I’dputhimthroughenough,toomuchreally,andyethestilltried.Hestillwantedtoseemesucceed.
Sometimes,Iwishedhe’djustleavemetodigmyholesandburymyselfaliveinthem.
“Speakingofboys,”Dadsaidafteraminute,andallthelightnessthatwasinhisvoicebeforedisappeared.“Aretheplayersleavingyoualone?”
“Oh,myGod,Dad,”Isaid,huffingasIsatbackandshovedmyplateawayfromme.
“Iseethewaytheylookatyou,”hesaid.“AndIknowbetterthanmosthowfootballplayerscanbe.”
“Nooneisbotheringme.”
“LeoHernandez?”
“No,”Isaidinaboredtone,thoughIdidn’tmisshowMary’slipcurledathisname.
“ZekeCollins?ClayJohnson?”
“Theybothhavegirlfriends.Youknowtheirgirlfriends.”
Dadmadeafacelikehewasn’tsurethatmattered.“KyleRobbins?”
“Who?”Imadeaface,wavingmyhandintheairtoillustratehowlittleIcared.
Dadpickeduphisfork,stackingsomepastaandbroccoli.“WhataboutHoldenMoore?”
Isighed,shovingbackfromthetableandstanding.“Trustme,Dad—everyonehasheededyourwarningandthey’reallstayingawayfromme.Now,ifthisinterrogationisdone,mayIbeexcused?”
“You’vebarelytouchedyourdinner,”Marycommentedwithapout.
“Yeah,well,I’mnothungry,”Isaidtonooneinparticular.
Ididn’tdarelookatmyfather,notwhenIknewthedisappointmentI’dseewaitingformeifIdid.Iknewthelookwell,theonethatsaidhewisheditwashisotherdaughterwhosurvivedinsteadofme.
“I’msorry,”IsaidsoftlytoMary.“Dinnerwasgreat.Ireallyappreciateit.I’mjust…tired.”
Shenoddedlikesheunderstood,givingmealookthatsaidwecouldtalklater.
She’dbedisappointedtofindthatIdidn’twanttotalktoanyone
Iforcedmyselftosmileatmyfather,becausenomatterhowirritatedIwas,Iknewhowpreciouslifewas,howquicklyitcouldgo.“Ireallyamjusttired,”Ireiterated,becauseIknewthewayhewaslookingatme,hedidn’tbelievethelieI’dfedMary.
Thankfully,hestillheldenoughcompassionformethathenoddedlikehedid.Hestood,openinghisarms,andIslippedintothemforabriefhug.
“Loveyou,Dad.I’llseeyoutomorrow.”
“Loveyou,too.Yourmomwantedmetotellyouhello,bytheway.She’sgoingtocalllaterthisweek.Thingshavejustbeencrazywithplanningthechurchbanquet.Youknowhowintoallthatshegets.”
Irolledmyeyesatthelie,becausepretendingIwasindifferenthurtlessthanadmittinghowmuchthatliereallyhurt.Momhadnointentionofcallingme.Shehadn’tsinceweleft.
“Okay,”Isaid.
Whenhereleasedme,Idrainedthelastbitofthewineinmyglassbeforeretreatingupthestairsandtomyroom.
Iwantedtoslammydoor,tothrowatantrumlikeIwasallowedtowhenIwasapre-teen.Instead,Icloseditwithaquietsnickthatseemedtoechothroughtheemptyroombeforefloppingface-firstontomybedandlettingoutastrangledscreamintomypillow.
Forawhile,Ijustlaidthere,listeningtothemuffledvoicesdownstairsuntilIheardthedistinctsoundofthefrontdooropeningandclosing.Maryknockedonmydooramomentlater,hervoicesoftasshetoldmehewasgone.
Ididn’trespond.
“Youokay,roomie?”sheaskedafteramoment.
WhenIdidn’treply,Iheardalongsighleaveher.
“I’mgoingtoeatanedibleandwatcholdepisodesofSchitt’sCreek.Invitationisopen.”
Then,shewasgone.
Ieventuallyrolledontomyback,watchingasthelastbitofsunlightfadedfrommyroom.IthoughtofAbby,ofmyparents,ofwhatthingsmighthavebeenlikeifAbbywerestillhere.
IfIhadn’t…
Icouldn’tevenfinishthethoughtbeforeemotiongrippedmebythethroat,andIclosedmyeyes,willingmyselftojustgonumb.Eventually,Isnuckbackdownstairsandquietlytoppedoffmywineglass.Ididn’tcarethatI’dalreadyhadtwo.Iwantedanother.
ItookitbackuptomyroomanddrankittooquicklybeforeIfloppedbackonmybed.Theminutestickedbywithmestaringattheceiling,andjustaboutthetimeIconvincedmyselfIshouldshowerandgotobed,Iheardit.
Music.
Itwasmuffled,butthebasebeatthickthroughthehouse,rattlingmybedframeabit.Ifrowned,leaninguponmyelbowsbeforeIrolledoffmybedandpaddedovertomywindow.
Holden’slawnwascoveredwithpeople.
Thefrontdoorwaswideopen,studentsamblinginandoutofitwithplasticcupsintheirhands.Musicblasted,couplesmadeoutontheporch,andagroupofguysdraggedalargefoldingtableintothebackyard,carefulnottosteponanyflowers,fruits,orvegetables.
Ichewedmylip,watching,andthenforreasonsunbeknownsttome,IboltedoutofmyroomandshovedintoMary’swithoutknocking.
“Hey!”shescolded,holdinguptheshirtshe’djusttakenofftocoverherknockers.
ButIdidn’tturnaround,didn’tleave,didn’tdoanythingforfearthatonesecondofhesitationwouldmakemechangemymind.
“Areyoutired?”
Shewasstillfrowningatme,likeIwasacrazypersononthevergeofabreakdown.“Notreally?”sheanswered,almostmoreofaquestionthanacertainty
Inodded,foldingmyarmsbeforeIglanceddownthehallatmyroom,andthenbackatmyroommate.
“HowdoyoufeelaboutmakinganappearanceatthePit?”Holden
Iwasthreesheetstothewindwhenshewalkedin.
Itwasacombinationofthingsthataffordedmetheopportunitytoactuallygetdrunk.Onewasthatmyroomwasrightupstairs,thoughthathadneverencouragedmebeforetonight.TwowasthatIdidn’thavetopracticetomorrow,becauseIcouldn’tpractice,becauseIcouldn’tplayatall.AndthreewasbecauseI’dbeenriledupsincemyaltercationwithKyleinthelockerroomearlierthatafternoon.
Becauseoftheinfuriating,offlimits,fuckingirresistiblegirlwhojustwaltzedintoourparty.
IpretendedIwasfullyengagedinthegameofbeerpongIwasplayingwithLeo,Clay,andZeke—Leoasmypartner,andClaydrinkingfortwosinceZekewassoberbychoice.Mybodywasangledtowardthetable,shoulderssquareasItookmyshotwiththeping-pongball,missedthecup,andthentookasmallsipfromtheoneinmyhandlikeIwasunbothered.
Butoutofmyperiphery,IwatchedJulep’severymove.
Iwatchedherthreadanarmthroughthegirl’sshewaswith,whomIrecognizedasherroommateonlyfromthesmallglancesI’dcaughtofheracrossthestreet.Roommateseemedannoyedtobehere,aboredexpressiononherfaceasshealmostangrilychewedgumandletJulepguideherthroughthethickeningcrowd.
Julep,ontheotherhand,looked…different.
Shewasalmostsmilingastheyweavedinandoutofpodsofstudents,andhereyescaughtonthedifferentareastheypassed—aflipcupgameinthediningroom,bodyshotsinthekitchen,dancinginthemiddleofthelivingroomwherewe’dshovedthecouchesoutoftheway.Ididn’tmisshowsheswallowedthicklyatthesightofacouplekidsliningupsomethingtosnort—notfootballplayers,becausetheirasseswouldbeofftheteaminaflash.Shebrushedpastthem,though,sheandherroommatemakingtheirwaytothekeg.
“Defense,man!”Leobarkedatme,smackingmybicepastheballZekethrewfellintooneofourcups.Apparently,ithadbeenspinningaroundthelipforawhileandI’dmissedmychancetofingeritout.
Ishrugged,thentookalongdrinktopayforthemistake.
Iwonderedwhyshewashere,sneakingglancesatherasshefilledacupforherandherroommatebeforetheybeganmakingtheroundsagain.Judgingbythelookinhereyes,shewasalittlebuzzed,too.
Ididn’tknowwhythatputmeonedge.
Maybeitwasbecause,addedtohowshelooked,IknewIwasn’ttheonlyonewatchingher.
JulepLeehadknockedmeonmyassthefirsttimeIsawher,andshehadbeenwearingprettymodestathleisure.Buttonight,sheworeimpossiblytight,blackleatherpantsthathuggedherhipsandassandeveryleanlineofherlegsallthewaydowntothesmallheelsonherfeet.I’dneverbeensofuckingturnedonbyasliverofanklebefore,buttheskinthatpeekedoutbetweenthepumpandthehemofherpantsdrewmyeye,holdingmethereandmakingmewonderwhatthatdelicateanklebonewouldfeellikewrappedinmyhandasIguidedituptomyshoulderandlaidherbackonmybed.
Sheworeadarkgreencroptop,too—onethatlookedalmostvintagewiththesheer,olivelacecoveringthedarkfabricbeneathit.TheheelssheworewereuniqueandfarfromwhatI’deverhavepicturedherwearing.
Thenagain,Ihadn’tseenherwearinganythingoutsideoftheathleticwearsheworeatthestadiumandthetinyshortsandbrasheworewhenpoling.
Everythingaboutherwasdifferent,evenherhairthatwasusuallystraightorpulledintoaponytailwascurled,flowingdownherbackandoverhershouldersandjustbeggingtobewrappedupinmyfist.
“Bro.”
IturnedbacktoLeo,whoblinkedatme.
“What?”
“Theyjustdoublebouncedusandfuckingwon,that’swhat.”
Ilookedattheevidenceonthetable,twolittlewhitepongballsinourlasttwocups.
“Damn,”Isaid,runningahandbackthroughmyhair.“Well,goodgame,guys.I’mgoingtogore-up.”IliftedmycupintheairtowardZekeandClay,whowatchedmejustassuspiciouslyasLeodid.
ButwhenIturnedforthekegjustasJulepandherroommateheadedthesameway,Leoclappedahandonmyshoulder,haltingme.
“Ah,nowIknowwhyyouweredistracted.”
Ifeignedindifference.“Justtired.”
“Tiredmyass.Comeon,Cap—Ineedarefill,too.”
Hegrinneddevilishlyashetookthelead,andIturnedovermyshoulderatClayandZekewhowerejustsmilingandshakingtheirheadsatmelikeIwasalostcause.
LeoandIwerealmosttothekitchenwhenGianaandRileytuggedJulepandherroommatetotheside,wrappingthembothinhugsbeforelaunchingintochatter.Idrainedthelastoftheliquidinmycupasweapproachedthem.
“I’msohappyyoucame!”Gianasaid,squeezingJulep’selbow.“Andyou,too…”Shewaited,archingabrowatJulep’sroommate.
“Mary,”thegirlsaid,stillwearingthatboredexpression,thoughshesomehowmanagedtosoundnicedespiteit.Hereyeswerealittleglazed,lazy,likeshewasatouchhigh.
“Mary,”Gianarepeated.“It’snicetomeetyou.I’mGiana,thisisRiley.”
BeforeIcouldstophim,LeosqueezedinbetweenMaryandJulep,throwinghisarmaroundeachofthem.“AndI’mLeo.Nowthatweallknoweachother,whatdoyousaywetakethislittleménage…”Hecountedeachoneofthemonafinger.“Cinquptomyroom?”
GianaandRileyjustsmiledandrolledtheireyesbecausetheywereusedtomybestfriend’ssenseofhumor.ButMaryshruggedhimoff,nosewrinklingasifhestank.“I’dratherpeeloffmyowntoenails.”
“AndI’dratheryoutakemesomewhereprivateandletmeseeallthosetattoos,”Leosaid,ignoringherveryobviousdismissalofhimashiseyesrakedoverherexposedskin.
Sheshookherheadathim,disbeliefanddisgustmixingonherface.“Youreallyareclueless,aren’tyou?”
“Desperately.Ineedsomeonetoteachmeeverythingabouttheworld.”HereleasedwherehisarmwasaroundJulepandturnedhisfullattentiononMary.“Youinthemarkettobemynewmommy?”
Maryscoffed,turnedonherheels,andLeowaggledhisbrowsatallofusbeforechasingafterher.
“Poorgirl,”Gianaremarked,butshesmiledanyway.
Itookthebreakintheconversationasanopportunity,alongwiththemarginalspacebetweenacoupleofmyteammatesandthebacksideofJulep.Thekeglayjustbeyondthem,andbeforeIcouldtalkmyselfoutofit,Ipushedthrough.
Itwasatightsqueeze,andthefrontofmebrushedalongthebackofher,thedistinctscentofraspberriesandsagehittingmynostrilsasIdid.Itiltedmyheaddown,lipsandnosejustinchesfromthebackofherneck.
“Excuseme,”Imuttered,thoughIslowedmypace,savoringthetouchasIbroughtahandtoherhipasIpassed.
Julepstiffened,keepingherjawangledtowardthegirls.
Buthereyesslippedback,overhershoulder,andfoundme.
Myfingersblazedwheretheytouchedherskin,everyinchofmelightingupasIwedgedmyselfbetweenherandmyteammates.Ithappenedinamatterofseconds,butthosesecondslingeredlikeyears,likedecadesofafireburninginmychest.Iheldmybreath,notedthatsheheldhers,too.
Andthen,justasquickly,Iwasthrough,andIreleasedher,notsomuchaslookingbackovermyshoulderoncethecontactwasbroken.
Iheadedstraightforthekeglikeithadn’tmeantathing,likeI’dbarelynoticed.
Myheartthunderedtheentireway.
IrealizedIshouldhavesoberedupasthenightwenton,butIfoundmyselfdrinkingmoreandmorebecauseitfeltliketheonlythingIcoulddoasIwatchedJulepfromacrosstheparty.
Shefitinseamlessly,lettingGianaandRileytoutherthroughthecrowd,introducinghertopeople.TheyevenconnedherandMaryintoagameofquarters,whichIonlyhalf-watchedasIgaveBlakeRussoapeptalkinthekitchen.
“I’mtooslow,”hesaidagain,evenaftermyinsistencethathewasfasterthanhethought.“Ijust…Iclamup.EvenwhenIknowwhatthemoveis.”
“So,tellmewhy,”Isaid,nudgingmyfisttohischest.“Whydon’tyoufollowthroughwithyourgutinstinct?”
Heshookhishead.“Idon’tknow.”
“Yes,youdo.”
Hismouthpulledtotheside.“Iguess…IguessbecauseI’mscared.I’mafraidI’llpullthetriggertoosoonandnotseesomething,getinterceptedorreadtheplaywrong.”
“Andsowhatifyoudo?”
Hegavemeaperplexedlook.
“Sowhatifyougetpickedoff?Orsacked?Orifyouthrowitfarpastyourtarget?Youknowwhathappensthen?”
Blakeblinkedasiftosayyeah,youidiot,welosethegame.
Ileanedincloser.“Thatplayends,andthenextonestarts.”Ishookmyhead.“Everyplayermakesmistakes.Everyquarterbackoverthrowsandunderthrowsandgetstakentothegroundmorethanafewtimes.Weallthrowpicks.Weallfuckup.It’spartofthegame.Thekeyisnotlettingthatshitgetinyourheadorstopyoufrommakingtheplayyouknowneedstobemade.Trustyourinstinct,sothatyoucanuntapthepotentialyouhaveinsteadofplayingitsafeinwhat’scertain.Andnewsflash—evenwhenyouthinksomethingiscertain,itneveris.”Iclappedhisshoulder.“Trustme,onceyouletgo,onceyoumakeamistakeandthenrealizeit’snottheendoftheworld?”Ishrugged.“That’swhentherealmagicisunlocked.”
Blakenodded,likehewasfinallyunderstanding.“IthinkIseewhatyou’resaying.”
“Humormenextgameandgowiththefirstthingyourguttellsyou.I’llruneverylapCoachgivesyouforanymistakesthathappen.”
Hesnorted.“Nowthat’sadealI’lltake.”
Ismiled,squeezinghisshoulderbeforeItookadrinkandsubtlyturnedtoseeifJulepwasstillplayingquarters.
Butshewasn’t.
Iscannedthecrowdidly,notingthatGianaandRileywerewiththeirboyfriendsnowonthedancefloor,andIcaughtthetail-endofMary’sblondehairassheexitedoutthefrontdoor.
Then,IfoundJulep.
Squeezedbetweenthearmofthecouchandasmirking,wastedKyleRobbins.
Itwasdarkinthecornerwheretheywere,thecouchshovedbackagainstthewalltomakeroomforthedancefloor.Everythinginmybodyreactedtothatsight—fisttighteningaroundthecupinmyhandstothepointofnearlycrushingit,heartgallopingsoloudinmyearsIbarelyheardthemusic,bloodboilingandjawclenchingsohardIhadaninstantheadache.
Ididn’tallowmyselfthetimetoevenformulateaplanbeforeIwaspushingthroughthecrowdtowardher.
IwatchedthemthroughthegapsinthepeopleasIshovedmywaypast,andwhenKylebenttowardher,handfindingherthighashespokesomethingalongherneckthatmadeherlaughinawayIdidn’tknowwaspossible—awayI’dneverseenherlaughbefore—Inearlypassedoutfromredinvadingmyvision.
AndIdidn’tcarethatIdidn’thavearighttobepissed.
Ididn’tcarethatIshouldn’thavebeenwatchingher,thatIshouldhaveletitgo.
Ididn’tcarethatIdidn’tknowwhatthehelltosayordo.
Ijustwalkedrightuptothem,toweringoverwheretheysat,breathinglikeafuckingdragon.
Istartledthemboth,Kylestoppingmid-laughandglaringupatmeasiftosay,I’mbusyhere,fuckoff
ButmyeyeswereonJulep.
Hersmileslowlywaned,thosedarkirisesgrowingevenwiderasshetookmein.Shewasbuzzed,maybeevendrunk,whichwouldexplainthecarefreewayshe’djustbeenlaughing.Butnow,thoseglossyeyesweretrainedonme,andtheyslidthefulllengthofmybodybeforeslowlycrawlingbackup,acat-likesmirkpaintingherlipswhenshefoundmygazeoncemore.
“Hello,QB1,”shepurred.
Thatonelittlegreetingsetmywholebodyblazing.
“Hello,Polerina,”Isaidback,andsomehow,thecornerofmymouthtilteddespitehowIwastwosecondsawayfromHulk-smashingmyteammate.Infact,Isomehowembodiedcockyindifference,onehandslidingintothepocketofmyathleticshortswhiletheotherheldontomycup.
IthoughtmaybeJulepcouldsenseit,thewayhersmilecreptupevenmore.
“Havingfun?”Iasked,asifKylewasn’tthereatall.
“Yes,wewere,”heinterrupted,tryingtoblockmyviewofJulep.“So,ifyoucouldjust—”
“I’mprettybored,actually,”Julepcutin,somethingofachallengeinhereyes.“IthoughtyousaidpartiesatthePitcouldn’tbebeat.”
IignoredthedropofKyle’sjawathercomment,thoughmysmilewassmugwhenIsaid,“Maybeyoujusthaven’thadtherightcompany.”
“Ormaybethispartyblows,”shecountered.
“Maybe,”Iconceded.Ilookedoutbackatthegarden,atthefoldingtablethathadbeenabandonedouttherewithcupslitteredalloverit.Nooneelsewasoutthere,soIlookedbackatJulepbeforenoddingmyheadtowardthedoor.“Wantachangeofscenery?”
Shedidn’ttakehereyesoffmineasshepeeledKyle’shandoffherthigh.“Desperately.”
Andthenshestoodandledtheway,andIwinkedatafuriousKyleovermyshoulderbeforefollowingherout.Julep
“You’redrunk.”
ThecornerofHolden’smouthliftedattheaccusation,andhesimplyshrugged,drinkingfromhiscup—whichwasinbadshape,likeithadbeenpartiallycrushed.
Itwasn’tright,howtantalizinghelookedinthewarmglowoftheEdisonlightsstrungaboveusinthegarden.Weweretheonlyonesoutback,andItookadvantageofmyloweredinhibitions,lettingmyeyesrakeoverhim.Hishairwasmussed,curlingovertheedgesofthebackwardbaseballcaphewore.I’dneverseenhiminahatbeforethatnight,andIfeltlikeafuckinghighschoolerforhowIwantedtotakeitoffhimandputitonmyownhead,toseehissmirkwhenIdid.
Idiot,Ichastisedmyself,butitdidn’tstopme.
Itdidn’tstopmefromnotinghowunfairitwastoeveryothermanintheworldthathecouldlookthatgoodinblackathleticshortsandaheathergrayNBUpulloverthatzippeddowntohischest,showingawhitet-shirtunderneathit.He’dshovedthesleevesuppasthiselbows,showcasinghisridiculousforearmsthatonlyaquarterbackcouldhave.
Iwantedtohateit.Iwantedtohatehim
ButIlikedhowcockyhelookedstandingtherewithonehandinhispocket,howhehadmarchedovertowhereI’dbeenwithKyleandnotthoughttwicebeforestealingmeaway.
“Andareyou?”heasked,archingabrow.
“Alittlebuzzed,”Iadmitted.
Maybethat’swhyI’minsucha“checkoutHoldenMoore”mood…
Isighedthen,foldingmyarmsovermychestasItookaseatonthesamewhitebenchhe’dsatonwhileItendedhisflowerstheweekbefore.“Imighthaveusedredwineasacrutchtogetthroughdinnerwithmydad.”
“Thatbad,huh?”
Holdensatnexttome,andthoughtherewasplentyofspaceonthatbench,theoutsideofhisthighpressedagainstmine.
“Youknowmydad,”Isaid.
“Notlikeyoudo.”
“No,”Iagreed.
“Ishehardonyou?”
“Notanyharderthanheshouldbe.”
Holdenfrowned,notunderstanding,butIdidn’twanttotalkaboutmyfatheranylonger.“Ireallyamsurprisedtoseeyoudrinking.”
Itwashisturntosigh.“Yeah,well,Iwouldn’tusually.ButsinceI’mnotplaying…”Hecrackedhisneck.“It’sjustbeenaday.Itrymybesttobeokaywiththis,”hesaid,liftingtheelbowofhisinjuredarmjustafraction.“But…”
“Butyou’rehuman,”Ifinishedforhim.“Andyou’reupset.”
Hismouthtwitched,andhenodded.
Amomentofsilencepassedbetweenus,themusicthumpingloudfrominsideasacoupletumbledoutthroughthebackslidingdoor.Theyglancedatusforonlyasecondbeforetheguythrewhisarmaroundthegirlandledheraroundthedarksideofthehouse.
“Ikindoflikeseeingyoualittledisgruntledandsad.”
Holdenpuffedalaugh.“Gee,thanks.”
“Imeanit.You’realwaysso…happy,”Isaid,wrinklingmynose.“Socalmandsteadyandsure.”
“Youknow,youalmosthadasmuchdisdaininyourvoicewhenyousaidthataswhenyoucommentedonhowmanyfriendsIhave.”
Ismiledabit.“Idon’tknow…IguessIjustdon’tgetit.”
“Don’tgetwhat?”
Iswallowed.“Howyoucanbesohappyafterwhatyoutoldmelastweek…whathappenedtoyourfamily.”
Holdenstiffened,thegriparoundhiscupmakingitcreakinhishands.Thatseemedtosnaphimoutofwhereverhismindwastryingtotakehim,andhesniffed,drainingthelastofhisbeerbeforesettingthecupunderthebench.
“Well,thealternativeistostoplivingmylife,”hesaidsimply,turningtofacemewiththosewide,endlessgreeneyes.“AndIoweittothemandtomyselfnottodothat.”
Thewordswerequiet,raspyaroundtheedgesastheyfloatedoverthespacebetweenus.Andstill,theyhitmelikeastampedeofhorses,eachonetramplingmeevenmoreintothehardground.
Abby’ssmileflashedinmymind,herheadtiltedbackonalaugh.AndIsworeIheardthesoundofit,heardthesing-songlullabyofitthateveryonearoundherfoundsoendearing.
IwaslostinthatthoughtwhenHoldennudgedmykneewithhis.Hemusthavenoticed,musthaveseenitinmyowneyeswherethosewordshadtakenme.
Ididn’tlikethathecouldseeit,whatIsoeasilyhidfromothers.
Hisbrowsbenttogether,andheleanedtowardmejustmarginally,mouthopeninglikehewasreadytoaskmewhereI’dgone.
ButItoremygazeaway,noddingtowardthecucumbers.“Lookslikeyou’vegotafewmorereadytoharvest.”
Holdenwatchedthesideofmyfaceamoment,likehewastryingtowillmebacktothemomenthe’dlost.Buteventually,hefollowedmygaze,andoutofmyperipheralIsawhimsmilealittle.
“Isthatyougivingmepermissiontogarden?”
Irolledmyeyes.
“Thesewillprobablybethelastones,”hecommented,eyestrailingoverthetrellis.“It’sagoodthingIhavefootballinthefallandwinter,becausethere’snotmuchtobedonebackhereoncetheweatherturns.”
Somethingwashedoverhimthen,andIrealizeditthemomentittouchedhiseyes—itwasworry,fear.
Thathewouldn’thavefootballthisyear,either.
“Youshouldsharewithyourneighbors,youknow,”Isaid.“It’sthefriendlythingtodo.”
“Youwantsomecucumbers?”
“Tomatoes,too.”
Henodded,thensmirkedlikealittlekidbeforehesaid,“I’llpickoutthebiggestcucumberforyou.Onethat’sniceandthick,long…”
IrolledmyeyessohardmyeyelidsflutteredasIturnedawayfromhim,shakingmyhead.
“What?”heaskedonalaughhecouldn’tcontain.
“Doyouevergettiredofmakingjokeslikeatwelve-year-oldboy?”
“No,becauseit’stheonlywayIgetariseoutofyou.”
“Youcouldtrynormalconversation.”
“YouusuallyshutmedownwhenIdo.”
Iturnedtofacehimfully,shouldersbackandchintiltedup.“Tryme,”Isaid.“Tellmesomethingreal.”
“Somethingreal?”
Inodded.
Holden’seyesflickedbetweenmine,histongueswipingouttowethisbottomlipjustmarginallybeforeheturnedtowardmejustasearnestly.“Okay,”hesaid,andthenheleanedinclose,jawset.“Ihaven’tbeenabletotakemyeyesoffyousincethemomentyouwalkedthroughthatdoortonight.”
Mybreathhitched.
Ifeltit,stucksomewherebetweenaninhaleandanexhale,andyetIcouldn’treachforeitherone.
Holdendidn’twaver,didn’tbackdown.Hiseyescontinuedsearchingmine,andIsawthechallengeinthem,thedareformenottorun.Andpartofmewantedtoleanin.Partofmewantedtomeetthatchallenge.
Buttheinstinctwastoostrong.
Ifinallyfoundanexhale,liltingitintoalaughasIbrokeeyecontactandstood.“God,you’resopatronizing.”
Itookasteptowardthehouse,butbeforeIcouldtakeanother,Holdenstood,hiscallousedhandslippingintothecrookofmyelbowandspinningmetofacehim.Weweresoclosemychestmethis,andIkeptmygazeonthezipperofhispulloverforfearoflookingup,fearofmeetinghisgazeIfeltburningdownatme.
“Stoptryingtolaughmeoff,”hesaid,voicereverberatingthroughmyribcage.“AndlookatmewhenItellyouhowenamoratingyouare.”
“That’snotaword.”
“Itisnow,”heargued.“Anditwasmadeforyou.”
Iswallowedashisknucklesfoundmychinandliftedit,causingmygazetomeethis.Asifthattouchdidn’tburnalready,hisfingersuncurled,palmcuppingmycheek.Hefollowedthemovementofhisfingersastheydrewalinealongmyjaw,tracedtheoutlineofmylips,andfinallysweptgentlyunderneathmyeye,asifhewastryingtoerasethetirednesshesawthere.
HisAdam’sapplebobbedhardinhisthroat,themuscleofhisjawflexinglikehewasrestraininghimself.
Iclosedmyeyes.
Lookingathimthatcloselywastoomuch.Butitwasevenworseoncemysightwasgonebecauseeveryothersensekickedintooverdrive.Iheardthelaboredinhalehecarefullydrew,feltwhereIleanedintohispalmeventhoughIshouldhavetornaway.
Myeyespoppedopen.
“Youcan’thaveme,”Iremindedhim,thoughmyvoicewasshallow,weak.
“Sayswho?”
“Myfather.”
Hiseyesfelltomylips,hisnextbreathwarmingthem.
“Aslongasit’snotyousayingit,Idon’tcare.”
Holdentiltedmychinevenmore,anglinghismouthformine.AndIsuckedinmylasthaggardbreath,closingmyeyesagain,surrendering.
Forthesplitsecondbeforegoodsensefoundme.
BecauseIknewregardlessofwhathiswordssaid,itwasn’ttrue.Hedidcare.Hehadtocare.
Orhe’dbeofftheteam.
Andjusttwoweeksofthathadnearlykilledhimalready.
Icouldalmosttastehim,hislipsbrushingminewhenIsaid,“ThenI’msayingit,too.”
Ipressedahandintohischest,andHoldenpaused,hislipsstillhoveringsoclosetominethatjustafractionofaninchwouldgiveusboththereprievewelongedfor.Butweweredrunk.Wewerebeingreckless.
Therewasn’taworldthatexistedwhereHoldenMoorecouldhaveme,andIcouldhavehiminreturn.
“Goodnight,Cap,”Ibreathed.
Andhereleasedme.Holden
BlakeRussomusthavereallytakentheadviceI’dgivenhimtoheartbecausethatSaturdayheledourteaminawinagainsttheVikings.
Andthefollowingweekathome,hediditagain.
Itwasinvigorating—forhimandtheteamandthecoachingstaff,too.Alltheoddshadbeenstackedagainstus,butthebackupquarterbackhadshowngrit,andtheteamhadpulledtogether,andwehadwon.
Itshouldhavebeeninvigoratingforme,too.ItwaswhatI’dwanted.
Andyet,Ifelttheall-too-familiarstingofbeinguseless.
Andevenworse—theteamhadbeenfinewithoutme.
Ineverspokethoseselfish,whiny,child-likethoughtsoutloud,notwhenwewereontheroadandnotwhenwewerebackatthestadium,either.Buttheywerethere,deeplyrootedinmychestandtheseededfearI’dalwayshadofbeingdefective,ofnotbeingneeded.
Iwokewithnightsweats,paniczippingthroughmyspinelikelightningattherealizationthatthiscouldbeitforme,itcouldallbeover.IsawthedraftslippingoutofmyfingersnomatterhowItriedtotightenmygrip,sawscoutsturningtheirgazetootherprospectswithmeonthebench.
Inside,Iwastreadingwaterinaseaofdoubtandfear.
Butontheoutside,IwasthesameHoldenMoore—level-headedandsure,calm,encouraging.
Ihadtobe.
Anditwasbeingcaptainthatkeptmegoing,thatgavemetheliferafttostopmyselffromdrowning.
Thewinslitafireinme,justliketheydidtherestoftheteam.Whereastheyworkedharderonthepracticefield,readyingthemselvesforournexthomegamethatweekend,Ipushedmyselftotheedgeeverydayinrehab.Thesteroidshothadmefeelinggood,alongwiththeexerciseswe’dbeendoingandtheanti-inflammatories.I’drested,andthenI’dstretched,andthenI’dintroducedmovement,andthenI’dstrengthenedthatmovement.Wewerealreadyintroducingthepassingmotion,anditfeltgood.
Ifeltgood.
Now,Iwasanxioustogetbackonthefield.
Iknewbetterthantopush,thantoaskJuleporJBoranyoftheothertrainingstafftoputmeinbeforetheyrecommendedit.Iwasalmostafraidtoask,likeifIpushedtoosoon,it’draisetheirwarningflagsandthey’dholdmebackevenlonger.
So,IshowedthemIwasreadythroughphysicaltherapy,throughignoringanylittlegrimaceofpainImighthavefeltandprovingIcouldperformdespiteit.No,Iwasn’tinperfectconditionyet,butthatwouldcomewithtime.Withpractice.
Withbeingbackouttherewithmyteam.
IfIwasintheNFL,I’dalreadyhavebeenonthestartingline-up.Whenmoneywasinvolved,everythingwasdifferent.Butasitwasnow,theuniversitywasresponsibleformywell-beingandhealth,andasmuchasIhatedit,Iwasaliability.
Theyweren’tgoingtorushit.
TheThursdaybeforeourhomegame,IstretchedoutonthetableafteragruelingsessionofPTwithJulep,sweatsluicingovermyskinasIdid.MychestheavedforawhileasIlaythere,asshecarefullystretchedmyshoulderwhileitwaswarm.
She’dbeenallbusinesssincethepartyatthePitmorethantwoweeksago.
Ididn’tpushher,notthatnightwheneveryinhibitionIhadtoldmenottolethergo,nottoreleaseherwithoutkissingherfirst,wheneverythinginsidemeyearnedtoclaimherandshowthatIcouldhaveher—wouldhaveher.
AndcertainlynotonceIwokethenextmorning,soberenoughtorealizethatshehadbeenright.
Thankfuckshe’dbeenthesmartone,thestrongone,torealizethatlinewetoedwasonewecouldneverpassover.Iunderstoodthatfactjustasmuchasshedid,butthatnight,withmyjudgmentimpaired…
Ihadn’tcared.
I’dbeenwillingtoriskitall.
Ithadbeenhardforhertomeetmyeyesthatnextdayintraining,butonceshedid,itwasasifnothinghadhappenedatall.Icrackedajoke,andsheshotaone-linerbackatme.Andthatwasit.
Businessasusual.
It’dbeenthatwayeversince.
“You’vereallyprogressed,”shesaidasshemaneuveredmyelbowandwristthiswayandthat,testingmyshoulder’slimits.“YourrecoveryisgoingbetterthanevenIspeculated.”
Hopeballoonedinmychest,butIdidn’tdareaskwhatthatmeant,andJulepdroppeditjustasquicklyasshe’dbroughtitup,instructingmetorolloverontomystomachfordeeptissuework.
Wewerebothquietasshemassagedmyneckandshoulder,myupperback,allthelittlemusclesandtendonsthatneededtobeworkedout.Thosequietminuteslulledmeintoastupor,myheavyheartandmindbeggingmetosinkintooblivion.Iwassoexhaustedfromtraining,fromthementalandphysicalaspectofitall,thatIsuccumbed,alongexhalebringingmethelastbitofrelaxationIneededtorelease.
Inmyhalf-dreamstate,Julep’shandsfeltevenwarmer,firmerwheretheysqueezedandrubbed.Iinhaleddeep,soakingineachtouch,groaningalittlewhenshedugherthumbintoasorespotthatbroughtonasmuchpainasitdidpleasure.
Iknewwithoutbeingabletoseeherthatshewasgrinning.Thelittlesadistlovedbringingmepain.
Itmademewonderifshe’ddigthosenailsintomyfleshifIeverhadthechancetolayherback,ifshe’dbitemylipenoughtodrawbloodifIdaredtostealakiss.
I’dwantedtosobadlythatnightinthegarden.
Ithadmademedizzy,mademesickwhenshe’dtoldmetostop,whenshe’dsaidgoodnightandpulledawayjustenoughformetolethergo.I’dbeenintoxicatedbyher,drawnintoherwebandwillingtolaymyentirelifeonthelineforjustonetaste.
Thatdesirehadn’tebbed,notevenasmyintelligencetookoverandremindedmeallthereasonsnothingbetweenuscouldeverhappen.Itdidn’tstopmefromstorminguptomyshowerthatnight,runningithot,andstrokingmyselftothethoughtoftakingher.Itdidn’tstopmefromdaydreamingeverytimeI’dseenhersince.Itdidn’tstopmefromfantasizingabouthowshewouldrespondifIbrokelooseoftheconstraintsI’dtiedmyselfupwithandsaidfuckitall,pushingheragainstthenearestwallandhikingherthighup,skatingmyfingersbetweenherlegs…
“Rollover,”shecommanded,andIdidsoasthosewordsdriftedtomethroughafogonlyamassagecouldbringon.
Ikeptmyeyesclosed,sighingcontentlyasIrolledontomybackandwaitedforhertostartworkingonthefrontpartofmyshoulder.
Instead,asoftlaughfloatedintotheshellofmyear.
Icreakedoneeyeopenandthenthenext,Julepframedinahalofromthefluorescentlightaboveher.Sheworeanamusedsmile,andthroughmyexhausted,satedmassagehaze,shealmostlookedlikeanangel.
“What’ssofunny?”Imusedwithasmirkofmyown.
“Oh,nothing,”shesaid,foldingonearmoverherchestandbalancingtheelbowoftheoppositeontopofit.Sherestedherchinonherknuckles,rollingherlipstogetherbeforeshereleasedthemwithapop.Shepointedatmycrotchatthesametime.“Justsayinghellotomynewfriend,that’sall.”
Ifrowned,followingthedirectionofherfinger.
Andthencursed.
Ihadaragingfuckinghard-on,mycockatfullattention,strainingagainstmyshorts.
Isatup,adjustingmyselfasJuleplaughedandlaughed.Mycheeksflamedwithembarrassment,butthelongerIwatchedherlaughing,thelongerIheardthatrare,fuckingperfectsoundcomingfromher,thelessIcared.
Ismiled,too,andleanedbackonmyhands,shakingmyhead.“Itamusesyou,doesit?”
“Oh,verymuchso,”shemanagedbetweenherlaughs.Shewasholdinghersidenow,tearsfloodinghereyes.
“Who’sthetwelve-year-oldnow?”Iteased.
Shejusthowledmore.
Icouldn’thelpbutwatchher,andeventhoughshewaslaughingatmyexpense,Ifeltsomesortofprideingettingthatsoundoutofheratall.Iwaiteduntilshecalmed,andsherestedonehandontheedgeofthetable,theotherstillholdinghersideashereyesfoundmine.
Silencefelloveruslikeawarmblanket,shieldingusfromtheoutsideworld.Herfaceevenedoutasherbreathshallowed,andIheldherweightedgazeaslongasIcouldbeforesheshookmefreeandstoodstraightagain.
“Well,Ihaveabonerkiller,”sheannounced,andsheactuallyhadthedecencytolookalittleapologeticasshewipedatearfromhereye.“Holden…you’regoingtobeoutagainthisgame.”
Alljoyleftmewiththosewords.
Ifloppedbackonthetable,sighing.“Perfect.”
Julepdidn’ttrytocomfortme,didn’ttrytoassuremeeverythingwouldbeokayandI’dbeouttheresoon.Iappreciatedthat,thatshedidn’tlie,didn’tmakeanypromisesshecouldn’tkeep.Shewascallingtheshotsasshesawtheminthatmoment,notafutureone.
Rightnow,Icouldn’tplay.
Itwasassimpleandawfulasthat.
Afteramoment,sheleanedagainsttheedgeofthetable,half-seated,asshesaid,“We’remakingprogress.Yourstrengthhasimprovedten-fold.”
Bothtrue.
Neitherenoughtosoothetheburninginmychest.
Inodded,sittingupagain.“Well,IguessIcanlookforwardtoanothergameofmeshowingupbrightandearlylikealways,exceptinsteadofhavingpurpose,Ijustlooklikealostpuppynow.”
Julepofferedasympatheticsmile.“Whydoyoushowupearlyifyoudon’tneedto?”
Ishrugged.“BecauseIalwayshave.”
Shenodded,considering,andthensaid,“Whatifwechangeditupabit,didsomethingbeforethegametotakeyourmindoffthings?”
Surprisemademesitupmore.“Youwanttohangoutwithme,Polerina?”
“Nevermind,”shesaidinstantly,lipsflat.
“No,no,”Isaid,reachingforherasshestoodupandstartedtowalkaway.Ididn’ttouchherthough,justranahandbackthroughmyhair.“It’sjust…it’sanearlygame,”Iremindedher.“Kickoffisatnoon.Imaynotneedtogethereearly,butwhatcouldwepossiblydobeforeofficialteamreporttimeatten?”
Somethinginhereyestoldmesheregrettedmakingthesuggestion,butstill,herlipscurledintoasmile.“Ihaveanidea.”
Julep
“Ayardsale?”
Holdenmadeaface,blinkingatthehand-writtensignwithballoonsthathadanarrowpointingdownanarrowstreetbeforeheturnedtolookatme.Ijustsmiledandhittheblinker,headingtowardourfirststop.
“Maybeafew,ifyou’relucky,”Icorrected,andIreachedbetweenmyseatandconsole,fishingoutasmallstackofpapersthatIhandedtohim.
“Youactuallymappedoutaplan,”hemused,cockinganeyebrowashefilteredthroughthepages.Ihadredcircleswithnumberedratingsinallthesuburbssurroundingthecity.
“Oh,you’vegotto.Everybargainhunterknowsthat.Youscopeoutthebestneighborhoodsfirst,early—beforeanyoneelsegetsthere.Andofcourse,youwanttotrytoavoiddrivingbackandforthacrosstown,getthebestroutes.Butthenagain,it’sworththegasandthetimetohitthemostcovetedspotsfirst.”
IfIhadn’tbeenwatchingtheroad,IwouldhavebeensmilingatHolden’sexpression,hisjawabitunhingedashelistenedtome.
“Whoareyou?”heasked.
Ijustlaughed.
Leavesraineddownoverheadaswedroveabeautifulstreetofbrickhouseswithlush,expansiveyards.Itwasoneofthoseperfectfalldays,theskygrayandcloudy,breezerushinginacoolfrontthatwouldlikelywashawaythelastbitofsummerthathadbeentryingtoholdontoNewEngland.Growingupdownsouth,Ineverhadmuchofafall,soImarveledatthetreeschangingcolors,andfeltatruesenseofjoyforthefirsttimeinagesallbecauseIcouldwearjeansandasweaterwithoutsweatingmyassoff.
“It’saperfectdayforfootball,”Holdenmused,lookingoutthewindowlikehe,too,wasappreciatingthesuddenrushoffall.
“Nofootballtalkthismorning.”
Hearchedabrowatme.“It’sgameday.”
“Whocares?You’renotplaying.”
Hisfacesagged,andIinwardlycursedatmysocialinabilitytorecognizewhensomethinglikethatwasinappropriatetosay,whenitmighthurt.
“WhatImeanisthattoday,we’regoingtoshiftfocusfromwhatwecan’tcontroltowhatwecan,”Iamended,andevenIwasimpressedathowadultthatsounded.Holdenseemedsurprisedbythestatement,too,judgingbythewayhisexpressionsoftened.
“Whichis,byyourdefinition,hittingallthebestyardandgaragesalesinBostonbeforenineAM?”
“Precisely.”
Wepulleduptoanicehouse,modestinsizebutwithakeptlawnandaliteralwhitepicketfence.Thereallynicehousesneverhadyardsales.Theywererichenoughthattheyusuallyjustdonatedtheirlotorhadsomeonewhoworkedforthemtakecareofit.Estatesalesweretherealjackpots,hugemansionswithantiquesgalore.ButIhadn’tfoundanyfortoday,soyardsaleswouldhavetodo.
Iparkedalongthecurb,andaforestgreenminivanpulledinrightbehindme.Anelderlywomanhoppedoutofthedriverseatlikeitwasonfire,givingmealookoverherglassesthatsaidshewouldtripmewithherwalkerifIdaredtogetinherway.
Inoddedmyheadinasignofrespect,whichmadeherliftherchinabitbeforeshemadeherwayupthesmalldrivewaytowardthesale.
“Ididn’trealizehowbrutalthesethingsgot,”Holdenmurmured,hisbrowreachingforhishairlineashejoinedmeonthedriversideofthecar.
“Oh,youhavenoidea.”
Hefollowedmeupthedrivetothesale,whichhadn’tevenbeentouchedyet.Itwasjustpastseveninthemorning,andtheownersofthehousewerestillsettingup,buttheygreetedusandtheolderwomanwithwidesmiles.
“Goodmorning,”thefemaleownersaid.Shelookedtobeinherfifties,withbrownskinandblackhairthatshowedatouchofgrayattheroots,andoversized,wire-rimmedglassesthatgaveherawarm,studiousvibe.Shedroppedaboxoftoysononeofthefoldingtables.“Nopricetags,justmakeanofferifyouseesomethingyoulike.I’mGeraldine,andthisismyhusband,Howard,”shesaid.
Herhusbanddidn’tlookaspleasedtobeupthisearlymovingboxes,buthemanagedasmileandliftedoneofhislargehandsatusingreetingbeforehegotbacktomovinganolddresseroutofthegarageandintothedriveway.
Wethankedthem,alongwiththeolderwomanwhowasalreadyperusingthefirsttable,beforeIledHoldentostartontheoppositeside.
“There’ssomuchstuff,”hecommented.
“Whichjustmakesthetreasurehuntthatmuchmoreexciting.”
HepickedupastrangefigurinethatlookedlikesomethingbetweenalongneckdinosaurandaPegasus,eyeballingiteverywhichwaybeforeshakinghisheadandsettingitbackdown.
Weambledslowlyalongthetablesandracks,andafterawhile,IfeltlikeHoldenwaswatchingmemorethananyoftheitemsforsale.IpeekedathimovermyshoulderasIpickedupwhatlookedlikeanoddlyshaped,dustypieceofmetalatfirst,butoncloserinspectionIdiscoveredwasaBaroquehandmirror.Iranathumboverthedust,revealingbeautifulrosedetailsontheback.Themirroritselfwasingoodshape,too—justneededalittlecleaning.
“Jackpot,”Imutteredundermybreath.
“Whatis—”
IturnedawayfromHoldenbeforehecouldfinishhisquestion,holdingthemirroruptoGeraldine.“Fivebucks?”
Shebarelylookedupfromwhereshewassettingupafullchinaset.“Deal,”shesaidwithasmile.
Ismiled,too,openingthereusablebagIhadwithmeandcarefullydroppingthemirrorinsideitbeforeIreadjustedthestrapsonmyshoulder.
Holdenchuckled,followingmeasIcontinuedscanningthetable.“Itakeityou’reaproatthis.”
“Idon’tknowaboutthat,”Isaid.“ButI’vebeendoingitmywholelife.”
“Whatdoyoudowithallthis…stuff?”heasked,pickingupanoldtoolthatwasfartoorustedtobeonsale.
“Whatdoyoumean,whatdoIdowithit?”Iaskedonalaugh.“Iuseit.Ihangtheartonmywalls,polishthevasesandfillthemwithflowers,linemycabinetswitholdglasswareanddishes,stuffmyclosetfullofgentlyusedclothes.”Ishrugged.“There’salreadysomuchstuffintheworld.Whybuysomethingnewwhenyoucanhavesomethingwithmemoriesattachedtoit,somethingwithhistory?Everysinglethingyouseeherehasastory.”Ipickedupanold,worn,heavilyreadeditionofTheFeminineMystique.“Ithascharacter.”
Iheldupthebook,then,turningtoGeraldine.
“Howmuchforthebook?”Iasked.
Sheshrugged,unsure.“Twobucks?”
Inodded,signalingitwasafairpricebeforeIdroppeditinthebag.
Holdensmiled.“ThisexplainswhatyouworetothepartyatthePitthatnight.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Thevintage-lookingtop,thebizarreheels,theleatherpantsthatlookedlikesomethingmymomwouldhaveworninthe80s.”
Ifoldedmyarmsovermychest,leaningahipagainstthetable.“Youreallywerewatchingmeallnight,weren’tyou,Cap?”
Hiseyescaughtmine,butbeforetheycoulddigtheirclawsinandholdmecaptive,Iturnedandheadedforthenexttableover.
“Yousaidyou’vebeendoingthisyourwholelife,”hemusedashefollowedme.“Whogotyouintoit?”
Ismiled—andnotthefakeorforcedkindofsmile,butthegenuinekindthatbloomedfromthememoryinmymind.“Grandma.Mydad’smom.SheusedtotakemeandAbbyeverySaturdayinthesummer.We’dstaywithherforafewweekswhileDaddidfootballcamps,andshe’ddragusoutofbedgroaningandcomplainingbeforethesunwasevenup.Butwealwaysgaveinbecauseweknewshe’dbuyussomething.”Ichuckled.“AndshealwaysmadeuscoffeeonSaturdays,whichmadeusfeellikeadults.Itwasmostlymilkandsugar,butstill.”
Holdenmirroredmysmile.“Who’sAbby?”
Icewaterwashedoverme,throughme,andIpausedwheremyhandhoveredoveradelicateteacup.Evenmyheartseemedtohesitate,takingalongbreathbeforeitbeganbeatingagain,alittlemoreunsteadythanbefore.
“Mysister,”Ifinallybreathed.Then,IliftedmyeyestofindHolden.“Shediedthesummerbeforemysenioryearofhighschool.Shewassixteen.”
HoldenlookedasifI’drearedbackandslappedhim,asifhewasbothshockedandinpainfrommyadmission.
“Ididn’tknow,”hefinallysaid.
Ishrugged.“Notmanypeopledo.”
Icontinuedwalking,andthoughmyheartwasstillunsteady,Ifoundmynextbreathalittleeasier.
Holdenfellquiet,spendingsometimesiftingthrougholdCDs.HepluckedafewfromthestackandofferedGeraldinetwodollarseach,whichsheagreedto.Iopenedmybagforhimtodropthemin,smirkingalittlewhenInoticedtheoldAaronLewisalbum.
“So,yardsalesaretoyouwhatgardeningistome,”hemused,pausingatanoldcasseroledish.
Ifrowned,confused.
“It’sawaytokeepherwithyou,”hesaidwhenIdidn’treply.“Awaytolivealittlepieceofherlifeinyourown.”
Helookedatmethen,andtearsprickedthecornersofmyeyesunbiddenwhenhedid.BecauseI’dneverbeensonaileddownlikethat,neverhadsomeonelookatmewiththesamekindofpainandhorrormirroredintheirgaze.
I’dneverbeenseen.
Itwaslikehe’dlifteduptherockI’dbeenhidingunder,blindingmewithsunlightashepeereddownatmewithamagnifyingglass.
Andhedidn’trunatthesightofwhathefound.
Butthenagain,hedidn’tknowthewholestory.
“Oh,thatwouldbealovelypieceforacouple,”Geraldinesaidasshebrushedpastuswithanarmfullofblankets.Shetiltedachinupattheorange,yellow,andwhitecasseroledishHoldenstilltouched.“Itwasmygrandmother’s.Sheandgrandpaweremarriedforsixty-twoyears.I’dkeepitifwedidn’talreadyhavesomany.”
Holdenpulledhishandback.“Oh,we’renot—”
“Tenbucks?”Iinterrupted.
GeraldinelookedatHolden,thenatme,aknowinggrinspreadingonherweatheredfaceasshewinkedatme.
“Deal.”Holden
“Whosehouse?!”
“Ourhouse!”
“Whosehouse?!”
“Ourhouse!”
Claywasabeastashestalkedaroundthelockerroom,grabbingplayersbytheirfacemasksashechanted.Theenergyintheroomroseeachtimehedid,everyreplyshoutedlouderandlouder.Leobouncedonhistoes,murmuringtohimselfashesmackedhishelmetandhypedhimselfup.Rileywassilent,hereyesalittledazedwhereshestaredoffintospace,andZekestoodbesideher,noddinglikehewaslisteningtomusic,likethebeatwasthumpingthroughhisveins.
IwatchedfromwhereIsatonthebenchinfrontofmylocker,elbowsonmykneesandhandsclaspedinthemiddle.BlakeRussoglancedatme,thenervesevidentinhiseyeswhenhedid.Igavehimasimplenod,alookthattoldhimhecoulddothis.
Ishoveddownthepartofmethatwishedhe’dfail,thatlongedforthedaywhenI’dripbackthetitleofQB1.
Weneededthiswin.Weneededeverywinwecouldgettoearnourplaceatthechampionshipgame.
Asifhewasreadingmymind,CoachLeecaughtmygazefromwherehewashuddledwithCoachHooverinthecorner,thetwoofthemmutteringtoeachotherbehindthebarrieroftheirclipboards.Hepausedtheconversation,givingmealookthattoldmehewantedtoseemestepup,gettheteampumped,getthemready.
Injuredornot,Iwasstillcaptain.
IhadtheresponsibilityevenifIdidn’thavethereward.
Blowingoutabreath,Istood,makingmywaytothecenteroftheroombeforeIclosedthelidofacoolerandclimbedontopofit.Ididn’thavetowhistleorcheerorclapmyhandstogetanyone’sattention.Onebyone,myteammatesturnedtowardme,quietingastheydid.
“Thisisabigone,”Istarted,andIfeltthetruthofthatbearingdownonmychestlikeananvil.“TheLionsaretough.They’regoingtotestyou,allofyou.Theyhaveateamfullofplayersjustlikeyou,whowantthesamethingasyouwant.”
Ilockedeyeswithafewplayers,whoswallowed,nodding.
“Whichmeansyouhavetoproveyouwantitmore.”
“Whosehouse?!”Clayyelledfromtheback.
“Ourhouse!”theteamchantedback.
“Ourhouse,”Iechoed,slammingmyfistintomychest.“Ourfield.Ourfans.Ourwin.”Iscannedtheroom,lockingeyeswitheachplayer.“Idon’twantyoutothinkaboutthechampionshipgame,orabowlgame,oranyothergameotherthantheonerighthere,rightnow.Focus—that’swhatwillgetthiswin.Oneplayatatime.Besmart,”Itoldthem,tappingthesideofmytemple.“Bepatient.Beconfident.Theymaypush,butwepushbackharder.”
Therewasaroarofagreement,andthenInoddedatClay,hoppingdowntolethimtakeoverinleadingtheteaminachant.IthrewonearmaroundBlakeandtheotheraroundRileyasweallbouncedasateam,theenergyintheroomswellingtothepointofcombusting.
Myheartfeltthesamewhereitbeatagainstthebonesofmyribcage.
Somethingwasoff,evenasIencouragedmyteammatesandfollowedthemoutontothefieldlikeIhadeverygamesinceI’dbeeninjured,Ididn’tfeelthesame.Iwasonlyhalfhere,whichwasafeelingIwasn’tusedto.Ongamedays,myfocuswasalwayssolelyonfootball.
Buttoday,Julepswaminthebackofmymind.
Astheteamranthroughthetunnelandoutontothefield,Ijoggedbehind.
AndIcaughthergazeasIpassed.
Thosedarkeyesdidn’tleavemine,andtimeseemedtohesitate,mybreathlongandslow,legsdelayedasifIwererunningunderwater.SheheldmystareevenasIpassedher,andIwatchedherasIdid,turningbackovermyshoulderuntilIhadnochoicebuttofaceforwardagain.
WhenIdid,InearlyslammedintoCoachLee.
HishandsshotouttostopmebeforeIcould,carefultoavoidmyshoulder,andthenhepausedtherewithmeinhisgrip.Helookedbehindmeathisdaughter,thenturnedthatglaredowntome.
Hedidn’thavetosayawordformetoknowwhathewasthinking.
Wewon.
Wewon,andItriedtobehappy.
Wewon,andItriedtoremindmyselfitwasagoodthing.
Butmypridewasbruisedandbeaten,angryandtiredofbeingignored—anditwasn’tgoingtoletmeskatebyanylongerwithoutitgoingnoticed.
IwasareclusetheSundayafterthegame,hidinginmybedroomwiththedoorlocked.Leotriedtogetmetogoout.Kyletriedtogetmetoplayvideogames.ClayandZekebothtriedtogetmetofifthwheelwiththem,Giana,andRileytotheTopsfieldFair.Andmyunclestriedtogetmetojointhemfordinner,tohelpchoosemybabycousin’sfirstHalloweenoutfit.
Iignoredthemall.
ThetruthwasIwasalmostembarrassedbythepetulantfrustrationthatrolledoffmelikesteam,andIknewifIletevenonememberoftheteamgetawhiffofit,itcouldstartproblems.Ididn’twantanyrumorsgoingaroundthatIwasn’tsupportiveofBlake,oftheteamasawhole,thatIwasasoreloser—orinthiscase,asore,injuredwinner.
Itookthedaytorest,toreadandlistentomusicandtrytorecentermyself.
Iwasstillthecaptain,andIneededtoremindmyselfofthat.
JustlikeIneededtoremindmyselftostopgettingsocaughtupwithJulep.
She’dbeenadistractionformeduringthegame.Icouldn’tstopthinkingabouttheyardsale,aboutwhatshe’drevealedtome.Toknowshe’dsufferedthesamelossasIhad,thatsheunderstoodnotjustgriefbutthatparticularbrandofit…
Itshiftedsomethinginsideme,somethingIknewwouldnevermoveback.
Itwasnearlyimpossiblenottoreachforheronthatchillymorning,tonotholdherandtellherIgotit.Itwaslikealightbulbgoingoff,anaha!moment.
ThatghostI’dseeninhereyessincethefirsttimeImether,Iknewwhatitwasnow.
Itwasthesameasmine.
Asifwantingherphysicallyhadn’tdrivenmemadenough,asifpushingherbuttonsdidn’trevmeup,asifthatbickeringwithherandmakingherrollhereyesdidn’tlightsomedeadpartofmebacktolife—now,IfeltaconnectiontoherI’dneverfelttoanyoneinmyentirelife.
AndIhadtocutitoutofmelikeabullet.
CoachsawwhatIthoughtIhidsowell.Hedidn’thavetosayitformetoknow,especiallywithhowhewatchedmetheentiregame,howheensuredIdidn’tgettooclosetoJulep.
Whichwaswhy,onMondaymorningwhenIshowedupforPT,Iwasn’ttheleastbitsurprisedtofindJBwaitingformeinsteadofher.
“Ihearwe’remakinggoodprogress,”hesaid,pattingthetableformetohopup.Idid,tryingnottobeasgrumpyasIhadbeenallweekend,whilehestretchedmyshoulder.“Julepseemstothinkyoucouldstartpracticingthisweek.”
Icouldn’tevenfindaglimmerofhopeinsideme.
“Theshothelp?”
Inodded.
“Anypainwhileyou’resleeping,orshowering,anyregularactivitysettingitoff?”
Ishookmyhead.
JBgrewquiet,watchingmeashemaneuveredmyarmthiswayandthat,assessing.“We’removingyouforwardintherecoveryprocess,that’swhyI’llbetakingover.”
Thecornerofmymouthlifted,andIgavehimalook.
TheoneheofferedinreturntoldmeheknewthatwasbullshitjustasmuchasIdid.
Afterphysicaltherapy,Isatoutforanotherpractice.JBwantedtolookovermychartbeforehemadeanyotherdecisions.Theteamwasonahighfromthewin,everyonesmilingandlaughingandjokingaround.
“Yougood,Cap?”Leoaskedmeonawaterbreak.
InoddedfromwhereIwasstudyingtheplaybook.“Neverbeenbetter.”
Hefrowned,openinghismouthtosaysomething,butbeforehegotthechance,CoachLeecameupbehindhimandclappedhimontheback,signalingitwastimeforhimtogetbacktowork.
WhenLeowasgone,CoachstoodnexttowhereIwasonthebench,hisarmscrossedandeyesonthefieldwhereoffensewasrunningdrills.
“IspokewithJB,”hesaid.“He’sclearedyoutocomebacktopracticetomorrow.”
MychestsparkedwiththefirstsignoflifesincethegameSaturday.
“Thankyou,sir,”Isaid.
“It’sjustpractice,”heclarified.“Nopromiseonthegamethisweekend.”
“Iunderstand,sir.”
Heturnedthen.“Ihopeyoudo,Moore.Ihopeyouunderstandveryclearlywhatyourroleisonthisteam,bothasquarterbackandascaptain.”
ItriedtohidethebobofmythroatasIliftedmygazefromtheplaybooktomeethis.
“You’realeader,”heremindedme.“Everyoneonthisteamlookstoyouastheirfirstpointofdirectionforhowtobehave.”
MymouthwasdryasInoddedinunderstanding.
CoachLeebentthen,hisfacerightinfrontofmineashesaid,“Julepisagoodgirl.She’sworkedherassofftoclimboutofthepitsofhell.”HeshovedhisfingersohardintomychestIknewit’dbruise.“Keepyourheadinthegame,andyourhandsoffmydaughter.”
Thenhestood,blewthewhistle,andcalledtheendofpractice.Julep
“Whereareyougoingwiththose?”Maryasked,wavingherTwizzleratmebeforeshetookabiteofit.Herbrowarched.“Andwhatexactlyarethose?”
IfeltlikeI’dbeencaughtred-handedtryingtostealalcoholoutofmyparents’stash.
Ilookeddownattheplatterinmyhands.“Banananutmuffins.”
“Andyou’retakingthemwhere?”
Igaveheraguiltylook.“Toourneighborsacrossthestreet.”
“TothePit,youmean,”Marysaidflatly,andsheshookherheadonasighasshebitoffanotherpieceofTwizzler.“You’rebeingstupid,myfriend,butI’llletyoudoitifyoureallywantto.”
“What?I’mjustbeinganiceneighbor,”Isaid.“Iliketobakesometimes.YouandIcertainlywon’teatallthese.”
Itwasonlyhalfalie.Ireallydidenjoybaking,whenthemoodstruckme—and,truthbetold,ithadn’tstruckmeinyears.WhichwasabigreasonwhyI’dbeensogiddywhenithad,whyIhadn’tsecond-guesseditorletmyselfoveranalyzethewhybehindthefeeling.
I’dcomehomefromschool,workedonanonlinequizthatwasduebeforemidnight,andassoonasI’dfinished,I’dbeenstruckwiththatnostalgicfeelingIusedtogetwhenIwasinhighschool,theonethaturgedmetopullouteveryingredientinthefridgeandpantryandseewhatIcouldbakeup.
ItwasMomIgotthisfrom.
Whenshewasreallyhappy,Momwoulddooneoftwothings:one,blastCelineDionasloudasshecouldandcleanthewholehouse,ortwo,blastCelineDionasloudasshecouldandbakeupastorm.
IwasinmiddleschoolwhenIstartedwantingtolearn,andMomwashappytoteachme.Ihadvividmemoriesofherexplaininghowprecariousbakingwas,howjustasmidgetoomuchofthisortoolittleofthatcouldaltertheentirerecipe.Itfeltlikeahobbyandachallengeallinone,andeventually,IbecameevenmoreengrossedthanMom.
AbbyalwayslovedwhenIgotinthismood.
She’dclosewhateverbookshewasreadingandhopupallexcited,followingmearoundinthekitchenandbeggingtohelp.We’dendupmakingacompletemessmostofthetime,flourandsugareverywhere.
ThatwasexactlythefeelingIgotthisafternoon,thatbubbly,warmexcitement.
Exceptthistime,Ididn’thaveAbby.
Ialsodidn’thaveMom,orherstockedkitchen,soI’druntothestoretogetwhatIneededbeforeblastingSummerWalkerandsingingalongasIwhippedupmuffinswithadelectablecrumbletopping.
AndIwasonlytakingthemacrossthestreetbecauseitwasdangeroustohavethemallherewithonlymeandMarytoeatthem.
Maryblinkedatme.“You’resofargoneyoucan’tevenseetheredflagswaving,canyou?”
Irolledmyeyes.“Calmdown.It’snotthatserious.”
“Youlikehim.”
Iswallowedbutliftedmychinindefiance.“Ifindhimtolerableatbest.”
Thatmadehersnort,andsheturned,floppingdownonthecouchbeforeshereachedforherPlayStationcontroller.“Look,justbecareful.NotonlydoIfindallofthosefootballplayerstobecocky,selfishassholes,butyourdadistheircoach.”Shegavemeapointedlookassheputonherheadset.“AndI’mprettysurehewouldn’tbethrilledwithknowingyouwerebangingoneofhisplayers.”
“Iwon’tbebanginganyone.”
Shesmiled.“Uh-huh.”
“I’mjustbeingfriendly.”
Maryignoredme,alreadytalkingtooneofherfriendsonherheadsetasFinalFantasyVIIRemakeloadedontheTVscreen.
IstoodthereamomentdebatingifIshouldkeepdefendingmyselfbeforeIdecideditwaspointless,andthenIpushedoutsideintothecooleveningairbeforeIcouldtalkmyselfoutofit.
TherealreasonbehindthemuffinswasthatHoldenhadbeenclearedtoreturntopracticetoday.I’dhadahandinit,meetingwithJBandmyfatherearlythismorningandupdatingthemonwherewewereinhisrehab.Ifeltconfidenthecouldstartpracticing,evenifhehadtotakeiteasyforafewdays.Hewasn’texperiencinganypainorlimitationsinphysicaltherapy,andhisshoulderwasstrong,mobile.
WhatsurprisedmemostwasthatDadtrustedme.
Hebelievedme,seeminglyimpressedwithmyanswerstohisquestions.Beforethemeetingwasover,DadassignedJBtotakeoverandmoveHoldenintothenextphase.
AndIwasproud.
Iwasproud—God,whenwasthelasttimeI’dfeltthat?Icouldn’trememberatimeoutsideofunlockinganewtrickinpole.ThestudioormylivingroomwiththatchromeloverwereabouttheonlytimesIfeltgood.
Untilrecently.
SomethingaboutworkingwithHoldenhadgivenmepurpose,hadgivenmeconfidence
Himbeingreleasedbacktopracticefeltlikesomethingworthcelebrating—forbothofus.
Andso,Icarriedtheplatterofmuffinswithmychinheldhigh,knockingonthefrontdoorofthePitonwhatsoundedlikeaparticularlyquieteveningforthem.
Leoopenedthedoor,andIwasthankfulitwasn’tKyle—whohadbeenprettyrelentlessinhisadvancessincethatnightoftheparty.
“Julep,”hesaidwithasurprisedsmile,openingthedoorformetostepin.“What’sup?”
“Imademuffins,”Isaidstupidly,holdingupthetray.“Thoughttheremightbesomehungryfootballplayersherewhocouldhelpmeeatthem.”
“Oh,youhavecometotherightplace,cari?o,”hesaid,takingthetrayoutofmyhands.
Ifollowedhimintothekitchenwherehesatthemdownonthecounter,andIlookedaround,abitimpressedwithhowcleantheplacewasconsideringhowI’dseenitatthepartylasttimeI’dbeeninside.
LeogroanedwhenheunwrappedtheclothI’dputoverthemuffins,andhepickedoneup,peelingthewrapperoffthebottomandshovinghalfofitinhismouth.“Homahgod,”hesaid,moaning.“They’restillwarm.”
Ichuckled,crossingmyarmsasIlookedaround.IhatedthewayInot-so-subtlylookedforHolden,wonderingwhyhehadn’tcomedownwhenheheardme.
Buttherewasn’tachanceinhellI’daskwherehewas.
“Itdoesn’toftenlooklikethis,”Leosaidaroundanotherbiteofmuffin,noddingtowhereIwaslooking.“Thisclean,Imean.Caphasbeeninamoodsincehegothomefromhislastclass.HescrubbedthesecounterslikeCoachLeehimselfwasgoingtocomeandinspectthemafter.”
Ismirkedatthejoke,bitingbackthenigglingquestioninmymind.
Whereishenow?
“He’supstairsinhisroom,”Leosaid,likehecouldreadmymind,andthesmirkheworemirroredtheknowingoneMaryhadgivenmewhenIleftthehouse.“Ifyouwanttotakehimamuffin,seeifit’llgethimoutofhisgrumpymood.”
“Grumpy?”Ifrowned.“Hewasclearedtopracticetoday.Ifiguredhe’dbeecstatic.”
Leoshrugged.“Musthavesomethingelsegoingon.Buthey,nothingthesewon’tfix,”hesaid,holdingoutoneofthemuffins.Henoddedtowardthestairs,andthoughInarrowedmygazeatthesuspiciousgrinhewasgivingme,heonlypushedthemuffintowardmemore.
Icarefullytookitfromhim,stillgivinghimalookasIconceded.
Leosmiledalittletooproudlyasheallbutskippedbackintothelivingroom,andhefloppeddownontothecouchjustlikeMaryhad,puttingonhisheadsetandtuningbackintothegameI’dinterrupted.IidlywonderedifheandMaryplayedanyofthesamegamesbutdidn’tmuseonittoomuchbeforeIwasclimbingthestairsuptothedarkhallwayofrooms.
Holden’swasontheend,theonethatoverlookedthesideofthegarden.Iknockedsoftlybutgotnoresponse.
“Holden?”Iasked,testingtheknob.Ipusheditopenjustacrack,peeringintomakesureIwasn’tgoingtostorminonhimnakedoranything.MusicplayedfromasmallBluetoothspeaker,somethingmelancholyandbeautifulthatIdidn’trecognize.WhenIdidn’tseeanything,Ipushedthedooropenalittlewider.“Youinhere?”
Itwashumidinhisroom,warmandwetwiththeintoxicatingsmellofaman’sbodywash.Iheardhisbarefeetonthefloorfirst,andthenHoldenroundedthecorneroutofhisen-suitebathroom.
Innothingbutanavy-bluetowelthatwaswrappedlowaroundhiswaist.
Iswallowed,standingthereinthedoorwaywithafuckingmuffininmyhandasmyeyesrakedoverhim.Ididn’thaveachoice,couldn’thavestoppedthemevenifItried.Itwaslikeanirresistiblemagnet,thewaythewaterdrippedfromhishair,sluicingoverhisswollenpectoralmuscles,hisdefinedabs,tricklingallthewaydowntowhereadeepVdisappearedunderthetowelatitsapex.Withonlyhisbedroomlampon,heseemedtoglowlikeaRomangod,andImarveledathischiseledbody,atwhatyearsandyearsofbeinganathletehadsculptedhiminto.
HewascleaningoneearwithaQ-tip,watchingmeasIwatchedhim,andwhenImethisgaze,itwasn’twarmorflirtyoreventheleastbitplayful.Iwaitedforhimtocallmeoutformyblatantscanofhim,tomakesomesmart-asscomment,butinstead,heturnedbacktowardthebathroom.
“What’sup?”heaskedoverhisshoulder,disappearingbehindthewall.
Ifrownedattheunusualcoldnessbutsteppedtentativelymoreintohisroom.“I,uh…Ibakedmuffins,”Isaid.
Likeanidiot.
“Alotofthem,”Iadded.“So,Ibroughtsometoshare.”
Holdenpaddedoutofthebathroomagain,onehandrunningasmalltoweloverhisheadashiseyesfelltothemuffininmyhand.Iofferedittohim,andheglancedupatmebeforetakingthemuffin,turningitoverinhishand,andsettingitonhisdesk.
“Thanks,”hesaid,andthenhedroopedthetowelhe’dbeendryinghishairwithoveroneshoulderandopeneduphistopdresserdrawer.Hepulledoutat-shirtandbasketballshorts,droppingthemtohisbed.Hishandsfoundthetopofhistowel,themusclesinhisbackflexingwiththatlightsheenofwateronthemashedid.
Heglancedoverhisshoulderatme,andIflushed,turningtogivehimsomeprivacy.
Iheardhimdropthetoweltotheflooroncemybackwastohim.
Iswallowed.
“Ithoughtweshouldcelebrate,”Isaid,pickingatdirtunderoneofmynailstogivemyselfsomethingtofocusonotherthanthefactthatHoldenwasnakedbehindme.Iheardthedistinctsoundofhimshruggingonhisshortsandthenhist-shirtasIcontinued.“Yougettingclearedforpractice,Imean.”
Holdenbrushedpastme,dressednow,andhunghistowelsinthesteamybathroomasIfollowedandleanedahipagainstthedoorframe.
“It’sjustpractice,”hesaid,indifferentandfartoomoodyformytaste.
“Yeah,butit’sonestepclosertoplayingagain,”Ipointedout.
Heshrugged.“We’llsee.”
Hewalkedpastme,squeezingascloseashecouldtotheoppositesideofthedoorframewhereIleaned,almostlikehewasafraidoftouchingme.
Iblinked,facescrewedupinconfusionandmaybeabitofannoyanceasIturnedjustintimetowatchhimsinkintohisdeskchair.HepulledoutatextbookfromhisbagandsplayeditopenlikeIwasn’teventhere.
InoticedtheCDshe’dgrabbedattheyardsalelayingonthecornerofhisdesk,andIsmiledalittle,pickingoneofthemupandturningittoreadthesonglistontheback.
“Haveyoulistenedtoanyoftheseyet?”
“Nope.”
Heansweredwithoutlookingup,thewordapoponhislips.
Iignoredhisshortness,persisting.“StillrunningtoGreenDay?”Iprobed,reachingforhisDiscman,butbeforeIcouldpryitopen,hesnaggeditoutofmyhandsandshoveditinhistopdeskdrawer,slammingitshut.
“Canyoustoptouchingthings?”
“Canyoustopbeingsuchagrumpyjerk?”Ishotback,crossingmyarms.“Youhaven’tevenlookedatmesinceIwalkedinthisroom.”
Heshookhishead,pretendingtofocusonthewordsinhistextbookeventhoughIknewhecouldn’treadadamnthingwithmethere.
Isighed,wonderingifthiswasresidualupsetfromthewinonSaturday.Itwasagoodthingthatwewon,ofcourse,butIkneweventhoughhe’dneveradmititoutloud,itbotheredHoldenalittlebit,too.
Becausetheywonwithouthim.
IwatchedhimforamomentbeforeIsaid,“It’sjustacouplegames.Theystillneedyou.Andnowthatyou’reclearedtopractice,you’llbebackouttherebeforeyouknowit.You’llbe—”
“Savethepeptalkforsomeonewhogivesashit,”heinterrupted,flippingapagesohaphazardlyhenearlytoreit.
Myheadrearedbackasifhe’dslappedme.“Whatisyourproblem?”
“You!”
Thewordrolledoffofhimlikeabellowingroarofthunder,loudandmenacing,hischestheavingasheslammedthetextbookshutandglaredupatme.
Ididn’tknowwhattodo,whattosay,soIjuststaredback.
“You,”hesaid,hisvoicestillroughandraggedashesplayedhishandsonthedesktopandusedittostand,topushintomyspace.“You’remyproblem.You,andyourhotandcoldbullshit,yourblatantannoyancewithmefollowedquicklybytryingtomakemelaugh,makemefeelbetter.Youandyourleavemealoneattitudeoneminuteandyourlet’splayattitudefollowedrightafter.”
Mybreathcaughtinmythroatashesteppedevenmoreintome,hischesttouchingmine,thefreshscentofhimhittingmynose.
“You,”hesaidonashakybreaththattouchedmylips.“Andthewayyou’vescrambledmyfuckingbrain.”
Heliftedhischin,justanotch,sothathewasstaringatmedownthebridgeofhisnose.Everycellinmybodyvibratedunderthatstare.Inotedhowthemuscleinhisjawticked,howhisthroatwastightonhisnextswallowbeforeheblewoutabreathandshovedawayfromme.
Holdenstormedtotheothersideoftheroom,hishandsrakingbackthroughhishairbeforeheleftthemclaspedontopofhishead,hisbacktome,eyesonthegardenoutsidethewindow.
Foramoment,Iwasshockedstillandsilent.
Andthen,Iscoffed.
“Oh,fuckyou,Holden,”Ispat,shakingmyhead.“Don’tactlikeIplayedsomegamewithyouthatyoudidn’twillinglyparticipatein,too.”
Helaughed,turningtofacemebeforehishandshithislegswithaslap.“Whatdoyouwantfromme?Hmm?”
Isobered,swallowing.“Afriend,”Isaidweakly.
“Afriend,”heechoedonanotherbitterlaugh.“Right.Okay.Thenwe’llbefriends.Youcanleavenow.”
Ishookmyhead.“Icameoverheretocelebrate,tobefuckingniceandbringyouagoddamnmuffin.You’vebeenmovedfrommetoJB.Thisisagoodsign,Holden.”
“YouthinkmegettingswitchedtohimmeansI’llbeplayingsoon?”heaskedincredulously,andthenhesteppedtowardme,facelevelingout.“IwasputwithJBagainbecauseyourfatherdoesn’twantmeanywherenearyou.”
MyjawwassetasIargued,“No,it’sbecauseatthispoint,youneedamoreexperiencedtrainertostepinand—”
“God,willyoujust…”Holdenfistedhishands,shakingthemasfrustrationcoloredhisfacered.“Shutup?!”
IallbutgrowledasIcrossedthespacebetweenusandpressedmychesttohis,nearlyknockinghischinwithmyown.“Makeme.”
Hestareddownatme,hiseyesflickingbetweenmine,chestheavingwithrage.Hegrabbedmyarmslikehewasgoingtothrowmeoffhim,likehewasgoingtoshovemetothesideandstormpastmerightoutoftheroom.
Butinstead,hegrippedthemtightenoughtobruise,likehewantedtoleaveamark.
Andhekissedme.
Hismouthhitminewithbrutalpressure,handsslidingroughlyupmyarmstogripmyface,instead.Andhepinnedmethere,holdingmetohimasheinhaledthatkissinamixofwantandfury.
Ipushedback.
Pressingupontomytoes,Imethisdemand,openingmymouthandgrippinghishairinmyhandsasItuggedbackjustalittle,justenoughformetosuckhisbottomlipbetweenmyteethandbite.
Holdengroaned,andmyentirebodyeruptedinchillsashishandsgropedblindlydownmybackformyass.Hecuppedmetohim,andIscrapedmynailsdownhisbackwiththesameinfuriatingneed.
Onebreath,andIwaslifted,mylegshikedupandwrappingaroundhiswaistashepalmedmyassandheldmetohim.Another,andIwasdroppedontohisbed,thecoverswhooshinguparoundmewiththepressureofmyweighthittingthemattress.Ididn’thavetimeforathirdbreathbeforeHoldenwasontopofme,hiskneebetweenmythighs,backingmeupintohispillowswithpunishing,desperatekisses.
Histonguesnakedagainstmine,andIheldthehairatthenapeofhisneck,heldhimtome,demandingmore.Iignoredeverydistantwarningsignblaringinthebackofmymind,ignoredeveryounceofgoodsenseIhadthattoldmethiscouldn’thappen,thatwecouldn’thappen.
Iwantedhim.
IwantedhimsobadlyI’dlethimdevoureverybitofeverythingthatIwas.I’dlethimbanishmefromexistence,towipemeoffthefaceoftheplanetifitmeantIgottosuccumbtothismomentrightnow.
Holdenranhishandsbackthroughmyhairandtightenedhisfingersintofists,makingmearch,mychintiltingupandmouthpoppingfreeofhisown.Helickedandsuckedalongtheskinofmyjaw,myneck,acrossmycollarboneasIwrithedbeneaththetouch.Icouldn’tmove,notwithhimholdingmyhairsotightly,anditonlymadeeverycaressthatmuchmoreintenseashecrawledhiswaybackup,gentlybitingmychinbeforeheclaimedmymouthoncemore.
Onehandreleasedmyhair,movingtomyhipandsqueezingmehardbeforeheroughlypushedhispalmupunderthehemofmyshirt.Iwasn’twearingabra,andmynipplesachedwithneedasHolden’sfingerssplayedupmyribcage.Hestoppedshort,justthetipofhisthumbbrushingthebottomofmybreastashisthighpressedagainstme,stimulatingthatsensitivebundleofnerveswiththeseamofmyjeans.
Imoanedintohismouthinadesperatepleaformore.
Itwasthesoundthatshatteredtheillusion.
Holdenstilled,panting,hisgripgoinglaxandlipsstilltouchingminethoughhewasnolongerkissingme.Heheldmepinnedthereforonlyasecondlongerbeforehethrewhimselfback,offme,allthewaytotheothersideofthebed.
Heranhishandsbackthroughhishair,balancinghiselbowsonhisbentkneesashedrewthemtowardhischest.Helookedlikeamadman,likesomeoneonthevergeofanabsolutefuckingbreakdown.
Realitycrasheddownonmenext.
IknewwithouthimsayingonesinglewordthatIshouldgo,thatwe’dmadeamistake,thatwe’dgonetoofar.
Youcan’thaveme,I’dtoldhiminthegardenthatnightattheparty.
Andyet,hereIwas,breakingtheveryruleI’dtakeneverychanceIhadtoremindhimof.
“Youneedtoleave,”hemanaged,voiceroughanduneven.“Now.Go.Go,Julep.”
Swallowing,Ishuffledoffthebed,smoothingmyhandsovermyhairandshirtasIrippedhisdooropenandflewoutofitwithoutlookingback.
Irandownthestairs,outthedoor,acrosshisyardandthestreet,andthenmyownyardbeforetumblinginthroughthefrontdoor.Ilockeditbehindmeasifhe’dfollow,ignoredMary’spuzzledgazeasIwhizzedpastherandblewupstairstomyroom,shuttingthedoorbeforeIslammedmybackagainstitandsliddowntothefloor.
Icouldn’tbreathe.
Icouldn’tbelievewhatwe’djustdone.
Icouldn’twrapmyheadaroundhowithadhappenedatall.
Andyet,IknewalreadythatIwouldriskanythingtodoitagain.Holden
“Someone’sdistracted.”
Iblinked,shakingoffmythoughtsandcomingbacktothepresentmoment.Myunclesgaveeachotherknowinglooks,NathanreadyingthepumpkinseedstobakewhileKevincarvedanelaboratedesignintotheorangefruittheseedshadbeenscoopedfrom.MycousinwatchedfromwhereIhadherseatedinmylap,pumpkingoopalloverherhandsthatshe’dtakeatasteoffromtimetotime.
“Sorry,”Imuttered.“Justthinkingaboutthegame.”
Itwasalie,oneIknewtheysawrightthrough.
Ihadn’tthoughtofanything,oranyone,butJulepsincethenightIkissedher.
Eversince,I’dbeenwoundtight,mygutinaperpetualstateofunease.Itwasamixtureofguiltandfearswirlingwithlonginganddesire.I’dstaredrightintoherfather’seyesashetoldmetokeepmyhandsoffher,andyetinthatmoment,itwasimpossible.
Icouldn’tkissher.
Andyet,Icouldn’tnotkissher.
Ifshehadn’tmoaned,ifthatsweet,intoxicatingsoundhadn’tjerkedmebacktoreality,Iwouldhavetakenher.Iwouldhaveshreddedthatvintagetopsheworeandpeeledherjeansofflegbyleg.IwouldhavehikedheranklesontomyshouldersandburiedmyselfsodeepinsideherIleftapermanentpieceofmebehind.
Butsensehadfoundme,andI’dsomehowmanagedthemiracleofstopping.
JudgingbythewayJulepran,IknewshewasgladIdid.
Wehadn’ttalkedsince,notevenafriendlygreetingwhenwepassedeachotheratthestadium.IkeptmyheaddownwhenIsawher,andshedidthesamewhenIwasintheroom.
ButIfeltherbuzzingpresencelikeneonundermyskin.
“Areyouplaying?”
Iblinked,againcomingbacktothemessykitchen.“What?”
“Inthegame,”UncleKevinmusedwithasmirk.“Isthatwhyyou’rethinkingaboutit?Areyouplaying?”
Iswallowed.“Notthistime.Butsoon,Ihope.”
“Practicewentwellthisweek?”Nathanasked,slidingthecookiesheetlinedwithpumpkinseedsintotheoven.
“Itdid.Nopain,fullrangeofmotion,goodexecution.Theytookiteasyonmedefensewise—notackles,”Isaid.“ButIfeelgood.”
“AndCoach?”
Mystomachbottomedout,likehispiercingeyeswerewatchingmeeveninthatroom.
“He’swary,”Iadmitted.“ButIthinkhewantsmebackoutthere,too.”
“He’dbedumbnotto,”UncleKevinsaid.“Hedoesn’twanttoberememberedasthecoachwhokeptthefutureTomBradybenchedhissenioryear.”
Thecornerofmymouthtickedup,theclosestI’dbeentosmilinginaweek.
OurgametomorrowwasagainsttheSouthHartfordUniversityBulldogs,andtheirfansweretheworstinourdivision.Theywereloud,rude,andruthless—andtheyalwaysgotintoourheads.Sinceitwasanawaygameforus,Iknewit’dbeevenmoreintensethanwhenthatmotleycrewtraveledthetwohoursovertoourstadium.
AndIwasguttedIwouldn’tbeabletoplay,tomakethemshuttheirfuckingmouthswitheverytouchdownpassIthrew.
“Soon,”CoachLeehadpromisedmeinthelockerroomattheendofpracticetoday.He’dcalleditearly,wantingusalltogetagoodnight’srestbeforewegotonthebustomorrow.Itwasalategame,primetime,andeverythinginsidemefoldedwhenhetoldmeIwouldn’tbetheoneleadingtheteamunderthosebiglights.
“CanIsaysomethingmushywithoutyoupunchingme?”UncleKevinaskedasheslidtheparingknifealongtheoutsideofamoonhe’dcarvedintothepumpkin,givingitdepth.
“Nopromises.”
Hechuckled,eyesflashinguptomebeforehefocusedonthepumpkinagain.“Yourdadwouldbereallyproudofyou,forhowyou’vehandledallthis.”
Ifroze,heartskippingabeatbeforeitpickeduppaceinmychest.
“It’snoteasy,tobeinjuredandhavetosupportyourteamasaleaderallthewhileworkingthroughyourowncomplexemotionswithnotplaying.It’satestamenttoyourmaturity,Holden,andhewouldhavebeenproud.”UncleKevswallowed,hiseyesmeetingmine.“I’mproud.”
MythroatwastightasInodded,unabletospeak.
Joannereachedapumpkin-coveredhanduptomycheek,smearingtheorangegoopovermyskinwithagurglinglittlelaugh.
Itbrokethetensionofthemoment,andmyuncleschuckledasIwipedmyfingeroverthemessandtappedhernosewithit.
Itwasonlyafewminutes,butitwasthelongestI’dgonewithoutthinkingofJulep.
LaterthatnightwhenIgotbacktothePit,Iwasthankfultofinditempty.WealwayshadanearlypracticeontheFridaybeforeagamesowecouldrestup,butIknewsincebustimewasn’tuntiltwotomorrowafternoon,alotoftheteamwasprobablyout,takingadvantageoftheraretimewhenwehadanearlynightandalatereport.
ThePitwasalmosteeriewhenitwasempty,tooquietforcomfort.ButIsavoreditasablessing,climbingthestairstomybedroomtoshowerandchangebeforeImademywaybackdownstairs.
Iwastoowiredtosleep,toodistractedtotrytostudy,soIfloppeddownonthecouchandscrolledNetflix,tryingtofindsomethingthatwouldoccupymymind.IscrolledforaboutthirtyminutesbeforeIhuffedandpickedthefirstactionmovieIsaw,hopingsomegunsandgorewouldbethecure.
Astimepassed,Islumpedmoreandmoreintothecouch,increasinglyannoyedwithhowlittlethemoviedidtoeasemysuffering.IkeptpickingupmyphoneandpullingupJulep’snumber,onlytostareatourlastfewtextsfromweeksago,writeoutatext,deleteit,andclosemyphoneagain.
ItwasalmostelevenwhenIdecidedImightaswelljustgoupstairsandlieinthedarkuntilIfellasleep.Istood,crackingmybackwithatwistleftandright.TurningofftheTVfirst,Iwentthroughthehouseandmadesuredoorswerelockedandwindowswereclosed,knowingwhentheotherguyscamebackdrunk,theywouldn’tthinktodoit.
Ireachedupfortheblindsofthelargebaywindowthatfacedthestreet,theonethatwouldbeaperfectreadingnookifweweren’tfuckinganimals.Asitwas,thebeat-upcushionusuallyhousedourdirtygymbagsandcleats,aneasyplacetodropthingswhenwecameinthefrontdoor.
BeforeIcouldpulltheblindsdown,myeyescaughtonthehouseacrossthestreet.
OnJulep.
Theonlylightoninthehousewasthelivingroomone,anditwassoft,warm,likethegentleglowofalamp.Ididn’tseeMary’scarinthedriveway,soitdidn’tsurprisemewhenJulepcameintoviewofthewindowamomentlater,herhandshangingonherhipsasshestaredupatthepoleinthemiddleoftheirlivingroomlikeshewasabouttobattleit.
Withthelightsoutinourhouse,itmadeherevenmoreclear,thedimsilhouetteofherbodysocrispIcouldnotethesheenofsweatliningherabdomen.Icouldn’tmakeoutthecolorsofanyoftheclothingshewore,onlythattherewasn’tmuchofit—justahigh-risethongthathuggedthecurveofherhipsandasimplebra.Itdidn’tevenlooklikeasportsbra,butratheroneshe’dbeenwearingallday,asifshe’djustwalkedinthedoorandstrippedoutofherclothestoimmediatelyreachforthepole.
Lookaway,youpervertedbastard.
IwilledmyselftoclosetheblindslikeI’dplannedto,beggedmyselftoleaveheralone,togiveherprivacy,torememberthatthiswasjustfuckingtortureconsideringthatI’dnevertouchheragain.
Butthemasochisticpartofmekeptmerootedinplace,heartthumpinghardasIwatchedherlaunchherselfontothechrome.
Itwasmesmerizing,howeasyshemadeitlookasshepulledherselfparalleltothepolebeforeflippingupsidedown,herlegssplayingoutinastraddle.Sheheldthatshapeforamomentbeforehookingoneofherlegs,andthenherhandswerefree,andhersilhouettehungfromthepoleinabluroflonglegsandflowinghair.
Shewaswearingheelsthistime.
Imarkedtheoutlineofthem,howtheylengthenedheralready-leanlegs.Iimmediatelythoughtofherthatnightattheparty,howshe’dwornheelsthen,howthattinysliverofanklehadmadememadwiththeneedtotouchher.
Ifeltthattriplednow.
Iwasinatranceassheflowed,andwhenshecamebackdowntothefloor,landingsmoothlyonherknees,shearched,rollingherbodyagainstthepolebeforewhippingherhair.Thatsightnearlyunraveledme.IthoughtI’dshredintonothingwatchingheronherknees,imaginingwhatitwouldbeliketobeinplaceofthepole,toseeherlookingupatmewithherlegsspreadwide.
Iblinked,reachingupfortheblindsagain.
Closethem.Shutthisdownnow.
ButIcouldn’t.
Andthat’swhenherheadpoppedup,andshelookedrightatme.
Ididn’tthinkshecouldseemeatfirst,withallthelightsinourhousebeingout.Sure,thestreetlightswereon,butwasitenoughforhertoseemestandinghere?
Iheldmybreath,standingcompletelystillasshestareddirectlyatthewindowwhereIstood.
Julepwalkedovertoherownbaywindow,leaningcloseenoughtotheglassthatIcouldseethefaintoutlineofherface.Shestoodthereforalongmoment,staring,butmadenoothersignthatshesawme.
Iwaitedforhertowave,orflipmeoff,butafteramoment,shereacheddowntothecoffeetablebesideherandgrabbedaglassofwater,nearlydrainingit.Isawhergazegouptothetopofthewindownext,andIwonderedifshewasabouttodrawherownblinds,todowhatIdidn’thavethestrengthtodo.
Butshehesitated,hercheststillheavingfromtheexertionofherlastflow
Hereyesslowlytrailedtomywindowagain.
Andthen,herhandscametothefrontofherbra,meetingatthesmallpieceofclothinthemiddleofherbreasts.
No,notcloth.
Aclasp.
OnesheunfastenedwhileIwatched.
Mynextbreathhaltedatthebaseofmythroat,asifevenitwasafraidonelittlemovementwouldscareheroff.ButfearwasthelastthingreflectedinwhatIcouldseeofJulep’sfaceassheslowlyopenedherbra,slidingastrapoffherleftshoulderandthenherright.Sheletthefabricdanglefromonefingerbeforeitdroppedtothefloor,andthensheleanedforward,pressingherhandsagainsttheledgeofthewindowandusingthestreetlighttogivemeaperfectviewofherbreasts.
Ibitbackacurseasmycocktwitchedtolife,growingachinglyhardassheranahandupherribcagetocupherself.Sheframedhernipple,rollingitbetweenherfingertips,andthenleaneddownabitmoresoIcouldseeherface.
Herwickedsmile.
Shewatchedmeforalongmoment,ormaybesheletmewatchher.Andthen,shewiggledherfingersinateasingwaveandreachedupfortheblinds,pullingthemdowninonefellswoopthatsnuffedouttheentrancingviewofher.
Iwasstillcementedinplacewhenmyphonepingedfromthecouch.
Iambledover,adjustingmycockinmysweatpantsasIliftedthedeviceandfoundJulep’snameonthescreen.
Goodnight,Cap
Ishookmyhead,bitingmylowerlip.
Andonethoughtplayedonrepeatinmymindfortherestofthenight.
I’mintrouble.Julep
IwasalreadyseatedinthesecondrowofthebuswithJB,thetwoofusgoingovereachplayerandwhatthey’dneedfortoday’sgame,whenHoldenshowedup.
“Clay’sanklehasstillbeenbotheringhim,sowe’llneedtotapeitupgoodanddosomemobilitychecksonitbeforehewarmsup,”JBcontinuedthroughthelist,buthisvoicefaded.
EverythingfadedasIwatchedHoldenoutthewindow.
Hishairwasdampanddarkerthanusual,layinginhaphazardwavesthathenonchalantlyranhishandthroughasheapproachedthebus.Heshruggedhisbagoffhisshoulderandhandedittooneofthestaffwhowasloadinguptheequipment,andthenheimmediatelyputhisover-the-ear,noise-cancelingheadphoneson.
Heworetheteam’scolors,abrickredhoodieandmatchingsweatswithNBU’sgoldenlogostretchedacrosshischest.Therewassomethingstupidlyappetizingabouthiminthosesweats,inthewaytheyhuggedhishipsandthighsand…acertainotherregion,too.Itwasn’tfairthathelookedthatfuckinghotinjoggersandahoodie,butitwasn’tjustthathewasanathleteboardingabustoagamewiththatcockyswaggeronlycollegeathleteshad.
Itwasthathelookedcozy,comfortable,likehewouldcrookthatsmileatanysecond,showingyouhisdimpleandpullingyouunderonearmbeforehekissedyourforehead.
Justasthatthoughthitme,Holden’seyessnappedtowhereIwatchedhimthroughthewindow.
Itoremygazeaway,tryingtocatchupwithJB’sconversationasmycheeksflushedandmyheartraced.Whatthehelliswrongwithme?Iidlywondered,butIswattedthatthoughtawaylikeagnat,too.
“…forHolden.Andthen—”
“Sorry,whatwasthat?”IaskedJB,blinkingbacktoourconversation.
JBarchedabrowwithasmile.“Isaid,weshouldlineupapre-gamedeeptissueforHolden.Doyoudisagree?”
IpausedlikeIwasconsidering,likeIreallyhadtothinkaboutit.“No,Ithinkit’sagoodcall.Hemaynotbeplaying,buthe’llbetensefromthesidelines.Itdefinitelycouldn’thurt.”
“Mythoughtsexactly.I’llputTanneronthatwhileyouandIhandletheactiveplayers.”
Itriednottoslumpwithmydisappointmentthatitwouldn’tbemegivingthatmassage.“Perfect.”
Then,Holdenboardedourbus,climbingthestepsslowlywithhisheadphonesstillinplace.
IttookeveryefforttokeepmyeyesontheclipboardwhereJBpointedashewentovertherestoftheteam’snotes,especiallywhenIcaughtscentofHolden,thatfamiliarspiceofhisbodywashstrikingmynoseandzappingmebacktothenightwekissed.
Hisjoggersbrushedmyshoulderashepassed.
AndIsworeIfelthishandthroughthepocketsqueezingmyarm—justalittle,justenoughtomakemetiltmychindownovermyshoulderandglancebackathim.
Buthekeptonwalking,allthewaytotheback,andwhenheploppeddowninaseat,helookedoutthewindow—notatme.
Iswallowed,wonderingifI’dmisreadlastnight,ifhewasupsetwithwhatI’ddone.He’dbeentheonetobreakourkisslastweek,andwebothknewitcouldn’thappenagain.
Andyet…
Ihadnoexplanationformybehaviorlastnightotherthanthefactthathe’ddrivenmetothebrinkofinsanitywithjustonefuckingkiss.I’dseenhimstandinginhiswindow.
Watchingme.
Andthatpowerhadtippedmeovertheedgeofrationality.
ChillshadrakedovermewhenIunclaspedmybra,whenIsawhisbreathhitcheventhroughthesoftglowofthestreetlightthatcasthiminaneerieshadow.Ididn’tevenknowhowmuchhecouldsee,butIknewhedidn’tlookaway.
Still,hehadn’trespondedtomytextafterI’dpulledtheblindsshut,andIhadnoideahowhefeltaboutwhathappenedbetweenus—thekiss,oranythingsince.
IlookedforanysignthathewasasconsumedwiththoughtsaboutmelikeIwasabouthim.IlongedtoknowhefeltthesametorturousburnthatIdid,thatsensethatwecouldn’tdoanythingmorewithoutriskingafull-onfire.
Buttheoverpoweringinstincttolightamatch,anyway.
WhenwemadeittotheSouthHartfordStadium,IstoodbesideJBaswewatchedtheteamfileoffthebuses,lettingeachofthemknowwhenandwherewewantedtoseethem.IheldmybreathwhenHoldentraileddownthesteps,whenhemovedtowarduswithpowerandfocusrollingoffhiminplumes.
Everyplayerlookedtohimfortheirenergycue,someofthemstoppingmid-laughwhilehorsingaroundoncehesteppedoffthebus.Theyfellinlinebehindhim,channelinghiscalmessence,andhenoddedtosomeofthemwhileclappingothersontheback.Itwasfascinatingtowatch,thewayjustonetouchorglancefromhimcouldchangeaplayer’sentiredemeanor,couldwipethestressofftheirfaceandgivethemthespacetotakeadeepbreath.
Eveninjured,Holdenwascaptain,theteam’sleader,theirking.
Hedidn’tlookatmeonce.
Bysomemiracle,wepulledoutthewin.
Itwasamiraclenotbecausethegamewasparticularlybrutal—whichitwas—orthatthescorewasclosetheentiregame—whichitalsowas—butbecauseSouthHartford’sfansmadeeverysecondofplaytimeabsolutelymiserable.
Theywereloud,vulgar,andalevelofrudeIdidn’tknowexisted.I’dbeenshockedbyhowdeafeningthey’dbeenwhenweranthroughthetunnel,booingandslingingoutharassingthreats.Theydidn’tchanttheusualNBUsucks!,either—theywerepersonal.TheytargetedRileyasagirl,calledoutKyleforhissocialmediastunts,andevenpreyedonClayfortheterriblethingshe’dgonethroughwithhisfamilylastsemester.
Holdenhadtophysicallyholdhimbackwithahardhandonhisshoulderwhentheystartedmakingjokesabouthismom.
Theywererelentless,screamingsoloudwhenouroffensewasonthelinethatBlakecouldbarelybeheardcallingouttheplays.Holdenwassteadythroughitall,though,watchingonthesidelineswithhisarmsfoldedhardoverhischest.Hepulledeachplayerasideatonepointoranotherduringthegame,holdingthembythehelmetashetoldthemwhattheyneededtohear.
Andsomehow,bysomestrikeofluck,we’dmanagedtoholdthem,tokeepthescoreclose.
Intheend,alast-secondfieldgoalhadsealedthewin.
IcouldstillseeitasIshoweredinmyhotelroom,thewayClayandZekehadcartedRileyupontotheirshouldersandparadedheraroundthefieldasthefansweresilentforthefirsttimeallgame.Itwasthemostbeautifulsight,thatsweetvendetta.
Icouldalsostillseetheconcerninmyfather’seyeswhenwe’dcheckedintothehotel,theteamrowdyandreadytocelebrate.He’dwatchedmefromhisperipheraltheentiretimehestoodatthelobbydesk,andwhenhehandedmemykey,heheldontoitatouchlongerthannecessary.
“I’mproudofyou,”hesaid.
Iswallowed,holdingthekeywithmyeyesonthegroundbelowit.“Why?”
“Becauseyou’vereallyturnedacorner,Julep.Icanseeitineverythingthatyoudo.Tonight,onthesidelines,workingwiththeplayers…Ihaven’tseenyouthatfocused,thatpassionateaboutanythingsince…”
Heclearedhisthroat,andIlookeddown,hopinghewouldn’tfinishthatsentence.Hedidn’tneedto.
“Ijust…Idon’twantyoutothrowthisaway,”hesaidsofter,finallyreleasingthekey.
Ialmostlaughed.“I’mgoingtobed,Dad,”Itoldhim,finallymeetinghiseyes.“I’mtired.”
Dadnodded,thoughconcernstilletchedhisbrow.“Good.Me,too.”
Itwasn’talie.TheexhaustionIfeltwasbonedeepasIcutthehotwateroftheshowerandsteppedout,wrappingmyselfinatowel.Icombedoutmywethairandslatheredmyfacewithnightcream.GianaandRileyweremyroommatestonight—whichwasfitting,sinceweweretheonlyfemalestravelingwiththeteam.Apparently,Rileywasusedtoroomingbyherselfastheonlyfemaleplayer,andGianawastypicallyassignedaroomwithherboss,Charlotte.
Buttonight,itwasthethreeofus,andIwaslookingforwardtoeatingpizzaandpassingthefuckout
AllthosedreamsweredashedwhenIemergedfromthebathroomtofindGianahair-sprayinghercurlswhileRileyfinishedoffhermakeup.
Theybothlookedatmeatthesametime,exchangedalook,andbeforetheycouldevensayaword,Iknewwhatwasabouttohappen.
“We’regoingout,aren’twe?”Iaskedonasigh.
Theyjustsmiledinanswer,andwithoutargument,IflippedopenmysuitcaseandpulledouttheonedressI’dpackedjustincasethishappened.
AstiredasIwas,partofmewasexcitedtogooutwiththeteam.Ihadn’thadthechance,otherthantheonepartyatthePit,andthathadbeenadifferentvibe.Thatwasahigh-stress,let’sblowoffsteamkindofnight.
Thiswasacelebratoryone.
Mydad’swarningflashedbrieflyinmymindasIappliedalittlebitofmakeup,butIquietedit,knowingthatIfeltinfullcontrolofmyselftonight.
Plus,wewereinanewcity,andwitheverythingthathadbeentanglingupmythoughtslately,Ihadafeelingevenwiththeweightofalongdaybearingdownonme,Iwouldn’tfindsleepeasy.
Andmaybe,maybe,asmallpartofmewantedtoseeHolden.
“Youlooklikeyou’reabouttocrawloutofyourownskin,”RileysaidintheUberonthewaytothebar.
Iblinked,turningfromwhereI’dbeenwatchingthecitylightsblurpast.“IkindoffeellikeIalreadyhave,”Iadmitted.
Gianafrowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imean…I’mnotfeelinglikemyselflately.”
“Inwhatway?”Rileyprobed.
Iconsidered,tryingtofigureouthowtoexplainitwithoutsoundinglikeacrazyperson.“Ijust…I’vebeenfeeling…weirdlately.”
“Likesad?”Gianaasked.
“No.”
“Angry,disheveled?”Rileychimedin.
“No…theopposite,actually.I’musedtofeelingdepressed.Butthis…Idon’tknow.”Ipickedatmythumbnail.“Ifeelkindof…excited?Butalso,alittlefreakedout.Anxious,maybe?”
Gianagrinnedthen,leaningintomyshoulder.“Ah,footballseasondoesthattoallofus.”
Iforcedasmile.“Yeah.Football.”
Rileyarchedabrow,hergazezeroinginonmelikeshesawsomethingGianadidn’t.Butshedidn’thavetimetoaskbecauseourcarpulledup,andZekerippedopenthebackdoorbeforehaulingRileyoutonhisshoulderlikeasackofflour.
“Putmedown,youNeanderthal!”
HejustlaughedandcarriedherinsidethebarasClaydidthesametoGiana,althoughshedidn’tprotest,justgrabbedforthebackofherskirttomakesureshewasn’tflashinganyoneherass.Clayseemedtoreadhermindbecausehecovereditwithoneofhisgargantuanhands,whichmadeGianasmileandkisshisforeheadashecarriedherinside.
“Youwantaridelikethat,too?”
Ifrozeatthesoundofhisvoice,butmanagedtoturnslowandcalm,likeIwasn’taffectedatall.“Doyouwantakneetothegroin?”
Holdenchuckled,hiseyesabitglossedashetuckedhishandsinthepocketsofhisjeans.HestillworehisNBUhoodie,butsomethingaboutthosejeanshadmeevenmoredizzythanthejoggershadthismorning.
Hewatchedmeforamoment,rollinghislipstogetherlikehewantedtosaysomethingelse.Instead,hegesturedwithonehandtowardthebar,andIledtheway.
LoudhousemusicthumpedthroughthewallsevenbeforeHoldenjoggedaroundinfrontofmetoopenthedoor.Iwastemptedtorollmyeyesatthemove,butitwouldhavebeenabetrayaltothesoftspotinsidemethatactuallyfounditsweet.
Wewerecardedattheentrance,andoncewewereinside,Icouldn’thelpbutsmileatthesightoftheteamthathadcompletelytakenovertheplace.ItwasjustadivebarclosetotheSouthHartfordUniversitycampus,butitwascoveredinourcolors,fromthepooltablesanddartboardsinthebacktothethrobbingdancefloor.
“Julep!”
IturnedtofindGianawavingmeovertoatablenearthedancefloorwhereshe,Riley,Zeke,andClayallwere.Leowasthere,too,alongwithacheerleaderIrecognizedbutdidn’tknowpersonally.
IfeltHoldenfollowingbehindme,feltthehummingbuzzofhisnearnessjustasloudasthemusicvibratingthroughmybones.Whenwemadeittothetable,though,hemovedtotheotherside,sockingLeoonthearmasClayhandedhimabeer.
Itoremygazeawayfromhim,focusingonGianawhohadjustslidmeapink,fruity-lookingshot.Ididn’tevenknowifshotwastherightword,consideringitwasabigenoughglasstobeacocktail.
Igroaned.“Oh,God.”
“It’sjustone,”shesaidsweetly.
Rileygavemealookthatsaiddon’tbelieveher.
Istaredattheshotwarily.IknewI’dbefinewithjustone,maybeadrinkortwoafter.ButIalsoknewIhadtocutitoffafterthat.Otherwise,mylight,happybuzzwouldgosouth,tippingmeoverthelinethatthinlyseparatedthatkindofdrunkandthekindthathadmemakingbaddecisions.
ThekindI’dmadefortoolongafterAbbydied,thathadnearlydrivenmyfathertohisbreakingpoint.
NotthatMomhadbeenparticularlythrilled,either,butshe’dlongsincegivenuponme.WhenIactedout,whenIendedupinthebackofapolicecarinfrontoftheirhouseorvomitingintheirguestbathroomordoingthewalkofshamefromaguy’shousewhosenameIcouldn’tevenrecall—shedidn’tgetupsetthewayDaddid.She’djustletoutaspurtofalaugh,shakeherhead,andgobacktodrinkingherchardonnaylikeshewasbetterthanme.
SheblamedmeforAbby,andIcouldn’tevenholditagainsther.
BecauseIblamedme,too.
“Totheteam,”Gianasaid,holdinguphershot.“Andtothechampionshiptitlethat’syoursforthetaking.”
“I’lldrinktothat,”Zekesaid,tiltinghiscupofwatertowardus.
Weallthrewbackadrinkorshot,dependingonwhatwehadinhand,andthenClaypulledGianaintohimandsaid,“Ours.You’reapartofthisteam,too,youknow.”
Shesmiledonablush,andIlookedawayalittleuncomfortablewhentheystartedkissing.
“Iwanttodance,”Rileysaid,butinsteadofpullingZekeoutontothefloor,shehookedmyelbow.
IwastuggedawaybeforeIhadtheoptiontodecline.
Thedancefloorwaspacked,andRileydraggedmethroughthecrowdrightuptothefrontoftheDJ.ThemusicwassoloudthisclosetothespeakersthatIfeltitlikeaheartbeat.
Gianajoinedus,andtogetherwemadeatightlittlecircle.Rileydancedwithoutacareintheworld,windingherhipsandrollingherbodytothebeat.Gianaseemedabitshyatfirst,butsheclosedhereyes,andthenslowly,shebegantomove,too.
IwishedIhadmypole.IwishedIhadsomethingstrongandsturdytoholdonto,toholdmesteady.IloveddancingwhenIhadthatchromepartner,butwithoutit?Ifeltuneasy,likeanewbabygiraffefiguringoutitsimpossiblylonglegs.
Theneonlightsflashedacrossourfaces,fogmachinesendingacloudcascadingoverusintimewiththedeepbass.Itwassodarkthatwiththoseelementscombined,Icouldn’tseemuchotherthantheDJaboveusandthegirlswheretheydancedrightinfrontofme.
AndIknewthatmeantthat,likely,nooneelsecouldseeme,either.
Iletoutalongexhaleatthat,andthenIranmyhandsupmysides,overmyhead,andheldthemthereasmybodybegantomove.Itookcuesfromthebeat,whichwastaperingdownfromahigh-energyhousesongtoonethatwassmoother,slower,thebeatheaviersomehow.
IfeltitinmysoulasImoved,andIsurrendered,lettingmyselfbetakenbythemusic.
Ididn’tnoticewhenRileywaspulledintoZeke,orwhenGianawaspeeledoffthefloorbyClay.
ButIdidnoticetheprecisemomentHoldencameupbehindme.
Hedidn’ttouchme,didn’tputahandonmyhiporpullmeflushagainsthim.Hejuststoodthere,rightbehindme,oneinchofdistancebetweenus.
Hewasputtingthepowerinmyhands.
Itfeltlikeachallenge,likeadare,andthatoneshothadmefeelingjustbraveenoughtotakeit.
IwasstillrollingmyhipsasItookatinystepback,anditwasjustenoughtoconnectus,formyasstomeetthezipperofhisjeans.Myheadwentlightatthetouch,mynextbreathshallowasIwaitedtoseewhathe’ddonext.Itwasjustasmalltouch,onehecouldeasilypullawayfrom.
Butheleanedin,instead.
No,heswoopedin,likethatonepointofconnectionhadbeenthepermissionhewasdesperatelyseeking.
Onehandfoundmywaistwhiletheothersweptmyhairoffmyneck,andhecradledhischinthere,hisbreathwarmingmyskinashelinedhishipsupwithmine.Iarchedmyback,leaningmyheadagainsthischestandclosingmyeyesasIletthemusictakecontrol.
ThedressIworewasagun-metal,metallicgray.Itwasspaghettistrappedandlinedwithlace.I’dfounditatathriftstoreoverthesummer,anditwasfartoothintobewearingonacoolfallnightlikethisone.ButI’dsufferedthecoldoutsidebecauseIknewit’dbehotinhere.
Holdenmusthavebeenwarm,too,becausehe’dshedhissweater,andheworeabutton-upnowthathadthesleevesshoveduptohiselbows.Icrawledmyfingertipsoveroneofhisforearms,diggingmynailsintothefleshjustenoughtobite.
Hehissedagroan,thesoundlikethebirthofanaddictionasitreverberatedovermyneckandmettheshellofmyear.Holdenangledhisheaddown,thetipofhisnoseinmyhairasherasped,“Isawyoudancinglastnight.”
Iarchedmyback,grabbinghishandsandmovingthemalittlelower,tomyhips.Hisfingersbunchedthefabricthere,feelinghowthinitwas,howlittleseparatedus.
Ifeignedinnocence.“Didyounow?”
“YouknowIdid,”hechallenged,hisvoicelowinmyearaswemovedtogether.Anotherblastofthefogmachinecoveredus,andIfelthisfingersbunchthefabricofmydressabitmore.“AndyouknowIlovedit,too.”
Ireveledintheadmission,inhearinghimsayit,inknowinghe’dseenmeandhadn’tbeenabletolookaway.
“Wasittheheelsyoulovedmost?”
“No,”heansweredimmediately,andheheldmetightertohim,lettingmefeelthehardeninglengthofhimagainstmybacksideasheloweredhislipsclosertomyear.“WhatIlovedmostwasseeingyoudownonyourknees.”
Chillsfelllikeawaterfalloverme,fromthepointwherehisbreathwarmedmyskinallthewaydowntomytoes.Hesmirkedagainsttheskinbehindmyearashisfingersfollowedthechills,runningdownthelengthofmyarm,upovermyribcageuntilhefoundmyhipagain.Iknewfromhisvantagepoint,fromhowthinmydresswasthathecouldseemynippleshardandachingagainstthefabric
Icouldn’thidehowheaffectedme,noteveninthedark.
Ilickedmylips.“Well,toobadforyou,Idon’tgetonmykneesforanyoneotherthanmypole.”
Irolledmyasshardupthelengthofhimbeforedroppingitbackdown,andheletoutathroatylaugh.
“We’llseeaboutthat.”
Anotherblastofthefogmachinecoveredus,andIknewIcouldn’tblamethatfruitypinkshot—nomatterhowbigitwas—forwhatIdidnext.Igrabbedoneofhishands,slidingitupmywaist,overmyribstorestjustbelowmybreast.Ilethimfeelthebottomswellofit,lethimunderstandthatonlythethin,shinyfabricofthisdresskeptmecovered.
Holdennippedatmyearlobe,makingmyeyelidsfluttershut.“Someoneneedstopunishyouforbeingsuchatease.”
“Youwish,”Ishotback.
Withoutwarning,thehandhehadonmyhipshotlower,splayingmythighbeforeheranitup,up,up.Igaspedwhenheslidthathandsoconfidentlybetweenmylegs,myentirebodyquiveringasheshovedmylacethongtothesideandranthelengthofhismiddleandforefingeralongmycenter.Ithappenedsoquickly,onlyaslongashisheavyexhaleintomyear,butthesearingmagnitudeofitlingeredashewithdrewandliftedhisfingerstorestinfrontofme.
Ishiveredattheloss,atthefactthatithadhappenedatall,mybreathraggedasHoldenrubbedhisfingerstogetherbeforespreadingthemapart,evidenceofhowwetIwasshiningonhisskinunderthebriefflashofneonlights.
Hesmiledagainstthebackofmyneck,pressingasoft,feather-likekisstherebeforehewhispered,“Apparently,youwish.”
Myeyelidsfluttered,kneesweakening,andthenallatonce,Holdenbrokecontactfromme.Hereleasedmyhips,hischestbreakingfromwhereitwasagainstmybackandlettingacoldrushofairsweepin.Ididn’trealizewhyhe’ddoneituntilwewereswarmedbymoremembersoftheteam,andslowly,withoutanotherword,Holdenmadehiswayoffthedancefloor.
Ijuststoodthere,frozeninplace.
Burningfromtheinsideout.Holden
Icouldn’tsleep.
Ofcourse,Icouldn’tsleep.
Notasinglepartofmewassurprised,notaftertheintensegameagainstSouthHartford,theonewepulledoutonlybyalast-minutefieldgoal.Notaftergoingoutuntilalmostthreeinthemorningwiththeteamtocelebrate.
AndcertainlynotafterhavingJuleppressedagainstme,herassgrindingagainstmycockasIslidmyfingersbetweenherlegsandfoundproofofhowmuchshewantedme,too.
Whenwe’dmadeitbacktothehotel,myroommateshadpassedoutimmediately.LeowassodrunkIhadtocarryhiminsideandthrowhisassonourbed,andhesprawledoutlikeastarfish.I’dsomehowmanagedtomakeroomformyselfafterIbrushedmyteeth,butthenI’donlylaidtherewideawakeforanhour,replayingeverysecondanddissectingeverywordutteredbetweenmeandJulep.
ItwasjustafterfourinthemorningwhenIgaveuponsleepingandchangedintomyUnderArmourcompressionshorts—whichwastheclosestthingIhadtoswimtrunks—andheadedtotheindoorpool.
Itwasjustlateenough,orratherearlyenoughinthemorning,thatitwasopen.Iwastheonlyonethere,whichwasnosurprisetome,andItoreoffmyt-shirtandhungitalongwithatoweloverthebackofoneoftheloungechairs.Then,Idovein,andstartedswimminglaps.
Thefirstfewdidnothingtotamemymind.Thewaterwaswarm,thepoolheated,andIalmostwisheditwasfreezingsoastoshocktheanxietyrightoutofme.
Eventually,mybreathingintensified,themusclesofmyarmsandlegsandcorefiringtolife.Iwascarefulwithmyshoulder,makingsurenottodoanythingthattriggeredit,butIwashappilysurprisedtofinditsounbothered.
Iwasreadytoplay.
Iknewit,Coachknewit.
Andyetstill,heheldmeback.
Forabriefmoment,itwasthosethoughtsthatplaguedme,andIswamafewlapsmullingoverhowlongitwouldbebeforeI’dbebackonthefield.Buteventually,mythoughtsdriftedbacktoJulep.
Ididn’tknowwhatweweredoing.Ididn’tknowwhathadpossessedmetofollowheroutontothatdancefloor,totestthedistancebetweenussocarefullybeforejumpinginsocarelessly.We’dbeensurroundedbytheteam.Anyonecouldhaveseen,couldhavefoundjustenoughevidencetoratmeouttoCoach.NotthatIthoughtanyofthemwould,butitwasstilladangerousgametoplay.
Andyet,Icouldn’tleaveheralone.
Nomattertheriskinvolved,nomatterhowItriedtopretendlikeshedidn’texist—Icravedher.Notinthewayyoucraveacigaretteorabeer,either,butinthewayyoucraveatallglassoficewaterafteragruelingworkout.
Ididn’tjustwanttotouchher.
Ineededto.
Andtherefore,Icouldn’tholdmyselfback.
Ikickedoffthewallhardonmynextlap,grindingmyteeth.BecausethefactofthematterwasthatIhadtoholdmyselfback.Ihadtofigureoutawaytosnuffthisachingdesireforherbeforeitchewedmeupandspitmeoutontheothersideofmyshattereddream.
Footballwaseverythingtome.Italwayshadbeen.
Icouldn’tthrowthatallaway.
ItriedtocementthatintomythickskullasIswam,andfinally,myarmsandlegsburnedenoughthatIstoppedandcameupforair.
Iwasinthedeepend,andIhungmyarmsovertheedgeofthepool,chestheavingwitheverybreathIstruggledtotake.Myheartwasracing,bodyonfirewiththeintensityoftheworkout.ButIfeltgood—satedinthewayonlyabrutalcardiosessioncouldwarrant.
“Impressive.”
Istartled,whippingaroundattheunexpectedvoicethatnearlymademejumpoutofmyfuckingskin.
Andthereshewas,JulepLee,sittingontheedgeoftheotherendofthepoolinathongandsportsbrawithherbarefeetswingingidlyinthewater.
Icouldn’thelpthewaymyeyestrailedslowlyupthelengthofher,overherexposedthighsandabdomen,thelinesofhercollarbone,allthewayuptohereyesthatwerewatchingmejustascarefully.Sheheldmygazeforamomentbeforequicklytyingherhairupinaknotontopofherhead,andthenshepressedherpalmsintothetileoneithersideofherhips,carefullylifting.
Andsheslidinchbyinchintothewater.
Iswallowed,watchingherlegsandwaistdisappearunderthesurfacebeforeshebeganwalkingtowardme,herfingersskatingalongthetopofthewaterasshedid.
“Howdoesyourshoulderfeelafterthat?”
Iwipedahandovermyface,stillholdingontotheedgeofthepool.“Myshoulderisn’tanissueanymore.”
“Oh?”sheasked,pausingattheedgeofthepooloncethewaterhitthetopofherchest.Shestretchedherarmsoutovertheside.“So,what’stheissue,then?Whathasyouswimminglapsatalmostfiveinthemorning?”
Iletoutabreathofalaugh,lookingawayfromher.“Ithinkwebothknowtheanswertothat.”
Shedidn’trespond,butwhenIlookedbackather,allhintsofasmileweregone.Sheswallowedundertheweightofmygaze,hereyesflickingbetweenmine
Itookabreath,disappearingunderthewaterandkickingoffthewall.Iswamtowardher,herlegsandhipsablurredvisionthroughthechlorinethatburnedmyeyesuntilIstoppedjustafewfeetawayfromwhereshestood.Ipoppedup,inhalingabreathandrunningmyhandovermyhairtogetitoutofmyface.
Shetiltedherchinalittlehigher,likeshewastryingtoprovesomething,butIdidn’tmisshowherbreathcaughtinherthroatforamomentbeforeshewasabletoexhale.
“Whyareyouhere?”
“Icouldn’tsleepeither,”sheconfessed,hervoiceaslowasawhisper.
Islowlywalkedtowardher,andagain,sheangledherjawup,chestpuffing,fingertipspressingintothetilewhereshehadherarmsoutstretchedlikeeverythinginsideherwantedtofleeandtheyweretheonlythingrootingherinplace.
“Whycouldn’tyousleep?”
Myvoicewaslow,husky,aquestionandadareallinone.
Julepswallowed.“Youknowwhy.”
Ipressedincloser,herchestheavingmoreandmoreasthatdistancebetweenusvanished.Ipausedrightinfrontofher,lessthananinchbetweenusunderthewater.Hereyesfelltomylips,andIsworeIcouldhearherheartbeatingevenoverthepoundingofmyown.
“I’mtiredofusaskingquestionswealreadyknowtheanswerto.”
Shejustwatchedme,waiting.
“Sayit,”Idemanded.“Tellmewhyyoucouldn’tsleep.”
Hereyelidsfluttered,butsheheldstrong,heldthemopen,hermouthclampedshutlikesherefusedtogivemeanysatisfaction.
So,Ipushedoverthatpencil-thinlinebetweenus,onehandunderthewaterskatingalongthelineofherbottomrib.
“Holden,”shebreathedonawarning,buthereyesclosed,herlipspartingaschillsracedoverherskin.
“Tellmewhyyoucouldn’tsleep,Julep,”Isaidagain,fingerslidingupthatribtothebottomedgeofhersportsbra.Itracedthat,too,staringdownatherchestasitswelledanddeflatedinrapidsuccession.Thetipofmynosefoundthebridgeofhers,butthenIstilled,notmovinganothercentimeterasIwaitedforherresponse.
Somethinglikeawhimperslippedoutofher,likeshe’ddieifIdidn’ttouchherfully,ifIdidn’ttakeherthewayeverycellinmybodyyearnedto.
Sheswallowed,hereyespoppingopenandconnectingwithmine.
“Icouldn’tsleepbecausewhenIundressedandcrawledunderthosesheets,mybodyburnedfromthememoryofyourhandbetweenmylegs.”
Shesaidthewordssoconfidently,withoutanounceofshame,thechallengeinhereyesmeetingmyown.
Juleppressedintome,herchesttouchingthebottomofmyribs,andsheliftedherchinsothatherlipsbrushedagainstminewhenshespokeagain.
“AndIcouldn’trelievethatache,”sheconfessed.“NotevenwhenIslidmyownfingersinsidemetotry.”
Mynextexhaleshutteredoutofme,andIclosedmyeyesasmycockhardenedatthethoughtofthepictureshe’dpainted.
“Diditfeellikeme?”Iasked,dippingmyheadandrunningthetipofmynosealongherjaw.“Whenyoutouchedyourself,diditfeellikewhenItouchedyou?”
“No.”
“Andso,youcouldn’tsleep.”
“Icouldn’tsleep.”
“Andhereyouare.”
“AndhereIam,”sheechoed.
Thecornerofmymouthtwitchedupinahalf-smile,andIshookmyhead,bitingmylowerlipandwillingmyselftofindsomekindofrestraint,somekindoftethertorealitythatwouldpullmeawayfromherandremindmeIwasplayingwithfire.
“Thetruthis,itwassobrief…”shesaidwhenIwasquiettoolong,andIfeltthefeather-lighttouchofherfingertipsunderthewaterastheywalkedalongtheridgesofmyabdomen.“Whenyoutouchedmetonight.”
Iclosedmyeyesonabreath.
“Icouldn’tquiterememberwhatitfeltlikeatall…”
Thatsentencewasalie.
Thatliewasbait.
Andlikethewrithingfoolthatshe’dreducedmeto,Itookit.
“Letmeremindyou,”Irasped.
HerbreathcaughtwhenIclosedthesliverofdistancebetweenus,myhandsframingherface,bodypressingheragainsttheedgeofthepoolsohardIknewithadtosting.Butshepushedbackjustasmuch,chinlifting,eyesnarrowingwithatauntingmalice.
AndIkissedher.Julep
ThehardedgeofthepoolbitintomybackjustasHolden’steethbitintomyflesh.
Hetuggedatmybottomlip,elicitingamoanIcouldn’tcontrolfrommebeforehekissedmesilent.Hishandsheldmyface,thumbsliningmyjawashisfingerscurledaroundmyneckandheldmetohim.
Ithurt.IthurtandyetIwantedmore,neededmore,andsoIpushedbackinequalmeasure.
Islidmyhandsunderhisarms,nailsdiggingintohisshouldersbeforeIdraggedthemdownthelengthofhisback.Hehissed,andthenhekneedmylegsapart,rollingthehardlengthofhimselfagainstmycenter.
Myheartthunderedinmyears,drowningoutthesoundofmydesperatemoanatthefeelingofhowmuchhewantedme.Ididn’twanttoteaseanymore.Ididn’twanttoplay.
Iwantedallofhim,insideme,now
Frantically,Ireachedbetweenus,draggingmynailsdownhisabdomenashethrashedbeneaththetouch.Iusedonehandtopullthetightbandofhisbriefsawayfromhisskin,andtheotherhanddiveddown,wrappingaroundhishard,thickshaft.
Hegroaned,andIgasped,bothatthefeelofhimthrobbinginmyhandandthepainofhisteethsinkingintomyneck.Hebithardenoughtoleaveamark,suckingtheskintherelikehewantedtobrandme.
AndIlethim.
IsqueezedwhereIheldhim,rollingmyhandfromhisbasetothemushroomtip.Islidmyhandoverthatsensitiveareabeforefistingitbackdown,pushingwithmyhipsbehindit.
“Fuck,”Holdenhissed,andhebrokeourkiss,pressinghisforeheadtomineashestareddownatwhereItouchedhimunderthewater.Heflexedintomyhandonthesecondpump,andIsawstars,bodyhummingwiththethoughtofwhatitwouldfeelliketohavehimflexinginsideme,instead.
Suddenly,Holdenclampedhishandsdownonmywrists,hikingthemupandoutofthewater.HismouthcrashedagainstmineassoonasIreleasedhim,andthenhisthumbsslippedunderthebandofmythongoneitherside.
“Lift,”hedemandedagainstmylips,andIbarelyhadtimetoregisterwhathemeant,toputmyhandsonthehardtileandpushasheroughlyrippedmypantiesdown.Hetorethemovermythighs,myknees,sheddingthemoffoneankleandthentheotherasIliftedmyhipsabovethewater.
Assoonasmythongwasgone,hishandsfoundmywaist,andhehelpedmetherestofthewayup,sittingmeontheedgeofthepool.Heslidthosehandsalongmyinnerthighsandpressed,openingme.
AndthereIwas,splayedwide,thecoolairwashingovermyscorchingskin.Holdentookhistime,hisgazerakingovereveryinchofwhereIwasspread,likehewasstudyingmypussyasifitwereaplaybook,instead.Hetentativelyranhishandsfrommykneesupmyinnerthighsagain,pressingevenmore,steppingevencloser.
Icouldn’tdoanythingotherthanrestmyweightonmyhandsandholdmyselfuprighttowatchhim,andeverybreathwasharderthanthelastasheinchedcloserandcloser.
Hisjawtickedasheslidonehanduptohookaroundmyhip,andtheotherteasedthecreasesofmythighs.Isquirmed,twistingmyhipstotrytogethishandwhereIreallywantedhimtotouch,andwithasmirk,heobliged.
Holden’sfingersdippedbetweenmylegs,andheranhishotpalmagainstmysensitivebundleofnervesbeforeslidingafingeralongwhereIwaswetandaching.Hetoyedwithmyentrance,justthetipofhisfingerpressinginbeforeheslickedbackupandImewledattheloss.
“Youfeelsofuckinggood,”hebreathed,chestheaving.Hiseyesdarteduptomine.“Let’sseehowyoutaste.”
Somethingbetweenagaspandamoanrippedfrommythroatashishandshookedatthetopofmythighs,yankingmetotheedgeofthepooluntilmyasshungoffit.Hegavemeawickedgrinbeforeburyinghisfacebetweenmylegs,andIfeltthefirstlashofhistonguelikeaboltoflightningstraighttomycore.
“Oh,fuuu—”
IheldontothetileasbestIcould,fingertipssteeplingagripasstarsinvadedmyvision.Ileanedtooneside,balancingmyweightsoIcouldusemyfreehandtorakethroughHolden’shairandshoveitoutoftheway.
Iwantedtoseewherehelickedme,wherehesuckedme,towatchhisdarkgreeneyesasheswirledhistonguearoundmyclit.
Pleasuresparkedfromthetouch,andIrelapsedback,archingmyspineandlettingmyheadfalllaxsoIcouldsoakupeveryounceofthatfeeling.MyheartracedsofastIthoughtI’dpassout,bloodboilingundermyskinwithmyclimaxbuildingmoreandmorewitheachlick.
Itwassinful,howexpertlyhistonguelashedagainstmyclitbeforehe’drunitflatandhotoverthelengthofme.AndjustwhenIthoughtI’dcombust,hefocusedonthatbudofme,pinningmewithonehandastheotherslidunderhischin.
TwofingersstretchedmeopenasImuffledacry.
“Fuck,yes,”Ibreathed,lookingbackdownathimwithhoodedeyes.Hekepthisgazeonmeasheworked,circlinghistongueandcurlingthosefingersinsideme.Hepumpedthemin,once,twice,andthenheldthemthere,wigglingthematthetoplikehewascoaxingmyorgasmfromtheverydepthofmybeing.
Mylegsquakedoneithersideofhim,thereflextoostrongtooverpower.Andjustasmyclimaxbegantoroilthroughme,justasthefirebegantocatch…
Thedooropened.
“Shit,”Holdenmurmured,andinafeatofspeedIdidn’tknowexisted,heyankedmedownintothewater.
Ialmostcriedatthelossofmyrelease,butHoldenheldafingertiptohislipstoshushme,hiseyeswatchingtheoldergentlemanwho’djustwalkedin.Themanlookedtobeinhisfifties,withsaltandpepperhairandablack,furrychest.Themanhummedtohimselfashestrodeovertoachairandslunghistowelovertheedgeofit.ItwasthenthatIsawtheearbudsinhisears,andHoldenreleasedabreath.
Slowly,hedippedunderthewater.Iwasn’tsurewhatforuntilheemergedandpressedmythongintomyhandsunderthesurface.
Wordlessly,Islippedthembackon,allwhileHoldenwatchedournewvisitor.Mypulseranginmyears.
Whenthemansteppedontothefirststairleadingintothewater,hefinallylookedup,andheseemedsurprisedtofindusthere.Heliftedahandinafriendlygreeting,smilinglikehewasproudofusforbeinginthe5AMclub,andHoldennoddedback.
Wewaiteduntilhedoveinandbegantoswim,andthenHoldenhoistedmeupbeforeliftinghimself.Hegrabbedmyhand,tuggingmetomyfeet.
Andthenwewererunningaswetriednottolaugh.
Iscoopedmytowelandoversizedt-shirtoffonechairashegrabbedhisshirtandtoweloffanother,andthenwithourwetfeetpaddingalongthetile,werantowardthehallwaythatledtothehotellobby.
ButHoldenslidtoastopatthesightofacoupleofhisteammatestalkingtothepersonatthefrontdesk.
“Whythehellaresomanypeopleawake?”Ihissedonalaugh.
Holdencursed,butheseemedtolovethesightofmesmiling,becauseheleanedtowardmelikehewantedtokissmesobadhecouldn’tresist.Somehow,hedid,tuggingmetheoppositewaybeforehisteammatessawus.Heranstraightforthedoorthatledoutside,thefirstbitofdawnturningtheskyadarkpurpleasweslungoutintothecold.
“Holyshit,it’sfreezing!”Igasped,butIlaughedevenastheicygroundbitintomybarefeet.Holdenstillheldontomyhandashelookedaroundfrantically,andthenhescoopedmeintohisarms.
Mylaughterwasincontrollablenowashejuggledmeandallourbelongingsinhisarms,runningaroundthebacksideofthehotelasquietlyashecould.
“Wouldyoubequiet,”hewarned,straininghisownlaughter.
Itriedandfailedasheusedhiskeytoopenthebackdoorneartheelevators,andthenhescannedleft,right,beforeshovingthroughadoormarkedstaffonly
Itwasdarkinside,andhedroppedmetomyfeetbeforeflickingonalight.
Housekeepingsupply.
Bothofuswerebreathinghard,andHoldenwatchedmeforonesecondbeforeweburstintoanotherfitoflaughter.
Thenextsecond,hehadmepinnedagainstthedoor.
Hekissedme,silencingmylaughandinstantlylightingthatflickeringflameinsideme.Myorgasmthathadbeensoclosetocatchingfiredupatthetouch,soreadytocombustIthoughtitmighthappenfromthekissalone.
“Weshouldstop,”Ibreathedagainsthismouth.
“Weshould,”hebreathedback,buthewasalreadyslidingmythongdownmythighs,handsreachingformysportsbranext.Hepeeleditoffme,thewetfabriclandingonthegroundwithathwack
“Someonecouldwalkin.”
“Anysecond,”heagreed,butheshovedhisownbriefsdown,then,andIgapedathishardlengththatsprangforward.
God,hehadabeautifulcock.
Itangleduptowardhisabs,andhewassowellequippedthatthetipofhimtouchedhisbellybutton.Ilickedmylips,reachingout.
WebothmoanedwhenIwrappedmyhandsaroundhim,myeyesflutteringshutwithhimthrobbinginmypalms.
Ididn’twanttoplayanymore.
Iturned,archingmyassandfittinghimtomyentrance.Islippedhiscrownintomywetness,bitingmylipandfeelinghighatthethoughtofhimfillingme
ButitwaslikethatwasfinallythezingofwarningthatbroughtHoldenbacktoreality.
Hestoppedme,cursingandflippingmearoundtofacehimagainashetriedtosteadyhisbreathing.Hishandsfoundmyface,slidingupuntiltheytangledinmyhair.Hepulledoutmyhairtie,rubbingmyscalpwithhisfingertipasIsighedatthesensation.
“Wecan’t…”Hecroaked,pressinghisforeheadtomineashishandsframedmyheadagainstthedoor.Hemuffledacurse.“Idon’t…Idon’thaveacondom.”
Whydidhearinghimsaythewordcondommakeeverynerveendinginmybodytingle?
Iresistedtheurgetopout.“Youdon’t?”
Hechuckledabit.“Well,Iwasn’texactlyexpectingthis.”
Ibitmylip,tryingtothink,tryingtofindanywaytonotlosethisfirethathadbeenachingtoburnforsolong.
“I’mclean,”Itoldhim,stillstrokinghimslowlywithmyhands.“Andonbirthcontrol.”
Heshookhishead,jawtightwithrestraint.
“Don’tstopnow,”Ibeggedhim,andIbithischinbeforekissinghimhard.“Youknowyouwantme,Holden.Youwantmesobadyoucan’tfuckingsleep.”
Isqueezedthetipofhim,hikingmythighupandtiltingmypelvisforwardtomeethimwithmyownneed.
“So,takeme,”Idared.“Takemelikethisistheonlytimeyouevercould.”
Iwasansweredwithagrowlofsurrender,oneIfeltvibratingthroughmeasIwasliftedofftheground.Therewasnotimeforworship,notimeforHoldentopalmmybreastsorcovermynippleswithhiswarm,wettongue.Notimeformetotakehimintomymouthandsavorthetasteofhim.
Notimeforanythingbuttheprimalneedwebothfeltflowingthroughourveins.
Holdenpinnedmehardagainstthedoor,likewewouldbethelockthatkeptanyonefrominterrupting.Onehandwrappedaroundmylowerbackastheotherslippedbetweenus,andhepressedhiscrowntomyentrancebeforehishandsfoundmyhipsagain.
Heflexed,justenoughforoneinchofhiscocktopressinsideme,andIshutteredwithamoanIcouldn’tcontain.
Holdenclampedahandovermymouth,mufflingmynextmoanasheslidoutjustenoughtocoathimselfandthrustbackin.Thistime,heburiedhimself,andIbitdownonhisfingertokeepfromcryingoutandwakingeverypersoninthathotel.
“FuckingChrist,Julep.”Holdenshookashewithdrewandflexedinsideagain,savoringeveryinch,hiscockstretchingmeopenforhim.Heremovedhishandfrommymouthandkissedmehard,instead—histongueswirlingwithminejustasithadbetweenmylegsinthepool.
Igaspedatthereminder,thememoryfreshinmymindasheflexedintomeagainandagain,alittlefasternow,harder.Ihungontohim,nailsrippingintohisfleshasIbouncedbetweenthedoorandhiscock.Irodehimwildly,needingmore,desperateforthereleaseI’dbeendeprivedofinthepool.
Holdenpressedharderintome,holdingmeassteadyashecouldwithmywildbouncingasonehandslippedbetweenus.Myfacewasredhotwiththerestraintofholdinginmycriesofpleasureasherubbedhispalmagainstme,workingmyclitintimewithhispulsesuntilIerupted.
Myorgasmsweptinlikeatsunami,twiceaspowerfulnowthatithadtobuildyetagain.Thistime,though,itcrested,swallowingmeupinariptidethatwasimpossibletoescape.Irodeittotheveryend,kissingHoldenhardenoughtokeepmefrommoaningtooloud.Iwrithedagainsthim,hipsrolling,hiscocksodeepinsidemeIcouldfeeleverycentimeterstretchingme.
Iwasfloating,inanotheruniverse,consumedbyuntouchablepleasure.
“Oh,fuck,”Holdenutteredagainstmylips,andIknewbyhowfranticallyhethrustnowthathewasclose,too.Buthesomehowmanagedtoslow,toletmemilkthelastofmyorgasmbeforeheallbutstoppedmoving.
Iheldontohim,panting.“Don’tstop.”
“Yousaidyoudon’tgetonyourkneesforanyone,”heteased,slidingthetipofhisnoseupthebridgeofminebeforekissingmehard.Histhrustsslowedjustasmuch,andIfelteverycentimeterofhimsearingintomeashesaid,“Iwantyouonyourkneesforme.”
Irefusedtoadmithowhotthatmademe,thewayhiseyessparkedwiththechallengeevenasthedegradationofwhathewasaskingsankitsteethintomysoul.
“Dropme,”Isaid.
Hedid,releasinghisgriponmeandwithdrawinghiscock.Ishutteredonceagainattheloss,fallingtomykneesimmediately.
ButwhenIwenttograbforhim,hepulledback.
Inarrowedmygazeupathim,butwhenIsawhim—reallysawhim—myfacewentlax.
Hewassofuckingpowerfullybeautifulstandingthere,theshadowsofhischeeksdefinedintheoverheadlight.Hisjawclenched,andheranhisthumbalongmybottomlip,pressinginuntilIopenedmymouth.
“Begforme.”
HewithdrewhisthumbasIsuckeditonthewayout,andagainsteverythingrationalandfeministinmybody,Ilookedupathim,tongueout,nakedandonmyknees.
“Please,”Iwhispered,reachingforhim.Whenheletmewrapmyhandsaroundhisshaft,Ipressedthetipofitagainstmytongue,pumpinghimonce,twice.“Please,Holden.”
Holden’sgrinwassalacious,andhefistedmyhairinhishands,pullingmyheadbackbeforeheslidallthewayinside.Hiseyesrolledbackthen,andhereleasedme,lettingmetakecontrol.Iworkedhimwithbothhandsinsyncwithmymouth,rollingmytongueoverthetipofhimandcasingmyhandsinmysalivabeforetwistingandrollingthemoverhisshaft.
“Jesus,Julep,”hebreathed,andthenhishandssplayedthedooraboveme,abscontractingandfacetwisting.
Hiseyesclosedjustbeforeheburstintomymouth.
Iclosedmylipsoverhim,suckinghimdry,savoringthetasteofhimonmytongueandglidingdownmythroat.Ididn’tstop,notwhenhemoanedmynameorslammedafistagainstthedoor,notuntilheshutteredandgroanedandfelllimpdowntothegroundwithme.
Andthen,withhiseyeslockedonmine,Iswallowed.
Ifellbackthen,oureyesstillconnectedinthedimlylitspacebetweenus.Hisbackwasagainstashelfoftowels,mineagainstthedoor,andwestaredateachother,panting,nakedandspent.
Ifeltitatthesametimehedid,therealityofwhatwe’djustdone,ofwherewewere,ofthedangerwewereinevenstill.Mydadwasinthishotel.Hecouldbeupstairssleepingstill,orhecouldbeinthelobby.Hecouldbeexitingtheelevatorsrightoutsidethisdoor.
Panicgrippedmeasfiercelyasmyorgasmhad.
“I’llgofirst,”Isaid,tearingmyeyesawayfromHolden.Istood,pullingonmythongandbrabeforeIdrapedmygiantt-shirtoverme.
“Julep,wait.”
Ifroze,eventhougheverythinginmybodytoldmetorun.
Slowly,Holdengottohisfeet.Hetookenoughtimetopullonhiswetbriefs,wincingashetuckedhisstill-hardcockintothewaistband.Then,hecrossedthesmallroomtowhereIstood,handsframingmyarms.HebentuntilIlookedhimintheeyes.
IimmediatelywishedIhadn’t.
Therewassuchtendernessthere,suchlongingandrelief—likewe’dcrossedsomebeaten-downhangingbridgeandmadeittosafetyontheotherside.
Hecouldn’thavebeenfurtherfromthetruth.
“Let’stalkwhenwegetback,”hesaid,hiseyesstillsearchingmine.
Iswallowed,lookingdownattheground.“Ineedtogo.”
“Promiseme,”hesaid,handsslidingupmyarmstoframemyface.HetiltedmyheaduntilIlookedathim.“Promisemewe’lltalk.”
Ibitmylip,butnodded,andthenhepulledmeinandkissedmeonadeepinhale,andforthatmoment,Iletmyselfsuccumbtothatbeautiful,contagiousreliefflowingoffhim.
Butthenext,Ibrokeaway.
AndIdippedoutoftheroomquickly,skippingtheelevatoraltogetherandjoggingupthestairs,instead.
GianaandRileyweresoundasleepwhenIgotbacktotheroom,oneofthemsoftlysnoringasIshutthedoorbehindmeasquietlyasIcould.Itiptoedintothebathroom,changingoutofmywetclothesbeforeIslippedintomyownbed.
Whenthealarmwentoffanhourlater,Ipretendedtowake,yawningandstretchinglikeI’dhadthebestnight’ssleepofmylife.Holden
“Moore.”
CoachLeebellowedoutmynameinthelockerroomafterpracticeonMonday,notevenglancingupfromhisclipboardasheroundedintohisoffice.
“Seemewhenyou’redressed.”
Hedisappearedinsidehisofficethen,shuttingthedoorbehindhimandslidingintohischair.
Zekearchedabrowatme.“What’dyoudo?”
Iswallowedtoavoidansweringthat,eventhoughIknewhewasteasing.BecauseeversinceJulepandIfuckedinthesupplyclosetofthehotel,I’dfeltlikeIwaswearinganeonblinkingsignthatsaidGUILTYinallcaps.
Isniffed.“Idon’tknow,butI’mguessingI’mabouttofindout.”
Myheartraced,throattightasIattemptedaswallow.Ithoughtthroughthatnight—orrather,morning—wonderingifI’dmissedhim,ifhe’dseenussomehow.ButthemoreItrackedthroughthememory,themoreIwascertainhecouldn’thave.
Wemightnothavebeenthemostcareful,butIknewhehadn’tcaughtus.
Mystomachstillbottomedout,though,ifnotfromCoachcallingmeintohisoffice,thenfromthefactthatIstillhadyettohearfromhisdaughter.
Julephadpromisedmewewouldtalkwhenwegotback,andyet,she’davoidedmelikethefuckingplague.Iknewshewasinherhead.Iknewshewassolidifyingallthereasonswhathappenedbetweenuscouldn’thappenagain.
IachedtostopthattrainofthoughtsobadlyIcouldbarelystandit.
ButIleftheralone,letherbe,ifonlybecauseIrespectedherenoughtoknowthatwhenshewantedtotalk—ifshewantedtotalk—she’dcometome.
Itwasexcruciating,knowingshewasrightacrossthestreetandnotbeingabletoreachher.WhatwasmoreexcruciatingwasthatnowthatI’dhadher,nowthatwe’dgivenin…
Icouldn’tfathomgoingbacktowhatwewerebefore.
Iwonderedifshefeltthesame.Iwonderedifshe’dfuckedmerightoutofhersystemorifsheburnedformethewayIdidforher.
“Ah,he’sgoingtoclearyoutoplay.That’smybet,”Leosaid,clappingmyshoulderandsnappingmebacktothepresent.“Andit’saboutdamntime.Weneedourcaponthatfield.”
Iranatowelovermydamphairfromtheshower,pullingonmyjoggersandhoodie.OnceIwasdressed,ImademywayintoCoach’sofficewithassteadyofaheartbeatasIcouldmanage.
CoachLeeglancedupatmewhenIswungthroughthedoor,andhejustgesturedtotheseatacrossfromhimbeforegettingbacktowhateverhewastypingonhiscomputer.Whenhewasdone,hesatback,steeplinghisfingersoverthetopofhisstomach.Hewatchedmeforalong,weightedpause.
“Iheardyouwentforanearlymorningswimatthehotel.”
Myheartstoppedbeating,free-fallingthroughmybodyasIstaredatCoachandwilledmyselfnottoshowanounceofemotion.
“Idid,”Iansweredcarefully.
Hiseyeswerehardonmine,hisbrowfurrowed.“Ialsoheardtherewasagirlwithyou.”
Fuck.
Fuck,fuck,fuck.
Ididn’trespond.Ijustswallowed,waitingtoseewhathe’dsaynext.Hesaidagirl,hedidn’tsayJulep.Iheldontoanyfractionofhopethathedidn’tknowitwasher.
Hemusthavebeenfriendswiththeoldermanwhocametothepool,theonewhosawus.
Coachblewoutabreath,shakinghishead.“Look,Iwasyoungonce,too,okay?Iknowwhatit’sliketohave…urges.”
Ihadtofighttokeepthecringeoffmyface.
“But,whenwetravelasateam,youmorethananyoneelseneedtobesettingtheexampleforhoweveryoneelseshouldbehave.FuckingagirlinthehotelpoolatfiveinthemorningisnottheexampleI’mtalkingabout.”
Reliefspiraledthroughme,becausebythatsentencealone,Iknewhedidn’tknowitwashisdaughterIhadpinnedagainsttheedgeofthatpool.
“Yes,sir,”Isaid,hopingIlookedlikeadogwithhistailbetweenhislegs.Ididn’tevenofferanargumentorexplanation.Iwantedhimtohavethepower,tofeellikehewasinfullcontrol.
Coachwatchedmeamomentlonger,thensmirked,shakinghisheadasheleanedforward.“Tobeyoungagain,”hesaid,thenhesmackedhishandonthedesk.“You’rebackin,Moore.”
Igapedathim.“Sir?”
“We’reputtingyoubackin,fullpractice,startingtomorrow.Andyou’llstartthisSaturdayinthehomegameagainstCharlotte.”
Icouldn’thidemyemotionanylonger.Asmilesplitmyface,butbeforeIcouldrespond,Coachhelduponethickfingerandpointeditrightatme.
“Thisisaprobationperiod,”hewarned.“Ifweseeanysignsofyourshoulderinjuryflaringup,you’llbeout,andIdon’twantanyargumentsoverit.”
Inoddedemphatically.“Yes,sir.”
“AndIalsodon’twantanyofthatattitudeyouwerethrowingmeatthebeginningoftheseason,”headded.“Russotakesinstruction.Helearnsquickly.AndIhatetosayit,son,buthe’sshownhecanstepupanddothejobinyourabsence.”
Icouldn’tswallowdowntheknotinmythroat.
“Iknowyou’realeader,”hecontinued.“AndIlikethataboutyou,Ido.Thewholeteamlookstoyou,andthat’sasignofagoodQB1.”Hepaused.“Butthatdoesn’tmeanyoucanoverridemeascoach.There’salevelofrespectIamdue,andsometimesthatmeansshuttingupanddoingwhatItellyoutodoevenifyouthinkyouknowbetter.Understand?”
Inodded.“Yes,sir.”Myvoicewasweakerthistime.
“Wedidfinewithoutyou,andwecandoitagain,”headded,rubbingsaltinthewoundashesatback.“Sodon’tpushme.”
Isatthereforalongmoment,unsureofwhattosay,whattodo.
“You’redismissed,”hefinallysaid.“Checkinwiththetrainingstaffinthemorningtoseewhattheywantyouworkingonbeforeandafterpracticesnowthatyou’refullout.”
Iclearedmythroat,standing,andheadedforthedoor.Whenmyhandreachedforthehandle,Coachsaid,“AndMoore?”
Iturned.
“I’mnotanidiot.IknowyouhavefeelingsforJulep.”
Iceswaminmyveins,butImanagedtostaycalm,toblinkandneitherconfirmnordeny.
“Snuffthemoutnow,son,”hewarned.“BecauseifyouthinkIwon’tpullyouoffthisteamandblameyourshoulderinjurywhetherit’sactingupornot,youdon’tknowmeatall.”
“JulepandIarejustfriends,”Isaid.
Hesethisjaw,givingmeapointedlook.“Anditbetterstaythatway.”
Coachturnedbacktohiscomputer,andIsawmyselfout,heartthumpinginmyearsasIdid.
Julep
“God,Imisssummer.”
Rileybalancedherchinontheheelofherpalm,eyesglossingwheretheystaredoutthefloor-to-ceilingwindowsofthestadiumcafeteria.Itwassleeting,anuglymixofsnowandicethatIwasnotlookingforwardtodrivinginaftermylastclassoncampus.
“Notme,”Gianachimedin,crackingthetoponherMountainDew.SheopenedherbagofCheetosnext,andImarveledathowsomeoneastinyashercouldputawayprocessedsugarandsaltlikethat.“Thisisperfectreadingweather.Justme,mybook,maybeacracklingfireplaceandsomecozysocks.”Shesighedhappily,asifshecouldpictureitall.“Heaven.”
“WheredoIfitinthispicture?”Clayteased,housingabiteofhischickensandwichwithabrowarchedather.
“You’readdinglogstothefire,”shesaid,asifitwasobvious.“Andthenpullingmeintoyourlaponceyou’redone.Andthenwe’retherecuddlingaswebothread.”
“Clay,readingabook?That’srich.”Leosnorted,andClaysmackedhimupsidetheheadwithhisnapkin.
Ismiledastheycontinued,buttheynolongerheldmyattention—becauseHoldenhadjusttakentheseatrightnexttoClay.
Hesatdownwithoutlookingatanyoneinparticular,hislonglegsstraddlingthebenchbeforeheturnedtowardthetablefully.Heworedarkgrayjoggersthistimeandawhitehoodie,onethatillustratedhowridiculouslytanhewasforthistimeofyear.Daysanddaysofworkingoutinthesunwereevidencedinthebronzeglowofhisface,hisforearmswherehe’dshovedthesleevesofhishoodieupabit.Hisjawwassetasheshruggedoffhishood,hishairstilldampfromtheshowers.
Hereachedforhisfork,andthenhiseyesshotuptomine.
Aflashofthatnightatthepoolstruckmelikelightning,thesoundofhisheavybreaths,thefeelofhishandspinningme,ofhimburyinghimselfinsideme.
Itoremygazeaway,lookingdownatmyownplateasIreachedforaFrenchfryandpoppeditintomymouth.Itwasblandandhardtoswallowwithhowdrymymouthwas.
Ididn’tevenrecognizemyselfanymore,notsinceSaturdaynight.Ididn’tknowthegirlwho’ddancedwithHoldenMoore,who’dfoundhimatthepooland—insteadofturningaroundandgoingrightbacktoherroom—hadstayedandwatchedhim,instead.
Watchedhim,andthenteasedhim,andthensurrenderedtohimcompletely.
Mycheeksflamedatthememoryofhisheadbetweenmylegs,evenmoresoathowI’ddroppedtomykneesandquiteliterallybeggedforhim.
“Whataboutyou,Julep?”
Iblinked,mouthhanginghalfopenwithanotherfrybetweenmyfingers.“What?”
Rileysmirked.“AreyouacrazypersonwholovesthisweatherlikeGianaandZeke,ordoyoumisssummer,too?”
Isetthefrydown,shrugging.“Idon’tknow,thisisn’tsobadifyou’reinside.Idon’tnecessarilywanttobeoutdrivinginitlater,though.”
“Ugh,drivinginitistheworst,”Leoagreed.
“ButIdon’tmuchcarefortheheatofsummer,”Iadmitted.“IthinkIlikethespringthemost,thein-between,whenit’swarmbutnothot,andthenightsarestillchilly,andyoucanenjoythesunshinebutnotsweatyourassoff.”
“That’sfunny.”
AllheadsswungtoHolden,whotookabiggulpofhiswaterwithoutcontinuing.
“What’sfunny?”Iasked.
Heshrugged.“Ijustwouldhavepinnedyouasasummergirl,”hesaid,andhiseyeszeroedinonme.“SinceIknowyoulovetoswimsomuch.”
Flameslickedalongtheskinofmyneck,andwhenHolden’smouthcurledintoateasinggrin,Itriedmybesttogivehimawarningglarewithoutitbeingenoughthatanyoneelsewouldnotice.
Gianaturnedtome,confused.“Youswim,Julep?”
“Sometimes,”Ilied,becauseifIsaidno,it’djustraisetheirsuspicionmore.
“That’scool,”Rileysaid,smiling.
Shecarriedontheconversation,talkingabouthowherbrother,Gavin,andsheusedtoraceeachothertotheswimmingpooleverysummer.ButIwasn’tlisteninganymore,IwasstaringatHolden,whojustgrinnedrightbackatmeashecutapieceofhischickenbreastandbititofftheendofhisfork.
Claynarrowedhiseyesatmefirst,thenatHolden,andthenIlookedbackdowntomyplatebeforehecouldtrytoputanyotherpiecestogether.
“Ineedtorun,”Isaidsuddenly.“IforgotaboutsomethingJBneededmetoworkon.”
“ArewestillonforstudyingonSunday?”GianaaskedasIstood.
“Yeah,sure,”Isaidwithoutthinking,andthenIbolted.
IknewhewasfollowingmebeforeIeventurnedtoconfirmit,andIwaiteduntilI’ddumpedmytrayandswungintothehallway.Then,Iglancedovermyshoulder,andcutahardleftintothefirstroomthatwasunlocked.Itwasprimarilyusedforreviewinggamefilm,anditwasdarkwhenHoldenfollowedmeinside.
Ipulledtheblindsclosedassoonashedidandturnedthelock.
“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”Ihissed.
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
Iscoffed,foldingmyarms.Icouldonlyseeasoftsilhouetteofhimwiththelonesliveroflightbeamingin-betweentheshadeandtheedgeofthewindow.
“Areyoutryingtogetuscaught?”
“I’mtryingtogetyoutotalktome.Likeyoupromised.”
Iclampedmymouthshut,ignoringtheacheinmychestathiswords.“Holden,wemadeamistake.”
Thatwordhungbetweenuslikeadeathsentenceforalong,weightedpause.
“Isthatwhatthatwas?”Hetestedthespacebetweenus,hishandjustgentlyrestingonmyhip.Hethumbedtheskinthere,andIclosedmyeyesbeforeforcingmyselftostepback.
“Yes.”
“Yousureaboutthat?”
Onceagain,hesteppedintome,thistimebothhandsholdingmywaistashebackedmeintothewall.Igaspedatthefeelofhimpressinginonme,atthewarmthofhiminvadingmyspace.Hepressedalightkisstomyneck,hismouthhoveringthereashespokeagain.
“Didn’tfeellikeamistaketome.”
Iwetmylips,dizzyfromhistouch.“Thenyou’reblind.Oranidiot.Orboth.”
“Wedidn’tgetcaught.”
Isobered,pressingmyhandstohischestandseparatingus.“Andyethereweare,testingthepossibilityofthatyetagain.”
Holden’sbreathwaslabored,justlikethatnightatthepool,andeventhoughIcouldn’tseehimclearly,Iknewthefirethatlivedinsidemewasburninginhiseyes,too.
“Look…”Isaid,huffing.“I…Ihadfun.Webothdid.But…”Ishookmyhead.“I’veonlyjustearnedmydad’strust.Idon’twanttoruinthat.Andyouwerejustclearedtoplayagain,”Iremindedhim,knowingthatmyfatherhadleftthetrainingroomearliertogotellHoldenhewasinforthegameonSaturday.“Doyoureallywanttothrowthatallaway?”
Hedidn’tanswerme.
Isighed,takingasteptowardhim.IreachedoutuntilIcouldtouchhisface,achingwhenheleanedintomypalm.
“Wecan’t,Holden.”Ishookmyhead.“Wejust…can’t.”
“Whatifnoonehadtoknow?”
Ialmostlaughed.“Someonewillfindout.”
“No,theywon’t.”
“Theywill.”
“How?”
Ishookmyhead,grapplingwithwords.“Because,”Isaid,floundering.“Theyjustwill.”
“We’resmart,”hesaid,steppingintomewithmoreconfidence.Hebackedmeintothewallagain,kneeslidingbetweenmylegsandjoltingthememoryofthepoolrightbacktothesurfaceofmymind.Iinhaledabreathandhelditwhenhislipsbrushedagainstmine.“Wecankeepitsecret.”
“So,that’swhatyouwant?”Iasked,hatinghowmychestached.“Asecret?”
“Iwantyou,”heshotback,andhishandspinnedmyhipsthen,palmsroughlyslidingupandovermyribcage.Iletmyeyesfluttershutwhenhisthumbsbrushedthebottomofmybreasts.“Andifquietlyistheonlywayyou’llletmehaveyou,I’lltakeit.”
Iswallowed,writhingunderhistouchashispalmsslidupandcuppedmybreastsundermythinbralette.Mynippleshardenedoftheirownwill,andIwhimperedwhenHoldenranthepadofhisthumboverwheretheypeaked.
“Iwasn’tsogoodatbeingquietlasttime,”Ibreathed.
Holdengrinnedagainstmylips,hisbodysaggingonarelievedbreathattheteaselikehe’dwon.
Andmaybehehad.
MaybeIwantedhimtowinthisargument,toconvincemewecoulddotheimpossible.
ThatIcouldhavehim,evenifonlybehindcloseddoors.
“Let’sseeifyoucandobetterthistime,”hehusked.
AnyargumentIhadleftdiedonmylipswhenhecoveredthemwithhis,kissingmehardandpressingmeintothecoldwall.
ThatconnectionwasallI’dthoughtaboutsincethelasttimeI’dhadit.I’ddreamedabouthishandsonme,aboutthewayhetasted,aboutthegroanshemadewhenhetouchedme.Butthefantasywasnowherenearthereality,nowherenearaspotentorintoxicating.AndnowthatIhadhimenvelopingmeagain,Iknewnothingcouldcompare.
Hishandsfoundmyass,lifting,andIwrappedmylegsaroundhiswaist.HetrailedhiskissesdownmyneckasIarchedintohim,handstanglinginhishair.
Then,hewascarryingme.
Blindly,heping-pongedbetweendesksandchairs,weavingthroughthedarkuntilwewereinthefarcorneroftheroomawayfromthedoor.Icouldn’tseeathingbackhere,soIletoutalittleyelpofsurprisewhenheloweredusbothdowntotheground.
“Shhh,”heteasedagainstmylips,andthenhekissedme,andtrailedlowerandlower,lipstastingmyskinallthewaydown.
Hisfingertipsslidunderthebandofmyleggingsandmythongatonce,andIliftedmyhipsintimeforhimtopeelthemdownovermyhips.Myheartracedasthecoolairwashedoverme,ashetorethemoffonelegandthentheother.
“Comehere,”hehusked,andthenhewasonhisback,pullingmeontopofhim.
Ireachedforhisjoggers,butbeforeIcouldstriphim,heclampedhishandsaroundmywrists.
“Ididn’tgettofinishtastingyou,”hesaid,hisvoicelowashemaneuveredlowerunderneathme.Hereleasedmywristsonlytohikeonethighupandthentheother,untilIwasstraddlinghisshoulders,hoveringjustabovehisface.Ifelttheheatofhisbreathwhenheadded,“Don’tmakeasound.”
Holdenwrappedhishandsaroundthetopsofmythighs,pullingmedownuntilIsatonhismouth.
Agasprippedfrommeatthefirstcontact,butIcutitshort,silencingmyselfasheflickedmewithhistongue,testingthesensitivity.IwasalreadysoworkedupjustfromthefactthatIwashalfnakedinaverypublicplace,somuchsothatonelickhadmereadytocombust.
“Sofuckingsweet,”hewhispered,andthenhesuckedmyclit,swirlinghistonguearounditwiththataddedpressure.
Isawstars,thrustingmyhipsforwardinmydesperationformore.Holdenansweredbygrabbingmyassandhelpingmerockagainsthismouth.Hestuckhistongueoutanddraggedmypussyoverit,backandforth,thefirm,wetwarmthofhimtastingeveryinch.
Ididn’tknowwhattodowithmyhands,butIachedtohavemorecontact,soIshovedmycroptopandbraletteupuntilIexposedmybreaststothecoldair,too.Mynipplespebbledbeneathit,andIpalmedmyself,squeezinginsyncwithHolden’sgriponmyass.
“Fuckyeah,touchyourselfwhileIeatthisperfectpussy,”Holdenbreathed,andhetargetedmyclitagain,tighteningthetipofhistonguetocircleitinquickburststhatmademylegsquakearoundhim.“Iwantyoutocomeonmytongue.”
Iwhimpered,squeezingmyeyesshutasmyfacegrewhotterandhotterfromtherestraintofholdinginthecriesIsodesperatelywantedtorelease.Ilovedhowfilthythosewordswere,howeasilyhesaidthem.
HoldenMoorewasallstoicleadershipforeveryoneelse.
Butforme,hecameundone.
Mybreathgrewshallower,pulseringinginmyearsasIchasedtheexplosionrumblingtolifeinsideme.IrolledmyhipssowildlyIwonderedifithurthim,butheonlygrippedmyasstighter,holdingmeagainsthismouthandgivingmeallthepressureIneededtofindrelease.
TheroughBerbercarpetdugintomyknees,butIgroundandgroundagainsthimuntilatingleshotupfrommytoes.Ishutteredaroundhim,myorgasmasincineratingasanuclearbombwhenitcaught.
Icouldn’thelphowhardIbreathed,orthepassionatecriesthattorethroughmyrestraint.ButHoldendidn’tstop,didn’ttrytoquietme—hejustlickedandsuckedandheldmeagainsthimasIrodeoutthelongestorgasmofmylife.Itjustkeptgoing,keptrolling,andHoldenlappedupeverylastdropofmyreleaselikeitwastheairheneededtobreathe.
Slowly,thepleasurebegantofade,andInoticedthenhowmuchIwastrembling,howhardI’dbeenshakenwhenIcollapsed.Myhandsflewforward,catchingtheflooraboveHolden’shead,andIcouldonlyseethetiniesthintofasmilethroughthedarknessashepressedasoftkisstomyclitthatmademeshiveragain.
Ipantedoutalaugh,shakingmyheadandhissingasIcarefullymaneuveredoffhim.Mylegsalreadyached,heartstillracinghardinmychest.
“Isuckatbeingquiet,”Iwhispered.
Holdenletoutarumbleofalaugh,pullingmeintohischestandkissingmyforehead.Forabrief,beautifulmoment,heheldmelikethat,hishandrunningthroughmyhairwhileminedrewcirclesonhischest.
Italmostfeltnormal.
Italmostfeltlikewewererightwherewebelonged.
Then,heclearedhisthroat.“Weshould…”
“Yeah,”Isaidbeforehecouldfinish,andIjumpedoffhim,pattingthegrounduntilIfoundmypantiesandleggings.Istood,pullingthemononebyone.“Yougofirst.Wehadatrainingmeetinginherethismorning.IcanpretendIleftsomethingbehind.”
I’djustpulledmyleggingsupandrightedmybralettewhenHolden’shandsfoundmyhips.
Ilookedupjustintimeforhimtokissme.
Itastedmyselfonhistongue,andthatsentashockofdesireripplingthroughmeasIexhaledagainsthiskiss.
“Go,”Iurged,eventhoughmyhandshadwoundintohishairnow,holdinghimtome.
Hekissedmeharder,deeper,everyinchofhimwrappingupeveryinchofmelikehecouldn’tgetcloseenoughevenifhecouldmeldtogetherandmakeusonebeing.
Suddenly,thedoorknobjostled.
Webrokethekiss,bothofuswide-eyedaswelookedatthedoor.
“Shit,doyouhaveyourkey,Hoover?”
Thevoicewasmuffled.
ButIknewwithoutquestionthatitwasmydad’s.
HoldensprangintoactionbeforeIcouldevenprocessthatIneededtoinhalesoIdidn’tpassout.Hegrabbedmyhandandpulledmetowardthedoor,shovingmebehindwhereitopened.Heheldafingertohislips,eyespanickedashelookedfromthedoortomeandbackagain.Then,hepulledhishoodoverhisheadandslunkdowninthefirstdeskhesaw,restinghisheadonhisarms.
He’dbarelystoppedmovingwhenthedoorswungopen.
Istoppedbreathing,holdingmyhandouttohaltthedoorbeforeitcouldslamintowhereIwaspressedupagainstthewallhiding.Dadflickedonthelight,andthenhesawHoldenandcursed,turningitbackoff.
“IsthatMoore?”CoachHooverwhisperedbehindhim,stillinthehallway.
Dadnodded,andIprayedhewouldn’tmovefartherin,thathewouldn’tshutthedoorandfindmestandingbehindit.
“He’sexhausted,”Hooversaid,keepinghisvoicelow.“They’vebeenputtinghimthroughhellinthetrainingroom.Andnowfull-outpractice.”
“Let’slethimsleep,”Dadsaid,leadingHooverbackout.“Wecanusethenextroomover.”
Iwilledmyselfnottobreatheuntilthedoorclickedshut,andthenIletoutarelievedsigh,coveringmychestwheremyheartgallopedsohardandfast,Ithoughtitwasabouttogiveout.
Holdenwaitedamomentlongerbeforehepeekedoverhisshoulderatthedoorfirst,thenatme.
Hecrookedasmile,wagglinghisbrowsasiftosay,See?Wegotthis.
EvenasIshookmyheadandrolledmyeyes,Ifeltmyselfsmile,too.
Thatsmilewasasurrender.
Andthegamesbegan.Holden
I’dneverbeensounfocusedinmyentirelife.
Fallwasalwaysablurforme—awhirlwindofearlymorningweightliftingandpracticesthatdrippedfromthemorningintotheearlyafternoon.WhenIwasn’tinclass,Iwaspracticingortrainingorwatchingfilm.Andeveryweekend,Iledmyteamontothefieldforagame.
FootballconsumedmefromthemomentIopenedmyeyeseachmorninguntiltheverysecondmyheadhitthepilloweachnight.Andeventhen,Idreamedaboutfootball,aboutpassingroutesandthefeelingofturfundermycleatsandjoggingthroughthetunnelonaperfect,gray,coolday.
Butthisseason?
IwasconsumedbyJulepLee.
She’dbeendistractingbefore.I’dlovedanyopportunitytogetunderherskin,topushherbuttons,toteaseherandseeifIcouldearnmyselfablushoraneyerollorasnarkyshotbackatme.
Now,shewasn’tjustdistracting.Shewasthecenterofmyfocus.
Itwasimpossibletokeepmyhandsoffheroncewe’dmadeourlittleagreement,andanytimeIwasalone,Iwastextingher.
Comeover
I’dsneakherthroughthebackdoor,waituntilmyroommateswereintheirroomssoIcouldpullherbacktomine.ItwouldusuallybemorningbythetimeIlethergo,letherpeelherselfoutofmybedandleavemewithnothingbutakisstorememberherbybeforeshewasgone.
AndjustwhenIthoughtI’dgoinsaneifIdidn’tseeher,I’dgetthesametextfromher.
Maryjustleftforwork.
Whereverwecouldsneakofftomakeithappen,wedid—andthoughmycareerwasstillimportanttome,forthefirsttimeinmylife,itwasn’teverything
ThatfactscaredmemorethanIwouldeverleton.
Still,evenwithmyfocusoffthefield,Iwasperformingonthefield,too.Iledustoawininmyfirstgameback.Itwasahomegame,whichmadeitsweet,butthefactthatweabsolutelymurderedthemmadeitevensweeter.
CoachLeestillwatchedmecarefully,likehewasn’tsurehetrustedmeevenafterIprovedmyselftimeandtimeagain.Ifollowedhisorders…albeitIdidmakesometinyamendmentsfromtimetotime.ButeverychangeImadewasforthegreatergoodoftheteam,anditshowedasweallgelledtogetherbetterthanwehadallseason.
Wewereonourwaytothechampionship;Icouldfeelit.
Thedraftdidweighheavyonme,though.Scoutsdidn’twatchmeaseagerlyasbeforemyinjury.Nodoubt,theywereworrieditwasonethatwouldcontinuetoflareupasIaged.Itdidn’tmatterthatmyshoulderhadtorninadifferentplacethanbefore,orthatithadbeenaminusculetearthatIquicklyworkedthrough.
Injurieswereliketermitesintheirmind—theyneverwentaway,andtheywouldweardownthefoundationofeventhestrongesthouseovertime.
Itwasmaddening,tohavesomethingsooutofmycontroldictatingtheirthoughtsaboutme,tohavemyownbodybreakingdownonmewhenIfeltsomentallystrongandcapable.
ThosethoughtsplaguedmeonenightwhenJulepwasinmybed,bothofussatedandspent.Shehadherheadonmychest,andIdrewcirclesidlyalongherbareback.Mosttimes,whenweweredone,wewereinahurry—she’dsneakofforIwouldbeforeanyonecouldseeus.
Butmyfavoritetimesweretheoneslikethis,whentherewasnorealrushtomove,whenIcouldholdherforabriefmomentintimeandpretendshewasreallymine.
“Youreadyforthegamethisweekend?”sheaskedsoftly.
“Bornready.”
Shesmiledagainstmychest.“I’mimpressedbyhowyou’vebouncedbackfromthisinjury.Youseem…Idon’tknow,maybeevenstrongerthanbefore.”
“Ihopethescoutsseeitthatway.”
Sheleanedup,balancingherchinonmychest.“You’reworriedtheywon’t?”
“I’mjustrealistic,”Itoldher.“Ihadashotatthefirstroundbeforethis.Butnow,I’llbeluckytobetakenbythefifth.”
“Doesitmatterwhenyou’redrafted?”
Iconsidered.“Iguess,notreally.Plentyoflate-roundpickshavegoneontobesuccessfulinproball.But…”
“Butyouregoisgoingtotakeabeating,”sheteasedme,pokingmyrib.
Irolledswiftly,pinningherintothesheetsandticklingherasshelaughedandpatheticallyattemptedtopushmeoff.Eventually,Istoppedtickling,andsheopenedherlegs,lettingmesettlebetweenthem.
“It’sjustbeenadreamofmine,”Isaid.“Butdreamschange.”
“Mm,”shesaid,makingafacelikesheknewthatalltoowell.“Thattheydo.Andwhat’syourdreamnow?”
“Oh,ithasn’tchangedthatmuch,”Isaid,smirking.“Istillplanonmakingmillionsofdollarsandplayingproballforlife.”
“Isthatall?”Julepteased.Ilovedhowshelookedinthatmoment,herdarkhairsplayedovermypillowcase,eyestiredfromallthenightsI’dkeptheruplate.
“Well,thenthere’sthewifeandkids,ofcourse.You,walkingdowntheaisletomeinalong,silkywhitedress…”
Shesnorted,rollinghereyessohardIthoughttheymightgetstuckinthebackofherhead.Again,shepatheticallypushedatmychest.“Right.Us.Married.”
“Comeon,youcan’tseeit?”Iignoredtheacheinmychestathowquicklysheshruggedthatoff,remindingmyselfthatIknewitwasimpossible,too.Iwasjustjoking.Itwasallfunandgames.
“No,becauseifyousomuchasthoughtaboutproposingtome,myfatherwouldmurderyou.”
“Let’spretendforasecondthathewouldn’t.”
Shegavemealooklikethatwasn’tsomethingshewascapableof.
“Icanseeyounow,aveilflowingbehindyou,beautifulblushingbride…”
“Ew.”
Ilaughedatherimmediatereaction.
“Firstofall,noveil.Ever,”shesaid,holdingupafinger.Ijustsmiledpulledthatfingertomymouth,kissingitasshecontinued.“AndI’llwearablackdress,notawhiteone.”
“Scandalous.”
“Yeah,well,I’mnoinnocentvirgin,”shesaid,somethingdarkwashingoverherfacebeforesheshookitoff.“AndIdon’twantkids.”
“Comeon,”Ibegged,grindingmyhipsagainsther.ShebitherlipwhenIranthelengthofmeslowandteasinglyuphercenter.“We’dmakereallycuteones,Ibet.Andwe’rereallygoodatthethingsittakestomakebabies.”
Julep’seyeswereheatedwhenshewrappedherlegsaroundmywaistandkissedme,longanddeep.“Wecan’tmakeababyifIkeepswallowingyourcum.”
Igroanedathowdirtyitsoundedcomingoffthosebeautifullipsofhers,andmycockhardenedbetweenus,alreadyfiredupandreadytogoagain.
“Thatcaneasilyberectified,”Isaid,nippingatherbottomlip.
“Nobabiesuntilafterwe’remarried.”
Ilaughed.“Wow,I’vemadegreatprogress.”
“Two.Max.”
Ikissedalongherjaw.“IreallylikewhenIgetmywaywithyou.”
“Don’tgetusedtoit.”
“Icanseeusnow,meplayingproball,you—”
“Excellinginmyowncareer,”shefinishedformewithapointedlook.
“Iwasgoingtosaythat!”Idefended.“Youdidn’tevengivemeachance.”
Shegavemealooklikeyeah,right
“Andwhenthekidsaregrown,andmyoldassisretired,we’llhaveahouseinthemountains.”
“Aw,man,”shesaid,pouting.“Iwasreallylookingforwardtocausingtroubleinanursinghome.”
“We’lldothat,too.Later.”
Ichuckled,andshesmiled,andeventhoughitwasallajoke,somethinglikehopehollowedoutmychest.
Iwatchedherforawhile,fingertipsplayingwithherhaironmypillowasmyeyestrailedovertheworrylinesonherface.
“AndIgettodiefirst,”shesaidafterawhile,softly.“That’snon-negotiable.”
Iswallowed,frowningatthechangeintone.“Why?”
Julep’seyesflickedbetweenmine,heranswerhangingonthetipofhertonguebutnotdaringtotastetheairbetweenus.Shekepthermouthshut,butIsawwhatshecouldn’tsay.
Shedidn’twanttofeelthepainoflosingsomeoneshelovedagain.
Foramoment,forthatbrief,late-night,dream-likemomentwheretimedidn’texistandanythingwaspossible,Icouldactuallyseeit.Icouldpictureitallperfectly,thelifewhereweworkedout.
Butmystomachbottomedoutinthenextbreathasrealitycrashedinandremindedmeitnevercould.
“Idon’twanttotalkanymore,”Julepwhispered,andthewayshelooked,Ifelttheneedtoapologize.
BeforeIcould,shekissedme,dragginghernailsupintomyhairandthenrakingthemdownmyback.
Wedidn’tspeakanotherwordafterthat.
Julep
Mysister’sbirthdaywassomethingIalwaysfeltcreepinginlongbeforethedayactuallycame.
Everyyearaftershedied,IfoundmyselfdrinkingmorewhenNovemberrolledaround.I’dreachforanydrugIcouldfind,avoidallresponsibilities,andspendmytimewithpatheticloserswhoweremediocre,atbest,inbed.
Anythingthatcouldnumbthepain.
Butthetruthwasthatnothinghadbeenableto,nomatterwhatItried.Therewasnodrugthatexisted,nosexgoodenough.DaysbledintonightsthatledmecloserandclosertoadateI’dneverescape,onethatremindedmewhathadbeenlost.
OfwhatI’ddone.
Icouldneveroutruntheemotions,neverescapethepainoflosingher.I’ddrillmyselfwithexcruciatingquestionslike:Wherewouldshebenow,ifshewerealive?Wouldshebeincollege?WouldshebetravelingEuropewithonlyabackpackandanotebook?Wouldshebeinlove?
They’dpeltmeevenharderwhenIattemptedtogooutorhavefun.I’dbeataconcertandfeelguiltythatshewouldneverhavethechance.Evenshoppinginthegrocerystorewouldbringmetomykneessometimes,therealizationthatAbbycouldn’tbetheredoingthesame.
Anxietywouldspiralmedeep,untilIwasinthatbizarrestateofawakeningthatyousometimesfallintowhenyourealizethatyou’rereallygoingtodieoneday.Onlythiswasn’taboutme.ItwasaboutAbby,abouthowI’dneverseehergraduatehighschool,orcollege,orgradschool.ItwashowI’dneverknowifshewouldhavebeenmarriedandhadkidsorifshewouldhavelivedalifeofadventure.
I’drobbedherofit.
Andherbirthdayservedasaremindereveryfall.
Icouldfeeltheweightofmydad’seyesonmemorethanever.EvenasHoldenplayedinhisfirsttwogamessincehisinjuryandledustoback-to-backblowoutwinsatourhomestadium,mydadonlybarelysmiledbeforehewaswatchingme,wonderingifIwastwosecondsawayfromgoingofftherails.
IwishIknewtheanswer.
Istillfeltitthere,thatfamiliar,loomingdepression,butitwasmuddied,fainterthanusual.
AndIknewitwasbecauseofHolden.
Ididn’thavetimetothinkaboutAbbyoranythingelse,notwhenallmythoughtswereconsumedwithplanningthenexttimeIcouldsneakintohisbedorhimintomine.
It’dbeentwoweeksnowsincethefirsttimewegaveinatthehotel,andIwasdeliciouslysorefromfuckingeverychancewe’dhadsincethen.InmybedwhenMarywasatwork,inhisshowerlateatnight,inmycarparkeddownadarkalley,againstthebackwallofthestadiumwhenwecouldn’tbearevenanhourofbeingaroundeachotherwithouttouching…
Itdidn’tmatterhowmanytimes,howmanyplaces,orhowmanywayshetookme.
IwasinsatiablewhenitcametoHoldenMoore.
Icouldn’tevenrememberwhatithadbeenliketobeannoyedbyhim,couldn’treachfarenoughintomysoultofindtheshallowshellofagirlI’dbeenwhenI’dfirstcomeontothiscampus.
He’dfilledmewithlife,evenwhenIhadn’taskedforit.
Theonlysoberingthoughtthathadplaguedmeallweekwasthereminderthatthiswasallwecouldhave.Wecouldhavequietnightslosingourselvesineachotherandquickfucksindarkclosetswherenoonewouldeverfindout.
Butthatwaswherewebeganandended.
Itdidn’tmatterhowHoldenheldmeafter,orhowthebaritoneofhislaughrumbledthroughhischestwhereIlaidmyheadashetoldmeabouthischildhood.Itdidn’tmatterthatIlitupwithasmileeverytimeIsawhim,asmilethathadbeensohardtocomebybeforeImethim,orthathemadejokesaboutwhatourkidswouldlooklikeoneday.
Webothknew,deepdown,thatthiswasit.
Thebiggest,mostglaringissuewasofcoursethatmyfatherhadmadeitclearfromthefirsttimeIwalkedintothelockerroomthatIwasofflimits.He’dthreatenedHoldenandeveryotherteammatethattheircareerwouldbeoveriftheycrossedthatline.
Iknew,maybeevenmorethanHoldendid,howtruethatwas.
Myfatherdidn’tslingthreatswithouthavingtheballstobackthemupwithaction.
ButwhiletoHoldenandeveryotherguyontheteam,theyprobablyjustsawitasathreatfromanoverbearingfather,Iknewbetter.Iknewtherealreasonhedrewthoseuncrossablelines.
Itwasbecauseattheendoftheday,hedidn’ttrustme
Lettingmeliveonmyownandassigningmewithhisquarterback’sPTwasonething.Abuildingblockintrust,perhaps.Butatthebaseofitall,hestillworriedI’dgetcaughtupwithacockyathleteandlosemyselfagain.HeworriedI’dfallofftrack,partying,cuttingclass,fuckingeverychanceIgot.Inhismind,he’dalreadyimaginedathousandwaysthatIwouldmeetanearlydeathjustlikeAbbydid.
AndafterallI’dputhimthrough,Icouldn’tfaulthimforthat.
Iowedittomyfathertostayonthestraightandnarrow,tonotlethimdown,tonotfallintoanysituationthatwouldsendhimbarrelingtowardaheartattackIknewI’dconjureduponetoomanytimesinmyshortlife.
Myfathermayhavebeenstern,buthe’dsacrificedforme.
Itwasmyturntodothesame.
“Youseriouslyreadthisstuff?”Maryasked,snappingmeoutofmythoughtsassheletabookfallfromherhandsandontoourold,woodendiningroomtable.
Gianagaspedandpickedthebookup,checkingitforbruisesbeforehuggingittoherchest.“Ofcourse,Ido.Andit’sgood—amazing,really.Youjustneedtogiveitatry.”
“ForgivemeifIdon’tgetoffontheideaofreadingaboutsomemafialordkidnappingmeandtyingmeupinhisbasement,”Marysaidflatlybeforepouringherselfmorewine.
Rileyshrugged.“Imean,thatsoundsprettyhottome.”
“Thankyou!”Gianasaid,thrustinganopenpalmtowardherbackup.
“Whataboutthealienporn?”Ichimedin.
RileymadeafacewhileGianaheldupafinger.“Listen,don’tknockituntilyoutryit.Itsoundsinsane,but—”
“Doyoureadyanynormalbooks?”Maryasked.
Gianafrowned,tappingherthumbagainsttheedgeofthebookstillcradledtoherchest.“Ilikevanillaromancesometimes…asweetfriends-to-lovers,maybeasecond-chancesituation.”
“Andthosedon’thavesexinthem?”
Gianasnorted.“LikeI’dwastemytimeonabookwithoutspice.”
“I’lladmit,theoneyougavemeaboutthehighfaebat-wingeddudewasprettyhot,”Iconceded.
GianajustgentlysetherbookdownbeforewavingahandovermelikeVannaWhite.“Anotherexampleofmebeingright.”
“Tellyouwhat,G,”Marysaid,puttingdownherwineglass.“YouplayanhourofRedDeadRedemptionwithme,andI’llreadoneofyourbooks.”
“Deal,”Gianasaid,shakingMary’shandwithoutthinking.Herlittlefrownofdeterminationslippedalittleoncethehandshakewasdone.“Wait,what’sthatgameaboutagain?”
“It’sanaction-adventurewestern,”Iansweredforher.“Cowboysandgunsandshit.”
Gianaconsidered,andthensmiledtriumphantly.“Oh.Well,Ilikecowboys.Small-townromancesaresomeofmyfavorites.”
Maryarchedabrowatmelikeshouldwetellher?ButIjustshookmyheadandsmiled,noddingtowardwhereRileywasdoodlingonanotebook.“That’scool.”
Hercheeksflamedwhenshelookedupatme,andshecoveredthebutterfly-lookingthingwithherpalm.“I’mmuchmoresuitedtocuratetheartthantomakeit.”
“Idon’tknow.Thatwouldmakeaprettybadasstattoo,”Marysaid.
“Speakingof…howmanydoyouhave?”Gianaasked,hereyeswideastheyskatedoveralltheblackinkpokingoutfromunderthetanktopMarywore.
“Ilostcountsomewherearoundfifteen.Theyalljustbleedtogethernow.”
Gianaleanedincloser.“Whoa.Whatdotheyallmean?”
“Whatdoyoumeanwhatdotheymean?”Marylaughed.“They’rejusttattoos.”
“Butthey’repermanent,”Rileysaid.
Marysmiled,shakingherheadandpointingtooneaboveherelbow.Shestartedexplaininghowherfirsthandfulhadallthismeaningandthoughtbehindthem,buttheneventually,shejuststartedgettingthingsthatlookedcoolormadehersmileorjustseemedlikesomethingfuntohaveonherbody.
Ilistenedquietly,babyingmywinelessbecauseIdidn’twanttodrink,andmorebecauseIknewthisclosetoAbby’sbirthday,itwasdangeroustotoethelineofdrinkingtoomuch.Myphonebuzzedonthetable,andIpickeditup,fightingasmilewhenIsawHolden’sname.
Holden:Comeover.
Irolledmylipstogether,sneakingapictureofwherethegirlswerenow—MarywithherlegonthetablewhileRileyandGianapeeredoverthetableatthetattooshewasshowingoffonhercalf.
Me:Can’t.Girls’night.
Holden:Nicepic.Youshouldsendanotherone.
Ifrowned,butthenthebouncingdotsthattoldmehewastextingmoredisappeared,andanothertextcamethrough.
Holden:Ofyou.
Iglancedatthegirls,makingsuretheywerestilloccupiedbeforeIflippedthecameraaround.Itookaselfiewithmytongueoutandsentittohim.
Holden:You’rebeautiful.
Mysmilefadedinstantly,heatcascadingdownmyneckbeforeIsatupalittleinmychairandtypedbackajoketoclearanysignofthatsweetremark.
Me:Youjustlikemewithmytongueout.
Holden:Verytrue.Onyourkneeswithyourtongueoutismypreferredview.
Thattextsentajoltofdesirerightbetweenmythighs,andIglancedatthegirlsbeforeclearingmythroatandexcusingmyselffromthetable.Iwalkedslowlydownthehalltoourguestbath,lockingthedoorwhenIwasinside.
Then,Ifixedmyhairinthemirror,tookmyshirtoffandthenmysweatpants.Ishovedthembothoutofthewaybeforedroppingtomykneesandholdingthecameraphoneaboveme.IsnappedapicandsentittoHoldenbeforeIcouldoverthinkit.
Me:Likethis?
Holden:Fuck.
Ismiledinvictory,alreadyputtingmyclothesbackon.Iwashedmyhandsjustincasethegirlswerelistening—thoughIdoubtedtheywere.Then,Itextedhimagain.
Me:Waitupforme.
Myphonedidn’tbuzzagainuntilIwasbackseatedatthetable,andnowMaryhadherassout,showinganimpressivefloraltattoothatspannedherhipandouterupperthigh.Ismiled,sippingfrommywinebeforegrabbingmyphoneandslidingmythumbtounlockit.
Holden:Oh,I’llwaitUPforsure…
Ifrowned,butthenapicturecamethrough.
Myheartjolted,apangofsomethingdeliciousandelectricflowingthroughmeatthesight.
ItwasHolden,completelynaked,inhisbed,withhisthick,hardcockinhishand.
“Fuck…”Isaidundermybreath,tappingonthepicturetomakeitlarger.He’dtakenthephotofromadownwardangle,likehe’dheldthecamerabetweenhisthighsfortheshot.Hewashalf-proppedupagainsthisheadboard,hiscockinhishand,andtheviewshowedmehistightballs,hisveinyshaft,thethickbaseofhimwrappedinhisfist,andthatperfectmushroomtipabovehisfingers
Behindhisshow-stealingcockwasHolden’sgloriousabs.
Andapanty-meltinggrin.
“Whatareyousodistractedby?”Maryasked,andbeforeIcouldanswer,beforeIcouldturnmyscreenblackorshrugheroffordoanything,shereachedoverthetableandsnatchedmyphonerightoutofmyhand.
“Mary,don’t!”
Butitwastoolate.
Herjawhitthefloor,eyesbulgingoutofherhead.“Oh.My.Cock.”
“What?!”RileyandGianasaidatthesametime,andthentheywerecrowdingoverherwhileIsankintomyseatandcoveredmyfacewithmyhands.
Shrieksfilledthehouse.
“Oh,myGod.Isthata…?”Gianastarted.
“Anear-perfectspecimenholdinghisgiganticwang?”Maryfinishedforheronalaugh.“Sureis!”
“Giveitback,”Ihissed,uncoveringmyfaceandreachingacrossthetable.ButMaryangledherselfaway,standingasthegirlsfollowedbehindher.
RileypulledthephonefromMary’shandandlookedcloser.
Thenherfacewentwhite.
“Wait…isthat…”
Gianapalednext.“Holyshit.That’sHolden.”
Alltheireyeswidenedastheypinnedme,andIdidn’tknowwhattodo,whattosay.
So,Ididn’tsayordoanythingatall.
Anditwasconfirmationenough.
RileysquealedatthesametimeGianayankedherhandsawayfromthephonelikeitwasonfire.Sheshovedtheheelsofherpalmsintohereyes.“I’llneverunseethat!”shescreamed.
“Ineverwanttounseethat,”Marysaidonalaugh,staringalittlelongerbeforefinallyhandingmemyphoneback.Iimmediatelylockeditandshoveditinmypocket.
“Um…”Rileyfoldedherarms,poppingahipasshestaredatme.“Ineeddetails.Now.”
“Same,”Gianasaid,ploppingdownintoherseatandmovingitclosertomine.“Youand…Holden?!”
Icringed,groaningasIdroppedmyheadtothetable.
“Icalledthisshit,”Marysaid,unbotheredasshetoppedoffallourglassesofwine.“Justsaying.”
“Yeah,well,seeinghiscockwasyourprize.You’rewelcome.”
Shesmiledvictoriouslybeforeleaningbackinherseat,andthenalltheireyeswereonme,waiting.
“Well?!”Gianaprobed.
Isighed.“There’snothingtotell.We’rejust…friends.”Ichewedtheinsideofmycheek.“Friendswhofuck.”
Rileyblinked.Marysnorted.AndGianagroaned.
“Oh,no.No,no,no.Didn’tyoulearnanythingfromthebooksIgaveyou?Haveyouneverwatchedasingleromanticcomedyinyourlife?Thatneverworksoutwell.”
Isatup.“Yeah,well,it’sworkingfineforus.”
“Butwhatifoneofyoudevelopsmorefeelings?”
“Wewon’t,”Isaid,shiftinginmyseat.“Wecan’t.”
“Whynot?”Rileyasked.
“Haveyouforgottenwhoherdadis?”MaryheldupherglasstowardRileybeforetakingasip,andherwordssilencedeveryoneastheireyesfloatedtomeonceagain.
“Shit,”Rileysaid.
Ishrugged.“It’sfine.Really.Youguysaremakingabigdealoutofnothing.HoldenandIareveryawareofwhatwe’redoing.We…useeachother,”Isaid,shifting.“Toblowoffsteam.That’sit.Nooneknows.”Igavethemalllooksthen.“Andweneedtokeepitthatway.”
Gianapretendedtozipherlipsclosed.“Iwon’tsayaword.”
Inodded.“Thankyou.”
“But,”shecontinued,cringing.“Ijust…Ihavetoknow.Doyou…doyoulikehim?”
“Yes,”MarysaidatthesametimeIsaid,“No.”
Iglaredather.
“LikeIsaid,we’refriends.Andhe’sagreatlay.”
Everysingleoneoftheirfaceshadthisisadisasterwaitingtohappenwrittenalloverthem.
Irolledmyeyesandwavedthemoff,standing.“There’snothingelsetosay,sojustdropit.AndImeanit,”Iadded,pointingafingerateachofthem.“Notaword.Nottoanyone—noteachother,notme,andespeciallynotyourboyfriends.”
“Noworriesthere,”Marymumbledbeforedrainingtherestofherwine.
RileyandGiananoddedtheirpromise,andthenIwalkedovertothekitchenandyankedopenthefreezer.“Whowantspizza?”
IwasansweredwithanenthusiasticchorusofmeeeebeforeGianawastryingtosellMaryonherbooksagainandRileywasnot-so-subtlywatchingtheESPNhighlightsthatwe’dmutedtokeepherfromfixatingonthemallnight.Itooktheescapetoworkonthepizzaandsneakmyphoneoutagain.
Me:Sorryforthedelayinresponse,youknockedmeoutwiththatphoto.
Holden:Hurryupandgetyoursweetassoverhere.
Me:Givemetwohours.
Holden:Twohours…andthen,twoorgasms.
IbitmylipagainstthejoltofpleasurethatjustthatstupiddirtytextcouldelicitfrommeasItuckedmyphoneaway.Then,Itoreopentheplasticwrappingonthefrozenpizzaandflickedontheoventopre-heat.
WhenIturnedaround,RileyandGianawereonthecouch,tryingtodecidewhatweshouldwatch.
Mary,ontheotherhand,waswatchingme.Holden
IknewsomethingwasoffwhenIwokeupthatmorning.
ItwastheweekbeforeThanksgiving,andasifpreparingforourgameonSaturdaywasn’thighstressenoughwithaplayoffchanceontheline,theentireteamwaswoundtightfromtestsandpapersduebeforetheholiday,too.
Everydaypresentedmewithnewchallengesascaptain—fromsettingupnon-optionalstudyhallsfortheplayersIknewneededit,totalkingdownmybestguysfrompanicattacks,I’dseenitall.
Fortunately,Iwasinagoodheadspacetohandleit.
Mygradeswerehigh,andI’dplannedaheadtogetanyassignmentsdoneearlythatIcouldsothatIwasabletobeavailableduringthisdemandingweekformyteam.Onthefield,Iwasexcelling,ourwinstreakstackingupandputtinguscloserandclosertotheplayoffspotweaimedtoclinch.Ifwewonourgamethisweekend,we’dbeashoo-in.
Andoffthefield,outsideoftheclassroom…
IhadJulep.
ButonthemorningofNovember17th,IwokewithapitinmystomachforareasonIcouldn’texplain.Theweatherwasshit,myheadwaspounding,andwhenItextedJulepgoodmorning,shedidn’trespond.
Normally,Iwouldn’thaveworried.Iwouldhaveassumedshewasbusy.ButI’dfelthergrowingdistantlately,somethingbrewinginherthatIcouldn’tputmyfingeron.Theothernight,she’drippedatmyclothessofranticallyshe’dnearlyburstintotears.I’dstoppedher,holdingher,andforthefirsttime,shesleptinmybedwithoutusfuckingfirst.
Shedidn’tsayaword.
Andshewasstiffinmyarmstheentirenight.
So,whenshedidn’tanswermytexttwodayslater,Iwasimmediatelyanxious.AndIcouldn’tshakeit—notwithmymorningruninthefreezingmistcoveringBoston,notatpractice—whereJulepwasuncharacteristicallyabsent,andnotasIturnedinmylastassignmentbeforetheholiday.Istillhadnotextfromher,andItriedcalling,onlyforhertosendmetovoicemail.
So,Itextedagain.
Me:Hey,didn’tseeyouatthestadiumtoday…youokay?
Istillhadn’theardfromherwhenImadeitbacktothehouseandfoundmyroommatessettingupforaparty.
“What’sthis?”Iasked,tossingmybagagainstthebaywindowbench.LeoandKylewerecarryingakegintothekitchen.
“What’sitlooklike?”Kyleshotbacklikethesmartasshewas.
Iglaredathim,readyingallthereasonswhyapartywasthelastthingweneededtwodaysbeforeabiggame.ButbeforeIgotthechance,theysetthekegdownandLeowalkedovertome.
“Theteamisstressed,Cap,”hesaid,nohintofhisusualcarefreesmile.“Betweenthepressureofthegamethisweekendandallthetests…weallneedabreak.”
“Mostofusalreadyfinishedourlastclassesbeforetheholidaytoday,anyway,”Kylesaid.“Andthosewhohaven’taren’tgoingtopickupatextbookuntilafterthegameSaturday.Weallknowthat.”
Hehadapoint.
Isighed,foldingmyarmsasIconsidered.
“Lowkey,”Itoldthem,pointingafingerrightatKylewhenhesmiledvictoriously.“Imeanit.Theteam,whatevergirlstheywanttoinvite,butthat’sit.Notanopenhouse.Idon’twanttoseeasingleplayerdoinganythingotherthandrinkingbeer.Andwestartkickingpeopleoutattwoatthelatest.Wehavepracticetomorrow.”
“It’llbealightone,”Kyleargued.“It’sthedaybeforeanawaygame.”
“TakethepartypasttwoandI’llshowyoualightpractice,”Ithreatened.
Kylerolledhiseyesandwavedmeoffbutdidn’tpushme—andIknewevenifhewasannoyedbymydecision,he’drespectit.
Noonewantedagruelingpracticethedaybeforeweplayed.
EveryboneinmybodyachedasIclimbedthestairstomyroom.AllIwantedwastoeat,shower,andcrawlintobed.Iwasexhausted—mentallyandphysically.
Butnow,Ihadapartytohost.
Ifloppeddownface-firstontomymattress,heavingasighandallowingmyselfamomentofself-pitybeforeIrolledoverandstaredupattheceiling.Myphonewaspracticallyburninginmypocket,soIpulleditout,stomachdroppingwhenIstilldidn’tseeanythingfromJulep.
Me:Ifyou’resick,Icanbringyousoup.
Iwonderedifthatwastoomuch,soIthrewinajoke,too.
Me:OrIcouldcomegiveyouamassage…fromtheinside.
IcouldimagineherrollinghereyesatthetextasIpeeledmyselfoutofbedandjumpedintheshower.IhadtomovebeforeIcouldgettoocomfortable,otherwiseI’dnevergetup.
TherewasstillnoresponsefromherwhenIgotout.
Itriedonelasttime.
Me:Ihopeyou’reokay.Imissyou.
Istaredatthetext,debated,andthendeleteditallandtriedagain.
Me:Partyatourstonight.Teamisstressed…meincluded.Ifyoufeeluptoit,youshouldcome.
Ihadn’tevenputthephonedownbeforeIgotaresponse.
Julep:I’llbethere.
Ichosenottodrink—notbecausethethoughtofanice-coldbeerortwodidn’tsoundappealing,butbecauseIwantedtobeinmybestshapeforpracticetomorrowandthegamethisweekend.
InoticedIwasn’ttheonlyoneontheteammakinggooddecisions,becausethekegwaslastinglongerthanitusuallydid,mostoftheguysnursingtheirbeersanddrinkingwaterin-between.
Welikedtoparty,andweclearlyneededtocutloose.Butwewerestillathletes,andperformanceonthefieldoutweighedeverythingelse.
Iwashonestlypleasantlysurprisedthatmyroommateshadfollowedmywishes.Itwasaparty,sure,butitwassmall,lowkey,andonlyabouthalfasloudasourusual.
ItwasalmostelevenandJulephadn’tshownyet.
Imadetherounds,checkinginwithvariouspodsofplayersscatteredaroundthehousebeforeIfoundZeke,Clay,andLeointhekitchen.
“Hey,Cap,”Zekegreetedme,liftinghiscupofwaterandtappingitagainstthesideofmine.
“Boys,”Isaidinreturn,takingasipbeforeIsatmyhipagainsttheedgeofthecounter.Wehadasweepingviewofthehousehere,andwetookineverythinghappening.“Nogirlstonight?”
“YouknowRiley,”Zekesaid.“She’sseriouswhenitcomestoschool.HerlasttestisonMonday,andshedoesn’twanttohavetostudywhenwe’reontheroad.”
Inodded,myalreadyhighrespectforhertickingupanotch.“AndG?”
Claysmirked.“Readingdirtybooksandhighlightingallthebestpartsforustotryafterthewin.”
Iarchedabrow.“Youmeanwhenwegetbacktocampus,right?SinceCoachhasmadeitclearyoutwoaren’tallowedtobeinthesamehotelroomwhenwetravel.”
“Ofcourse,”Claysaid,holdinguphishandsinmocksurrender.Hiswinkgaveawaythathewasfullofshit.
“You’reonetotalk,Cap,”Leosaid,pouringhimselfashotoftequila.Igrabbeditandpoureditdownthesinkbeforehecouldtakeit,pointingatthekeg.ImeantwhatIsaidaboutnothingotherthanbeer.Begrudgingly,hesighedandrefilledhiscupbeforeadding,“Weallheardaboutthegirlinthepool.”
I’dbecomesogoodatcoveringforusnowthatmyneckdidn’tevenheatasIblinkedathim.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“Sure,”hesaid,wagglinghisbrows.“Youjustdon’twanttotelluswhosheis.”
“IbetIcouldguess,”Zekesaid.
Itookadrinkofwater,bored.“Ifyoucould,you’dknowmorethanme.Ididn’tevencatchaname.”
LeoletoutashockedlaughasClaycoveredhismouthwithonefistandsaidohhh
“Damn,Cap,”Leosaid,smackingmychest.“Ruthless.EvenIgetthenamefirst.”
“What’sthepoint?”Isaid,hopingIsoundedjustanonchalantasIdideveryseasonwhenIhappenedtoletagirltakemehomeforabitofstressrelief
“Yeah,yeah,”Claysaid,smirking.“Weallknow.NotimeforanythingbutfootballforHoldenMoore.”
Leostartedinontellingusastoryaboutsomegirlonthecheerleadingsquadwho’dbeenplayinghardtoget,andIletmyeyeswandertheparty,lookingforJulep.
IfeltZekewatchingme.
Iglancedhisway,andhejustarchedabrow,steppingalittleclosertomeandawayfromtheothertwo.“Whoyalookingfor?”
“Justlooking.”
“Ah,”hesaid,lipsturningdownashenodded.“So…youwouldn’twanttoknowthatJulepishere?”
IknewIdidashitjobofcoveringthewaymywholebodystilledatthementionofhername.“Isshe?”
Zeke’slipsflattened.“Yousuckatpretendingyou’renotintoher.”
“Apparentlynot,”Isaid,glancingatClayandLeowhoIwasfairlyconfidentdidn’thaveaclue.
“She’sdrunk,”Zekesaidafteramoment.
Thatmademygriponmycuptightenabit,theplasticcrunching.
“AndIsawsomekidI’veneverseenbeforeofferingheraXan.”
Thatdidit.
Myfa?adecracked,andItossedmycupinthetrashcanbeforegrabbinghimbytheshirtanddragginghimawayfromClayandLeo.
“Whereisshe?”
“Gameroom,”heanswered,noddingtowardthebackhall.Iturned,buthecaughtmysleeve.“Shedoesn’tseemherself,man.Becareful.”
Ishruggedhimoff,puttingitoutofmymindthatheclearlysawrightthroughourbullshitandknewmorethanheshould.Icoulddealwiththatanothertime.
Rightnow,Ihadtofindher.
Shovingthroughthebuildingcrowd,ItriednottoletmythoughtsspiralasIsearchedthehouse.Shewasn’tinthegameroomlikeZekehadsaid,soItriedthebathroom,andthenthelivingroom.
Nosignofher.
Iclimbedthestairstomyroom,butshewasn’tthereeither,andthenIlosteveryfuckIhadaboutstayingcalmandstartedbeatingopentheotherbedroomdoors.
Leo’swasempty.BradenhadagirlhalfnakedinhisandwaspissedI’dinterrupted.IbarelygotanapologyoutbeforeIleftandstormedtowardKyle’s.Ikickedthedooropen.
Andthereshewas.
Although,withjustonelook,IknewtherealJulepwasn’treallythereatall.
Herbodywasthere,sure—sweatglisteningonherchest,hairmattedtoherslickneckandforehead,darkeyesnearlyblackwheretheywereglazedandhalf-open.Buttherewasbarelyanylightbeyondthoseeyes,barelyanyrecognitionofmetoweringinthatdoorwayandKylejumpingoffthebed.
“Whatthefuck,bro?”heyelled,gettingupinmyface.“Alittleprivacy,please?”
Julep’sreactionwasdelayed,herbodyswayingabitasshegrabbedthestrapofhertanktopthathadslippeddownherarmandpusheditbackupoverhershoulder.Herhandslappeddowntoherlapafterward,headbobbingforwardlikeshe’dfallasleepatanysecond.
MyjawwassotightIsworeIfeltatoothcrackfromthepressure,andIglaredatKyle,thenather,thenbackathim.
Iknewmybrother.Iknewthat,eventhoughhepissedmeoff,hewouldn’tdoanythingwithJulep—oranygirl—inastatelikethis.Butthefactthathehadherinhisroomatallpissedmeoff.Heshouldhavetakenherhomeandputherstraighttobed.Heshouldhavefoundme,becauseheknewevenwhenItriedtohideitthattherewassomethingbetweenus.
Theonethingheshouldn’thavedonewastakeherupheretohisroom.
Myhandstightenedintofists,neckstrainingasIglaredathim.“Getout.”
“It’smyroom.”
“Idon’tgiveshit.”
“I’mlookingoutforherjustlikeyouwould.”
“SHE’SNOTYOURSTOLOOKOUTFOR!”
ThepossessionthatrippedthroughmeinthatmomentsurprisedmeevenmorethanitdidKyle,wholethisheadsnapbacklikehe’dcaughtmered-handedinacrimehe’dsuspectedmeguiltyofforyears.
Hescoffed,orlaughed,maybebothasheshookhishead.Then,asneerfoundhisstupidface.Itwaslikehewentfrompissedofftoamusedinthespanoftwoseconds.
“Hey,don’tbejealous,Cap,”hesaid,standingandcrossingtheroom.Hethrewhisarmaroundme.
Juleponlyblinked,allcoherencegone,andIkeptmyeyesonherasKyleleanedinclosewhereonlyIcouldhearhim.
“ItoldyouI’dhaveherinmybedbytheendoftheseason,”hesaid.
Itwasajoke.Iknewitwasajoke,justsomethinghesaidtorilemeupandpushmybuttons.Theproblemwasthatitworked.
Andhepushedthewrongfuckingbutton.
Iblackedout.
Therewasnootherexplanation.
Ragehitmesohardittookmyvisionandhearingandallgoodsensewithit.
Controldidn’texistinthatmoment,noreassuring,calmvoicetotellmehowtorationallyhandlethesituation.AllIknewwasthatJulepwasn’tokay,thatshehadn’tbeenforsometimenow,andthatshe’dgottentoodrunk,toomesseduptonight.Thiswasn’tjustsomeonenotknowingtheirlimitandgettingfuckedup.Thiswassomeonewhoknewtheirlimitandspedpastit,anyway.
Itwasadesperatecryforhelp—onethatKylewastakingadvantageof.
Ifeltmybodymoving,myfistconnecting,myknucklesachinginpain,butIsawnothingbutred.
Distantly,IheardJulepscream.
WhenIcameto,IhadKylepinnedontheground.Hisnosewasbloody,eyesalreadybruising,andmyfistwassuspendedbymyfaceandreadytolandanotherblow.
ButIrestrained,willingmybreathingtocalmasIkeptthathandfrozeninplace.
“Jesus,Holden!Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?”Kylekickedmeoffhim,scramblingtohisfeetandrunningtothemirror.Hecursedwhenhesawhimself.“Ithinkyoubrokemyfuckingnose.”
“I’llbreakmoreifyousayanythinglikethatabouthereveragain.”
Hespitoutblood,shakinghisheadashiseyesfoundmine.“IfyouthinkCoachwon’thearaboutthis,thenyoudon’tknowme.”
“IfyougorunningtoCoachwithproblemsyouhavewithme,thenyou’llproveIknowexactlywhoyouare.”
Thatquietedhim,andhestormedtowardmelikehewasreadytodukeitout.Ibraced,buthestoppedrightinfrontofme,lookingmeupanddownlikeIdisgustedhim.
“She’snotworthit,”hespat,shakinghishead.“Andneitherareyou,youwashedupsonofabitch.WewerebetteroffwithRusso.”
Withthatlastdig,hebrushedpastme,knockingmychesthardwithhisshoulder.Irolledmyeyesoncehewasgone,theangerI’dheldturningintoannoyance.Ididn’tgiveafuckwhathesaidaboutme.Thatwasjustwhohewas.AndbySaturday,he’dbeactinglikenothinghappenedatall.
Rightnow,theonlythingthatmatteredwasJulep.
“Oh,God,Holden,”shesaid,coveringhermouth,hereyesshining.“I’msosorry.”
Then,beforeshecouldcry,shevomited.Julep
Iwokeupinthemiddleofthenightwiththeworstheadacheofmylife.
IwasinHolden’sbed.
Atfirst,Ipanicked,heartthunderingfasterandfasterasItriedtomakeoutwhattimeitwas,tomakeoutwhereIwas.Everythingwasfoggyandinslowmotion,likebeinginadream.Butwhenthefamiliarscentofhimwashedoverme,whenIrealizeditwashisNBUfootballt-shirtIworeandhispillowIhaddrooledon,Icalmedabit.
Then,Iremembered.
AndIpanickedalloveragain.
Irememberedwakinguponwhatwouldhavebeenmylittlesister’stwenty-firstbirthday,rememberedputtingacandleinoneofthemuffinsI’dmadethedaybeforeandsingingasadversionofhappybirthdaybeforeIblewitoutandcried.
Irememberedditchingmyexamandcallingintowork.
Callingintolife.
Irememberedcrawlingintobedandstayingthere,ignoringeverytextandcallthatcamethroughfromHolden.Ilaidthereallday,lettingmymemorytortureme,almostsavoringeveryminutethatIremindedmyselfwhatapieceofscumIwas.
Andthen,atsomepoint,Istarteddrinking.
Marywasatwork.DadhadflownMominand,thoughhe’dinvitedmetodinnerwiththem,Iknewhedidn’treallymeanit.
Iknewshedidn’twantmethere—especiallynottoday.
So,Istayedhome,andIdrankhalfabottleofwineandstaredatthetextsfromHolden.Iwasstillstaringatthephonewhenhistextaboutthepartycamethrough.
Afterthat,Idrankanotherbottleandahalf.
AndwhenIgottothePit,somekidhadofferedmeaXanax.
I’dpoppedonewithoutthinkingtwice.
Relapsingwaseasy.Itwasalmosttooeasyonadayliketoday.AllthereasonsIhadforstayingrelativelysober,forstickingtoaglassofwineandmaybeajointnowandthenflewoutthewindow.Icouldn’trememberwhyIdidn’tgetobliteratedeverynightwhenmybrainwasbeatingonmelikethat.Infact,itseemedliketheonlythingtodo.
Iwasweak.Andnow,asIsobered,Iwasashamed.
MyheadwasstillfoggyasIgroanedandtriedtositupinbed,mymouthasdryasthedesert.Ineededwater.IneededAdvil.
AflashofHoldenpunchingKylesparkedthroughthehaze,andmyeyesshotopenwide.
Oh,God.
Istartedbreathinghard,coveringmymouthasmoreandmoreofthefuzzymemorycamebacktome.IrememberedKylefindingmewiththegroupofkidswhohadgivenmeaXanax,rememberedhimsayinghewantedtoshowmehisroom.Irememberedfollowinghim,knowingitwasabadidea,buthavingthatsameself-destructivewhothefuckcaresattitudethatalwaysfoundmeonthisday.
IrememberedHoldenburstingin.
Irememberednotbeingabletospeak,tomove.
Iremembered…
Wait,didI…
No,Ididn’t…God,please,Ididn’t,right?
IlookeddownatHolden’st-shirtIworeandknewevenwithoutconfirmationthatIhad.
I’dthrownup.
He’dhelpedme.He’dundressedmeandcleanedme.Iknewfrommybreathalonethathe’dhadmebrushmyteeth,probablyhadmedrinkwater,too.
He’dfoundmealoneinhisteammate’sroom,andinsteadofthinkingtheworst,insteadofbeingpissed,insteadofjudgingme…he’dhelpedme.
Mychestburned,andIcoveredthespotwheremyheartachedagainstthebonestrappingitinmybody.Itwantedout,andIdidn’tblameit.
Iwantedtotearitoutandsetitfree,too.
Holdenstirred,hishandblindlyreachingoutlikehewantedtopullmeintohim.WhenhefeltthebedandIwasn’tlayingthere,hesatupquickly,hishairmussedandeyestired.Helookedalittleworried,butthenhesawme,andalongexhalelefthischestasifhewasrelievedIwasstillthere.
“Hey,youokay?”
Hestartedrubbingmyback.
I’dbeenamonster—adrunk,drugged-up,disgustingmonster,andherehewas,consolingme,takingcareofme,askingifIwasokay.He’dbeenthroughhisowntragedy,arguablyworsethantheoneIfaced,andyethewokeupandtackledeverydaylikehewasluckytobealive.
Helivedforthelovedoneshe’dlost.
Iself-destructedformine.
Ilookedathimlikehewasinsane,likehewasblindtonotseemeforwhoIreallywas.
Heswallowed,shakinghisheadasiftotellmeIwaswrongbeforeIcouldevenspeakthewordsoutloud.“Comehere.”
Then,hepulledmeintohischest,andIbroke.
Ishattered,surrenderingtoeverybitoftheself-abuseIhadstockedupandwaitingtobereleased.Iletitpouroverme,takingeveryhitlikeIdeservedeverylastone.
BecauseIdid.
Itwasugly,thewayIsobbedasheheldme,eachbreathsawinginandoutofmewithmoreandmoreeffort.Ikeptwipingatmynosebeforeitcoulddripontohisshirt,buthedidn’tpullaway,didn’tloosenhisgrip.
“I’msosorry,”Iwhispered,mythroatraw.
“It’sokay.”
“No,it’snot.”
Ipulledback,swipingatmyfacelikeitwasthetearsfaultI’dbeensuchadisaster.Holdenlessenedhisholdonlyenoughformetositup,buthestillheldme,hishandsonwheremylegswerecrossedunderme.Hesmoothedhisthumbsovermyskin,watchingme,waiting,butnotrushing.
Foralongtime,wejustsatthereinthedark.Ihadnoideawhattimeitwas.Thehousewasquiet,soIfiguredithadtobelate,butitwasn’tquiteearlyenoughforthesuntogreetus.IstaredatwhereHolden’shandsheldmylegs,tearscontinuallybuildinginmyeyesbeforethey’dslipsilentlydownmycheeksandI’dwipethemaway.
“YouaskedmewhyIdopole,”Ifinallysaid,myvoicelowandcrackling.“Well,thisiswhy.”
Holdendidn’tsayaword,justkeptsmoothinghisthumbovermyskin.
“Becauseit’stheonlythingthathelpsmecopewiththefactthatI’mthereasonmysisterisdead.”
“You’renotthe—”
“Yes,Iam,”Isaidbeforehecouldfinish.“Iam.Idraggedhertoaparty.Iteasedheraboutbeingagoodgirl.Idaredhertotakemolly,totrysomethingnew,tobeafuckingkidforonceinsteadofthinkingaboutherfuture—whichshedid.Allthetime.”Ishookmyhead,tearsblurringmyvisionagain.“ItoldherI’dstaysober,beherspiritguide.AllI’dhadwasalittleweed.Buttheguyswhogaveusthemolly,Ididn’tknowthemwell.I…IjustthoughtIcouldtrustthem.”Iletoutasick,sarcasticlaugh.ItsoundedevenmorestupidwhenIsaiditoutloud,butwhenIwasseventeen,Ihadn’tthoughttwiceaboutit.“BecauseI’dpartiedwiththemafewtimes,”Iaddedflatly.
Holden’sthumbhadstilled,andIcouldfeelit,howicewasrunninginhisveinsjustasitwasinmine.
“Iknewsomethingwaswrong.Iknew…”Painseveredmychest,andIstopped,pressingahandovermyheartasifIcouldstopit.“Shewasn’tactingright.Iknewwhatitlookedlikewhensomeonewasrolling,andthatwasn’twhatwashappening.Andthentheguys,theytriedto…they…”
Asobrippedfrommythroat,andHoldenpulledmeintohim—notjustahug,butfullyintohislap,hismassivearmswrappingmeupasifhecouldshieldmefromthenightmareIrelivedeverysecondofeveryday.
“Theyknewwhatthey’ddone.Shewasoutofit,andtheyweretakingoffherclothes.Shewasbarelyevenawake.”Isobbed.“Istoppedthem.Ikickedandclaweduntiltheywerecallingmeacrazybitch.Theyleftusalone.Butshewasalready…itwastoolate…IdroveasfastasIcouldtothehospital,butIknew.IalreadyknewbeforeIgottherethatshewasgone.”
“Shhh,”Holdensaid,rockingme,squeezingmetight.
“Ikilledher,”Ichoked.“Ikilledher,Holden,andIwishitwasmewho’ddied,instead.”
Heheldmetighter,andIsobbed,emotionIthoughtI’dburiedlongagoexplodingoutofmelikeIwasaneruptingvolcano.Icouldn’tbreathe,couldn’tcalmdown,couldn’tdoanythingbutfallcompletelyapart.
Itstruckmethatitwasbecause,forthefirsttime,Ifeltsafetodoso.
“Everyyearonherbirthday,Ifallapart.ButI’vebeensogoodthislastyear,”Isaidpathetically.“Ithoughtmaybethistime…”
Isniffed,shakingmyhead.
“Itriednotto.Itriedtojuststayhome,torideitout,tonotdrink…butI…Ijust…”Ilickedmylips,tastingthetearsthere.“Ijustwantedthepaintogoaway.Iwantedtofeelnumb.Iwantedtofeelnothingatall.”
Henodded,likeheknewalready,likeheunderstood.
Andheshouldhave.
He’dlosthissister,too.Notjusthissister,buthisparents.He’dlosteverything
Thefactthathecouldstillgoonlivinglifemademefeelevenmorelikeamonster,afailure,acoward.
Myfiststwistedinhisshirt,clutchinghimtomeasIcriedandcried.Butafterawhile,Ifoundmybreathagain,andHoldenpulledback,tiltingmychinuptolookathim.
“It’snotyourfault.”
“Itis,”Iargued,sniffingbackmoretears.“Evenmymomknowsit.Youknow,shehasn’tsaidmorethanafewwordstomesinceithappened?”Ishookmyhead.“Sheblamesme,evenifshewon’tsayit.AndshethinksI’mnext.ShesawmegoingofftherailswhenAbbydiedanditwasalmostlike…itwasalmostlikesheexpectedit,likeshewantedit.”
“That’snottrue.”
Ishookmyhead,unconvinced.“AndDad,”Iadded,chestsqueezingwithpain.“Whenhelooksatme?Idon’tseelove,orpride,orunderstanding.AllIseeisdisappointment.”Ihiccupped.“HewishesitwasAbbywholivedinsteadofme.”
“Yourdadlovesyou,”Holdenargued.“Helovesyousomuchthatitterrifieshim.Whydoyouthinkhethreatensallofuswithinaninchofourlifeforsomuchaslookingatyou?”
“Becausehe’sworriedI’llendupknockeduporinaviralgang-bangvideoonline.”
Holdengrabbedmyface.“Becausehecaresaboutyou,anditworrieshimsicktothinkaboutanythingbadeverhappeningtoyou—evensomethingassmallasgettingyourheartbrokenbyastupidjock.”
Iknewhewastryingtolightenthemood,tomakemesmile,butIcouldn’t.Itwasimpossible.TheonlythingIcoulddowasspiral.
“It’snotyourfaultthatAbbyisgone,”hesaid,forcingmetolookathim.“Doyouhearme?It’snotyourfault.Andthefactthatyoucaresodeeplyforherthatyouhelpherliveonthroughyourownlifeprovesthatyou’renotthisevilmonsteryouthinkyouare.”
Ishookmyhead,overandover.
“Youareagreatsister,andagreatdaughter,andagreatperson.Haveyoumadesomemistakes?Maybe.Butwealldo.”Hiseyessearchedmine.“Whatmattersisthatyou’restillhere,andyou’retrying.Youareworkingonit.”Heswallowed.“That’sallwecando.”
Somethingofalaughcameoutofmynose,andIlookeddown,awayfromhim,wantingsodesperatelytobelievehimevenwhileeverythinginsideofmepushedthatsentimentaway.
“Well,itdoesn’tmatter.Nothingmatters.Wanttoknowwhy?”Ilookedhimrightintheeye.“Becauseintheend,wealldie.Andtobehonest,Ican’twaitformytimetocome.Ican’twaittobefree.”
ItwastheonlythingI’dsaidthatnightthatmadehimcrack.
IsawitthemomentIsaidit,Isawhowhisbreathhitched,howtearsprickedhiseyes,howhisjawtightenedandhisthroatconstricted.Iwaitedforhimtoexplode,totellmeIwasselfishforthinkingthatway.
Instead,heslidhishandsback,cradlingmyneck,histhumbsonmyjawandholdingmestillashiseyesboreintomine.
“Itdoesmatter,”hebreathed.“Youmatter.”
Iblinked,settingfreetwoteardropsthatwentracingdowneachofmycheeks
“Youareenough,Julep,”hewhispered,thewordswreckingmeandhealingmeallatonce.“Andyouareneeded.Mostofallbyme.”
Heswallowedthecrythatthosewordselicitedfromme,pullingmeintohimandkissingmeasiftosealthatsentimentinsideofmeuntilIbelievedit.Hedidn’tkissmewiththepassiontotakemyclothesoff,hekissedmewiththedesperationtosaveme.
AndIwashangingonjustenoughtolethim.
Imelted,andhetookmyweightashekissedonewetcheekandthentheother,overandover,tracingthetrailsmytearshadmadebeforefindingmylipsagain.Itastedmypainwhenhekissedme,feltmyselftremblinginhislapashewrappedmeinhisarmsandheldmeastightlyashecould.
Hekissedmeuntilmytearsdriedup.Hekissedmeuntilmylipswereraw.Hekissedme,andthenIpulledhimdownontome,tearingathisclothesuntilwewerebareandpressedagainsteachother.
Icouldn’tgetcloseenough,couldn’tsatiatemyneedforhimuntilhewasinsideme.
Oncehewas,everythingslowed—myheart,hisbreath,mypanic,histhrusts.Hisfingertipscurledaroundmyshoulders,andheheldmethereasheplungedintome,asIwrappedmyarmsandlegsaroundhimandpleadedformore.
Thiswasn’tmythighhikedupandhimfuckingmeinadarkcloset,itwasn’tmebentoveradeskwithmypantsaroundmyankles,itwasn’tfastandfuriousandfilthylikesomanyofourtimestogetherhadbeen.
Thiswaspassion,pureandrawandsouldeep.
ThiswasHoldenMooreseeingmeforabsolutelyeverythingthatIwas—everychaotic,fucked-up,maimedpieceofme.
Andsomehowfindingitbeautifulenoughthathewantedtoclaimit.
So,Ilethim.IopenedineverywaythatIcould,invitedhiminsideeverydarkcrackofmybeingandaskedhimtofillitwithhislight.
Ineedyou,Itoldhimwitheverykiss.
I’mhere,hesaidbackwitheverythrustofhiships.
Don’tleaveme,Ibeggedwitheverybiteofmynailsintohisback.
Andwhenwefinished,andhesatagainstthewindow,pullingmeintohislapandkissingmehardandlongandrelentlesslyuntilIwasstraddlinghimandwewereconnectedagain,Iknewhisanswerwithouthimutteringasingleword.
Inevercould.Holden
Sunlightstreamedinthroughmywindowtooearlythatmorning,theendlessnightblendingintodayasifithadn’texistedatall.Insomanyways,itfeltlikeadream.
Insomanyothers,itfeltlikeanawakening.
IheldJulepagainstme,bothofusnakedandwrappedupinmysheetsandcomforter,ourbodyheatkeepingoneanotherwarm.Ihadmyarmunderherandwrappedaroundhershoulderwhiletheotherheldherwaist.Shehadonelegthreadedbetweenmine,andshescrawledsecretmessagesintomyskinwithalazyfingertip.
Ifwe’dslept,ithadn’tbeenmuch.Neitherofushadwantedtostoptouching,tostopkissingandtastingandfeelingeverybitofconnectionhumanlypossible.MybodyhummedwithavibrationI’dneverfelt—notliketheusualsatedbuzzafteragoodfucking,butsomethingdeeper,something…heavier
Ithadbeenthemostsensual,eroticexperienceofmyentirefuckinglife.
Juleprolledinmyarms,turninguntilherbackwaspressedagainstmychest.Icurledaroundher,fittingmyselftoherseamlesslyandrestingmychininthecrookofherneck.Ikissedtheskinthere,andalong,sweetsighleftherlipsatthetouch.
IknewIneededtogetupsoon.Ididn’thavetolookatthetimetoknowIprobablyhadlessthananhourbeforeIneededtoheadtothestadium.ButIheldhertighter,closer,prayingfortimetoholdstillforjustafewmomentslonger.
Morethananything,Iwantedhertoknowthatshewasn’talone.IwantedtosharesomethingwithherthatIneversharedwithanyone,somethingthatshowednoneofusreacttodeathin“therightway.”
Therewasnorightway.
“Iwantedtoquit.”
Isaidthewordsagainstthebackofherneck,andJulepfrozeforamomentbeforeshewiggledbackagainstme,lettingmeknowshewaslistening.
“Whenmymom…”Emotionstrangledme,butIswalloweditdown.“Whenshetookherlife,whensheleftmealonebecauseshecouldn’thandlethepainoflosingmydadandHannah,Ididn’tseeapointtofootballanymore.Ididn’tseeapointtoanything.”
Julepsqueezedwhereherhandrestedonmyforearmthatheldhertome.
“IwasaghostwhenmyuncleKevincameandgotme,whenhebroughtmeheretoNewEngland.Formonths,Ibarelyspoketohim,barelyate,barelyshowered.Ididn’ttryoutforthefootballteam,nomatterhowhebeggedme.Butoneday,whenitwastheperfectkindofgrayfalldayforplayingball,hedraggedmedowntotheparkandmademeplaycatchwithhim.HetoldmeifIwouldjustthrowtheballforanhour,he’dleavemealone.
“Iwasannoyedatfirst.IdraggedmyfeetonthewaythereandIthrewtheballlopsidedlylikealittlekidhavingahissyfit.Butafterawhile…somethingcamebacktome.IfoundmyselfbreathingeasierforthefirsttimesinceMomleft.IfelttheclosestthingtojoyIcouldmanage.UncleKevindidn’tsayaword,didn’ttrytotalktomeorgivemeanykindoftherapy.Butwiththatonesimplehourinthepark,heremindedmeofsomethingI’dforgotten.”
Julepangledherheadabittowardme,likeshewantedtoknow.
“ThatIlovelife.Ilovemylife.Ilovemymom,evenifshehurtmebyleaving.AndIlovemydadandmysister.IlovedhavingthefamilythatIhad,thelifethatIhad—evenifitwasrippedfrommetoosoon.Ilovemyuncle.Ilovethatdespiteeverythinghehadgoingoninhisownlife,itwasn’ttoomuchforhimtosacrificealittlemoreanddoeverythinghecouldtohelpme.AndwhatreallyhitmeinthatmomentwasthatIrememberedIlovefootball.Ilovefootball.Andjustlikepolesavedyou,itwasthegamethatsavedme.”
Iwasquietforalongwhile,andJulepturnedinmyarmsuntilshewasfacingmeagain.Shedidn’thavetosayawordformetoseethatshewasthankfulI’dsharedthatwithher,thatI’dshownthatshewasn’taloneinfeelingthewayshedid.
MythroattightenedthelongerIlookedintohereyes,themoremyfingerstrailedthroughhersilkyhair.AndthenmyheartspokebeforeIcouldconsiderwhetheritwasbetterornottomuzzleit.
“Iwanttobewithyou.”
Julep’sbottomliptrembled,andatearleakedoutofthecornerofhereyeanddownoverthepillowcase.
“Iseeyou,everythingthatyouare,andI’veneverneededanythingmoreinmylife.Anddon’tsaywecan’t,”Iwarnedherwhensheopenedhermouth.“Iknowtherisk.Iknow.But…maybe,ifwecanshowhimhowgoodwearetogether,yourdadwillunderstand.”
Julep’sfacelitupalittlewithanamusedcurlofherlips,thefirstI’dseenintwenty-fourhoursatleast.“Youdon’tknowmyfather.”
“Idon’t,that’strue,”Iconceded.“ButI’mstartingtoknowyou.AndIwanttoknowmore.”
Julepsighed.
“Please,justthinkab—”
“Wouldyouletmespeak?”
Shesmiledalittlewiththequestion,shakingherheadbeforeshecuddledintomemore.
“Iwanttobewithyou,too.”
Reliefsmackedintome,andIpulledherintomeandkissedherwhileshelaughedagainstmylips.Butthenshepressedherpalmintomychest.
“But…”
Igroaned.“No,nobuts.Exceptthisone,”Iadded,squeezingherass.
Sherolledhereyes.“ButIwanttowaituntilaftertheseasontotellanyone.Especiallymydad.He’salreadystressedoutenoughasitis,andIthinkifwestandanychanceofgettinghimtounderstand,tobeokaywiththis…weneedtowaituntilhe’sinabetterheadspace.Untilhe’snotinCoachmode.”
Iconsidered,chesttighteningwithhowmuchIhatedthethoughtofwaitingatleastanothertwomonthstoclaimJulepthewayIreallywantedto.
Butshewassayingyes.
Shewassayingshewantedme,too.
Intheend,thatwasallthatmatteredtome.
“Okay,”Iconceded.“Withoneexception.”
Juleparchedabrow.“Areweinnegotiationsnow?”
Ismiled,sweepingherhairbehindherear.Iletmythumbrestthereagainstherjaw,smoothingoverthebone.
“Iwantyoutomeetmyuncles.”Julep
“Julep,youtramp!”
Ibarkedoutalaughattheexclamation,evenmoresowhenNathanswattedKevinforsayingit.
“Don’tbeasoreloser,”Nathansaid,slidingadominofromhishandacrossthetable.HeplayeditwhereIhadjustplayedtheonethathadelicitedtheinsultfromhishusband.
“I’llbewhateverkindofloserIwanttobe,thankyou,”Kevinsaid,glaringatmeashetookadominofromthedrawpile.Hepoutedalittlemorewhenhehadtodrawanother,butonthethirdone,hewasabletoplay.“AndI’mmoresaltythansore.It’snotfairthatthisgirlisbeatingusthisbadlyherfirsttimeinourhome.”
Hewinkedatmethen,andIsmiled,lookingdownatmyhandasHoldendebatedwheretoplay.Softjazzmusiccroonedfromthespeakerinthekitchen.Wewereinthefinalroundofaheatedgameofchickenfoot.
ItwassaferformetolookatmyhandthanitwastolookacrossthetableatHolden.EverytimeIdid,myovariesnearlyexploded.We’dbeenathisuncles’houseforalmosttwohoursnow,andhisbabycousinhadbeeninhisarmsnearlytheentiretime.Shewasthesizeofmaybetwofootballs,andhecradledherjustthesame—casually,effortlessly,asifshebelongedthere.
Seeingahot,buffquarterbackcuddlingatinybabygirlwastherecipeformorethanjustafewdisasters.
“Youknow,Unc,”Holdensaidasheplayedadomino,andthenIimmediatelyplayedtheoneinmyhand.“Youshouldreallystayawayfromanyjobsinwarstrategy.”
Kevinfrowned,glaringathishusbandasheplayedadominoandwentdowntoonlytwoleftinhishand.Ihadthree,andKevinhadatleastsix.
“Why,becauseIletmyemotionsgetthebestofmeandcalloutruthlessplayers?”heasked,playinghisdomino.
“No,”Holdensaid,andthenhemovedwherehisarmhadbeenholdingJoanne,revealingthatwhereweallthoughthewashidinghisdominoeswasactuallyvacant.Heplayedhisfinaloneonhisline.“Becauseyou’retooeasilydistractedbythedecoy.”
“Noooo!”UncleKevincried,andthenhecoveredhischestliketherehadbeenanarrowshotthroughit,makingacinematicsceneashefelltotheground.JoannehadbeendozinginHolden’sarms,butthecommotionstartledher,andshestartedcrying.
“Oh,it’sokay,Jojo.That’sjustyourdadbeingdramatic.Canyousaydramatic?”Holdenteased,bouncingJoanneinhislapalittletotrytosootheher.
“Canyousayhungry,nephew?”Kevinjokedasheusedthebackofthechairtohelphimselfstand.“Becausethat’swhatyou’regoingtobewhenIkickyououtbeforedinnerisserved.”
“Likehellyouwill,”Nathaninterjected.“Thissmokedporkbutthastakenmealldamnday,andeverysingleoneofyouisgoingtostuffyourselvesuntilyouexplode.”
“Speakingofexploding,”Holdensaid,grimacingasheheldhiscousintowardhisuncle.“Doodiecalls.”
Kevinlitup,thebrightestsmileonhisfaceashetookhisdaughterfromHolden’sarms.“Didmyprincessmakeapoopy?”
Joannecriedastherestofuslaughed,andthenKevinwinkedatmeandcarriedherbacktowardoneofthebedrooms.
Nathanstoodnext.“I’mgoingtostartpreppingthesides.Whydon’tyoutwoclearthisupandsetthetable?”Hepaused,lookingatme.“We’resohappytohaveyouhere,Julep.”
MycheekswerewarmwhenIreplied,“I’mhappytobehere,too.”
NathanturnedhissmileonHoldenthen,lingeringforamomentbeforeheleftus.
Whenhedid,Holdenshookhishead,grabbingthebagforthedominoesasIworkedoncollectingthemoffthetable.“Well,IknowIwarnedyouitwasariotaroundhere,buthopefullyithasn’tbeensomuchthatyoublockmynumberwhenwegetbacktocampus.”
Ismiled.“It’samazing.”
“Youhaveaninterestingdefinitionforthatword.”
“It’schaotic,yes,”Iagreed.“But…inthebestway.It’swarm.It’sfamily.”Somethinginmyheartached.“Ihaven’tfeltanythinglikethis.Atleast,notforalongtime.”
Holdenpausedwherehewascleaningup,watchingmeforamomentbeforehedroppedthebagofdominoesandroundedthetable.Hesweptmeintohisarms.
“Theyloveyou.”
“Who?”
“Myuncles.”
Ichuckled.“IthinkKevinwantstomurderme.”
“Nah,it’smehe’safternow.Becauseincaseyoudidn’tcalculatethescoreafterthatlastround,”headded,peekingovermyshoulderatthescoresheet.“Youtooksecond,sweetheart.Nooneisthreatenedbysecondplace.”
Ismiledsweetlyupathim,pressingontomytiptoeslikeIwasgoingtokissthatsmugsmileoffhisface.“You’rehotwhenyou’recocky.”
“Thatso?”heaskedonasmirk,hishandsfindingmyhips.
Rightbeforeourlipsmet,Ipunchedhiminthegut.
Holdenletoutanoofofalaughashedoubledover,andIturnedjustintimetocatchhisuncleKevinwalkinginwithafreshlychangedandsmilingJoanneonhiship.
Hepointedatmeashesatdownwithawidegrin.“Ilovethisgirl.”
ConversationwaseasyasNathanserveddinnerandweallate.Therewasmelt-in-yourmouthshreddedporkbuttthathadbathedalldayinatangymojosauce,anout-of-this-worldpotatosalad,handmade-from-scratchdinnerrolls,andwatermelon.Itfeltlikesummerinthemiddleofholidayseason,anditwasdelicious—thebestmealI’dhadinmonths.Iateeverylastscrapofmyfirstservingbeforegoingbackformore.
“So,whatmadeyoupickathletictraining,Julep?”Nathanaskedmehalfwaythroughthemeal.
Iswallowedthefoodinmymouthandsmiled.“Well,originally?Ijustdidittomakemydadhappy.”
Hefrowned.“Ihatetohearthat.”
“Trustme,Ihateddoingit,”Iadmitted.“But,atthetime,Iwaskindofamess.Stillamsomedays.DadthoughtifIhadamajorinsomethingwherehecouldworkcloselywithme,hecouldhelpme.So…Idecidedtotry,ifevenjusttogethimoffmybackalittle.”
Nathansmiledlikeheunderstood.
“But,”Icontinued.“ShortlyafterIdeclareditmymajor,Ifoundpole.”
“Pole?”Kevininquiredcuriously.
“Polefitness.Tricks,dancing,allofit,”Iexplained.
“Stopit!”Nathan’seyesgrewwide.“Iwatchvideosofpoledancersallthetime.Iswear,it’smesmerizing.Icouldwatchforhours.”
Kevinclearedhisthroatwithaperchedbrow.“Excuseme?”
“Oh,don’tworry,honey.They’remostlyfemales,”Nathanassuredhishusband.“Mostly,”headded,takingasipofhiswineandquicklysteeringthefocusbacktome.“Anyway,soyoufoundpole.”
“Idid,”Isaidonasmile.“Andsuddenly,Iwasreallyinterestedinmymajor.Ilovedlearningaboutthewaythebodyworks,howitconnectstodifferentsports.Therearecertaininjuriesthatflareupforeveryathlete,dependingonwhatpositionorsporttheyplay,andpoleisnodifferent.Ifwedon’tworkbothsides,wecanreallymessupourspine,ourneck,ordevelopmusclesinareallyunbalancedway.Andsomanyofthetricksrequireanunderstandingofanatomy,offlexibilityandmobility.So,whatstartedassomethingIdidformydadturnedintosomethingIdoforme.”
Holdengrabbedmyhandandsqueezed.“Ididn’tknowthat.”
“Well,nowyoudo.”
Hesmiled.“Ilovelearningnewthingsaboutyou.”
Mycheeksflushed,andhisunclessharedaknowingglancebeforeturningtheconversationtoonein-betweenjustthetwoofthemsoHoldenandIcouldhaveamoment.
ThesunsetasNathanandKevinopenedtheirsecondbottleofwine—thoughHoldenandIoptedforwater—andwhenJoannewastuckedinforthenight,wemovedtothesittingroomandgatheredaroundthefireplace,talkingandlaughinguntilmyvoicewashoarse.
Itwasdifferent,seeingHoldenaroundhisfamily.Hedidn’ttakeonthesternleadershiprolethatIwassousedtoseeinghiminwiththeteam.Here,hewasrelaxed,comfortable.Helaughed—alot.Heplayedwithhisnieceandthrewjabsathisuncle.Everyounceofstresshadmeltedawaythemomentwewalkedthroughthedoor.Evenhispostureshowedhewasatease.
Itwasanicechange,seeingashowthelastcoupleofweekshadbeenhardonhim.He’dledtheteamtoawintheweekendbeforeThanksgiving,whichhadsecuredthemabowlgame.Andnowthatthey’dwonanother,alltheirfocuswasonwaitingtohearthebowlannouncementsonSunday,toseeifthey’dmadetheplayoffs.
Ifthesportsanalystswereright,theywereashoo-in.
IknewthatwasallHoldenwanted—theplayoffbowlgame,thechampionshipwin,andthen,ultimately,tobedrafted.Butjustbecausehewasclosetogettingwhathewanteddidn’tmeanthepressurewasoff.Ifanything,ithaddoubled,andI’dfelthistensionmounting.
Ofcourse,helpinghimrelievesaidtensionhadbecomemyfavoritepastime.
Inalotofways,notmuchhadchangedsincethatnightatthePit.Westillsnuckawayeverysecondwecouldgettobetogether,andwestillkeptitasecret.Well,almostasecret,anyway.Riley,Giana,andMaryknew—thoughtheystillthoughtwewerejusthookingup.Andapparently,Zekehadhissuspicionsconfirmedthatnightoftheparty.Holden’suncleswerenowalsointhatcircleoftrust,butthatwasexactlywhatitwas—atight,smallringofpeopleweknewwouldn’tputeitherofusinjeopardy.
Itwasmyfatherwestillneededtobewaryof.
“Youtwoshouldcallit,”NathansaidwhenIcoveredayawn.“You’vestillgotabitofadrivebacktocampus,andtrafficisalwaysanightmareheadingintothecitynomatterwhattimeitis.”
Holdennodded,standingandhelpingNathanclearglasses.“Yeah,Coachhasuspracticingearlytomorrow.HewantsusalltogetsomeresttomorrownightbeforethebigannouncementSunday.”
“Wealreadybookedourflightsandhotel,”Kevinsaid.
Holdenpaused.“Wedon’tevenknowifwemadeityet.”
“Oh,weknowjustfine,”Nathanansweredforhim,thenheandHoldendisappearedintothekitchenasKevinturnedtowardme.
“How’syourdadhangingonwithallthebowlmadnessupintheair?”
Isighed,rubbingmypalmsdownthelengthofmyjeans.“He’salwaysalittlecrazyduringtheseason,butIcantellhe’sevenmorewoundupthanusual.Hegetsmorecontrollinginthesesituations,kindoflikeahelicopterparent,butwiththeplayersinsteadofme.”
Kevinsmiled.
“Tobehonest,Ihaven’tseenmuchofhimoutsideofwhenourpathscrossatthestadium.”
“WhataboutThanksgiving?”
Iclearedmythroat.NotevenHoldenknewthatI’dspentthatholidayalone.ItoldhimIwaswithMaryandherfamily,butithadjustbeenme,abowlpackedwithmarijuana,andaChristmasmoviemarathon.
“Uh,heflewdowntoseemymom.”
“Oh,”Kevinsaid.“Ididn’trealizeshewasn’therewithyou.”
“ShelovesourhomeinAlabamatoomuchtoeverleave.She’sgotallherchurchfriendsthere,andheryogagroupies.”Ismiled,butitfellabittooquickly.
“Youmissher?”
Ishrugged.“ImissedherlongbeforeIdidn’tliveunderthesameroofasheranymore.”
Kevinfrowned,andwhenIsawhisexpression,IrealizedI’dsaidtoomuchwithoutgivingcontext.
“Wedon’texactlyseeeyetoeye.”
“Ah,”hesaid,andthenheleanedforward,balancinghiselbowsonhisknees.“Iknowthatfeelingwell.”
Inodded,staringatwheremyhandswerefoldedinmylap.
“Wedon’tgettochooseourparents,andsometimes,Ithinkweforgetthey’rehumans,”Kevinsaid.HelookedalotlikeHoldeninthatmoment—samedimples,samesharpjawlineandbrightgreeneyes.ItmademewonderifheandHolden’sdadhadbeenclosetotwinswhentheywereyounger.“Buttheyhavecomplexemotionsjustlikewedo,andsometimes,whenthey’reworkingthroughthem,we’recollateraldamage.”
“Ithinkshe’sworkedthroughheremotionsjustfine,”Isaid.“Anddecidedinthatprocessthatshe’dratherforgetshehasascrew-updaughter.”
“You’renotascrewup,”hesaidquickly.“Iknowthatjustfromonenightwithyou,andmybetisthatsheknowsit,too.Givehertime.Evenifyou’vegivenheralotofitalready.Shejustmightsurpriseyou.”
Ibreathedalaughthroughmynose.“Andifshedoesn’t?”
“Ah,well,thenyoudowhatIdid,”hesaid,sittingbackandspreadingbotharmsoverthebackoftheloveseat.Hishandsgesturedtohissurroundingsashedid.“Youmakeafamilyofyourown.”Holden
“Goddamnit,Moore!”
CoachblewthewhistlebeforeLeocouldevenfinishtherouteandruntheballinforatouchdown—whichisexactlywhathewouldhavedone.Igroundmyteethbeforeturningtofacehim.
“Areyoutryingtopissmeofftoday?”
“Idon’thavetotryveryhard,doI?”
Hisheadsnappedback.“Excuseme?”
Ibitmylipagainsttheurgetopushhimmore,tofight.Hewasbeingmoreofanassholethanusual,andIknewitwasbecauseitwasthelastpracticewehadbeforebowlreveal.Hewaswoundtight,weallwere,andtensionswerehigh.
Heglaredatmeforalongwhile,therestoftheteamhangingtheirhandsontheirhipsandcatchingtheirbreath.Istaredrightback,waiting.
“Icalledaflat.Kylewasyourman.”
“AnddefensewasintheperfectpositiontosackmeifIdidn’tgettheballoutquickly,soIcalledaslantinsteadandfoundLeo.”
“Youdon’tgettochangemydirectionbecauseofahypotheticalsack.”
“Itwasn’thypothetical.Itwouldhavehappened.Andthisismyjobasquarterback,toseeeverythingandmakechangeswhenneeded.”
CoachLee’sjawwastight,andeveryplayeronthefieldwastensewheretheywatchedusthrowdown.
“Run,”hesaid,andthenheturnedhisbackandwalkedtothesideline,knowingwithouthavingtowatchthatwewouldalldoexactlyashecommanded.
Weranuntilwenearlypuked.
Therestofpracticewasbrutal,andIwasexhaustedbythetimeIdraggedmyassupmystairstomyroombackatthePit.Alotoftheteamwasplanningongoingout,onclosingdownthebarsandsleepinginuntilthebowlgameswereannouncedtomorrowatnoon.Myroommateswerealreadyintheshower.Ihadnoplansofjoiningthem,though.Myonlyplansconsistedofmeandmybed.
Thatwas,untilIopenedmybedroomdoorandfoundJulepinmysheets.
Thesunwassettingalready,goldenlightshowcasingflakesofdustthatdanceddowntomyhardwoodfloorsasIshutthedoorbehindmeanddroppedmybag.Shewasavisioninthatlight,onelegpokingoutfromunderthesheets,herheadproppedonherhand,hairdownandawavymessasshewatchedme.
“Howdidyougetinhere?”
“That’sthewrongquestion.”
Ismiled,inchingtowardher.“Mmm…andwhatistherightone?”
“CanIhaveoneofmyChristmaspresentsearly?”
Thatmademechuckle,butbeforeIcouldfallintobedwithher,sheliftedthatbarefootofhersthatwasontopofthesheetandpressedittomychesttostopme.
Whenshedid,aflashofredsilkcontrastedwiththewhiteofmysheets.
Ibitmyliponagroan,trailingonehandoverherankle,downhercalf,herthigh,untilIcouldskateafingertipoverthatsatintease.
Julepsmiledsalaciously,andthensheslowlypeeledthesheetsback,revealingherselfinchbyblissfulinch.Shekeptherdarkeyeslockedonme,andmycocktwitchedtolifeasshespreadoutandletmetakeinthefullviewofher.
Shewaswrappedlikeapresent,agiantredbowacrossherbreastsandasliveroffabricsufficingasathongattheapexofherthighs.
“MerryChristmas,indeed,”Isaid,andJulepgrinnedmore.
Butagain,whenIreachedforher,thatdamnfootcameuptostopme.
“Ah-ah,”shesaid,andthensheslowlyclimbedoffthebedandstoodinfrontofme.Iletmyeyesrakeoverherbodyasshepressedintome,andherhandsslippedintothepocketsofmyjoggers,theleftonefindingmyphoneandpullingitfree.“Ithinkthisisagiftyou’llwanttorememberopening,”shesaid,tappingthephonescreenafewtimesbeforeshehandedittome.
Whenshedid,thevideorecordingscreenwaspulledup.
Thecamerapointedrightather.
Iswallowed,tryingtofindreasonthroughthespellshewasweaving.“Whatareyouaskingme,Julep?”
Shewalkedaroundme,fingertipsglidingovermyarmsandbackbeforeshepausedandreachedoverwhereIgrippedthephone.Shetappedtherecordbutton,andthensteppedbackintoframe.
“I’maskingyoutorecordme,”shebreathed,pullingattheribbontiedbehindherback.Itflutteredtotheground,revealingherswollenbreasts.“Makeavideoofmeonmykneesforyou.”
Ihissedacurseasshedroppedtoherknees,onebyone,andwhenIdidn’tfollowherwiththecamera,shereachedupandpointeditdownather.
“Focus,cameraman,”sheteased.“Don’twanttomisstheshot.”
Hergrinwasplayfulandteasingassheunfastenedthetiearoundmyhips,tuggingmyjoggersdownuntiltheyhitmyankles.Sherippedmybriefsdownnext,andmycocksprangforward,alreadyachingforher.
Mybreathhitchedinmythroatassheleanedforward,wrappingmeinonehandandsmoothingherpalmuptomytipbeforesheranitdowntothebase.Shesqueezedwithjusttherightpressure,monthsoffuckinggivinghertheexactcombinationtomakemegroanforher.ShesmiledwhenIdid,andthenshebroughtmytiptohertongue.
Andshelookedupatme.
Iwatchedinrealtimeaswellasonmyphone,theimagemirrored,herdarkeyesheavyandheatedassheswirledhertonguearoundtheheadofmycock.
“FuckingChrist,Julep,”Icursed,soturnedonIcouldbarelyseestraightassheflickedthetipofhertongueoverme.
Ihadtroublekeepingthephonesteady,thecameraangledrightassheswirledhertongueagain,thistimesealingherlipsovermeanddivingdownuntiltheymetwhereherhandgrippedmybase.
Isawstarsasthesensationrockedthroughme,andwhenImoaned,hernipplespeakedmore.Itturnedheronjustasmuchasitdidme,heronherknees,mycockinhermouth,hereyeslockeduponthelensasIrecordedher.
“You’reanaughtyfuckinggirl,”Ihuskedasshebobbedupandthenbackdown,takingmoreofmeinsideherthistime.
“I’vebeensobad,”sheagreedwithalittlewhimperofamoan,andthensheslickedmeagain,squeezingherhandintimewithhermouthtocreatethemostbeautiful,torturouspleasure.Shebobbedup,down,againandagain,pickingupherspeeduntilshereleasedmewithapopandlookedupatmewhileherslobber-coveredhandpumpedme.“IthinkIneedtobepunished.”
Islidmyfreehandintoherhair,guidinghermouthtomeagain,andthenIslammedintohermouth,makinghergag.
Shemoanedevenasthereflextookover,thatsoundenoughtotellmethatshewantedmore.So,Irockedinagain,holdinghertherethistimeuntilhereyeswateredandshegaggedoncemore.Iletherpullback,groaningwhenIsawthesalivathatdrippedfromhermouth.Iranmythumboverwhereitslickedherbottomlip.
“Up,”Idemanded.
Shestoodimmediately,andIknewshewasontracktokissme,butjustlikeshehadonthebed—Istoppedher.Iwhippedheraround,handsplayingthetopofherbackasIbentheroveruntilherhandscaughtthemattress.
Withonehandstillholdingmyphoneasitrecorded,Irantheotherdownherback,overtheshinyredstrapofherthong,andalongtheplumpswellofherass.Shewaveditsidetosideabit,likeshelovedthefeelofmypalmrubbingagainstit.
Then,Iliftedmypalmandbroughtitbackdownquickandhard,thesmackofthehitringingoutinmyroom.
Shegasped,backarchingandasspokingoutaskingformore.
“It’snotpunishmentifyoulikeit,”Imused,andIspankedheragain,thistimeearningmyselfthesweetestmoanofpleasure.
“Yes,”shebegged.
Ismoothedtheredskinbeforesmackingitagain,andshemoanedevenlouder.
Tooloud.
Istilled,leavingherlongenoughtocrossbacktomydoorandlockitjustincase.Then,Isetmyphonedown,strippedofftherestofmyclothesandwalkedbackovertoherwiththecamerastillrunning.
“Quiet,baby,”IcooedasIbentoverher,phoneinonehandwhiletheothersliddownoverherass.IkissedhershoulderasImaneuveredafingeraroundherthongandpresseditdeepinsideher.Shegaspedandarchedrightintothetouch.“Thosemoansareformeonly.”
Istoodthen,takingmyheatwithmeasIgrabbedherthonginmyfreehandandrippeditoverherass,downherhips,draggingitroughlysidebysideuntilIhaditaroundherankles.Beforeshecouldevenstepoutofthelegholes,Ilickedmyhandandranmywetpalmoverher,rubbingherclitandaddinglubricationtoheralreadydrippingpussy.
Shereachedforme,pullingmetoherandliningupmycrownwithherentrance.Shepressedjustthetipofmeinsideherbeforeshereleasedmeonamoan,lettingmetakecontrol.AndIkeptthecamerarollingasIhookedmyfreehandinthecrookofherhipandpulledherontome,slickingmyselfwithher,fillingherallthewayupinonebrutalthrust.
Webothmoaned,andthecamerashookinmyhandasIwithdrewandflexedinagain.Ididn’tknowwhatwassweeter,thefeelofhersqueezingaroundmyshaft,ortheviewofmedisappearinginsideheragainandagain,theimagesomehowevenfilthieronthatscreenshiningupatme.
“Youlooksofuckingbeautiful,”Ipraised,runningmypalmoverherassasIwithdrew.Ispankedher,divingbackinandrevelinginthemoanshesetfreewhenIdid.“Sofuckingperfect.”
“Iwanttosee,”shepleaded,andslowly,shebegantotakecontrolofthethrusts,movingherhipsbackandforth,herpussyswallowingmeasherassbouncedagainstmypelvis.“Iwanttoseeyourelease.Iwantyoutofuckmeharduntilyoupaintmewithyourcum.”
Ibitbackthecursethatautomaticallyrippedfrommeatthefilthywords,athowtheysparkedtheflameslickingdownmyspine.Shepickedupherpacethen,fuckingmewildlyasIlethertakecontrolandkeptallmyfocusonholdingthegodforsakencamerastillandinfocus.
Shewassowet,soturnedon,sofreeandchaoticasshetookexactlywhatshewantedfromme.Anditwastoofuckinghotformetoretainanycontrol.Mybodyshook,eyesflutteringshutbeforeIwilledthemopenagainandgruntedasmyclimaxcaught.
Ipulledoutatthelastsecond,strokingmythrobbingcockasIbustedalloverherass,thesmallofherback,watchingherbodywritheundermetheentiretimeasshemoanedandreveledinearningjustwhatshe’daskedfor.Itwasfuckingsensational,howshemovedforme,thewaythelastbitoflightcastherinagoldenglowonthescreen,howmycumpaintedherassandpooledinthecreviceofherspine.
WhenIwasspent,Ishooklikethebiggestchillhadjustcomeoverme,clickingoffthecameraandtossingmyphonedowntothemattressbeforeIcollapsedintoit,too.IwasbreathingsohardIthoughtImightneedaninhalertoregaincomposure,myentirebodypulsing.
“Fuckinghell,woman,”Ibreathed,rollingoverassheclimbedontopofme.Shestraddledme,reachingbehindheranddraggingafingertipthroughmycumbeforesuckingitrightoffherfinger.
Ishookmyhead,breathingoutalaugh.
“Myturn,”shesaid,andthenshereachedbetweenherlegstowhereIwasstartingtosoften,andshestrokedme,slowly,rollingherbodyintimewithherhands.
Likeapuppetunderhercontrol,mycockgrewhardagain,evenasIstillstruggledtocatchmybreath.
ShesankdownontomeassoonasIwaserect,andwebothhissedamoanthatrippledthroughmybodylikeanaftershock.
Iheldherhipswhilesherodeme,steadyatfirst,andthenjustaswildlyasshehadwhenIwasbehindher.Hertitsbouncedasherhandsfistedinherhair,andIcursedmyselfforturningoffthecameratooearly,formissingthisview.
Shecamewithacrythatwasloudenoughtowarrantmecoveringhermouthwithmyhand.Iflexedintoherandheldhertomeuntilshequiveredoutthelastofherrelease,andthenwebothcollapsed.
Ididn’thavetolooktoknowwe’dmadeamess,thatmysheetswerefucked,thatthereleaseI’dpaintedwithherhaddrippeddownherbackandoverherassandontomeandthebedandeverythingelseasshefoundherownclimax.ButIdidn’tgiveasinglefuck.
“Thatgiftisforyoureyesonly,”shesaidthroughherpantingbreathsasshesatup,carefullymaneuveringherselfoffmylapbeforeshereacheddownformyhandtohelpmeup,too.
IpulledherintomyarmswhenIwasstanding.“Areyoukidding?I’dfuckingmurdersomeonebeforeI’dletthemseemygirllikethat.”
“Sopossessive,”shemused,wrappingherarmsaroundmywaistandkissingmychin.
“Admitit,youlovethatIam.Youlovethatyou’remine.”
Sheleaptintomyarmsinanswer,kissingmehardasIcarriedhertowardtheshower.Julep
“Girl,forthehealthandsafetyofyourhair,IthinkIneedtoziptieyourhandsbehindyourback.”
IsmirkedatRiley,whojustblinkedatmewithherhairhalf-braidedoverhershoulder.Thiswasatleastthefiftiethtimeshe’dunbraideditjusttobraiditagainasweallwaitedforthebowlannouncements.
Herlittleeyebrowstuggedintogetherasshereleasedhergripandletherbrunettewavestumblefree.“Mystomachisinknots.”
“It’sgoingtobeus,”Gianasaidreassuringly,smoothingahandoverRiley’sback.“We’realmostundefeatedandhavebeeninthetopfourforweeks.”
“WewerenumberfivebeforethegameagainstMaine,”Rileyargued.
Giana’slipsflattened.“Foroneweek.Oneweek,Riley.Just…breathe.”
Rileynoddedandletoutasigh,hereyesflickingtothetelevisionscreenthatwewereallgatheredaround.ItwasamadhouseatthePit,theentireteamsardinedintothelivingroom.Therewereguyspiledonthecouch,thebeanbags,andalloverthefloor.MydadandtherestofthecoachingstaffstoodalongthebackwallwhereIwaswiththegirls.
Holdenwasinareclinerofftotheleftofthetelevision,laughingatLeoashedidsomesortofcelebrationdancewithaninvisiblefootballtuckedintohisside.Icouldn’tmakeoutwhattheyweresayingovertheastronomicalnoise,butIlovedhoweasilyhesmiled,howwhileRileywasnervous,Holdenseemedtobenothingbutconfidentandsurethattheywereabouttobeannouncedasoneoftheteamsinaplayoffbowlgame.
Hewasstillsmilingatsomethingwhenhiseyesdriftedtomine,andhewinked,makingmeblushbeforeItuckedmyhairbehindmyearandcasuallylookedtowardthetelevisionandthenbacktothegirls.
Wewerealmosttoogoodathidingnow.
“IsMaryatwork?”Gianaasked.
Ishookmyhead.“Nah,nottoday.SheusuallyhasSundaysoff.”
“Howcomeshedidn’tcomewithyou?”
Isnorted,foldingmyarmsovermychestasIleanedagainstthewall.“IonlygotheroverhereforthatpartyearlierthissemesterbecauseIphysicallydraggedherassandpromisedtequila.Nowaywouldshecomewillinglyduringthedaylight,sober.”
“What’sherproblemwiththeteam,anyway?”Rileyasked,almostlikeshewasoffended.
Ishrugged.“AllIknowisshe’smadeoff-handedcommentsaboutLeobeinganasshole.Maybetheyhavehistoryandshe’smadeuphermindabouttherestofthesquadbasedonhisbehavior.”
“Well,ifLeoisourrep,thenIcan’tsayI’msurprised,”Gianateased.Then,hereyesdartedtowhereshehadoneofthecameramenfromtheteamsetupnearthefrontoftheTV.Shehadhimheretocatchtheteam’sreactiontothenews.Weweresecondsawayfromannouncementsnow,andhewastappingawayonhisphone,notpayingattention.“Excuseme,”shemuttered,andthensheweavedthroughthecrowd.
“God,I’mgoingtobesick,”Rileysaidwhenshewasgone.
Ichuckled,rubbinghershoulderasthenoiseintheroomdieddownabit,everyonetuningintotheanalystsonscreen.
IglancedatHolden,whorockedsightlyinthereclinerlikemaybehewasabitnervous.Maybehewasjustsogoodathidingitthatheevenhadmefooled
Ikeptmyeyesonhim,andrightwhenZekestoodupandhushedeveryone,crankingupthevolumeonthetelevision,Holdenangledhishead.
Allthecommotionfadedtothebackgroundwhenthatmanlookedatme.
Therewasplayfulnessinhisgaze—atease,adare—buttherewasalsosomethingmore.Something…weighted.Myheartstoppedinmychestbeforegallopingbackintorhythm,andHoldenswallowed,asifhesensedmypulseevenfromacrosstheroom.
Cheerseruptedinthehouse,buttheyweremuted,distant.MyeyesstayedlockedonHoldenaseveryonejumpedupfromtheirseatsaroundus,huggingandclappingandrunningaroundtheroominacelebratoryfrenzy.
They’dmadeit.
They’dmadeittotheplayoffs.
Thecornerofmymouthtickedup,andHolden’smirroredit.Itfeltlikehoursthatwewatchedeachotheracrosstheroom,thoughIknewitwasonlyseconds,becauseinthenextbreath,Rileywashuggingme,andHoldenhadbeenpickedupontotwoofhisteammates’shoulders.
Soundandsightrushedbacktomeatonce,thelevelofitdeafeningastheteamcarriedon.RileyranfrommetoZeke,crashingintohimandnearlytacklinghimtothegroundwithakissthatsomeoftheotherteammatesbooedandhissedatinjest.IlaughedwhenClaytriedtooneuphimbydippingGianabackinadramaticfashion.SheflushedsohardIthoughtherfacewouldcombustintoflames,butshedidn’tpushhimaway,didn’tevenpretendlikeshedidn’twanthimalloverher.
JBtappedmeontheshoulder,andthenwebrieflyhugged,hissmilewide.“Lookslikewe’reofftotheraces,”hesaid.
“Lookslikeit.”
Dadwasrightbehindhim,clappingCoachHooverontheshoulderinafiercehug.Whentheyreleased,Iheldupmypalm.
“Nicejob,Pops,”Isaidasheclappedhishandagainstmine.
“Notbadformyfirstyearascoach,eh?”
“Notbadatall,”Iagreed.
Hewaspulledawaybyamemberofthestaffasecondlater,andIsmiled,happierthanIrealizedtoseehimsohappy.Afterallwe’dbeenthrough,hedeservedit.
Whentheimmediatepeoplearoundmehadgoneontootherteammatestocelebrate,Istoodagainstthewall,watchingHoldenashehigh-fivedandhuggedtheentireteam.
Clayjumpedontopofthecoffeetable—whichmadeacrackingsoundthathadeveryonegaspingandthenlaughingwhenhemadeadramaticshowofstandingperfectlystillasnottobreakit—then,helaunchedintoaspeech.
Heheldtheteam’sfullattention,andashespoke,Holdenlookedatmeagain.Thistime,henoddedsubtlytowardthebackdoor—theonethatledtothegarden.Slowly,hemadehiswayout,andIwaitedabitbeforedoingthesame.
MyearswereringingwhenIsteppedintothechillyafternoonair,shovingmyhandsinthefrontpocketofmyhoodie.ImadesurenooneinsidewaswatchingmebeforeIroundedtotherightofthehousewherethebenchwas.
Holdensattherewaitingforme.
Itwasbrightandsunny,butfreezing,andhischeekswerealreadyredashegrinnedupatme.ApuffofwhitecamefrommylipswhenIsatdownbesidehimandsaid,“Congratulations,Cap.”
“Wedidit.”
Ichuckled.“Youdid.”
“No,we,”hecorrected,pullingmeintohisarms.Iwasinstantlywarmer—bodyandsoul.“Icouldn’thavesurvivedthisseasonwithoutyou.IthoughtIwasdonewhen…”
Hestopped,andInodded.“Iknow.”
Holdenshookhishead,hiseyesflickingbetweenmineashepulledmecloser.“YouwerethelastthingIexpectedthisseason.”
“Sorrytodisruptyourplans.”
“Feelfreetodisrupttherestofmylife.”
Abreathofalaughfoundmeasmycheeksheated,somethingaboutthepermanenceofthatjokemakingmystomacheruptwithbutterflies.
“Comehere,”Holdensaid,andhetiltedmychinwithhisknucklesuntilIliftedmygazetohis.Thoseknucklesbrushedagainstmycheekthen,hisgreeneyesabrillianthueofemeraldinthebrightafternoonsunoverhead.Heswallowed,openedhismouthlikehewantedtosaysomething,andthencloseditagain.
“What?”Ibreathed.
Hisjawwastight,butthenheletoutalittlebreath,shakinghishead.Insteadofsayinganotherword,heloweredhismouthtomine,kissingmeashisbrowsfurrowedlikeitpainedhimtodoso.
Ididn’tknowwhathewasgoingtosay,butIfeltit,too—whateveritwas.Theheaviness,theweightofsomethingbothofuswerealittleafraidof,justasmuchaswewereenamoredbyit.
Butitdidn’tneedtobeputintowordsrightnow.
Instead,Iwrappedmyarmsaroundhisneckandpulledhimincloser,myfingerstanglinginthehairathisnape.Hecrushedmetohim,bothofussighingcontentlyattheconnection.
Kissinghimfeltnatural,inevitable,likeitwastheonethinginthisworldIwasalwaysmeanttodo.
AndonafreezingcolddayinearlyDecember,onalittlebenchinagardenhishandsbuilt,HoldenMooreclaimedmeineverywaytherewastobeclaimed.Imeltedintohim,surrendering,lettingtheunfamiliar,all-encompassingjoywashovermeandtakemeunder.
Myeyesflutteredshut,mindclearingandbodydesperateforthehourwhenthepartywouldbeover,andeveryonewouldbegone,andIcouldsneakintohisbedroom—thesamewayhehadsnuckintomyheart.
Forthatmomentintime,inHolden’sarms,everythingwasperfect.
UntilIopenedmyeyesandfoundmyfatherstandingbehindhim.Holden
Istaredatmyhandsclaspedbetweenmykneesandtriednottoshitmyself.
Thehousehadbeencleared,theteamtoldenthusiasticallybyCoachtogooutandcelebrate.Iknewwithouthimhavingtosayitthathemeanteveryonebutme.
He’dheldhissmile,hiscomposure,untilthelastteammatewasoutthedoor.Then,he’dtoldJuleptogohomewithoutsomuchaslookingather.
Clearly,hehadintentionsofdealingwithmefirst.
Now,itwasjustthetwoofusinthelivingroom,trashandfoodlefteverywherefromtheteam.TheTVwasstillon,theanalystsgoingonabouttheirbowlpredictions.CoachfoundtheremoteandmuteditbeforehestoodontheoppositesideoftheroomfromwhereIsat,hisarmsfolded,jawclenchedshut.
Ididn’tknowifhewantedmetospeakfirstorwaittobespokento.Thelatterseemedmoreprobable,soIwaited,tryingtocomeupwithagameplan.Therewasnouseinlying,intryingtomakeexcuses.He’dcaughtusred-handed.
Atthispoint,theonlythingIcoulddowasapologize,askforforgiveness,andexplainthetruth.
Whenanotherfewminutespassedwithouthimsayingaword,Iclearedmythroat.“Sir,I—”
Heheldupahandtosilenceme.
Iswallowed,andanotherminutepassedbeforeheletoutalongbreathandfinallylookedatme.“IwishIcouldsayI’msurprised.”
Helettheweightofthosewordssettleoverus,hisglaresevere.Hemeantitasaninsultandwantedtomakesureitlandedbeforehemovedon.
“Ihadonerule,”Coachsaid.“One.Ididn’tcareiftheteampartied.Ididn’tcareifgradesslippedalittle,ifweneededtopullsomestringstokeeptheguysonthestartinglineup.Iknewcominginasanewcoachthattheteamwouldbestressedoutenoughasitwas,soIdideverythingIcouldtomaketheenvironmentonewhereeveryonecouldletloosealittle,wheretheycouldfocusonthetaskathand.Onerule,”hesaidagain.“ThatwasallIaskedfor.”
Iknewbetterthantotrytospeakagain,butIdidn’twaverwhereIheldhisgaze.Ifoughtthetemptationtolookbackdownatmyhands.
CoachshookhisheadlikeIdisgustedhim.
“Idon’twanttobeinthishousewithyouanylongerthannecessary,”hefinallysaid.“Soletmejusttellyouwhat’sgoingtohappennextsowecanbothmoveon.YouaregoingtoleaveJulepalone.Youaregoingtocallwhateverthisthingisoff.Andyou’regoingtodoittoday.”
“Ican’tdothat.”
Hiseyeswidened,likehewasshockedIhadtheballstosayeventhatmuch.“Oh,youcan,andyouwill.Mydaughterhasbeenthroughmoreshitthanyoucouldeverfullycomprehend.”
Iwantedtoarguethat,too,butIlethimcontinue.
“She’sfinallylivingonherown,makingfriends,holdinggoodgrades,stayingoutoftrouble.She’sfinallydoingokay.AndIdon’tneedsomehotshotathleteleavingfortheNFLtocomein,breakherheart,andfuckallthatup.”
“DidyoueverstoptothinkthatmaybeI’mpartofthereasonshe’sdoingsogood?”
Helaughed.Notasubtleoramusedlaugh,butonethatbellowedoutofhimloudandfullofdisdain.“Theonlythingyou’reresponsibleforisputtingheronedge,forputtingtemptationtooclose.Iknowaboutthisplace,”hesaid,gesturingtothehousearoundus.“Iknowabouttheparties,thedrugs.Iknowexactlywhatkindofinfluenceyouare,”headded,takingasteptowardmewithhisfingerpointedatmychest.“Andhowyouthinkyou’rebetterthaneveryoneelse,thatyou’resmarterthanevenyourcoaches,thatyoudon’tneedtofollowdirectionsorlistentoanyoneaboveyou.Youthinkyoucallyourownshots,andthat’sfine,butI’mheretoknockyoudownapegortwoandremindyouthatyoudon’tknoweverything.”
“Ineverclaimedto.”
“You’reasblindasyouarestubborn.”
“Me?I’mthestubbornone?”Istoodthen,tryingtokeepmyvoicecalmevenasthelevelofitraised.“Coach,withallduerespect,youhavebeenonmyassallseasonlong,eversinceyoushowedup.It’slikeyoumadeupyourmindaboutmebeforeyouevenknewwhoIwas.”
“Iknewwellenoughafteronepractice.”
“Youhaven’tevengivenmeachanceto—”
“Whatdoyoucallthis?”heinterrupted,thrustinghishandtowardme.“Igaveyouachancetoprovemewrong,Moore,andyoudidn’t.YouprovedIknewexactlywhoyouwereandthatIhadeveryreasontobewaryofyou—notonlyasaquarterbackandacaptain,butassomeonewithtoomuchtimearoundmydaughter.Ishouldhaveneverletherwatchoveryourrecovery.”
Iblewoutafrustratedbreath.“Look,IknowIdisobeyedyourorders.But—”
“No,thereshouldn’tbeabutafterthatsentence.”
Igroundmyteeth,pissedoffthathewouldn’tevenletmefinishagoddamnsentence.
“Again,youarethequarterback.Youarethecaptain.Ishouldn’thavetosayanythingmorethanthosetwofactsforyoutounderstandthatoutofalltheplayersontheteam,it’syouIexpectthemostfrom.It’syouwhoIdon’tblinkatbeforedemandinggreatness.It’syouIshouldbeabletotrust.Andit’snotyouwhoIshouldhavetoworryaboutgoingagainstmyorders—onoroffthefield.”
Iscrubbedahandovermyjaw,shakingmyheadandbitingmytongue.Clearly,itwasuselesstoevenattempttoargue.
Coachstaredatmealongmoment,andthensaid,“You’reonprobation.”
Fearslicedthroughmelikeanicepick.“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Itmeansleaveheralone,orIplayRussointheplayoffsandcalleveryscoutstillinterestedinyoursorryassandtellthemyourshoulderinjuryflaredupagain.”
“Youcan’tbefuckingserious.”Igapedathim,incredulous,unabletobelievewhatIwashearing.“Ifyouwouldjustletmetalk—”
“Idon’thavetoletyoudoanything,includingplay,”heroared,hisfacebeetred.“Tryme,Moore.Idareyou.Idareyoutocallmybluff.IfIsomuchasseeyoulookatmydaughter,yourasswillbeonthatbenchcomebowlday.”
Mynoseflared,andItonguedtheinsideofmycheekasIshookmyheadindisbelief.
“Let.Her.Go,”Coachfinished,swipinghisjacketoffthebackofthecouch.Heshruggedonearmonandthentheotherasheheadedforthedoor.“Orkissyourcareergoodbye.”
Julep
Iwaslivingmyownworstnightmare.
MarywatchedmelikeIwasawildanimalasIpacedthelivingroom,handstearingatmyhair,thumbnailschewedtothenub,eyesconstantlyskatingtothehouseacrossthestreetwhereIknewmyfatherwasrippingHoldenanewasshole.
IwishedwitheverythingthatIwasthathewouldhavetalkedtomefirst.
IwishedIcouldexplain.IwishedIcouldtaketheheat,taketheblameforeverythingandsparewhateverdisciplinehewasdishingouttohisquarterbackrightnow.BecauseIknewitwouldbesevere.Iknewthiswasn’tacrimethatwouldgounpunished.
Foreitherofus.
“Wouldyoupleasejust…sitdown?”Marypleaded.I’dputheronedgesinceI’dbargedthroughthedoor.“Here,hitthebowl.”
Sheofferedtheglasspipepackedwithmarijuanatome,butIshookmyheadandlookedacrossthestreetagain.“Badidea.Especiallyrightnow.”
“Itwouldtaketheedgeoff.”
“It’sthatedgethat’llkeepmealivewhenhecomesoverherereadytofight,”Itoldher.ThenIcursedandshookmyhead.“God,howcouldwebesostupid?Weknewbetter.Weknewhewasinside.Whydidwethinkweweresofuckingsneakythathewouldn’tseeusbothwalkout?”
“Thatboyhasfriedyourbrain,”Marymused,sparkingherlighterandhittingthebowl.Smokerolledoutofherlipsassheadded,“Itriedtotellyoutostayawayfromthathouse.”
“Nothelping,”Itoldher.
Sheshrugged.“I’mnottryingtohelp.Maybeit’sagoodthingthishappened.”
“Whatthehell,Mary?”
“Look—thatwholeteamistrouble.Whatdidyouhonestlythinkwasgoingtohappen?HoldenMooreisabouttobedraftedintotheNFL.He’sgoingtohavepussycomingathimfromeverydirection.”
“Hedoesn’tcareaboutthat.”
“Likehellhedoesn’t.He’saman.”Shelaughed.“AndIhatetobreakthistoyou,butbeforeyoushowedup?HoldenMoorehadplentyoftail.Hehadanewgirlinhisbedeveryotherweek.I’mnotdenyingthatyoutwohadfunwhilehewashere,butdidyoueverstoptothinkthatmaybeyouwereaconquestforhim?”
Istoppedpacing.
“Hecouldn’thaveyou.Hewastoldfromthestartthathecouldn’t.Buthewentafteryouanyway,relentlessly.Who’stosaythatcometheendoftheyear,hewouldn’tjustmarkyouoffhisto-dolistandmoveontothenextintheleague?”
“Youdon’tknowanythingabouthimifyouthinkthatisevenaremotepossibility.”Ishookmyhead,evenasmyanxietylatchedontowhatshesaidlikealiferaft.HoldenandIhadn’ttalkedaboutwhatcomesnext—mostlybecausewe’dbeentoofocusedonkeepingwhateverwedidhavegoingonasecret.“Whydoyouhatethemallsomuch,anyway?WhathappenedwithLeo?”
“Itdoesn’tmatter.”Shewavedmeoff,andthensighed.“I’msorry.You’reright.Idon’tknowHolden,andmaybeIamjudginghimtooharshly.ButIalsothinkyouhavebeenfloatingonacloudandignoringanyandallriskeversinceyoutwostoppedplayinggamesandgaveintoeachother.Youdroppedyourguardcompletely.”
Icouldn’targuethat,andbeforeIevenhadthechancetoprocesswhatshewassaying,ourfrontdoorflewopen,andmyfatherblewinlikeastorm.
Helookedatme,slammedthedoorbehindhim,thenlookedatMary.
“Nicetoseeyou,Mr.Lee,”shemuttered,andthenshehoppedoffthecouch.“I’mjustgonna…”Shepointedatthestairs,thengavemeasympatheticlookandboltedupthem.
MyheartwasinmythroatwhenIlookedbackatmyfather.
Hepointedtothecouch,tellingmetositwithoutverbalizing,andthenhetookmyplacepacingthelivingroom—thoughhewasslower,hisbreathingmorecontrolledthanmine.Myphonebuzzedinmypocket,andIknewwithoutlookingthatitwasHolden.Everythinginmeburnedtoreadthetext,toseewhathesaid,whathadhappenedbetweenthem.
“It’sover,Julep.”
Dad’swordssmackedintome.“Whatis?”
“YouandMoore.Whateverhasbeengoingon,itstops.Rightnow.”
“Dad—”
“IhavearguedenoughwithhimthatIdon’thavetheenergytodoitwithyou,too.Youaremydaughter.Youknowbetter—plainandsimple.”
Iswallowed.
“AndasforHolden,hedirectlydisobeyedme,andhe’spayingthepriceforit.”
“Whatdidyoudo?”
Helookedrightatme.“Iputhimonprobation.”
“Probation,”Iechoed,heartsqueezingpainfullyinmychest.“Meaning…”
“Heknowstheterms.Idon’tneedtoexplainthemtoyou.”
WhathemeantbythatwasthatheassumedIwassmartenoughtoalreadyknow—andhewasright.Ihadhopedagainstallreasonthatmyfathermightlistentohim,thathemightspareHolden.Butofcourse,hehadn’t.
Ididn’tneedverbalconfirmationtoknowthathe’dthreatenedtobenchHoldenduringtheplayoffsifhedidn’tbreakitoffwithme.
Tearsprickedmyeyes,butIswallowedthemback,heldmychinhigher.“Iunderstandwewentagainstyourwishes,but—”
“You’reonprobation,too.”
Iscoffed.“Whatisthatsupposedtomean?”
“Itmeansthatifyoudon’tendthisshit,Iwillcheckyouintorehab.”
Myjawhitthefloor.“Rehab?”Ilaughed.“Dad—”
“Imeanit,Julep.I’mnotplayingaround.”
“I’msober.”
Thatmadehimstoppacing,andhiseyesweresadwhenhesaid,“Don’tlietome.”
“I’mnotlying.Imean,yeah,Idrinkeverynowandthen,butit’saglassofwine.Maybetwo.”
“YouthinkIdon’tknowaboutthatnightatthePitwhenyoumadeagoddamnfoolofyourself?”
Myheartratetickedupanotch,hairsonthebackofmyneckstandingatattention.
“Youweren’tjustdrunk,youwereafuckingtrainwreck.AndIknowitwasmorethanjustbooze.”
Iswallowed,tryingtothinkfastandcovermytracks.“Itwasjustalittleweed.”
“Itwasn’t,andyoufuckingknowit!Don’tlietome.Don’tfuckinglie—”
Dadbrokethen,fiststightening,hiseyeswildasherushedme.Icoweredawayfromhiminstinctively,andthatseemedtobreakhimmore.
Hecollapsed.
Hefellintothecouchbesideme,sittingsoharditslidbackagainstthewall.Hefolded,hisheadburiedinhishands,shouldersshaking.
Istaredathim,blinking,hearthammeringinmychest.“Dad?”
ItwasthenIrealizedhewassobbing.
ThelasttimeI’dseenhimcrywasatAbby’sfuneral.
Theimage,thesound,itallknockedmesilent.AndemotionstrangledmyownthroatasIreachedoverandtentativelyputahandonhisback.“I’msorry,”Iwhispered.
Hecriedharder,shakinghishead,rockingbackandforthandgruntinglikehewasfrustratedthathewascryingatall.Afterawhile,hesniffed,swipingthetearsfromhisfacelikeitwasthemhewasangryatbeforeheliftedhisheadandlookedatme.
Hiseyeswerered,facecompletelybroken.
“IhavedoneeverythingIcantomakelifeokayforyouafter…”Histhroatbobbed.“Ican’t…Ican’tloseyou,too.”
Mybottomlipquivered.“Dad…”
“Please,”hebegged,swipingthefreshtearsthatcrestedwiththeword.“Please,Julep.Listentome.TrustthatIknowwhat’sgoodforyou.YouaretheonlydaughterIhaveleft.Just…letmeprotectyou.Please.”
ThedesperationinhisvoiceerasedeveryotheremotionIhad,andIwrappedmyarmsaroundhim.Ihuggedmydadlikehewasalittlekid,feelingallthepainandstressthathe’denduredsincemysisterdiedrollingoffhimlikewispsofsmokethatchokedanyargumentsIstillhadlefthangingon.
Ihuggedhimandeventuallyhehuggedmeback,crushingmetohimlikeI’ddisappearbeforehisveryeyesifhedidn’tsavemefirst.
I’ddonethistohim.
AndtheweightofthattruthheldmeasasilentcaptiveofthemessI’dmade.Holden
Shedidn’tanswermytext.
Iwatchedherhouseuntilherdadfinallyleft,climbingintohisSUVhehadparkedonthestreetanddrivingoff.Iimmediatelycalledher,butshedidn’tanswer.
Ididn’tgivemyselftimetodebatewhetheritwasagoodideaornotbeforeIwasboltingoutourfrontdoorandacrossthestreettohers.Iliftedmyfisttoknock,butthedooropenedbeforeIcould.
Julepwasawreck.
Herhairwasmattedandtangled,hereyespuffyandredandswollen.Shesniffed,wipingthebackofhernosewithherwrist.
Thesightbrokemyfuckingheart.
“Comehere,”Isaid,andthenIpulledherintomeasshestartedtocryagain.
Iheldherthereintheopendoorwaywhilesheshookandclungtomyhoodielikealifeline.ThelastbitofgoodsenseIhadholdingonurgedmetoscootusinsideandclosethedoor,andonceIhad,Ipulledbackandframedherarmswithmyhands.
“Helostit,didn’the?”
“DEFCONlevelonemeltdown.”
“Withme,too,”Isaid,andthenIsighed,wipinghertearswithmythumbs.“Comeon,letmemakeussometea.”
Julepletmeslidemyarmaroundthesmallofherbackandguidehertothekitchen.SheslidintoabarstoolatthesmallislandwhileIopenedcabinetsuntilIfoundaboxofherbaltea.Ifilledherelectrickettlenext,andonceitwasontoboil,Ileanedahipagainstthecounterandturnedbacktoher.
“Hejustdoesn’tknowus,”Isaid.“Hedoesn’tunderstand.Oncewegethimtoseethatwe’regoodforeachother,he’llre-evaluate.”
Julepdidn’tlookconvinced.
Shestaredatadarkspotonthecounter,notblinking.
Itwastooquiet,evenasthewaterbegantobubbleandboil.Iturneditoffonceitwasready,placingteabagsintwomugsandpouringthewateroverthem.IhandedonetoJulepandkeptoneontheothersidewithme.
“Giveitafewminutestosteep,”Isaid.
Julepwrappedherhandsaroundthemugandnodded.
Ihadalreadybeenthinkingofwhatwecoulddo,tryingtocomeupwithaplanwhilehe’dbeenoverherewithher.IsawitthesamewayIsawplantingandtendingtoanewvegetableorflower.Iknewitwouldn’tbeeasy,butIalsoknewnothingwasimpossible.
“Ithinkweshouldinvitehimtodinner,”Ifinallysaid.“Maybenextweekend,withmyuncles.Nathancancookabigmeal.He’llseeI’mfromagoodfamily,thatI’mnotjustsomepunktryingtogetinhisdaughter’spants.”
“AndfindoutI’vealreadymetyourunclesbehindhisback?”Julepshookherhead.“He’dfeelduped.”
“Well,I’llaskthemtopretendlikeit’stheirfirsttimemeetingyou.”
“You’llaskthemtolie?”
“It’snotlikethat.”
“Itis.”
“Myuncleswon’tcare.Theywon’tseeitlikethat,”Isaid.“Theyadoreyou,andthey’llwanttohelp.”
Julepwassilent.
Iblewonmytea,dunkingthebagafewtimes.“Wedon’thavetomovesosoon,ifthat’swhatyou’reafraidof.Let’sgivehimsometimetocooloff.”
“Holden—”
“Trustme,Iknowhe’spissed,”Isaid,aflashofhisredfacepoppingintothebackofmymind.“Buthewasjustcaughtoffguard.Weallwere.Emotionsarehigh.”
“Ithinkweshouldcallthingsoff.”
Istilled,handhoveringwiththestringoftheteabagbetweenmyfingersasmyeyescrawleduptomeethers.WhenIsawshewasserious,panicseizedmychest.
“Weneedtocallit,Holden.”
Shelookedimpossiblytired.
“Callit,”Iechoed,notasaquestionbutasarepetitiontomakesureI’dheardcorrectly.“Idon’twanttocallit.Isthatwhatyouwant?”
“Ofcoursenot.Butwedon’thaveachoice.”
“There’salwaysachoice.”
“Notthistime,thereisn’t.”
MyheartthumpedsoloudlyinmyearsIcouldbarelyhearmyownvoiceoverit.“We’llfigureitout.Maybenottonight,butwewill.”
“There’snothingtofigureout.Imean…maybe…”Shechewedherbottomlip.“Maybeit’sforthebest.”
Myearsstartedringingthen.“Don’tsaythat,”Iwhispered.
Herfacewarpedalittle,butshelookeddownatherhands,doingherbesttocontroltheemotionthreateningtotakeherunder.“You’regoingintotheNFL.Whatdowereallyexpecttohappen?”
“Julep,don’t.”
“Itwasnice,wehadfun,but—”
Iroundedtheislandandturnedherinherbarstooluntilshewasfacingme,myhandsbracedoneithersideofwhereshesat.Ileaneddown,waitinguntilhereyesmetmine.
“Nice?Itwasnice?”
Shetriedtopullaway,butIwouldn’tlether.
“Donotdothis,”Ibeggedher,myjawset,nostrilsflaring.“Donotpushmeaway.”
“Idon’tseeanyotherway.”
“Ido.”
“Iknowwhathethreatenedyouwith,”shewhispered,hereyesglossing.
Iclampedmymouthshut,willingmyselftobreathe.
“He’snotbluffing,”shecontinued,hervoicesoftandresigned.“Hewillbenchyou.HewillplayRusso.Youwillloseeverythingthatyou’veworkedyourentirelifefor.”
“Idon’tcare.”
“Well,that’spartoftheissue,then,”shesnappedback,andsheshovedmyarmoutofherwaybeforestandingandcrossingthelivingroom,herbacktomeasshefoldedherarms.
Istoodrootedinplace,tryingtocalmmyself,tothinkclearlyandnotpanic.
Iwasfailing.
“Look,wehadsomethingreal,Holden,”shesaid,usingherthumbtowipeoneloantear.“AndIcareaboutyou.Butthat’sexactlywhywehavetostop.YouhaveafuturethatyoudreamedoflongbeforeyouevenknewIexisted.Idon’twanttoruinthatforyou.”
“You’renotruiningit.You’remakingitbetter.”
Herlittleshoulderscollapsed,andIwantedsobadlytopullherintome,toholdherandforcehertoseethingsmyway.ButwhenItookasteptowardher,shetookastepback.
“It’snotjustyouwhohassomethingtolose,okay?”Shesniffed.“Hethreatenedtosendmetorehab.”
Myjawtightened.“Hewhat?”
“Hewon’t,”shesaidquickly.“Hedidn’tmeanit.Iknowhedidn’tmeanit.Buthesaiditbecausethat’showscaredheis.That’showmuchIhavefuckedhimupwithmyactionsoverthelastfiveyears.”
“Butthat’sjustit.You’veturnedacorner.Heknowsit,hesaidasmuchtome,”Isaid,andthistimewhenImovedtowardher,shedidn’tbackaway.“Wejusthavetogethimtoseethatpartofthereasonisbecausewearegoodtogether.”
“It’snotthatsimple.”
Iletoutalongexhale,framingherarmswithmyhands.“Justtrustme.TrustthatIcanmakethisright.”
Hereyeswelledwithtearsagain,andthistimesheletthemfallfreelyassheswallowed.“Ineedsomespace.”
“Julep—”
“Ineedsomespace,”shesaidagain,pleading.“Andyouneedtofocusonthegame.”
“Idon’twanttofocusonthegame.”
“Again,that’spartoftheproblem,”shesaid,exasperated.
Iwantedtoscream.Iwantedtobangmyfistsagainstthewallandtellhernottodothis,nottopushmeawaywhenIwastryingsodesperatelytoholdontoher.ButitseemedthetighterIheld,themoresheresistedbeingheld.
“TheHoldenIknowwouldonlybefocusedonthegame,onwinningthechampionshipwithhisteamandsecuringhisspotinthedraft.That’sthemanImetatthebeginningoftheseason.That’sthemanIfellfor.Theonewhowasdetermined,whowasaleader,whowouldneverriskanyofitforsomegirl.”
“You’renotjustsomegirlandyoufuckingknowit.”
Herbottomlipquivered,andshelookedawayfromme.
“I’mstillthatguy,”Icontinued.“Iam.Iwantthewin.Iwantallofit.ButIdon’twanttoloseyouintheprocess.”
Shequieted,fightingbackmoretears.“Idon’tseeanyotherway.”
Ishookmyhead,eyesstinging,heartthrashing.
“Please,”shebegged.“Iwantyoutoleave.Ineedyoutoleave.”
IwassofuckingangryanddesperateIfeltlikeamadmanontheedge.ButIcouldsensehowprecariousthesituationwas,howifIkeptoninthismoment,I’donlypushheraway.Shewasfreakedout.Shewasscared.AndIwasmakingitworsebytryingtoripawayonelastlittlebitofcontrolshefeltlikesheheldonto.
Ipulledhercloser,tiltingherchinuntilshelookedatme.
“Iwillgiveyouanythingyouneed,Julep.Eventhis.Butonlyononecondition.Youhavetopromisemewewilltalkafteryou’vetakensometime,somespace.Youhavetopromisemethatthisisn’ttheend.”
Sheswallowed,herglossyeyesflickingbetweenmine.
“Iamnotwalkingawayfromyou,”Itoldherasmyvoiceshook.“Doyouunderstandme?Iamnotwalkingaway.”
Isilencedthecrythatcamefromherlipswithapainedkiss,oneshemetjustasdesperately,herarmsthreadingaroundthebackofmyneckandholdingmetoher.Ikissedherlonganddeep,holdinghertightlyagainstme,prayingwitheverybitofreligionIstillheldontothatshebelievedmewhenIsaidthat.
“Okay,”shebreathed,pullingaway,herforeheadpressedtomine.
“Youpromise?”
Shenodded,andIpulledherbackin,bothofustremblingasIpressedmylipstohers.
Then,justlikesheasked,Ileft.
Andeventhoughshepromised,myheartwasswallowedbytheblackholeofgriefwhenIshutthedoorbehindme.
AsifI’dneverkissheragain.Julep
Itbecamearitual.
Everymorning,I’dwakeuptothesoundofmyphonepingingonmynightstand.Bleary-eyedfromnotsleeping,I’dreachforitandstareatthewordswaitingforme.Theyweredifferenteachtime,buttheycameinlikeclockworkeverysingleday.
Goodmorning.
I’mstillhere.
Ihopeyoubreathealittleeasiertoday.
Don’tgiveuponus.
Youlookedbeautifulyesterday.
Itwillallbeokay,Julep.Trustme.
Eachtime,nomatterwhatthetextsaid,itwouldelicitasharppainthroughmychestasIhuggedthephoneandclosedmyeyes.I’dholdittherelikeitwashim,tryingnottocryandusuallyfailing.
Ineveranswered.
“IfeelstupidforeverthinkingIcouldbehappy,”IadmittedtoMaryonenightwhilewewatchedTV.“Foreverthinkingwhatweweredoingwouldn’thavetoend.”
“Youcanbehappy,Julep.”
“Justnotwithhim,”Isaid.
Shefrowned,leaningherheadonmyshoulder.“Onedayhewillthankyoufordoingwhathewasn’tstrongenoughtodo.”
Thatdidn’tmakemefeelanybetter.
Daysswirledintoweeks,theicyrainandsnowbatteringNewEnglandmakingmybodyfeeljustascoldasmyheart.
Allthewhile,Holdenrespectedmywishforspace.
Otherthanthosetexts,heleftmealone.Hedidn’tsneakoverwhenMarywasatwork,andhedidn’tbegmetocomeoverlateatnight.Evenatthestadium,weavoidedeachother,notevensharingsomuchasalongingglanceacrosstheroom.
Myfatherwaswatchingoureverymove.
Heseemedsatisfied,happythatwe’dlistenedtohim.HewaseveneasinguponHoldenabit,handinghimthereinsonthefieldandlettinghimcalltheshotsastheteamgotcloserandclosertothebowlgame.
Andforme,toshowthathewasseriousaboutwhathesaid,he’dtalkedtomymom.
Iknewhe’dtalkedtoherbecauseoneSaturdaymorningwhenIwastryingtodistractmyselfwithatoughpolesession,shecalledme.
Ialmostdidn’tbelieveitwasrealwhenIsawhernameonmyscreen,anoldphotoofuswhenIwasfourteenlightinguptheroom.Ihadbracesandbraidedpigtails.Shehadherarmaroundme.Wewerebothinswimsuits,thesprinklersgoingoffbehindus.We’dbeenrunningthroughthemallmorning.
“Mom?”IaskedwhenIanswered,andinstinctively,Ithoughtsomethingwaswrong.Whyelsewouldshecall?
“Hi,Jujubee.”
Thenicknamewarmedmyheartasmuchasitsentaknifespiralingthroughit.
“Iseverythingalright?”
“Ofcourse,”sheanswered,asifshewasconfusedastowhyIwouldthinkanythingcouldpossiblybewrong.Shehadn’tcalledmesinceDadandImovedhere.
“Okay.”
Silence.
“Yourfatherhasbeentellingmehowgoodyou’redoing,”shesaid.“I…I’mreallyhappytohearthat.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid,butthewordswereshaky,myeyesglossingwithtearsjustwhenIthoughtIcouldn’tcryanymore.
Iwasn’tdoinggoodatall.
“Iwasthinking,and…whatifyoutwocamehomeforChristmas?YourdadwillonlycomeforadayortwoIimagine,withthegamecomingup.But…youandIcanspendafewdaysherebeforewemeethiminTexas.”
TexaswaswheretheplayoffgamewasonNewYear’sEve.
“Youwantmetocome?”
“Ido,”shewhispered.“AndI…I’msorry,Julep.ForhowI’vehandled…well,forhowI’vehandledlifesinceAbbydied.”
“Imadeyouthisway.”
“No,youdidn’t.”
“Idid,”Isaid,swallowingtheknotinmythroat.“Ikilledher.AndthenIturnedintoamonster.IfIweremymother,Iwouldhaveturnedmybackonme,too.”
“Oh,sweetheart…”
Onelonetearrolleddownmycheek,andIjustletitfall.
“Youdidn’tkillher.”
“That’snotwhatyousaidbefore.”
“Well,Iwaswrong.Iwashurtingandwantedsomeonetoblamewhenthetruthisitwasanaccident.”
Ishookmyhead.“Itwasmyfault.”
Momwassilentforamoment,andthenshesaid,“DidyouknowyourdadandIusedtodococaine?”
Iblanched.“Youwhat?”
“Westarteddatinginthelate80s,”shesaid,asifthatexplainedit.“Wewouldgotoconcertsallthetime—Aerosmith,Kiss,Poison.”Shelaughedsoftly.“Wewereyoung.Wefeltinvincible.JustlikeyouandAbbydidthatnight.”
Anothertearslippedfree.
“Youwerekids,Julep.Neitherofyouevenconsideredthepossibilityofanoverdose.Andinadifferentsituation,onewherethatdrughadn’tbeenlaced?Youbothwouldhavebeenfine.Youwouldhavehadagreattimeandlaughedaboutitforyearstocome.”
“Butitwaslaced,”Icroaked.
“Itwas.Andit’stragicthatitwas.Butthatdoesn’tmakeityourfault,anditdoesn’tmakeyouabadperson.IknowIdidn’thelpwithmakingyouseethat,”sheadmitted.“I’vebeenfightingthroughmyowndemons.Ifailedyouasamother,andforthat,I’msorry.ButI’mherenow.I’mherenow,Julep,andIwanttomakethingsright.”
IthoughtofHolden’suncleKevin,howhe’dtalkedtomewhenwewerealonethatnightathishouse.Iheardhiswordsechoing,hisreminderthatourparentsarehumanswhomakemistakesjustlikewedo.
“Ithoughtmaybewecoulddosomethingforher,”shesaidafteramoment.“Agardenatthechurch,orafountain,somethingtorememberherby.SomethingyouandIdotogether.”
Iwincedatthewordtogether.Itwassobeautifullypainfultohear.
“ComehomeforChristmas,”Momsaidafteramoment.
Myheartwarmedatthethought.
“Okay.”
Holden
Ithadbeenthemostmiserableholidayseasonofmylife.
Everymorning,IwokeupwithapitinmygutandtextedJulep,hopingthiswouldbethedaysheanswered.
Sheneverdid.
Icouldfeelhergivingup.Icouldfeelherslippingaway.AndtherewasnothingIcoulddoaboutit.
Ipromisedherspace,promisedhertime.AndIheldtruetothat.Evenwheneverythinginmebeggedmetobreak,Istayedstrong.Iresistedtheurgetocallher,toruntoher,tosomuchasevenlookatherwhenwewereatthestadium.
Theonlythingthatsavedmefromdepressionwasfootball.
Ithrewmyselfintopreparingforthebowlgame,wakingupevenearlierthanusualandgettingtosleepasearlyasIcouldeachnight.Eventhen,I’dusuallylieawaketossingandturningandtryingnottocallJulep.
ButatleastIwastrying.
Iraneverymorning.Then,Ihittheweightroom.Filmcamenext,andbythattime,weweregoingintopractice.Ifocusedontheteam,onmyplayers,ensuringeachandeveryoneofthemwaskeepingaclearmindaswebarreledtowardtheplayoffs.Ispentextratimeafterpracticeworkingwiththosewhoneededit,stuckaroundlongertomakesuretheyallwerepassingtheirfinals,andbythetimeclassesended,Iwaspurelyfocusedonthebowl.
Westayedoncampusevenafterclassesended,practicingupuntilthedaybeforeChristmasEve.ItwasonlythenthatCoachreleasedusfortheholiday.We’dmeetbackhereonthetwenty-sixth.
Andfourdayslater,we’dflyasateamtoTexas.
Inaway,IwasthankfulforChristmasbreak,forgettingawayfromthePitforafewdaysandspendingtimewithmyuncles.ItkilledmebeingsoclosetoJulep,rightacrossthestreet,andyetfeelinglikeshewasontheothersideoftheworld.Ididn’tknowwhichtorturedmemost—thelatenightsofnotsleepingandwantingtosneakinthroughherwindow,orthelongdaysatthestadiumwhereIhadtophysicallyfightfromlookingather.
Theonlysilverliningwasthatherdadhadstayedtruetohisword.
HehadnointentionofbenchingmeandplayingRusso,notwhenhewassatisfiedthatI’dleftJulepalonelikehe’dasked.Itwasalmostlikehefinallyfoundanounceofrespectforme.Hestartedlettingmetakecontrol,startedleavingitinmyhandstocalltheplaysasIsawfit.Heletmestepupwitheachplayerbeforeandafterpractice,finallyallowingmetoactasthecaptainI’dbeentryingtobeallseason.
ItkilledmethatIhadtogiveupJulepforhimtoseemeinthisway.
“Youlooklikeyoucouldusealittleruminthateggnog,”myuncleKevinsaid,noddingtothecupinmyhandsashefloppeddownontheotherendofthecouch.Thefirecrackledunderthemantel,stockingshung,andNathanhummedalongto“MerryChristmasDarling”bytheCarpentersashewrappedJoanne’sgiftsandputthemunderthetree.
“Iprobablycould,butnoalcoholuntilafterwewinthechampionship.”
“Coach’sorders?”
“Myorders.”
Hesmiled.“SoundsliketheQB1Iknowandlove.”
Itriedtosmileinreturn,butitwasimpossible.IpulledoutmyphoneandstaredatthetextI’dsentJulep.
MerryChristmas,gorgeous.Imissyou.
I’dwrittenitoutanddeleteditatleasteighttimesbeforefinallysendingit,decidingIdidn’tcareifitwasvulnerable.Butnowthatit’dgonefivehourswithoutbeinganswered,mystomachsouredeverytimeIglancedatthewords.
Ihadnoideawhereherheadwasatorhowshewasfeeling.
Butsomethingtoldmeshewaslettinggo.
“Staringatthetextwon’tmakeheranswer.”
Isighedheavily,tossingmyphonefacedownonthecushionbetweenus.“Iknow.”
“I’msureshe’sthinkingaboutyou,too.”
“Gladoneofusis.”
Henudgedmykneewithhisfist.“Comeon.Thatgirlisjustascrazyaboutyouasyouareherandyouknowit.”
“Ithoughtso,but…Idon’tknow.Shehasn’ttalkedtome,notonce,notevenasingletextsincethatnight.”
“Sheaskedforspace.”
“AndI’mgivingittoher.”
UncleKevinarchedabrow.
“Mostly.”Ibristled.“Allthingsconsidered,Ithinkmywillpowerhasbeenremarkable.”
Hechuckledthen,sippinghishotcocoaandlickingtheleftovermarshmallowitleftonhistoplip.“Justfocusonthegame,okay?Onyourteam.That’swhatshewouldwant.”
“Iam.”
“Andletherfocusonherfamily.”
Isighed,nodding.“I’mtrying.”
UncleKevinpattedmyleg,thenmoveddowntothefloorwithNathantofixabowhe’dtied.Apparently,itwasn’tgoodenough,andheeyeballedKevinashefixedit—thoughnotlikehewasannoyed.Morelikehethoughtitwasadorable,likeheknewhisspousewellenoughtoknowhe’dbegoingbehindhisbackfixingbowsfortherestoftheirlives
MychestachedbecauseIcouldpicturesomethingsimilarwithJulep.
WasIinsane?Itfeltthatway.ItfeltasifIwasamadman.Howwasitpossiblethatthistimelastyear,theonlythingonmymind,inmyheart,wasfootball?TheonlythingIcoulddreamaboutwaswinningthechampionshipandgettingdraftedintotheNFL?
Now,everywakingthoughtandeverysleeplessnightwaswrappedupinher.
ThedayafterChristmas,Ishowedupbrightandearlyforpractice,andIwasn’ttheonlyone.Halftheteamwasalreadythere,andallofusfelttheapproachingbowlgamelikeanearthquakerumblinginourbones.
WeboardedtheflighttoHoustononDecemberthirtiethwithcleareyes,steadfastandready.
OnNewYear’sEve,whenwemadeourwayontothefreshlypaintedfieldforwarmups,weallbuzzedwithanuncontrollableenergy.
Thiswasit.Thiswasourmoment.
Thiswaswhatwe’dfoughtforallseasonlong.
Wewereonewinawayfromthechampionshipgame,twowinsawayfromtakinghomethetitle.We’dcometoofartoletanyonetakewhatwasoursnow,andIranovermyspeechinmymindaswefinishedourwarmupsandjoggedtowardthelockerroomforpre-game.
JulepsteppedinfrontofmebeforeImadeittothetunnel.
Islowedmypace,stoppingafewfeetfromwhereshestood.Mystomachtightened,chestachingatthesightofher.ShelookedasstrungoutasIfelt,andyetsomehowmorebeautifulthanI’deverseenherbefore.Thesettingsuncastherinawarmgoldenglow,onethatsparkedherbrowneyestolife.
Ididn’tknowwhattosay.Ididn’tknowifshewantedmetospeakatall.So,Ijuststoodthere,helmetinhand,wishingIcouldreachforher,andusingallmystrengthinthatmomentnotto.
Foralongmoment,shejuststaredatme,hereyesflickingbetweenmineassheheldherchinhigh.Then,shetookoneminusculesteptowardme,suckingalltheairoutofthestadiumwhenshedid.
“Goodmorning.I’mstillhere,too.Everybreathburnswithoutyou,”shesaid,hervoicewaveringabit.
Mythroattightenedwithpain,evenasreliefwashedoverme.
Shewasansweringmytexts.
“Ihaven’tgivenuponus.You’recrazyifyouthinkI’velookedanythingclosetobeautifulinthismessofastateI’vebeenin.Idotrustyou.”Shepaused,smiling,andthenwhispered.“MerryChristmas.”
Abreathofalaughleftmynose.
“Thisisyourwin,”shefinished,lettingthosewordshangheavybetweenus.“Gofuckingget’em,Cap.”
Andthenshejoggedthroughthetunnelwithmyheartinherhands.Julep
“GO!GO!GO!”
IscreamedalongwiththerestoftheteamasLeozoomeddownthefield,theballtuckedintohissideasheweavedthroughthedefendersaimingtotakehimdown.Hewasananimalandranfornearlyfortyyardsbeforehewasfinallydraggedtotheground.
Thecrowdroared,andmyheartwasinmythroatasIlookedupatthetimeontheclockandthescoreshiningbackatme.
Weweredownbyfourwithonlytwentysecondsleft,andnotasingletimeout.
IthoughtmydadwasgoingtochewhisfingersoffashewatchedHoldenandtherestofouroffensescramblebacktotheline.Leohadn’tgottenoutofbounds,sotheclockwasstillrunning.Assoonastheywerelinedup,theballwassnapped,andHoldenspikeditdowntotheground.
Thewhistleblew,theclockstopped,andnowwehadthirteenseconds.
“Ican’tfuckingbreathe,”Rileysaid,herhandsclaspedontopofherheadasshepacednexttome.
Ifeltthesameway,butIstayedquiet,focusingonHolden.
“Comeon,comeon,”Imutteredundermybreath.
Hehuddleduptheoffense,talkingthroughtheroutehehadonhisforearmplayholder.Heclapped,andtheyallhustledbacktotheline.
Wewereupagainstwhatthenationsawasthebestteam—theCentralLouisianaUniversityBeavers.Andalthoughthecrowdwassplitaboutfifty-fifty,itsoundedasifthewholestadiumwasaCLUfanastheyroaredfordefensetoholdus.
Theballwassnapped,andithadnosoonerlandedinHolden’shandsbeforehehaditsailingtowardtheleftcorneroftheendzonewhereKylewaswaiting.Butitwastipped,anditbobbledprecariouslyintheair,almostsnaggedbyasafetybeforeitmercifullyflewoutofbounds.
Sixsecondsleft.
“Fuck,”Zekecursedunderhissteepledfingerswherehestoodnexttome.
Clayshoutedfrombesidehim,“Comeon,boys!Let’sfuckinggo!”
MystomachturnedviolentlyasIwatchedHoldenthroughthehuddle.Hehadblacksmearedunderhiseyes,sweatdrippingoffhisnose,hisgreeneyesseverethroughthemetalslatsofhishelmet.Hecalledwhatwouldlikelybeourlastplay,andthentheyallclappedandgotbackontheline.
Wewereonlyafewyardsfromthetouchdown.Everyoneexpectedustorunitnow.Itjustmadesense.Butwhentheballwassnapped,ourreceiversziggedandzaggedandtriedtogetopenintheendzone.
Holdenretreateddeepinthepocket,eyesscanning,rightarmlockedbackandreadytothrow.
Noonewasopen.
Kylewascompletelycovered,twodefensiveplayersmakingitimpossibleforhimtobeaclearthrow.Bradenhadtrippedoverhisownfeetandwastryingtoscrambleup.
Wewereoutoftime.
Theclocktickeddown,andIsawHoldenlookingleftandright,allthewhilewatchingwherehisoffensivelinewasstrugglingtoholdthebeastlymendesperatetosackhim.
Itwasallover.
Icouldn’tbreathe,couldn’tdoanythingbutclosemyeyesandwaitforthefinalwhistletoblow.Icouldn’twatchhimgetsacked,couldn’twatchhisdreamshatterinthatfashion.
Thecrowdwasalreadyloud,butasecondaftermyeyesclosed,theyturneddeafening.
Icreakedoneeyeopen.
JustintimetoseeHoldenfindahole.
Myothereyepoppedopenthen,andIscreamed,throwingmyarmsintheairandjumpingupanddownashesprintedthroughthebreakinthedefenseonthefar-leftsideofthefield.Thedefenderscaughtontohismovementjustahairofasecondtoolate,butoneofthemmanagedtowrapHoldenupandslinghimdowntothegroundwithenoughforcetobreakbones.
Notthatitmattered.
Becausehewastakendownintheendzone.
Touchdown.
Icried.TearsstungmyeyesasIscreamedandjumpedwiththerestoftheteam.Theyallpouredontothefield,swallowingupouroffensiveplayerswhowereouttherewhiletheBeavershungtheirheadsindisbelief.Confettiraineddownasecondlater,andRileyjumpedoutofZeke’sarmsandwrappedmeinacrushinghug.Wejumpedupanddowntogether,hairbouncing,bothofusscreamingloudenoughtobursttheother’seardrums.
They’ddoneit.
They’dwon
Weweregoingtothechampionshipgame.
Holden
Itwasabsolutemadnessafterthefinalwhistleblew.
ConfettistucktomysweatyfaceasItoreoffmyhelmetjustintimetobehoistedintotheair.Ithrewmyfistsupinvictory,chantingNBU!NBU!withtherestofmyteamastheyparadedmearoundthefield.
Thesecondtheydroppedmyfeettotheground,weweresurroundedbyreporters,allthewhilefamiliespouredontothefield,too.IansweredquestionsasbestIcouldthroughmyexcitement,thoughIwasfrequentlyinterruptedbyateammatejumpingonmybackorscoopingmeupintheirarms.Wewerechaotic,tooecstatictoevenpretendtobeprofessionalforthecameras.
WewereEastConferenceChampions.
Andwehadearnedourchancetofightforthenationalchampionshiptitle.
Thetrophyceremonyhappenedsofastitwasablur,eachofustakingturnsholdingtheshinygoldthingandkissingitlikeitwastheloveofourlifeasCoachLeegavealittlespeech.Whenwewerereleased,thereportersswarmedagain.
IwasdoingmybesttoleaninandhearthequestionsayoungmalereporterfromCollegeSportsNetworkwasscreamingatmeoverthenoisewhenIwasyankedfrombehind.Onehandonmyshoulderwhippedmearound,andthenIwascrushedinabearhugbymyUncleKevin.
“Youfuckingdidit!”hescreamed,clappingmehardontheback.HereleasedmeonlysoUncleNathancouldpullmein,too,andIfeltthecamerasallaroundus,knewthey’dbeshowingthisonTVandtalkingaboutmyfamily’sbackstory.
“Hellofagame!”Nathanyelled.Theywerebothwearingmyjerseynumberonhandmadehoodies,theirfacespainted,acrumpled-upsigninNathan’shandsthatIwassuretheyhelduptheentiretime.
Kevinturnedmebacktowardhim,framingmyarmsinhishands.Hedroppedhisforeheadtomine.“I’mdamnproudofyou,Holden.Damnproud.”
Ibroughthiminforanothercrushinghug,mostlysoIwouldn’tcryonnationalfuckingtelevision.Then,theyreleasedmeandtoldmethey’dseemebackatthehotel.
Wedidn’tsayatimebecauseallthreeofusknewtonightwouldbealongoneforme.
Assoonastheyweregone,IscannedthecrowdforJulep.
ShewastheonlypersonIwantedtosee,andyetshewastheonlyoneIcouldn’tfind.IsawCoachasClayandZekepouredagiantcontainerofice-coldGatoradeoverhishead.IsawLeomakingoutwiththecheerleaderhe’dbeenchasingafterallseason.IsawJBandtherestofthetrainingstaff,CoachHooverandhisfamily,evenKylewherehewasholdinguphisphone—nodoubtonInstagramLive.
ButnoJulep.
Myheartsank,andIstartedshovingthroughthecrowd,hopingIcouldfindherinthelockerroom.BeforeItooktwosteps,Gianahookedmebythearm.
“Ineedyouinthepressroom!”
“Okay,Ijustneedto—”
“No,now!”Sheshookherhead.“It’llonlybetenminutesmax.Please,Holden.Wranglingthesereportersislikeherdingcats,butthey’llgowherethequarterbackgoes.”
Begrudgingly,Iletherdragmeoffthefield,andsureasshit,reportersfollowedus,allowingtherestoftheteamabitofreprieve.
Assoonasshehadmesetupamicatthepodium,Gianaleft—nodoubttogogetthenextplayerslinedupandreadytoanswerquestions.Herboss,Charlotte,watchedmefromthesideofthestage.Shelistenedtowhoeverwasinherearpieceandthengavemethethumbsuptostarttakingquestions.
Itwasanout-of-bodyexperience.
I’dseeahandshootup,andI’dpointatit,signalingforwhoeverthereporterwastofireofftheirquestion.
“Howdoesitfeeltowinyourfirstplayoffbowlgame?”
“Itfeelsamazing,butIknewthiswinwasours.Thisteamhasbeenfocusedallseasonlong.We’rereadytotakethechampionship.”
“Attheendofthehalf,youweredownbytwotouchdowns.Howdidyoumanagetorallytheteamandgetthembackinthegame?”
“Weneverleftit.CLUistough,they’reoneofthebestinthenation—weallknowthat.Theygaveushelloutofthegate,andweexpectedit.Thekeywasjustcomingbackinthesecondhalfandgivingthemhellrightback.Andthat’swhatwedid.”
“You’vebeenbattlinganinjuryallseason.Diditflareupatallintoday’sgame?”
“I’mfeelingonehundredandtenpercentthankstoourtrainingstaff.Myshoulderisbetterthanit’severbeen.”
Questionafterquestionpeltedme,andafterfifteenminutesorso,Iwasexhausted.Thatamountoftimedoinganythingelsewouldbenothing,butinthissituation,itfeltlikeaneternity.
Icalledonthenextreporter,anxiousforGianatorelievemeandsendinthenextplayer.
Awomaninabrightorangeblazerstood,alegalpadandpeninonehandassheyelled,“You’vesaidinpastinterviewsthatyourbiggestgoalistowinthechampionshipandthenbedraftedintotheNFL—which,atthispoint,Ithinkwe’reallsurewillhappen.So,whathappensnext?Ifyouwinthebiggameandyougetcalleduptoplaypro,what’snextforHoldenMoore?”
Iopenedmymouthtoshootbacksomegenericanswer,butbeforeIcould,alifetimeofpossibilityflashedbeforemyeyes.
ItwaslikeherquestionhadshockedmeoutofthepresentandintoafuturewhereeverythingIwantedcametrue.
Isawourteamholdingupthetrophy,sawmyunclessmilingwhenmynamewascalledinthedraft.Ipicturedsigningonthedottedline,imaginedwhathatI’dslipon—maybetheColts,stayingontheEastCoast,ormaybeI’dgowestwiththeSeahawks.
Andthrougheverystepofmyvision,therewasJulep.
Shewasinmyarmsafterthefinalwhistleatthechampionshipgame,herlegswrappedaroundmeasIkissedher,andconfetticoveredusboth.Shewasholdingmyhandaswewaitedforthephonetoringondraftday.Shewasluggingboxeswithmeintoournewplace,kissingmysweatycheekbeforepointingtowhereshewantedmetosetupherpole.
AndIrealizedinthatmoment,morethanever,thatnoneofthismatteredwithouther.
“I’msosorry,I…excuseme.”
Ididn’tsayanythingmorebeforeIdartedoffthesmallstage,CharlottecallingmynameasIwhizzedbyher.IknewGianawouldbeupset,butI’dmakeituptoherlater.
MultiplepeopletriedtostopmeasIweavedthroughthehallway.Playerswantedtocelebrate,staffwantedtocongratulateme,andIdidn’tmissthedisappointmentonascout’sfacewhenhetriedtostopme,andIapologizedbeforerunningrightpast.
Iaimedforthelockerroom,andwhenImadeit,Istopped,tryingtocatchmybreathasIlookedforher.
“What’sup,Cap?”Zekeasked.
“HaveyouseenJulep?”
Hesmirked,noddingtowardthebackwhereourtrainingstaffhadsetupcamp.
Isprintedtowardit,slidingthroughthedoorasmycleatstriedandfailedtofindtractiononthetilefloor.
IcametoastoprightinfrontofCoachLee.
Hefrowned,catchingmebeforeIcrashedrightintohim,butthenIlookedbehindhimandfoundJulep.
Ireachedbacklongenoughtoshutthedoorbehindme,tomakesurenooneelseontheteamwouldbuttinandruintheonlyopportunityIhad.Ididn’tknowhowthiswasgoingtogo,butIknewIdidn’twantthemhearingeitherway.
Therewasawindowonthedoorwithashadeaboveit.Ipulledthatdown,andthenitwasjustthethreeofus.
“Moore,what—”
“Thedealisoff.”
Hefrowned.“Whatinthehellare—”
IheldupafingerasIstruggledtocatchmybreath,sneakingaglanceatwhereJulepstoodbehindhim.Shewasfoldingupequipmentandstoringitinthegiantdufflebagswebroughtwithus,butrightnow,shewasfrozen,holdingtighttoarollofsportstapeandstaringatmewide-eyed.
IturnedmyattentionbacktoCoach,standingastallasIcouldasIlookedhimrightintheeye.
“Sir,Ihavethoughtaboutitforamonthnow.IhaverespectedyourwishesandIhaveleftJulepalone.”
“AndI—”
“No,”Isaid,cuttinghimoff.“Youdidn’tletmespeaklasttime,butthistime,youwillhearmeout.”
Hisjawwastightasheshuthismouth,andIknewitwouldn’tstayshutforlong.
“Ididasyouasked.Ihavebeennothingbutfocusedonthisteamandthisgame.IhaveshownyouineverywaythatIcanthatIamseriousaboutfootballandabouttheresponsibilityyougivemeasquarterbackandcaptain.”Ipaused.“ButIcan’tdothisanymore.”
IlookedatJulep,athowherknuckleswherewhitewhereshegrippedthetape.SheshookherheadslightlylikeshewassilentlybeggingmenottodowhateverIwasabouttodo.
Buttherewasnothingthatcouldstopmenow.
“Sir,withallduerespect,”Isaid,turningbacktoCoach.“Benchme.”
Hisheadsnappedbacklikethosewordshadslappedhimacrosstheface.
“Sitmeinthechampionshipgameifthat’swhatyouwanttodo.CalleveryscoutyouknowandtellthemI’mwashedupandthattheyshouldn’tdraftme.Blackballmeineverywaythatyoupossiblycan.”
Iswallowed,mybodyrevoltingattheremotepossibilityofallofthattrulyhappening,atthefactthatitprobablywould.
Butmyheartbeatstrong.
“Youcanholdtrueonallyourthreats,”Icontinued.“Youcantakeeverythingelseawayfromme.Butyoucan’ttakeher.”
IlookedatJulep,andhereyesglossedover,thetapefallingfromherhandsandrollingonthegroundtowardoneofthetables.
“Iloveyourdaughter,CoachLee,”Isaid,thoughmyeyesdidn’tleaveher.“Iloveher,andIdon’tcarewhatyouoranyoneelsethinksaboutit.Myheartusedtobelongtofootball,butnowitbelongstoher.Andnoneofthis,”Iadded,throwingmyhandsup.“Noneofitmeansadamnthingwithouther.”
Coachswallowed,hisbrowsfurrowedashewatchedmewithhishandscurlingintofistsathissides.Heopenedhismouthlikehewasgoingtosaysomething,butthenasoftvoicechimedbehindhim.
“Youloveme?”
Myheadsnappedinherdirection,andJulepstoodtherewithhereyesglossedandhandstrembling.
Irushedtoherinthenextbreath,takingthoseshakinghandsinmineandholdingthemsteady.Icurledmyownhandsaroundthem,pulledthemtomychest,andheldherclose.
“Witheveryhopelesslyoptimisticbeatofmyheart.”
Somethingbetweenalaughandasobbrokethroughher,andsherolledherlipstogether,shakingherhead.
“Iwillbehere,”Isaid,tuggingherhandstomychestagain.“Everyday.I’llberightbyyoursideremindingyouthatyoumatter,thatyouareneeded,thatthereisareasontohavehopeandareasontolive.I’llbehereremindingyouthatforme?Youarethatreason.”
Sheclosedhereyes,freeingasilenttearthatraceddowntoherchinbeforefallingtothefloor.
IstillheldherhandasIrotated,lacingmyfingerswithhersandturningbacktoherfather.
“Youcanbenchmeifthat’swhatyoufeelyouneedtodo,butIlovethisgirl,”Isaid,squeezingherhand.“AndI’mnotbackingdown.”
Coachglaredatme,thenatwhereIheldhisdaughter’shand.“Evenifitcostsyoueverything?”
Istoodtaller.“Eventhen.”
Julepshookherhead,steppingbetweenmeandherfather.“Youcan’tdothis,”shetoldme,sniffing.“Youcan’tthroweverythingawayjustbecause—”
Islidmyhandsupherarmstoframeherface,holdinghergazesteadywithmyown.“IhaveneverseenmoreclearlythanIdointhismoment,JulepLee.AndImeantwhatIsaid.Iamnotwalkingawayfromyou.Inevercould.”
Shenodded,asobbreakingfreeasIpulledherintomeandwrappedherinmyarms.Ihuggedhertightasshecried,andinthatmoment,Itrulydidn’tcarewhathappenednext.BecauseIhadher,andshehadme,andeverythingelsewassecondtothatone,life-centeringtruth.
Iheldherforalongwhilebeforeshefinallypulledback,wipingherfacebeforesheturnedtowardherfather.Theywereinasilentstandoff.
CoachLeelookedathisdaughter,thenatme,andbackagain.Heseemedtobefightingamillionwarsinhisheadaseveryemotionplayedoutonhisface.
Afteramoment,hesighed.
“Iwaswrong.”
Iblinked,sureI’dmisheardhim,butheheavedanotherdeepbreathandsankdownintooneofthechairsagainstthewall.
“Somethingyouwon’tunderstanduntilyou’reafather,Holden,isthatwhenyou’retryingtobeagooddad,youwilldoanythingtoprotectyourbabygirl.”Hepaused,lookingatJulep.“Evenifithurtsherintheprocess.”
Julepleanedintomyside,moresilenttearssoakingthecuffofmyjersey.
“IthoughtIknewwhatwasbestforher.Andinmanyways,IthinkIdid.Iknewmovingherawayfromhomewouldgiveherafreshstart.Iknewifshecouldsoberupandrememberwhoshewasbefore…”
Heswallowed,shakinghishead.
“Iknewmylittlegirlwasstillinthere,underthescarredtissuethathersister’sdeathleftbehind.AndwhenIstartedtoseehercomingbacktolife,Ifeltevenmoreprotective.Iwasreadytofightanyonewhothreatenedthatpeaceshe’dworkedsohardtogetback.”
Helookedatmethen.
“ButIwaswrongtofightyou,Holden.Andforthat,I’msorry.”
Heheldmygazeforalongmomentbeforehestood,rubbinghispalmsdownthefrontofhispantsashedid.
“I’mstillnothappythatbothofyouwentagainstmyorders,”hecontinued.“But…Icanseenowthatyoumustreallycareabouteachother.Youshowedmethatthispastmonth,becauseeventhoughitmusthavehurtyouboth,youdidwhatIaskedofyou.Julep,you’vebeenstraightasanarrow.AndHolden…wewouldn’tbestandinghereontheothersideofthiswinwithoutyou.I’llbehonest,Ididn’texpectit.Iexpectedyoutofightme,totrytosneakbehindmyback.IhadafirmplaninplacewithRussojustwaitingforthemoment.”Hescrubbedhisjaw.“Yougainedmyrespectwhenyouprovedmewrong.Andevenmoresomomentsagowhenyoubroughtjoybacktomydaughter’sfacethatIdidn’tknowcouldevenexistanymore.”
Somethinginhimbrokealittlewiththat,andheturnedawaybriefly,suckinginabreathbeforeheshookhisheadandfacedusagain.Hetookafewstepsinourdirection,pointingafingeratmychest.
“Butifyoueventhinkabouthurtingher,Iwillmurderyouandgotojailforlife.Don’tmakemedothattomywife,youunderstandme?”
Ibitbackasmile.“So…you’renotgoingtobenchme?”
HelookedatJulep,thenatme.“Notyet,anyway.”
“I’lltakeit,”Isaid.
Henodded,almostgrinning,andthenextendedhishandformine.“Oneshot,Moore.That’sallyouget.Ruinit,andI’llruinyou.”
“Dad,”Julepchastisedwitharollofhereyes,butIreachedforhishandandshookitfirmly.
“OneshotisallI’llneed.”
Whenhedroppedmyhand,Coachnoddedtobothofusbeforeexcusinghimself.AndthenitwasjustmeandJulep.
Isweptherintomyarmsandkissedherwithouthesitation.
Itwaslikebreathinglifebackintoacorpse,likeeveryounceofpainIhadfeltinthelastmonthevaporatedinthatverymoment.Ifeltitleavingmybodylikeanexorcism,andthewayJulepclungtome,herarmsaroundmyneck,eyessqueezedshut—Iknewshewasbeingwashedclean,too.
“Youstupid,stupidboy,”shewhisperedagainstmylips,cryingasshedid.“Youcouldhavelostitall.”
“I’dchooselosingitalloverlosingyouforalifetime.”
Sheshovedme,butthenpulledmebackinforakiss.“Idon’tknowifIwanttokillyouforgivingmeaheartattackwiththatspeech,ortearyourclothesoffandshowyouhowmuchIlovedit.”
“Ilikethesecondoption.”
Shelaughedagainstmylips,andthenletmetuckherheadundermychinasIhuggedherandheldherclose,bothofussighingcontently.
“Me,too,youknow,”shesaidsoftly.
“You,too,what?”
Shepeekedupatme.“Iloveyou.”
“Well,obviously.”
Shepokedmehardbetweentheribs,makingmedoubleoverbeforeItickledherandpulledhersquirmingallthewaybacktome.
“Sayitagain,”ImurmuredalongtheskinbehindherearbeforeIkissedtheveryspotmybreathtouched.
“Iloveyou,youidiot.”
Ilaughed.
AndthenIframedherfaceandkissedhertoshowherIfeltthesame.Julep
Aweekandahalflater,wecarriedtheNationalChampionshipTrophybacktoBoston.
InanothergruelinggameagainsttheArizonaPanthers,weclinchedthewinbyanarrowthreepoints.Rileyhadkickedafieldgoalwithtwo-and-a-halfminuteslefttogo,andourdefensehadheldstrong,keepingouropponentsfromgettingintofieldgoalpositionthemselves.Theytried,anyway,andfailedthealmostsixty-yardattempt.Possessionhadcomebacktouswithlessthanaminutelefttogo,andHoldentookakneeeachtimeuntiltheclockranout.
Justlikethat,wewerenationalchampions.
Thenexttwoweekswereachaotic,joyfulblur.Weflewbackhomeandcelebratedwithouruniversityinaparadethatspannedthecity.Twodayslater,wewereonaflightdowntoFloridatospendthreedayscelebratingourwinatDisneyWorld.Theteamcouldn’twaittogettheirrings,butuntilthen,theytookthetrophyouttoasmanypartiesandbarsastheycouldbeforemydadputitunderlockandkeyinatrophycaseoutsidehisofficeatthestadium.
Itwasthefirstoneputtheresincethe90s.
Allthewhile,therewasabittersweetscentintheair.Asmuchaswecelebrated,almostaquarteroftheteamwasgraduating—andthatmeantthiswastheirlastseasonasaRebel.
Holdenwasonarollercoasterofemotions,highoffthewinonesecond,devastatedthathiscollegecareerwasoverthenext,and—mostfrequently—nervousaboutthedraft.
Butthenightbeforeclassesstartedonourfinalspringsemesterofcollege,welaidonthecouchatmyhouse,bothofuscozyinourhoodiesandsweatpantswithtwoblanketspiledoverus.Wemadeoutbeneaththemuntilwewerebothsweatingandtossingthemoff,buteventhen,westayedtangledtogether.
Andforoneblissfulmoment,neitherofusworriedaboutanythingatall.
“Youknow,Ifeelalittlecheated,”hesaid,runninghisfingersthroughmyhair.“Inallthistimewespentsneakingaround,youneverteasedmewithanotherdance.”
“Dance?”Iasked,confused.Whenhiseyeslandedonthepolesetupinthemiddleofthelivingroombehindme,Irolledmyeyesandsmackedhimplayfully.“Oh,myGod,Holden.”
“What?!Thatwashot,andyouknowitwasoryouwouldn’thaveleftthewindowsopenformetosee.”
“Ididn’trealizetheywereopenuntilIsawyoucreeping.”
“Mm-hmm,sure.Youwantedmetowatch,andyouknowit.”
Irolledmyeyes,tryingtostand,buthehuggedmetighttohim,wrappinghislegsaroundmeasIsquirmed.
“Idon’tdanceforanyonebutmyself,”Itoldhim.
“Youalsosworeyou’dnevergetonyourkneesforme,butweallseehowthatturnedout…”
Itriedtokneehiminthestomach,buthehadmetangledupsomuchthatIcouldn’tdomuchbutwigglewhilehelaughedandheldontight.
Isighed,relenting.“Fine.Youwantmetodanceforyou?”
“Really?”
“Ifyouletmego,youboa.”
“Boa,huh?Becausemydickissobig.”
“Becauseyou’restranglingme,youcockyjerk,”Isaid,finallywrigglingfree.WhenIdid,Istoodupandpulledhimbythehanduntilhewassittingupright.
“YoulovewhenI’mcocky.”
“ShutupbeforeIchangemymind.”
Hezippedhislipsclosed,sittingwithhishandsinhislaplikealittlekidwaitingforhisChristmasgift.Irolledmyeyesagain,butthengrabbedmyphoneandturnedonmyplaylist.
“WickedGames”byTheWeekndstartedplaying,andIclosedmyeyes,slippingintomybody.
Ifacedthepolethen,pullingmyhairbackandovermyshoulders.Inhalingabreath,Islowlyslinkedtowardit,reachinguptograbitwithmyrighthand.Iwalkedaround,draggingmysock-coveredfeetbehindmewitheachstepbeforeIdidadipandagoddessspindowntothefloorjustasthebeatkickedin.
Ilandedonmyknees,archingmybackbeforeIdovedownontotheground.Ikeptmybackarchedandmybootyup,lettingitfalltoonesideandbumpagainstthefloorbeforeItookittheoppositeway.
MyeyesmetHolden’sasIbracedmyhandsoneithersideofmychestandpushedback,chestdraggingalongthefloorwithmyassintheair.Iflickedmyhairbackwhenmychestmetmythighs,comingtositonmyheelsasIrolledmyneckandletmyhairfanoutoverme.
Hewasgaping.
Icouldn’thelpthesmilethatspreadonmylipsathisdumbfoundedexpressionasIreachedforthepole,doingafiremanspinuptostandingagain.Ithreadedthroughmyarmsuntilmybackwastothepole,andthenIslowlyrolledmyhipsasIstrippedmyhoodieoverhead.
Iletitfalltotheground,launchingintoaVspinbeforeIlandedonthegroundbehindthepole.Ibroughtmylegsupintheair,wavingthemasifIwasswimmingunderwater.Then,Iproppedmyhipsupinacandlestickpose,grabbingmysweatpantsandslowlypeelingthemoffmylegsuntilIflungthemacrosstheroom,too.
Iwasinmysportsbraandthongnow,andthesocksonmyfeet,butwithmoreskinexposed,Iwasabletolaunchmyselfintoaninvert.Ihungbyonelegandthentheother,tracingmybodytheentiretimeasmyhairflewaroundmeandImovedslowlyandsensuallytothebeat.
Whenmyfeethittheflooragain,IfoundHolden’seyesandheldthemasIdidbodywaves,tiltingmychesttowardthepoleandextendingmybackleginastandingsplitthatputmypussyrightinhisface.
Thatdidit.
Hegroaned,reachingformeandpullingmeintohislapsohaphazardlyInearlyfell.IlaughedasIcrashedintohim,pressingmyhandstohischestevenashefoughtagainstmeandkissedme,anyway.
“I’mnotfinished,”Imurmuredagainsthislips.
“You’reabouttomakemefinish.”
Ilaughedasheliftedhishipwithmeinhislap,usingonehandandthentheothertoslidehissweatpantsandbriefsdownhisthighs,overhisknees,anddowntohisankles.Hekickedthemoff,groaningwhenIwrappedmyhandsaroundhisshaftandslowlypumpedhimashestruggledwiththeclothes.
He’dnosoonerhadthemkickedtothesidewhenhishandsliddownbetweenmylegs,frictioncatchingmysensitivebudandmakingmeshakebeforeheroughlyshovedmythongtotheside.Hisfingerstoyedwithmyentrance,hisotherhandcomingtothebackofmyneckandpullingmetohismouthsohardourteethclashed.
Desiresparkedlowandwarminmybellyathowmuchheneededmeinthatmoment.
Hebitmybottomlip,holdingitasheslidonefingerinsideme.IgaspedbothatthesensationofhisdigitandtherealizationthatIwasalreadysoaked,aching,ready.
Holdenfeltit,too,andhemoanedhissatisfactionbeforeremovinghisfingerandwrappinghisfistaroundhisthickshaft.Ipressedupontomykneessohecouldfithimselfatmyentrance,andthenIsankdown,takinghimasdeepasIcouldasIsatfullybackdowninhislap.
“Holyfuck,”hegroaned,handsgrippingmyhipssohardIwinced—butIlovedthatlittledigofpain,thatlittleflashofhurtthatrodeonthetailsofmypleasure.Heusedthatimpressivegriptoliftmeallthewayupuntilhealmostslippedoutofmebeforeheyankedmebackdown.
Ihissed,diggingmynailsintohisshoulderandsavoringeverylastinchofhimpressinginsideme.ThatwasthelastsoundImadebeforehecrushedmymouthtohimagain,andheswallowedeverymoanIofferedhimlikeitwassweetdessert.
Myhipsrolledagainsthimasheflexedandfilledmeoverandoveragain,andeachtime,hispelvisrubbedagainstmyclitandgavemethefrictionIneededtodrivemeclosertorelease.Themorethatflametriedtocatch,thefasterIrode,wilderandwilderuntilIwasallbutbouncingonhislapasIchasedthatflickeringflame.
“Yes,yes,rightthere,”Itoldhim,eyessqueezingshutasmyorgasmbegantocatch.Mylegswentnumb,toescurling.
Andthen,herippedmeoffhim.
Icriedoutattheloss,athowfastmyclimaxskitteredawayfrommelikeascaredanimal.ButIdidn’thavetimetoprocessanythingbeforeIwasflippedoverandsittingagainstthecushionwhereHoldenhadjustbeen.
“Iwassoclose,”Iwhimpered.
Heignoredme,droppingtohiskneesattheedgeofthecouch.Then,hegrippedthetopsofmythighsandroughlydraggedmetowardhimuntilmyasshungofftheedgeofthecouch,myanklesonhisshoulders.
Andhebegantofeast.
Myvisionwentblack,eyesrollingashishottonguelashedmyalready-sensitivebud.Hesuckedonitviolently,tearingmyorgasmbacktothesurfacelikehe’dphysicallyreachedahandinsidemysoulandgrabbeditbytheneck.
Mylegsquakedhardaroundhim.Icouldn’tcontrolthem,notevenasIgrippedtheedgeofthecouchandtriedtoholdonfordearlifeashistongueswirledandlickeduntilIstartedtocomeagain.
Itwastwiceasintensethistimeafteredging,andIcriedouthisnameasmyreleaserockedthroughme,takingallsenseofrealitywithit.Throughthemind-numbing,body-rockinghazeofit,IheardHoldenmoaning,hisgriptighteningwhereheheldme.Iknewhewasjustmakingthosenoisesforme,butfucktheywerehot,andIsavoredthemasIrodeoutthelastofmyorgasmbeforefallingcompletelylaxagainstthecouch.
AssoonasIhad,Holdencollapsedontohisbackonthehardwoodfloor.
Hewaspanting,chestheavingashesplayedhisarmsandlegsout.“Holyfuckinghell.”
“I’llsay,”Ichuckled,andthenIwincedasIclosedmylegs,hipsonfirewiththemotion.
MygazeturnedconcernwhenIsawHoldenclutchinghisheart.
“OhGod,areyouhavingaheartattack?!”Idroppedtothefloorandcrawledovertohim.
“Maybe.”
“Areyouserious?!”Panicstartedtoriseinmythroatbeforehelaughedandgrabbedmyhand,pullingittohismouthforatenderkiss.
“I’mfine.Ijust…I’veneverdonethatbefore.”
Ifrowned.“Makemecumwithyourmouth?Uh,I’mprettysurethat’sincorrect.”
“No,”hesaid,sittingupwithasheepishgrin.“Mademecumlikethat.”
Iblinked,andthenIfollowedhisgazetothecouchbehindus.
Tothesemendrippingdowntheedgeofitandontothefloor.
Igapedatit,thenbackathim.“Oh,myGod,you…you…withouteventouchingyourself?”
“I’massurprisedasyouare.”
Helaughed,andIstraddledhimbeforekissinghimhardenoughtoknockhimbackdowntothefloor.
“That’sfuckinghot.”
“Iblamethedancing.”
“LookslikeIneedtobuyapoleIcansetupanywherewego.”
Holdenlaughedagain,pullingmedowntomeethislipsashesaid,“Noargumentshere.”
Afterwecleanedupourmess,weshoweredandcrawledintobedtogether,snugglingtokeepeachotherwarmasitbegantosnowoutsidemywindow.Iwrappedmyarmsaroundhim,andhethreadhislegbetweenmine,kissingmyforehead.
“SometimeswhenIholdyoulikethis,I’mstillnotsureifit’sadreamornot,”Iadmitted.
“Ifeelthatwaysometimes,too.”
“Really?”
Henodded.“Iwasafuckingmesswithoutyou.Ineverwanttofeelthatwayagain.”
“Meeither,”Iconfessed.“ThereweresomanytimesIwantedtocallyou,tosharesomethingwithyou.LikewhenIhadChristmaswithmymom.”
“I’mreallygladyoutwoaretalkingagain.”
Isnuggledintohim.“Me,too.It’skindofscarybut…inagoodway.Iunderstandhermorenow.AndIthinksheunderstandsme,too.”
“Ithinkshejustlovesme,andthereforeyoubyproxy.”
Irolledmyeyes.“She’smetyouonetime.”
“Andsheadoredme.Shehasn’tstoppedtalkingaboutmetoyousince.”
“Jeez,amIgoingtohavetowatchmybackformymomstealingyouaway?”
“Yourdadwouldreallyhatemethen.”
Ipinchedhisside,andhelaughed,wigglingawayfrommebeforeherolledoverandpinnedmeinthesheets.
“You’retheonlyoneformeandyouknowit.”
“Doesn’tmeanIdon’tliketohearit.”
“I’lltellyouasmanytimesasyouwant,”hepromised.“Againandagainuntilyou’resickofit.Untilyou’resickofme.”
Ijustsmiledandkissedhimandlaughedtomyself.
BecauseIknewinmyheartthatdaywouldnevercome.ThreeMonthsLater
Holden
ItwasjustbarelybeginningtowarmupinBostonwhendraftdayrolledaround.Springhadcome,butnotbarrelinginaswe’dallhoped.Itwassoft,quiet,butpromising.
Evenso,I’dstrippeddowntomyathleticshortsandat-shirt,andmyUncleKevinwatchedmewithanamusedsmileasIleanedagainsttheedgeofthekitchenisland,pretendinglikeIwascalm.TheLionshadjustusedtheirfifthpickonadefensivelinemanfromHawaii.
Icheckedmyphonejusttomakesureitwascharged—itwas,ninety-sevenpercent.I’dhaditpluggedinmostofthedayjustincase.I’dalsohadUncleKevindothesame,sincehiswasmybackupnumber.
“Relax,”hetoldmeashepassedbywitharefreshedplateofartisanalcheese,meat,andbread.“You’llgetacall.”
“Iknow,”Isaid,butthetruthwasIdidn’tknow—notforsure.Ihoped.AndiftheanalystsI’dbeenlisteningtoforthepastweekandahalfhadanyideaofwhatwasgoingon,theyassumed,too.
Everyonepeggedmeforafirst-roundpick.
Wejustdidn’tknowwheninthefirstround.
Ialreadyhadahunchthatitwouldn’tbeinthefirstfive.Noneofthoseteamsneededaquarterback.Butasweroundedtowardthesixthpick,mypalmsstartedsweating.TheTampaBayBuccaneerswereinthemarketforaQB,andIsworemyphoneburnedinmypocketasIwilledittoring.
“Heythere,brother.”
IstartledwhenClaysqueezedmyshoulderswithhismassivehands,roundingtheislandtoslidenexttome.Heofferedmeabeer,andeventhoughIdidn’treallywantit,ItookitjustsoI’dhavesomethingtodo.
“Ican’tbelieveyou’regoingpro.”
“Wedon’tknowthatyet.”
Hegavemealookwithflatlips.“Justpromisemeyou’llcomebackformysenioryearchampionshipgame.”
“Back-to-backwins,huh?”
“Youdoubtus?”
Ishrugged,tonguingmycheek.“Idon’tknow.Withoutme?”Iwhistledthroughmyteeth,andLeosockedmeinthearmashecameupontheothersideofwherewestood.
“Youforgetthatit’smewhowasyoursecretweaponthesepastfewyears,”heteased.
“Neitherofyouwouldhaveevenhadachanceifitweren’tformyreturns,”Zekepipedin,tappinghisbeerbottleagainstmine.
Rileycameuprightbehindhimrollinghereyes.“Andyou’reallsomodest,toboot.”
Zekesmirked,tuckingherunderhisarmandkissinghertempleastheyreturnedtothelivingroomandploppeddownonthecouchrightinfrontofthefood.GianawasinthecorneroftheroombesidetheTVmakingsurehercameramanwassetupwiththeproperangletocaptureourcelebrationifacallcamein.
When,Itriedtochastisemyself,butmystomachwastightevenasIdid.
CoachLeeandCoachHooverwerebothinthelivingroom,too.EvenJulep’smomhadflownoutfortheoccasion,andthepairofthemsatontheloveseat,eachofthemholdingaglassofwine.Theywerelaughingaboutsomething,andIdidn’tcarewhatitwasbecauseallthatmatteredtomewasthatJulepandhermomwerelaughingatall.
Onthetelevision,thecommissionertookthestage,andeveryonequieted.
Notsosubtly,eyesfloatedtome,formyreaction.
Ifitwasmetheyhadpicked,Iwouldhavehadacall.IcasuallycheckedmyphonejusttomakesureIhadn’tmissedanything.
Ihadn’t.
“WiththefifthpickintheNFLdraft,theTampaBayBuccaneersselect…”Hepausedfordramaticeffect.“BernieHoffman,IowaCentral.”
ThecrowdinVegaswasamixofcheersandboos,allingoodfunasusualduringthedraft.IforcedasmileasthequarterbackoutofIowaCentraltookthestage.They’daskedmeifIwantedtoflyouttoVegas,too,justincaseIwaspickedearlyon—butI’delectedtostayhereinBostonwithmyteam.
Withmyfamily.
“Ah,whowantstoplayforTampa,anyway?”MyuncleNathansaid,bouncingJoanneinhislap.“ToogoddamnmuggyinFlorida.”
Everyonechuckled,buttheenergyhadshiftedwiththatpick.Slowly,conversationpickedbackup,everyonedrinkingandrefillingtheirplates.TheGiantswereontheclocknow,butIknewaswellastherestoftheroomthattheyweren’tgoingtobecallingme.
Itriedtosneakoutsidewithoutbeingseen—knowingevenasIslidtheslidingglassdooropenthatIhadfailed.Still,IbreathedalittleeasieronceIwasonthebackpatio,achillywindsweepingthroughandcoolingthesweatonthebackofmyneck.
Irestedmyforearmsonthebanister,breathingindeep.Forawhile,IjustpeeredupatthefewstarsIcouldsee,listeningtothewindblowingthroughthetrees.
“Iwishyouwerehere,”Isaidtothebackyard,butIknewthemessagewasheardbywhoIintendeditfor.
Asifinanswer,agentlebreezerolledthroughtheyard,rustlingtheleavesinthetreesonebyone.IhearditbeforeIfeltitwashovermyface,andIclosedmyeyesandsmiledwhenitdid.
Theslidingglassdooropenedandshutbehindme,andafterafewfootsteps,Julepwrappedherarmsaroundmefrombehind.
“Aren’tyoufreezing?”sheasked,herchinbalancingonthebackofmyshoulderasshewrappedmeuptight.
IturneduntilIwasfacingher,andshechuckledatthesheenofsweatonmyforehead.
“Apparentlynot,”shemused.
Itriedtosmile,butitwasweakasIletmyhandsrestonherhips.
Therealreasonformynervesstaredbackatme.
She’dwalkedintomytrapjustlikeI’dknownshewould.ShesawIwasanxious,sawI’dgoneoutsidetogetawayfromeveryone.Andnow,Ihadheralone,justlikeI’dwanted.
“Youokay?”sheaskedtenderly,playingwiththehairatthenapeofmyneck.
“Morethanokay.”
“Oh,really?Becauseeveryoneinsidethathousethinksyou’regoingtorunintotrafficifthephonedoesn’tring.”
“I’mnotworriedaboutthedraft.”
Shesnorted,shakingherheadassheleanedinandpeggedmewithabriefkiss.“Youknow,youdon’thavetoactallmachowithme.I’myourgirlfriend,remember?”
“Yeah…aboutthat.”
Herfacesobered,smilewashingawayinstantly.
“I’vebeenthinking…youknow,withthedraft,andmyfutureupintheair.MaybeI’llgetacalltonight.Maybeitwon’tbeuntillaterthisweekend.ButIthinkit’sprettysafetosayI’mgoingpro.AndthatmeansI’llbeinanewcity,whoknowswhere,withanewteamandallthesenewpeopleinmylife…”
Juleplookedlikeaghostasshereleasedherholdaroundmyneckandsteppedback.“What…whatareyousaying,Holden?”
Iswallowed,holdinghergaze.“I’msaying…Idon’tthinkIwantagirlfriendthroughallthat.”
Herfacewentashen,hernoseflaringassheblinkedandstaredatmeincompleteandtotalshock.
AndIwantedtowait.Iwantedtogetareactionoutofher,toplayalongwiththerusealittlelonger,butIcouldn’tstandevenpretendingtohurther.
So,Imovedcloser,takingherhandsinmineasIslowlydroppedtooneknee.
“Iwantafiancée.”
Hernextbreathwasagasp,andshenearlyburstintotearsasshecursedmyname.“Holden!”
Ipulledtheringfrommypocket,presentingittoherbetweenmyfingertipsratherthaninabox.Thedelicategoldbandwasweatheredbutfreshlypolished,andalone,marquise-shapeddiamondglitteredintheporchlightshiningfromaboveus.
“Itwasmymother’s,”Isaid,voicetight.“Myfatherboughtthisforherasanupgradeoncehehadenoughmoneytodoso.Irememberwhenshegotit.Christmasof2012.She’dcriedsoharduglysnotcameoutofhernose.”
“I’mabouttodothesame,”Julepchoked,andthenshedroppedtoherkneeswithme,shakingherheadashereyesbouncedbetweenthediamondandme.“Areyou…isthisreal?”
“Therealest.”
Shesmiled,thenbitherlip.“Mydadisgoingtokillyoufornotaskinghimfirst.”
“WhosaidIdidn’taskhim?”
Hereyebrowstuggedinward,andthensheglancedbehindmeatthehouse.Whenshecoveredhermouthandthelaughthatbubbledoutofher,too,Iwhippedaroundtofindadozenfacespressedagainstthewindowwatchingus.Gianawascryingsohardyou’dhavethoughtitwasherbeingproposedto.
Ismiled,turningbacktoJulep.“ImeantwhatIsaidafterthebowlgamethatnoneofthismeansanythingwithoutyou.IwantyoutoknowwhenIgointothisthatIdon’tcareaboutanyofthegirlswhowillfollowusontheroad,oraboutgoingouttostripclubsorwhateverelsemightbepresentedtome.”Ipulledherlefthandintomyrightoneandheldtheringwithmyleft.“Icareaboutyou.Morethananythinginthisworld.AndIwanteveryexperiencelifehastoofferwithyoubymyside.”
Shesuckedherbottomlipbetweenherteethastearsfilledhereyes,andallthewhileshewatchedme.
“Marryme,Julep.Marryme,andIpromisetotakeyoutoeveryyardsalewecanfindineverystatewegoto.Marryme,andIwillgrowagardeninyourname.Marryme,andIpromisetosetupachromepoleinthemiddleofeverypieceofpropertyweown.”
Shelaughed,thoughitwasgarbledwithtears.
“Marryme,”Irepeated,swipingthefreshtearsaway.“AndIwillspendtherestofmylifelovingyou.Nomatterhowlongthatis.EveryminuteIamhereonEarthisyours.Andafterthat,too.”
Julepshookherhead,glancingattheringandthenbackupatme.“Ononecondition.”
“Anything.”
“WhenyouwinyourfirstSuperBowl,youtakemetotheExumas.”
Itiltedmyheadbackonalaughthatshookmefromtheinsideout.“I’lltakeyouwithmysigningbonus,howaboutthat?”
“Evenbetter.”
“Isthatayes?”
Sherolledhereyes.“Putthedamnringonmyfinger,Holden.”
SoIdid,andthenIpulledherintomyarmsandkissedher.
Inside,cheerserupted,theslidingglassdoorflyingopenaseveryonepiledoutontothebalcony.EvenGiana’scameramanfollowed.IwasswarmedbymyteammatesfirstwhilethegirlsrushedJuleptoseethering.CoachLeeshookmyhandandMrs.Leewrappedmeinoneofherfiercehugs.Myuncleshuggedmelast,holdingmealongtimetoreallylettheirlovesinkin—likealways.
“Welcometothefamily,”NathansaidtoJulepnext,andhetuckedherintohisside.“We’regoingtohavetoomuchfunwiththismotleycrew.”
CoachLeearchedabrow.“Andsuddenly,I’mrethinkingmyblessing.”
Thatelicitedalaughfromthecrowd,butitwascutshort.
Bymyphoneringing.
Myheartstopped,everyoneturningtostareatwhereIstood.ItriedtoglanceattheTVthroughtheslidingglassdoor,butIcouldn’tseeclearlyenoughtoknowwhowaspicking.OnthethirdringClaysnappedmeoutofmyhaze.
“Answerit,bro!”
IfumbledwithmyphoneasIpulleditfrommypocket,andthenIheldittomyear.
“Hello?”Iasked.
“Speakerphone,”Gianamouthed,pointingatthecamera.
Iswitcheditovertospeakerjustintimeforaboomingvoicetosay,“Holden,thisisCoachNixonoutinCharlotte.I’vegotteamownerMichaelBradshawherewithme.AreyouhavingagoodnightoutthereinBoston?”
Asmilesplitmyfaceastherestofmyfamilylookedateachotherwithbrighteyes,bouncingandhittingeachotherandmakingallkindsofmuffled,high-pitchednoises.IlookedatJulep.
Myfiancée.
“Yes,sir,Iam,”Isaid.
“Well,Ihopeyouenjoyit,becausewe’regoingtogetyouonaflighttoCharlotteinthemorning.Thatis,ifyou’dliketocomebeaPanther.”
Myfriendscouldn’tholditin.Leohowledfirst,andthentherestoftheguysjoinedinandsodidmyuncles.TheywerecheeringsoloudIdidn’tknowifcoachcouldhearmewhenIsaid,“I’dlikethatverymuch,sir.”
“Good.Well,we’regoingtorunnow,butsomeonefromthefrontofficewillbecallingyouhereinabouttenminuteswithmoreinformation,alright?Andwe’llseeyouinthemorning.”
“Yes,sir.”
“Alright,son.Takecare.”
Thecallended,andthehousewentabsolutelyinsane.
IwasdistantlyawareofthecameralightinmyfaceasJulepjumpedinmyarms,kissingmehardasherlegswrappedaroundme.Ihopedthatdiamondwasshiningonherfingerwhentheyshowedthisclipontelevision.
“We’regoingtoCharlotte,baby!”Isaid.
Shejustscreamedandkissedmeharder.
AssoonasIsetJulepbackontheground,Iwasenvelopedinbone-crushinghugsfrommyuncles,andthenfromallmyteammates,andfinally,frommycoaches.CoachLeeheldmyhandfirmly,asoftsmileonhislips.
“Youprovedmewrong,”hesaid.“I’mreallygladyoudid.”
“Me,too,sir.”
Wepiledinsidethehousejustintimetoseetheannouncement,andeventhoughweweresetupfor“live”reaction,itwasaten-secondclipfromoutsidethatranonthescreen,allofusjumpingupanddownandscreamingwiththenews
JustlikeI’dhoped,Julep’sringwasflashingbright.
Whentheylaunchedintomybackstory,showinghighlightreelsandtalkingaboutmytragicpast,IturnedtheTVoff.
“Hey!”Rileyprotested.
“They’regoingtohaveplentytosayaboutmefortherestofmylife,”Itoldherandeveryoneelse.Then,Ireachedforthenearestglass.“Tonight,Ijustwanttobehere,withmypeople,celebratingthebestnightofmylife.”Ipaused,lookingatJulep.“Sofar,anyway.”
SheblushedandsmiledasUncleKevinscrambledtothekitchen.“Wait!Ihavechampagne!”
Thatmadeeveryonelaugh,andUncleNathanhelpedhimdistributeflutesuntileveryonehadoneinhand.Oncetheywerefull,wetoastedthemtogetherinthemiddleofthesilentlivingroom.
“ToHolden!”UncleKevsaid.
“TothePanthers!”Leoadded.
“Todreamscomingtrue,”Julepsaid,hereyessparklinginthelightasshesmirkedatme.
IlookedaroundtheroomatthepeopleIlovedmost,atthepeoplewholovedme.Iwassadforthisdoorclosing.Iwasimpossiblyexcitedattheonethatopenedbehindit.ButasmyeyeslandedonJulep,IknewtheemotionIfeltmorethananythingwasimpatience.
Icouldn’twaitforhertobeallthewaymine.
Andso,Iliftedmyglasslast,andIheldhergazeasItoasted.
“Tomyfuturewife.”Mary
“Months?!”
Irepeatedthewordbacktothestout,almosttoomuscularmanstaringbackatmewithanexpressionlikehewasboredwithmyconcern.Hewaschewingonsomesortofseed,andhespitoutashellbeforenoddingandlookingbackatthehousewithonehandonhishipandtheotherholdinghisclipboard.
“It’sverypossible,”hesaidwithathickNewEnglandaccent.“Iknowthat’snotthenewsyouoryourlandlordwanttohear,but…thepipesareamess.”
“Clearly,”Isaid,pinchingthebridgeofmynoseasIrecalledthefloodinsidethehouse.I’dcomehometoitafteralatenightatthetattooparlorandhadspentmostoftheearlymorninghoursmoppingupwhatIcouldwitheverytowelinthehouse.
“Thegoodnewsisit’sfixable.”
“Right.Youjustneedtoguttheentiresystem.”
Themangavemeanapologeticsmile.“Ah,don’tbeatyourselfup.Happensallthetimewitholdhouseslikethis,especiallywiththesummersgettinghotterandhotter.Thesepipesjustcan’ttaketheexpansionofthewaterwhenitgetshotlikethis.”
Iwantedtobeatmyheadagainstthenearestbrickwall.
“Ispokewithyourlandlord,andshewantsthisresolvedjustasquicklyasyoudo.”
“Mm-hmm,”Isaidflatly,tryingnottolaughasIpicturedMissMargiedoinganythingquickly.Shewasadoll,andanabsolutesaintforrentingthehousetomeforthelowpriceshedid.Butshewasalsoanutcaseandmovedatthepaceofasnailonvacation.
I’dbeenabletohandletherentonmyown,evenafterJulepmovedout.Butitwasn’teasy,andIhadbeenactivelylookingforaroommatetohelpforafewweeksnow.
Somuchforthat.
Now,Iwashomelesswithnomoneysavedandapaycheckthatjustbarelyhelpedmescrapebyasitwas.And,unlikemanyofthecollegekidswholivedinthisoldneighborhood,Icouldn’tjustcallupmymomordadandaskformoney.
Imean,Icould.ButIwouldn’t.
Iwasstillstandingwithmyarmsfolded,subtlypinchingtheinsideofmyribcagejustincasethiswasanightmareIcouldwakeupfrom,whensomeonesidledupbesidemeandnearlymademejumpoutofmyskin.
“What’stheproblem?”
Ipressedahandagainstmyheartfromthescare,eyeswideuntilIturnedandfoundLeoHernandezstandingbesidemewithconcernetchedintohisbrow.
LeofuckingHernandez—NorthBostonUniversity’sstarrunningback,mostunobtainablebachelor,andnumberoneonmypeopleIwouldmurderifIcouldgetawaywithitlist.
Also,myneighbor.
Helookedlikehewasfreshfromsummerpractice,sweatsoakingtheedgesofhishairlineandmakinghisgrayNBUfootballt-shirtsticktohischest.Hishairwasboyishinitslength,messyandstickingupinathousanddifferentwayswhereitwasn’tstucktohisforehead.Hishazeleyesandwarmbrownskinweretoomuchformostanyoneattractedtomalestoresist,andwhenyoucombineditwithabodybuiltbyyearsandyearsoffootball,itwasthemostunfortunatelyirresistiblecombination.
I’dusedtothinkIlovedhim.
ButthatwasbeforeIhatedhim.
Hefoldedhisarmsoverhismuscularchest,anditwasthenthatIrealizedhe’drippedthesleevesoffhisshirt,showcasinghisupperouterribcageandeveryinchofhisarms.IglancedathisbulgingbicepsforonlyamomentbeforeIscoffedandrolledmyeyes.
“Nothingthatconcernsyou.”
“Asyourneighbor,Ibegtodiffer.”
“Thisyourboyfriend?”Themanwiththeclipboardasked,pointingatLeo.“Icanexplainittohim,ifyou’dlike.”
Igroundmyteeth,bothattheinsinuationthatIwouldeverdateapig-headedassholelikeLeoHernandezandthatasawoman,Ineededamanthatthecontractorcouldexplainthepipeissuetoinorderformetofullycomprehend.
“He’snoone,”Igrumbled,anglingmybodysothatLeowascutoutofthecirclethathadsomehowformed.“I’llspeakwithMargieaboutnextsteps.Thankyouforyourtime.”
ThemanlookedbetweenmeandLeoafewtimesbeforeshrugging,Thenherippedoffacopyoftheassessmentfromhisclipboardandhandedittome.“Irecommendgettinganythingyoucareaboutoutofthere.”
“Right,”Isaid,againannoyedthatheevenfelttheneedtosaythat,asifitwasn’tcommonsense.
Heleftalongwiththesmallcrewhe’dbroughtwithhim.
Leo,however,wasstillstandingbehindmeoncethetruckpulledaway.
“Didapipeburstorsomething?”
“Goaway,”Iclippedbeforeheadingforthehouse.
Hewasonmyheels.“Itsoundsprettyserious.”
Iignoredhim,openingthefrontdoorofthehouseandattemptingtoslamitinhisface.Buthecaughtit,andthenhedippedhisheadthroughandwhistledatwhathesaw.
Itwasafuckingmess.
Notjustonepipehadburst.Itwasasifonegaveoutandtherestofthepipesdecidedtheyweretired,too,sotheythrewinthetowelandjoinedthefirst.Therewasagiantholeintheceilingwherewaterhadbuiltfromtheleakonthesecondfloorandcausedittocollapse,andifthatwereallIhadtoworryabout,maybeIcouldhavestayed.Buttheentiresystemhadgone.Waterwaseverywhere,andsowasdebris,andIjuststaredatitallwithLeoatmyside.
“Youcan’tstayhere,”hesaid,assessingthedamagewithhisthickbrowsbenttogether.Hisdark,messyhairwasstillhalf-stucktohisforehead,hislipsabitchappedfromthesunashelookedaround.Howhemadesweatandsun-damagesoappealingwasbeyondmeandIfileditasjustanotherreasontohatehim
AndIalreadyhadplenty.
“Wow,wherewouldIbewithoutyoutopointouttheobvious?”
Heshookhishead.“Doyouhaveaplacetogo?Needarideoranything?”
Imadeanannoyednoiseinmythroatandpushedinside,notcaringatthispointthathewasstillstandinginmydoorway.“Mycarisn’tanissue,idiot.AndI’mfine.Youcanleavenow.Thankyoufortheneighborlyconcern.”
Ishoteachwordoutlikepelletsfromagunchamber,surveyingthehouseandtryingtodecidewheretostart,whatIneededtogetoutandwhatcouldpossiblyremainbehind.ThefactthatIdidn’thaveanywheretomoveanyofitwasanissueIwoulddealwithonceLeogotoutofmyhair.
“Youcanstaywithus.”
Ilaughed—andnotanamusedlaugh,butonethatwaslacedwithbitterangerandresentment.
“I’mserious,”Leosaid,pushinginsideandcarefullyside-steppingwheretheceilinghadcollapsed.“Youdon’tevenhavetopayrent.Holden’sroomisfreenowsinceheandJulepmovedtoCharlotte.”
Ispunonmyheals.“Youreallyexpectmetomoveinwithyouandtwootherfootballplayers?”
Heshrugged,acockysmirkplayingonhislips.“WhatIexpectisthatyoudon’thaveasmanyoptionsasyou’reactinglikeyoudo.”
Iclampedmymouthshut,jawachingwithhowhardIgroundmyteeth.Hewasright.Ididn’thaveasingleoption,really,otherthanstayafewnightsatahotelandtrytofindacheapinterimplaceonCraig’sList.AndeventhoseoptionsmeantI’dhavelimitedfundsforthingslikefoodandgasafterthefact.
Ididn’tthinkMargiewouldchargemerentwhileshefixedtheplace,butIalsodidn’tthinkshe’dletmecompletelyoutoftheleaseI’djustre-signed
Evenifshedid,Ididn’thaveanywheretogo.Andwithfalljustaroundthecorner,I’dbefightingagainsttherushofstudentstryingtofindplaces,too.I’ddealtwiththatnightmaretimeandtimeagainalready.Thethoughtofhavingtofaceitagainnowmademewanttofallintoaheaponthefloorandcry.
“Hearmeout,”hesaid,approachingmeslowlywhenIdidn’timmediatelyrespond.“Yougettostayforfree.It’srightacrossthestreet,soyoudon’thavetomoveallyourstuffintoastorageoracrosstown.Youdon’tevenhavetochangeyourmailingaddress.Youhavemeandtheotherguystohelpyoumove.Youhaveyourownroom.We’reclean…”Hepaused.“Ish.”
Irolledmyeyes.
“DidImentionit’sfree?”
Ichewedmylip,hatinghowmanygoodpointshehad.Itwasn’tlikeIdidn’tknowtheguys,either.I’dspentenoughtimepartyingorhangingoutatthePitnow,thankstoJulep,thatIfeltlikeanadoptedlittlesister.
Itwouldbenicetonothavetoworryaboutpayingrentforawhile,topossiblygetsomesortofsavingsstarted…
Ishookmyheadforevenconsideringit,mentallyslappingmyself.ThiswasLeoHernandez,forGod’ssake.Thiswastheprickwho’dmademyentirehighschoolexistenceabsolutelymiserableandthencompletelyforgottenaboutitbecausethatwashowlittleitmatteredtohim.
HowlittleImatteredtohim.
“I’llbefine,”Isaid,turningonmyheels.
Hishandshotout,catchingmebythecrookofmyelbow.HeatshotthroughmejustasmuchasrevulsionasIpulledawayfromthetouch.
“Comeon.Letushelpyouout.You’reJulep’sfriend,andtherefore,afriendofours.”
Inarrowedmyeyesathim.“Sincewhenareyounice?”
Hefeignedoffense,pressingahandtohischest.“Me?I’malwaysnice.I’mthenicestguyyou’llevermeet.”
Iblinkedathim,ignoringtheurgetorefutethatstatementinalaw-basedmannercompletewithevidenceandajuryofwomenIknewwouldfindhisassguilty.
“Just…thinkaboutit.Here,”hesaid,holdinghishandout.“Givemeyourphone.I’llputmynumberin,andIpromisenottosayanotherwordaboutit.Butifyouchangeyourmind,onetextandwe’llbeherehelpingyoumoveeverythingoutandacrossthestreet.Wewon’thaveanyoneelseinthatroomuntilfall,soyouhaveatleastacouplemonths,anditshouldallbefixedbythen,right?”
Icouldn’tdoanythingbutlookathimandslowlyblinkagain.
Iloathedhisexistence,andyetinthatmoment,IsawaglimpseoftheboyIusedtoknow.
TheboyIthoughtIknew,anyway—theonewhowascrushedunderthepressureofwhathethoughtheshouldbe,whohaddeepthoughtsandfeelingsthathedidn’tsharewithanyonebutme.
“Phone,”hesaid,wigglinghisfingers.
Iblamedthelackofsleepandthesupremeyearningtogethimoutofmyhouseformyactionsnext.Idugmyphoneoutofmypocketandhandedittohim.Heputhisnumberin,sentatexttohimselfsohe’dhavemynumber,too,andthengaveitbacktome.
“Onetext,”hesaid,andthentruetohisword,heturnedandleft.
“Fuckingshithammock,”Imutteredundermybreathoncehewasgone.
Ididn’tcarehowdesperatethingswere.NowaywasImovingintothePitwithahousefullofdisgustingfootballplayers,especiallynotwithLeoHernandezbeingoneofthem.
Threedayslater,Isentatext.
Don’tmakemeregretthis
Oneminutelater,Leowroteback.
That’saweirdwaytosaythankyou.
Andwithinthehour,myhousewasfulloffootballplayershaulingmybelongingsacrossthestreet.
Whathappenswhenthetake-no-shittattooapprenticehasnochoicebuttoroomwiththeuniversity’sstarrunningbackwhoshe’shatedforyears?FindoutinHailMary,thefinalbookintheRedZoneRivalsseries,comingthiswinter.Pre-ordernow!
ReadZekeandRiley’sstoryinFairCatch
ReadClayandGiana’sstoryinBlindSide.Thirstyforanotherhotsportsromance?KeepreadingforasneakpeekinsidetheAmazonTop5Bestseller–TheWrongGame.Gemma
Thisisnottheconversationweweresupposedtohave.
Onthedrivehome,Isaweverywordthatwouldform.Isawhowtheywouldbeborn,firstinmymindandtheninmymouth,eachonestandingstrongandbraveasitslippedfrommylipsandlandedonhisears.
IknewwhatI’dsay.Iknewwhathe’dsay.Ihadaplan
MyparticularbrandofanxietywashavinganungodlyamountofstressoverthatwhichIcouldnotcontrol.It’dbeenthiswaysinceIwasayounggirl,andit’donlyworsenedwithage.Imadelists,andplans,anddeadlines.Igavemyselfgoals,andwhenImetthem,IcelebratedonlylongenoughformetodecidewhatIwouldtacklenextonthelist
Itwasallaboutbeingincontrol.
So,unlikeanormalwomandiscoveringherhusband’sinfidelity,IdidnotcryorscreamorthrowobjectsacrosstheroomwhenIlearnedthetruth.No,instead,whenIfoundthefirstsignofhisindiscretions,Imadeachecklist.AndIcheckeditemsoffthatlistwithamixtureofbothdreadandsatisfaction.
Perfumethatwasn’tminestaininghisshirt?Check.
Textmessagesfromanunknownnumber,slippingthroughthecracksofmyhusband’stechnology-ignorantfingersontooursharedcomputer,butmissingfromhisphone?Check.
HotelroomsbookedonacardIshouldn’thaveknownabout,oneIonlydiscoveredbyreceivingthestatementinourtealmailbox?Check.
Wepaintedthatmailboxtogether,bytheway.ItwasoneofthefirstthingsonthelistI’dmadewhenweboughtourhouse.We’dbothbeencoveredinthattealpaint—thecolorIlovedsomuchinthestore,butactuallyratherhatedonceitwassplashedonourmailbox.
Butitdidn’tmatterthedaywepaintedthatmailbox.
Onthatday,myhusbandkissedmypaint-splatteredlipsandtoldmeIwastheonlywomanhewouldeverlove.
AndIbelievedhim.
Myhusbandwasthekindofmanwholookedatmesoadoringly,whosaidthesweetestthings,thatIwascertainIcouldhavetossedhimintoapitofgorgeoussupermodelsandhewouldn’thavesomuchasevenlookedatthem,letalonetouchthem.Infact,he’dbesearchingforme,callingoutmyname,seekingmeout.
Myentirerelationshipwithhim,I’dbelievedeverywordhe’dsaid—perhapsblindly,itwouldseem.Ibelievedhimwhenhecriedthedayheaskedmetomarryhim,andwhenhetoldmeoverbreakfastonemorningthatnooneinthisworldmademehappierthanhim.Therewasneveranyreasontosuspecthim.Therewasneveranyreasontonotfeelsafe.
Andyet…
ThelastlittleboxonthelistImadewhenIfirstsuspectedmyhusbandwascheatingonmewasvisualproof.Ihadtheclues,theemailsandtexts,andlatenightswithnoalibi.Butitwasn’tuntilIfollowedhim,untilIsawwithmyowneyesthathishandscouldholdanotherwomanthewayheheldme,thathismouthcouldkisshers,thathissmilecouldbeamforsomeoneotherthanme.
Andwhenthatboxwaschecked,Istilldidn’tcry.Orscream.Orthrowanything,thoughIdiddebateshovingmyheeldownonthegaspedalofmycarandleavingitthereasIdrovetowardwheretheystood,kissingandlaughing,pullingluggageoutofmyhusband’scar.
No,insteadoflettingemotionruleme,IdidwhatIdobest.Justlikewiththerestofmylife,Imadeaplan.
IfocusedonwhatIcouldcontrol.
Icouldcontrolme,whatIwouldsay,whatIwoulddo.IcouldcontrolwhoItold,howourfamilieswouldfindout,howwewouldgoaboutthedivorce.Icouldcontrolwhogotwhat,howassetsweresplit,andwhereweeachwouldstayasthesignatureswerescrawledagainstcold,lifelesspiecesofpaperthatwouldendouryoungmarriage.
IcouldcontrolhowIwouldtellhimthatIknew,andcouldtempermyemotionsasItoldhim.
Perhapsallofthiswaswhy,sittingacrossthetablefrommyhusband,myheartwasbeatingrapidly,loudandthunderousinmyearsasitthreatenedtobangrightoutofmyribcage.Itcouldhavebeenwhymybreathwasshallow,myeyesdryfromnotblinking,mymouthclampedshutwithoutasinglewordtooffer,thoughIhadsomanyplannedinmyhead.
Ihadaplan.Iknewhowthisconversationwouldgo.Ihadeverythingincontrol.
Iknowabouther.Iknowwhatyou’vedone.I’mleaving.We’redone.
Butmyuncannysenseofcontrolandmyabilitytomakeachecklistdidn’tmatteronceIactuallysatdownatourkitchentableacrossfromthemanwho’dliedtomeforyears.
Becausehespokefirst.
Andeverythingchanged.
“Gem,”herasped,hisvoicebrokenundertheweightofhiswords.“Gemma,didyouhearme?”
“Iheardyou,”Imanaged.
Myownvoicemirroredhis,brokenandraspy,lacedwithdread.Ofcourse,heassumeditwasbecauseoftheblowhe’ddelivered.Mysad-eyed,exhaustedhusbandthoughthe’dbrokenmyheartwithhisnews.Butthetruthwasmydreadwasbornofadifferentsource.ItwassimplymemourningtheabsoluteconvictionwithwhichI’dbelievedinmyplananditscertainsuccess.
Now,Ihadnoplan.
Now,mycheatinghusbandandhissecretloverwerenotthecenterofthisconversation.
Now,mycheatinghusbandhadcancer.
Thekindthatcouldn’tbefought.
Thekindthatwouldendhislife.
Soon.
It’sokay,Itriedtoassuremyself,pressingahandtomychestsoIcouldfeelhowfastmyheartwasbeatingbeneathmyribcage.Justmakeanewplan.
But,asitwentwithmyspecialbrandofanxiety,myplansnotworkingoutthewayIenvisionedthemoftenleftmegrappling.Suddenly,everythingIthoughtIhadonaleashwasrunningwild,andnomatterhowItriedtotalkmyselfdown,Icouldn’t.Everytimethathappened—everytimemyplanwentwrong—myemotionswouldwin,alllogicgone,allsenseofwhatshouldbedonelostlikeawhisperonabreeze.
“Please,”hewhispered,grabbingthelegsofmychairandpullingmetowardhim.Thewoodmadeaterriblenoiseasitrubbedagainstourkitchenfloor,sparkingawaveofchillsfrommyanklestothetopofmyspine.“Don’tcry,mysweetgem.Itwillbeokay.We’llbeokay.”
Hewrappedhisarmaroundme,onehandcradlingmyheadintohischestastheothercaressedmyback.Thosehandshadtouchedanotherwoman,andtheywerenowtouchingme,andIwantedtopullawayjustasmuchasIwantedtostaythereforever.
Hewasgoingtoleaveme.Hewasgoingtoleavethisworld.
Mytearsfeltliketheybelongedtosomeoneelseastheysoakedhissweater,andItriedtodecipherwheretheycamefrom.Itdidn’ttakelongformetorealizetheyweren’tbornfromone,singularsource,butratherfromallofthem—likeawaterfallmadeofglaciersmeltingallatonceinthefirstwarmwaveofspring.
Myhusbandwascheatingonme.
Helovedanotherwoman—onewhodidnotbearmyname.
Iwouldbealone,becauseIwouldlosehim.
Onlynow,itwouldn’tbebecauseofhisinfidelity.Thechoicetobealonewouldnotbemadebymestandingtall,demandingmore,notacceptinghisaffair.
Instead,hewouldfadefromtheEarthandIwouldremain,mourninghimalongwithhisotherlover.
MaybeIcriedbecause,thoughIhadaplan,Isecretlyprayedhewouldthwartit.PerhapsIhalf-envisionedmeleavinghim,chinheldhighasIwalkedaway,andhalf-envisionedhimbeggingmetostay,promisingtorelinquishhisloveaffair,forourmarriagemeantmoretohimthansheevercould.
Regardless,itdidn’tmatternow.
Now,Ihadacheatinghusbandwhowouldneverlearnmyknowledgeofhisinfidelity.
Becausenow,IwouldnevertellhimIknew.
Whatwouldbetheobjective?Withablowashardasterminalcancer,wastherereallyanypointtoleavinghimnow,tolettinghimfightthefinalweeksofhislifealone?WasthereanypointtotellinghimIknewabouttheotherwomanhetouched,otherthansatisfyingmyneedtofeelincontrol,toshovemyproofinhisfaceandsayHa!Iknowwhatyoudid!?
Deathhasafunnywayofputtinglifeintoperspectiveforus.Andwhathadoncebeensoimportanttome—thatneedforvindicationIheldsotightlyonmydrivehome—didn’tseemtomatternow.Therewasreallyonlyonethingthatdid.
Ilovedhim.
Thatemotionwaseasytopindown.
AndbecauseitwastheonlythingIcouldtrulygrasp,Iheldontoittightly,knuckleswhiteandaching.CarloManciniwasmyhusband,andI,hiswife.Hewasmyeverything—andthatwasstilltrue,regardlessofwhoelsehe’dsharedabedwith.
So,Ipulledbackfromhisembrace,andkissedhislips—lipsIalwaysthoughtwouldbeonlyminetokiss—andItoldhimIlovedhim.ItoldhimIwasthere.Iheldhishandandtoldhimthat,comewhatmay,hehadmebyhisside.
AndbyhissideIstayed,untiltheverydayhedied.
Somewhereinthatwarped,whirlingspanoftime,Ithinkapartofmedied,too.
Iwatchedcancerwithermystrong,commandinghusbandintonothingbutskinandbones.Iwatchedhiseyesgrowhollow,hislipsashen,hishandsweakenwhereIheldtheminmine.EverydaythatIlookedinthemirror,Iwatchedmyowneyeschange,ahardnesssettlingin.Iwatchedatwenty-nine-year-oldgirlbecomeanoldwomaninjustweeks—weeksthatfeltlikeyears,butflewbylikedays.
Andonthedayofhisfuneral,Iwatchedagirlyoungerandprettierthanmemournhimfromthebackrowofourchurch.
ShecriedthesametearsthatIdid,thoughIsworeherheartwasinmorepainthanmine.Becauseshehadthesatisfactionofbeingtheotherwoman,ofbeingtheonehecouldn’tlivewithout—somuchsothathewaswillingtoriskhismarriage,hisreputation,hislifethathehadbuilt.Sheknewwithoutadoubtthatshehadbeenhisworld,thatshehadbeenthelastfaceinhismindbeforethelightwasextinguishedandhefadedoffintonothing.
Ididn’thavethatsamecomfort.
Ihadcasserolesfromneighborsandlifeinsurancepoliciesfromlawyersandahousefullofthingsthatsmelledlikehim.IhadadownpaymentonacondodowntownthatI’dsecured,thinkingIwouldbewalkingawayfromhim,awayfromhisinfidelity.Ihadanemptyholeinmychestwhereayoungheartusedtobeat,whereloveusedtogrowlikeflowers,nowturnedtoweeds.
Ihadasecrettokeep,onethatwouldeatmealiveeveryseconditdwelledinthedark,unspokendepthsofmymind.
AndIhadaplan.
Topreservecontrolovermyfuture,overmyheart,mysoul,mywell-being,overthelifeIwouldleadaftermyhusband—Ihadtoeliminatethefactorsthatwereuncontrollable.Itwasjustthatsimple.
Andrightthere,inthatfirst-rowpew,withmydead,cheatinghusband’smother’shandinmine,Imadeonesimpleplan,withonesimplerule.
Neverfallinloveagain.
Itwasmorethanjustaplan,morethanjustagoal.Itwasapromise.
AnditwasoneIvowedtokeep.Gemma
eightmonthslater
“No.”
Ionlyhadonewordformybestfriend-slash-bossasweflowedwiththecrowdspillingoutofSoldierField,thewarm,early-Septemberairsweepingoverus.DespitethefactthatBelleandIhadsweatthroughmostoftheChicagoBearspreseasongameuntilthesunfinallywentdown,Istillsmiled,revelinginthelastfewweeksofsummer.
Soon,theheatwouldfade,andtheIllinoiswinterwouldhitwithallthesubtletyofaMacktruck.
Iwasinnorushtobegreetedwiththekindofcoldthathurtsyourface.Still,whileIwouldmisssummer,itwasfallthatwasmyfavoriteseason.Ithadalwaysheldaspecialplaceinmyheartformanyreasons—mybirthday,Halloween,pumpkin-spicedeverything,and,mostofall,football.
“Shutup.Youdon’tgettosaynotome,”Bellesnapped.Shesweptherlong,strawberry-blondehairoffhershoulderbeforeloopingherarmthroughmine.“Inourfriendship,I’malwaysright.AndtrustmewhenIsayI’mrightaboutthis.”
“I’mnotreadytodate,Belle.Dropit.”
“Ididn’tsayyouhadtodate,”shestated,matter-of-factly,asshehelduponeblack-lacqueredfingernail.“Isaidyouneedtogetlaid.Andthis,myfriend,isliterallyeveryman’sfantasy.”Shegesturedtothestadiumwehadjustwalkedoutof.“Freeticketstoafootballgameandahotchicktobangattheendofthenight—withnostringsattached?”Sheshookherhead.“Honestly,IwishIhadthoughtofthisfirst.It’sgenius.”
“Ididn’tthinkofanything,”Iremindedher.“Iboughtseasonticketsformyhusbandtogivetohimonhisthirty-fifthbirthday.”
“Yourcheatinghusband,”sheremindedme,steeringuslefttowardthestreetlinedwithsportsbars.Andthoughmyfacedidn’tshowasinglesignofweaknessatthosewords,mystomachtightenedintoaknot.
BellewasliterallytheonlypersonwhowouldeverknowthatCarlowasunfaithful,otherthanthewomanhecheatedonmewith—andnotevensheknewthatIknew.I’donlytoldBelleafterCarlohadpassedaway,mainlybecauseIknewshe’dspeeduptheprocessofhisdeathbeforethegoodLordcouldtakehimifshefoundoutabouthisinfidelity.
Bellewasthekindofbestfriendwholovedfiercely.Shewashonestwithmealways—bluntlyso—andsheneverletmegettoocomfortableinmylittlelandofcontrol.Justwhenshesawmeslippingintoanykindofcomplacency,shewouldchallengeme.
IhatedherasmuchasIlovedherforthat.
Still,whileIknewI’dneedsomeonetotalktoaboutCarlo’sinfidelity,someonewhoknewthewholestory,sometimesIregrettedtellingher.WhereIwasallaboutsuppressing,boxingdifficultemotionsawayandfocusingontasksIcouldcomplete,Bellewasaprocessor.
Shewasnotthekindofgirltoletsomethinggo.
Especiallythiskindofsomething.
“AndIsaythiswiththeutmostrespectforyouandhimandallofGod’screatures,”shecontinued,drawingacrossoverhershoulderswithherfreehand.“Buthe’snothereanymore,Gemma.Mayherestinpeace.”Shepaused.“Andalso,becastratedinthenameofJesus,amen.”
“Belle.”
“I’mkidding.”Shepausedagain.“Sortof.”
Iwasashamedofthesmallsmileclimbingonmylipsinthatmoment.Ifhewasstillhere,ifmyoriginalplanhadactuallycometofruition,thesetypesofjokeswouldbefinetomake.Afterall,whatwomandidn’tsupportherbestfriendaftershewascheatedon?Commentsofcastrationandill-biddingwerewelcome,andmostcertainlyexpected.
Butwhenhewasnolongerbreathing,whencancerhadtakenhislifebeforeIcouldtakemylifebackfromhim,itwasn’tthesame.Itwascruel,andheartless,anditproducedatypeofguiltthatsatlowandunsettlinginyourstomach.
Thiswasmyentireexistence,itseemed,forthepastseveralmonths.
“WhileIappreciatetheattempttomakemelaugh,I’mnotreadytomakejokesaboutCarlolikethat,”Isaidsoftly.“Iprobablywon’teverbe.”
“I’msorry,”Bellesaidonasigh,squeezingmyarmasweflowedwiththecrowd.“Really,Iam.Thatwastoofar.Youknowme,Ican’thelpbutmakejokes,evenwhenit’swildlyinappropriate.Rememberwhenmycousinhadafuneralforhiscat?”
“Andyoumadeacakethatlookedlikealitterboxwithlittlepebblesofpoop,andwroteSorryyourcathittheshitter,atleastyoudon’thavetochangeanymorelitteronitwithhotpinkfrosting?”
Bellepointedatme.“Exactly.I’mawfulatdeath,itmakesmefeelitchyandsoIresorttohumor.Apparently,verypoorlyplacedhumor.But,”shecontinued,takingthatfingershehadpointedatmyfaceandre-directingittopointatmyladybits.“Let’sbringthisbacktotherealsubjectathand,whichisthatthatregionisaboutasdryastheSaharaDesert.”
Irolledmyeyes,pullingmyarmfromwhereitwaswrappedaroundherstofishinmypurse.IrummagedaroundformylipstickaswemadeourwaytowardtheSouthLoopbars.
Playthehumorcard,Gemma.You’regood.Everything’sokay.
“Thisregionisjustfine,thankyou,”Itoldher,gesturingtomycrotchasIfinallyfoundmylipstick.Irolledtheburgundytubeup,pointingitdirectlyatmybestfriend.“Itgetsplentyofaction.”
Bellescoffed.“Oh,right.Forgivemeforthinkingatwenty-nine-year-oldwomanmightwantsomethingmorethanadildowiththreevibrationspeeds.”
“Four,”Icorrected,smoothingthedeepburgundycreamovermytoplipandblottingittogetherwiththebottom.“Andthistwenty-nineyear-oldwomanisperfectlycontent.”
Bellehuffed,andfortherestofourwalktothestripofbarswefrequentedaftergames,shecontinued,onandonabouttheimportanceofmylibidonotgoingstaleandmyvaginagettingaction.
ThiswaspartofwhatinfuriatedmeaboutBelle,andpartofwhatIloved—shecouldargueafishintobuyinganoxygentank.InBelle’smind,shealwaysknewwhatwasrightandwhatwaswrong,andshehadalltherightwordstoconvinceyou,too.
Itwasoneofthethingsthatmadeherasuccessfulentrepreneur.
Bellestartedherowninteriordesignfirmassoonasshegraduatedcollege.Infact,shealreadyhadclientslinedup,thankstooutshiningthefull-timeemployeesatherinternships.And,luckilyforme,sheneededanassistant—AKAsomeonetorunherlife.Whereshewasgreatwiththepeople,withthedesign,Iwasgreatwiththenumbers,withtheorganization,andtogether?WemadethebestteaminChicago.
Shenevercrossedover—shehungherbosshatupintheofficeandworeherbestfriendhat,instead.But,regardlessofifwewereontheclockornot,Bellewasjustabosskindoflady.
Andshewasadamantaboutthisparticularjob.
Bythetimewefinallyhitthestripofbarswewereaimingfor,Iwasindesperateneedofadrink,andformybestfriendtodropthesubject.
Butshewasn’tdoneyet.
“Ugh,youhaven’tsaidanythinginliketenminutes,”shesaid,pullingmetoadeadstopoutsideabarpackedwithChicagoanscelebratingtheBears’win.Itwasthelastpreseasongame,andtheentirecitywasalivewiththehopeofapromisingseason—especiallyinthesouthsidebythestadium.WhilemostBearsfanswentbacktotheirtailgatingspotsormadethecommutebackintotheheartofthecityafterthegames,IwasbeginningtoprefertherowdinessofthesportsbarsintheSouthLoop.
Honestly,Ipreferredalmostanythingotherthangoingbacktomyemptycondo
WhenCarlowasalive,wewouldusuallywatchthegamesathomewithagroupofourneighbors.Iwouldcook,hewouldentertain,anditwaseverythingI’deverdreamedofhavingwhenIwasayounggirl.
WhenIboughthimtheseasontickets,Ienvisionedmoreforus—tailgating,buildingacommunityintheseatsaroundus,startingtraditions…
Bellesighed,andIblinkedawayCarlo’smemory.
“Look,IknowIjokealot,”Bellesaid,takingmyshouldersinherhands.Sheloweredhergazetomine,ensuringIwaslisteningbeforeshecontinued.“ButI’mseriouswhenIsaythatIloveyouandIknowyou’vebeenthroughalotinthepasteightmonths.”
Hereyessoftened,andIforcedaswallow,wardingoffanyemotionsthatmighttrytosneakinwithherlookingatmelikethat.
“I’mnotsayingyoushoulddate.Hell,ifanyoneisagainstloveasmuchasyou,it’sme.Hello,”shesaid,sweepingthebackofherhandoverherleanbody.“Singleforlifeandlovingit,okay?But,justbecauseIdon’tdatedoesn’tmeanIdon’tgoout,havefun,meetpeople.”Sheeyedme.“Andgetsome.”
Ijuststaredather,stillnotconvinced.
“Youhavethesetickets,right?”shecontinued.“AndyoulovetheBears.”
“DaBears.”
“I’mnotsayingitlikethat.”
“Sayit,orI’mnotlisteningtotherestofthis.”
Bellerolledhereyes.“DaBears.”
Ismiled.“Better.”
“Ihateyou.”Shereadjustedhergriponmyshoulders.“Anyway,you’relikeanenigmatodudes.Agirlwhoactuallyenjoysfootball?It’sgold,Gemma.So,insteadofforcingyourfun-lovingbestfriendwhoabsolutelyloathessportsofallkinds,tosufferthrougheveryhomegamewithyou,takeachanceandmeetsomenewpeople.Havefunwithafewguyswhohavethesameinterestasyou,and,whoknows,”shesaid,smirking.“Maybeabigwangtorockyourworldwithattheendofeverygame.Nowthat’sthedefinitionofawin-win.”
Icouldn’thelpbutsmileatthat.“Ithinkyou’rethehorniestwomantoeverexist.”
“Guiltyascharged.Now,”shesaid,holdingoutherhand.“Givemeyourphone,letmedownloadthisapp,andjust…trustme.Foronce.Thisdoesn’tgoagainstanyofyourplans,right?There’snoroses-and-chocolatedating,noFacebook-officialrelationshipstatusupdates,nolove,nomarriageorbabies,oranyofthat.”
Chewingtheinsideofmycheek,Idebatedherreasoning.Inaway,shedidhaveafairpoint—Imaybedidneedalittleaffection.Iwasdeadsetonnevertrustinganyoneagain,neverfallingforthosestupidpuppy-dogeyesastheystaredintomineandtoldmetheylovedmeandonlyme.Iwasdonewiththat.
Butfootball,beer,andalittlerompinthesack?
Iwasn’tnotintothat…
And,ifIcouldbelikeanyone,itwouldbeBelle.Atthirty,shewashappilysingle,successfulinhercareer,andtravelinglikeitwasheronlyjob.She’dneverneededaman,neverevengivenaguymorethanaweektotrytonailherdown.Shewasmyinspiration,myhopethattherewasalifetoliveafterCarlo.
MyheartsankwhenIthoughtofhimagain,becausetherewasatimewhenallIwantedwaseverythingthatBellejustlisted.TheverythingsthatnowmademewanttocrawlintoaballandhideorstartkickingthefirstmantoapproachmeusedtobetheonlythingsIdesired.Iwantedahusband,andafamily,andasuburbanlife.Iwantedapartnerinlifetogrowoldwith,tolaughwith,toleanonwhenlifegothard.
Now,Ionlywantedtoleanonmyself,becauseIwastheonlyoneIcoulddependontonotletmefall.
So,insteadoflettingmyemotionstakeover,Irevertedtorulenumberoneofmyplan—theoneI’dmadeonhowtosurviveafterhepassed.
Don’tmournthemanyouthoughtyouknew.Rememberthemanhereallywas.
“Fine,”Iconceded,shakingCarlofrommythoughts.
Belledidalittlehopforjoy,butIhelduponefingertostophercelebration.
“But,ithastobeinawayIcancontrol.IfIwanttostop,ifIneverwanttoseetheguyagainorIfeelickyatanypoint,Igettopullout.Deal?”
“Deal,”sheagreed,stilldoinggrabby-handsformyphone.“Andmakesurehepullsout,too.AYOOO!”
Irolledmyeyes.
Bellewasstillsmilingatherbrilliance,fingerswigglingandwaitingformyphone.“It’sperfect.Justonlytalktothemthroughtheapp,thatwayifyouhatethemafteryourdate—er,afterthegame,”shecorrected.“Youcanjustdeletethem.Then,theycan’ttalktoyouanymore.And,honestly,Ithinkyoushouldjusttakeanewguyeverytime.”
Ihandedhermyphone,makingmywayinsidethebarasshefollowedbehind,stillbouncinglikealittlegirlwhowasjustgiventwentybuckstogowildinthetoystorewith.
“Oh,anewguyeverygame,”Iechoed.“Okay,nowthatIcouldgetdownwith.Thenit’smoreoflikea…hangout.Agamewithafriend.”
“Afriendwhocould,potentially,railyouintonextyearwithhishammercock.”
Thebartender’sbrowsshotupatBelle’scommentasweslidintotwoblessedlyemptystoolsatthecornerendofthebar.Ilaughed,shakingmyheadtosignalthatheshouldn’tevenask.
“Titosandwaterwithlime,”Itoldhim.“Two,please.”Then,Iturnedbacktomybestfriend,whowasfeverishlytypingawayonmyphone.“I’mserious,Belle.IfatanypointIdecideIhatethis,Igettopulltheplug.And,”Isaid,pointingather.“Ifthathappens,thenyou’resuckeredintogoingtoeveryremaininggamewithme.Andyoucan’tcomplain.Evenifit’sbelowfiftyoutside.”
“Yeah,fine,whatever,”shesaid,wavingmeoffquicklybeforeclickingthroughmyphonemore.
Thebartenderslidourdrinksinfrontofus,andIsmiledhisway,handinghimmycard.Whenhesmiledback,Ifaltered,eyeslingeringonhimalittlelongerthantheyshouldhave.Heturnedsoquickly,Ididn’thavetimetostarethewayIwantedto,butthatbriefsmilealonehadmeclenchingmythighstogetherunderthebar.
Bellegrabbedherdrinkandimmediatelystartedsippingfromthestraw,fingersstillflyingovermyphone,butIjuststaredatthemanwithmycardinhishandashecrossedtotheothersideofthebartohelpthenextperson.Hisshoulderswerebroadandrounded,hiswaistnarrow,t-shirtsittingonthebeltofhisjeansinawaythatmademynextswallowhardertoaccomplish.Andwhenmyeyesfelltohisass,perfectlyroundedinapairofdarkdenimjeansthatfellinjusttherightwayoffhiships,well…
Let’sjustsayIwantedabetterlookatthefront.Andtheside.Andallangles.
MaybeIamreadytogetlaid.
“There!”Belleexclaimedproudly,holdingmyphoneoutafewinchesasiftostudyhermasterpiece.“Yourbioisallset.Ipickedthebestpictures,althoughwedoneedtogetsomeupdatedoneswhereyou’reactuallysmiling,”shesaidpointedly,hereyesflickinguptominebeforelandingonthephoneagain.“WannahearwhatIput?”
“DoIhaveachoice?”
Belleignoredme.“HotItalianchickwholovescheckingoffto-dolistsalmostasmuchaswatchingfootball.GoBears!”
Ilaughed.“Oh,myGod,Belle.”
Again,sheignoredme.
“Seasonticketholderlookingforacool,DTFguytousemyotherticketatahomegame,”shecontinued.“Ifyoulovefootball,beer,andgoodconversation,I’myourgirl.Sendmeamessage,andmaybe,ifyou’relucky,you’llbesittingnexttomeatkick-off.”
“That’sactuallyonlyfifty-percentcheesyandawful,”Isaid,knowingtherewaslittlepointinarguinganyedits.Iglancedatthephotosshe’dpickedforme,staringatmyphoneoverhershoulder.ThedefaultwasaselfieI’dsnappedjusttwoweeksagoatthefirsthomepreseasongame.Ihadmyburnt-orangeBearsjerseyon,mylong,darkbrownhairpulledoveroneshoulder,andasidewaysgrin.MyeyeslookedevenmoreintenselygreenthannormalinthelightingI’dcaughtinmycondothatafternoon,thesunlightstreaminginthroughthefloor-to-ceilingwindows.
Readingoverthebioshe’dwrittenformeagain,Ifrowned.“WhatdoesDTFmean?”
Bellesuckedalargedrinkthroughherstraw.“Oh,itmeans…dark,tall,andfun.Kindofliketall,dark,andhandsome.Allthekidsaresayingit,kindoflikehowweusedA/S/Lbackinthegoodol’daysofAOLmessaging.”
“Oh…”Ithoughtoverherwords,wonderingwhenI’dmissedthatlittlepieceoflingo.Iwasapproachingthirty,butitwasn’tlikeIwasancient.Istillkeptupwithsocialmedia,afterall.
“Gottapee!”Bellesaidquickly,hoppingdownoffherbarstool.Shepoppedmyphoneintomyhand.“Here,startswiping.Rightmeansyouthinkthey’rehot,leftmeanstheydon’thaveachanceinhell.”
Ilaughed.“Thisisabsurd.”
Shejustshrugged.“Welcometodatinginthetwenty-firstcentury.Berightback.”
OnceBellewasgone,Icrinkledmynoseatmyphone,placingitonthebarwiththeappstilluponthescreen.Iturnedmyattentiontothetelevisionbehindthebar,instead,watchingthegamethathadjuststartedinCalifornia.TheSanFrancisco49erswereupontheDenverBroncosbythree,andIwatchedthenextplay,tossingmyhandsupwithadramaticgroanwhenoffsideswascalledonDenver’soffense.
“Oh,comeon,ref.”Isighed,sippingmyvodka.“Idiots.”
“They’vebeencallingshitthiswholequarter,”anolderguyhuffedatmefromdownthebar.“YouaBroncosfan,too?”
“Bearsgirl,”Ianswered,eyesstillonthescreen.“Butthatwasjustaterriblecall,nomatterwhichteamyou’rerootingfor.”
“Let’shopeourrefsjustlettheboysplaythisyear,”theman’sfriendchimedin,andInotedhewaswearingaBearsshirt.
“I’mmoreconcernedaboutourOline.Ifwecan’tkeepthequarterbacksafe,itwon’tmatterwhattherefscall.”
Theybothgrumbledandraisedtheirbeerstomeatthat,andIcheersedtheirdirection,takinganothersipbeforemyeyesflashedovermyphone.
Isighed,finallypickingitup.
Forasolidminute,Ijuststaredatthefirstfaceonmyscreen.Itwasablondguywithglasses,hisfacealittleround,eyessoft.Thephotohe’dchosenforhisdefaultwashimsittinginalawnchairatwhatappearedtobeabarbecue,adoginhislap,beerinonehand.Helookedfun,likeafriendIcouldwatchfootballwith.
ButIdidn’twanttohavesexwithhim.
Iswipedleft.
Oncethatfirstdecisionwasmade,Ifilteredthroughthenextonesabitquicker.Inallhonesty,itfeltlikeagame—likesomesortofsoft-corepornsitethatnoonehadtoknowIenjoyedbrowsing.ThemoreIswiped,themoreIsmiled.
Hotlawyerwithacat?Swiperight.
Boatingcaptainwithagaggleofgirlsineverysinglephotoofhis?No,thanks.Swipeleft.
Self-proclaimed“richstud”withaphotoofhimholdingastackofcash?Hardleft.
CutefreelancewriterwithaloveforallthingsChicago,includingtheBears?Yes,please.
Thisisfun,Ithought.
Untilthefirstmessagepoppedup.
Heythere,Gemma.How‘boutthemBears?
Istaredatthemessage,thumbshoveringoverthekeyboardonmyphone.
WhatdoIsayback?DoIwaittorespond?WhatifhethinksI’mstupid?Whatifheseesmeinpersonandmakesupsomelameexcusetoleave,andthenI’mjustsittingatthegamealone?
Actually,thatmightnotbesobad.
“DownToFuck?”
Ibalked,blinkingwithmyeyesstillontheunansweredmessageonmyphonebeforeIpeeredupatthemanthevoicebelongedto.
Thebartender.
“Excuseme?”Iasked,sureIdidn’thearhimcorrectly.Buthemadenomovetocorrecthimself.Instead,hejuststoodthere,staringatme,alittlesmirkonhisfulllipsasheglanceddownatmyphoneandbackupatme.
“Down.To.Fuck,”herepeated.“That’swhatDTFmeans.”
Mymouthpoppedopen,eyesskirtingtowhereBellehaddisappearedintothebathroom.“No…shewouldn’t.”
Thebartenderchuckled,fishingabeeroutofthecoolerbehindhimandslidingitovertoagroupofguysdowntomyleft.“Imean,fromthefirstwordsIheardhersaywhenyoutwowalkedinhere?”Hesmirkedagain.“Ithinkshewould.”
Mycheeksflushedwithheat,fingersflyingovermyphoneasIquicklyexitedthemessageandtriedtofindmyprofile.“Oh,myGod.HowdoIeditthisthing?HowdoIdeletethat?Ah!”Ithrewmyphoneonthebarwhenanothermessagecamein.“JesusChrist.”
Thebartenderlaughed,pickingupmyphonefromwhereI’dtosseditlikeadetonatingbomb.Hethumbedthroughafewscreens,typedsomething,andhandeditbacktome.
“There.Ieditedit.”Heleanedoverthebar.“But,fromthesoundsofit,youshouldhaveleftit.Imean,youarelookingforsomeonewho’sdowntofuck,right?”
Iclosedtheapp,shovingmyphoneinsidemypursewithheatstillcreepingovermyneck.“Nosy,much?”
“Hardnottooverheartwogorgeouswomentalkingaboutgettingrailedintonextyearbyahammercock.”
Ilaughedatthat,takingasipofmyvodkaasmyeyesmethis.Ifinallygotmywish,achancetostareathimalittlelonger,andboy,washefuntostareat.
Hissquarejawwaslinedwithafaintshadowofstubble,hisdarkeyeshoodedinamixtureoflustandplayfulness.Thewayhisjet-blackhairsatinastyledwaveremindedmeofaCalvinKleinmodel,andIknewwithoutasecondthoughtthatIwouldn’tmindseeinghistanskinsportingnothingbutapairofwhitebriefsonagiantbillboard—especiallyafterthatbriefglimpseIgotofhisass.
Ha!Takethat,Belle.Mylibidoisfarfrombroken.
HewasthedefinitionofwhatBellehadsaidDTFstoodfor—Dark,Tall,andFun.
“So,whichoneareyoutakingfirst?”heasked,pushingbackfromwherehe’dleanedoverthebar.Henoddedtoawomanattheoppositeend,lettingherknowhesawherrequestforarefill.Andashemadehermargarita,Ipulledmyphonebackfrommypurse,sighing.
“Truthfully?Ihavenoidea.Ihavetwomessagesalready,butIhavenoideawhattosaytothem.”
“Maybeyoushouldstartwithhi.”
“YouknowwhatImean,”Ishotback,rollingmyeyes.Iopeneduptheapp,staringatthefirstunansweredmessageagain.“Ihaven’ttalkedtoanothermanlikethissince…”Myvoicefaded,heartslinkingintomystomachwithamixtureofguiltandloss.“Well,inaverylongtime.”
“You’renervous,”hestatedplainly,walkingthenewdrinkdowntothewomanattheendofthebarbeforereturningtome.“Whydon’tyoueaseintoit,haveapracticerunbeforetherealthing?”
Icockedabrow.“AndhowwouldIdothat?”
Heshrugged,thosewickedlipscrankingintoasmirkyetagain.“Takeme.”
“You.”Ideadpanned.
Henodded.“Yeah.Takemetothefirstgame.Imean,look,”hegesturedbetweenus.“Obviously,wehavechemistry.Wecouldhaveagoodtime.I’llbuythepizzaandbeer.”
“Soundslikeyou’rejustlookingforafreetickettothefirsthomegame,”Isaid,leaningoverthebar.
HiseyesflasheddowntomycleavagethatI’dnot-so-subtlypushedupwiththatmovement,andwhentheyflickedbacktome,theywereheated—darker,dustedwithalust-filledpromiseIsomehowknewhecouldkeep.
“Maybe.”Heshruggedagain.“OrmaybeIwanttobethefirstonetohavetheprivilegeoffulfillingyourfriend’spromise.”
“Herpromise?”Iasked,justasBelleslidintothebarseatnexttome.
“WhatdidImiss?”
Thebartendertorehisgazefrommine,smilingatBelle,instead.Andthat’swhenIrealizedwhatherpromisehadbeen.
Gettingmerailedintonextyear.
Iswallowed.
“Yourfriendhereisnervoustalkingtoguysshedoesn’tknowontheapp,”thebartendersaidtoBelleasIfoughtanotherblush.“So,she’stakingmetothefirstgame,asasortofpracticerun.”
“Oh!”Belle’seyeslitupassheassessedmefirst,andthendraggedhereyesoverthebartender.Atingeofpossessivenesstouchedmychestwhensheclearlylikedwhatshesaw.Shechewedherthumbnail,nodding.“Oh,yes.Ilikethisidea.”
“Ididn’tagreeyet,”Iremindedhim.
“Okay,”hechallenged.“Thengoaheadandrespondto…”hepeeredovermyphonescreen.“Brad,there.”
HeandBellebothwatchedme,Bellefightingasmileasoneeyebrowroseonherperfectlysymmetricalface.Thebartenderwatchedmewithasatisfiedsmirkwhenmyfingersdidn’tmoveforthekeys,andmyjawpoppedopen,alaughslippingthrough.
“Wow.Youtwojustmetandyou’realreadyganginguponme.”
“Ilikehim,”Bellesaideasily.“AndIlikethisplan.”
“Youdon’tevenknowhim.Actually,”Isaid.“Idon’tevenknowhisnameyet.”
“ZachBowen,”hesaid,extendinghishandformine.“Pleasuretomeetyou.”
Ilethimtakemyhandinhis,tryingtoignorethewarm,buzzingenergythattransferredwhenourskintouched.
“She’sGemma,”Belleansweredforme,sinceapparentlymystickytonguewasgluedtotheroofofmymouth.“GemmaMancini.”
“So,GemmaMancini,”hesaid,hishandstillwrappedaroundmine,eyeshoodedandsure.“Whatdoyousay?Letmebeyourpracticeround.”
“Sayyes,stupid,”Bellewhispered.
Inudgedherwithmyelbow.
Zachheldmygazeconfidently,hisdarkeyeswatchingmelikeIreallyhadnootherchoice.Andinthatmoment,Icouldn’tthinkofareasonnottosayyes.Heseemedfun.Hewashot.
Anditwouldsavemefromthisstupidappforatleastonemoreweek.
“Fine,”Iconceded,andZach’ssmirkturnedintoafull-blownsmile,onethathadaslightdimplepoppingunderthatdeliciousstubble.
Hereachedformyphone,thescreenstillontheunansweredmessagefromBrad.Heclickedoutofit,typinghisphonenumberintoanewtextmessage,instead,andsendinghimselfanemoji.
“There.Mynumber.AndIhaveyours.Seeyouforthegamenextweekend?”
“Lookslikeit.”
Hiseyesroamedovermeoncemore,thecornerofhismouthpullingupjustslightly.“Can’twait.”
Bellenudgedmeunderthebarwithherknee,hereyeswideinanohmyGodfashion.
“Fornow,Ishouldgetbacktowork.I’llcheckonyouladiesinabit.”
“Thankyou,Zach,”Bellesaid,wavingherfingersdaintilyashemadehiswayovertotheothersideofthebar.
Shedidn’tstopstaringoncehewasgone,though.
“Damn,”shebreathed,restingherchinonthehandshe’djustusedtowavehimfarewell.“NowIreallyhopeyougetrailedintonextyear.”
Ilaughed,tryingnottopanicatthethoughtofanothermantouchingme.
Amanwhowasn’tCarlo.
Shakingmyhead,Ipulledtheappbackuponmyphone,showingBellethemessagesthathadcomethroughandlettingherswipethroughthepicturesofguysforawhile.Aswetalked,IremindedmyselfoftheonethingIalwaysneededtohear.
Iamincontrol
It’sjustafootballgame.It’sjustanightofsportsandbeerandhotdogs.IfIwanttohavesexwithhim,Ican.IfIdon’t,Icanjustgohomealone.Noharm,nofoul.Thesearemytickets,andthisismyplan,evenifitwasBelle’sidea.
Thereareeighthomegamesthisseason.That’seightdifferentguys,eightnewfriendstomake,and—onlyifIwant—eightpotentialorgasmsthatdon’tcomefrommytrustyvibrator.
Iamincontrol.
Maybethiswillactuallybefun,Ithought,laughingasBelleswipedahardleftonaguywhostatedinhisbiothathewasa“sexmachine.”SheseemedtobehavingmorefunthanIwasgoingthroughtheapp,soIletherswipeaway,contenttojustsiponmyvodkaandlistentohercommentary.
Everynowandthen,I’dfeelZachwatchingmefromwhereverhewasworkingbehindthebar.Andwhenoureyesmet,mychestwouldsqueeze,alongwithmythighs.Therewassomethingabouthiseyes,aboutthekindofheatthatsweptovermewiththatgaze.Thewayhelookedatme,itwasasifhealreadyhadmeinhisbed,betweenhissheets,onehandonmyhipandtheotherhikingmylegupashesettledbetweenmythighs.
He’donlyjustlearnedmyname,butthewayhelookedatme?Itwasasifhekneweverything—maybeevenmorethanIknew,myself.
Apracticeround…
Yeah.Thiscouldbefun.
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TannerandKelleeareperfectforeachother.Theyfrequentthesamebars,lovethesamemusic,andhavethesamedesiretoripeachother’sclothesoff.Onlyproblem?Tannerisstillinlovewithhisbestfriend.ToJack,myHUSBAND(!!!),thankyouforalwaysansweringmycollegefootball-relatedquestionsand,moreimportantly,forsupportingmethroughalltheupsanddownsofthiscareer.Youaretheloveofmylifeandnoneofthiswouldmatterwithoutyoutoshareitwith.
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MommaVon,thankyouforallthosenightsyouforcedmetositdownandwatchtheKansasCityChiefslosewhileIwasgrowingup.Thatstartedmyloveforfootball,andIwouldn’thavebeenabletowritethisseries,oranyofmyotherfootballromances,withoutthatburninglove.
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Tomyalphareaders:LilyTurner,FrancesO’Brien,KelleeFabre,andShaiviShah—therearenowordsforhowthankfulIamtoyouwiththisone.IhadsomeMOMENTS,buty’allwerealwaystheretocalmmeandreassuremethatIknewwhatIwasdoingwiththesetwo.ThemagicwecreatedtogetherremindedmewhyIlovethewritingprocesssomuch,andwhytrustingmygutandgoingwithwhatmyhearttellsmeisalwaystherightchoice.Thankyou.
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AbigshoutouttomyfriendsatValentinePRforspreadingthewordaboutthisseriesandhelpingothersfallinlovewithit.Andtoourbloggercommunity(thatincludesyou,BookstagrammersandBooktokers).NoonewouldevenknowIWRITEbooksifitweren’tforyou.You’rethebackboneofwhatwedo,andIthankyou.
Finally,toYOU,thereader.YouarethereasonIamabletodowhatIdo!Thankyouforreadingindieandforshoutingtotherooftopsaboutbooksyoulove.AspecialshoutouttothoseofyouinKandilandandwhoengagewithmeonsocialmedia.YoumakethisevenmorefuneverydayandIcan’twaitformanymoreadventurestogether!KandiSteinerisanAmazonTop5bestsellingauthorandwhiskeyconnoisseurlivinginTampa,FL.Bestknownforwriting“emotionalrollercoaster”stories,shelovesbringingflawedcharacterstolifeandwritingaboutreal,rawromance—inallitsforms.NotwoKandiSteinerbooksarethesame,andifyou’realoverofangsty,emotional,andinspirationalreads,she’syourgal.
AnalumnaoftheUniversityofCentralFlorida,KandigraduatedwithadoublemajorinCreativeWritingandAdvertising/PRwithaminorinWomen’sStudies.Shestartedwritingbackinthe4thgradeafterreadingthefirstHarryPotterinstallment.In6thgrade,shewroteandeditedherownnewspaperanddistributedtoherclassmates.Eventually,theprincipalcaughtonandthenewspaperwasquicklyhalted,thoughKanditriedfightingforher“freedomofpress.”
Shetookparticularinterestinwritingromanceaftercollege,asshehasalwaysbeenadiehardhopelessromantic,andlikestohighlightallthechallengesofloveaswellasthetriumphs.
WhenKandiisn’twriting,youcanfindherreadingbooksofallkinds,planninghernextadventure,orpoledancing(yes,youreadthatright).Sheenjoyslivemusic,traveling,playingwithherfurbabiesandsoakingupthesweetnessoflife.
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