Dare You to Hate Me, page 26
Dad eyes him. “Now is not the—”
Porter turns to me. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I’m not sure if they’ll go through with it since they’ve talked about it before, but they’ve been talking about separating. If you ask me, it’s about time.”
Mom sucks in a breath. “Porter Lee Underwood! That is hardly appropriate to say, and it’s none of your business.”
He raises his hands. “Seriously, Mom? You’re miserable. Dad is miserable. You gave Ivy the brunt of your frustrations and the only reason you took it easy on me was because you wouldn’t be able to explain why another kid left if I decided I’d had it.”
Dad’s eyes grow wary. “That is enough.”
Mom’s hands go to her face for a moment before scraping back her frizzy hair. “He’s right, Fred, and you know it. We have been over this time and time again and nothing changes.” Her hands drop to her sides as she addresses me and Porter. “Your father and I are serious this time. It should have happened a long time ago, and for what it’s worth, I’ve known that for a while. But I’m supposed to hold everything together and I thought I could do it when I couldn’t.”
When our eyes meet, the burnt gold color staring back at me captures all my attention when she says, “Letting you go after your insistence that you’d be better off made me believe it, because I was barely hanging on by a thread myself, Ivy. You have to understand, I thought sending you to Gertie’s would have been better. I thought I’d figure out how to… That doesn’t matter. Because I did none of the things I sought out to do. The point is, who was I to think you that you couldn’t achieve greatness just because I couldn’t?”
Aiden’s arms tighten around me as I stare at the woman in disbelief. My remaining tears start to dry, my face still damp and eyes still stinging, but for the first time maybe ever I see her clearly.
A woman in pain.
A woman who gave up long before I did.
But she’s still fighting.
She’s trying, whatever that means.
I swallow, saying what I should have to them before that night I caved at the truck stop after the man who picked me up tried forcing himself on me. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I put you through, but I wouldn’t mind a second chance. I think we both sort of need one. If not right now, then down the line. I’ll take anything I can get.”
Porter steps closer to me, taking my hand in his, showing his support without saying the words. He knows it’s what I need. If nothing else, I can mend the relationship I broke with him. It’s a start. It’s something.
Mom steps closer, a hand extending then lowering in doubt. “I think there are a lot of things we all need to work out in order to become a family, because we haven’t been one in a very, very long time.” Her eyes go over her shoulder to Dad, who eventually nods along without saying a word about anything. “I’ll give you my cell phone number and we can start there because I was wrong too, and I’ve wanted to tell you that for a while now.”
She looks down, her hands fidgeting at her sides before she reaches out and touches one of my stiff hands. “This isn’t going to be easy. We all need to acknowledge that now. But I’m sorry, Ivy, for not trying sooner. You need to know that.”
I feel Aiden’s lips on the back of my head and feel a sense of relief—from his minor touch and at the peace offering my mother gives me. It’s small, chipping away at the many layers of ice coating the organ in my chest, but it’s something.
I don’t know where any of us will go from here, but I’d like to think this moment is a step toward putting the pieces together again, even if they were never assembled right to begin with.
A throat clears from behind us and the Griffiths are both standing there. I’m not surprised when it’s Emily who says, “We’re celebrating Thanksgiving a little late this year and we’ll have plenty of food once lunch is ready. You’re more than welcome to stay and join us.”
Porter and I exchange a doubtful look before turning to our parents. I refuse to hold any hope because I already know what they’re going to say before Dad confirms it. “I think it’s best if we go,” he tells them, voice low as he tips his head. “But the offer is appreciated. Porter?”
My brother presses into me. “I want to stay here for a little while longer. Just until—”
“You have school in the morning,” Dad tells him firmly, a reminder that I take into consideration too. “And you can’t miss practice. I’m sorry, but we need to leave.”
He looks to me for help, and I want to tell him to stay, but I don’t have that power. “We have each other’s numbers now. We can talk. Text. Whatever you want. I promise, Porter.”
His eyes go to the floor before he nods, but not before I see the guarded caution on his face that reminds me of myself when promises are made.
Aiden unwinds his arms from me and presses another chaste kiss to the back of my head before helping Porter get his things from downstairs.
Like my little brother, I’m afraid this is it, that after they close the door behind them it’ll be like this never happened. But a tiny seed of hope plants itself in my chest when Mom pulls out her phone and asks me for my number. I don’t mean to look to Mrs. Griffith before I read it out, but Mom notices the exchange between me and Emily and hurt flashes in her eyes.
I think back to my conversation with Aiden the night I left. Mom wouldn’t have been okay with me staying next door because she never liked my relationship with Emily Griffith. It was a reminder that ours would never be like that. And maybe I used that to my advantage, to hurt her subconsciously. The more I think about it, the more guilt washes over me.
My eyes go back to Mom where I watch her type something on her phone before feeling mine buzz in my pocket. “If you want to try, then I do too,” she reassures, seeing the doubt etched into my features when she puts her phone back into her purse. “There’s something I think you should know, Ivy. I got a call from St. Mary’s Hospital one night. The nurse said she’d been concerned about why you were there, but she couldn’t express any details. We were on our way when they called the next morning and said you’d left. Your father and I…” Her lips fold into each other as she collects herself. “Your father and I were going to come get you. Bring you home. But we couldn’t find you anymore after that. You didn’t have a credit card or phone or car to track, so we were back to square one until there was nothing we could do.”
I stare at her blindsided by the statement.
St. Mary’s is the hospital in Vermont that I escaped from shortly after what I’d done. It was the beautiful, castle-like establishment I looked over my shoulder at as I ran into the night having a heavy feeling in my stomach that everything was going to change.
And it could have for the better.
If I stayed.
Mom’s eyes don’t go to my sleeves, which makes me think she still has no clue why I was there. “There are things we can do, people we can see if we need the extra guidance. A family counselor or something.”
All I can do is nod, feeling doubt over the insinuated sessions knowing those cost a pretty penny to attend. I’ve looked into counseling before when I was at my lowest, needing somebody. Just because resources exist for people like me who suffer from our own minds doesn’t mean it’s easily accessible. Every time I see a commercial or flyer about getting help, I believe less and less that the people who create them understand what it takes to link those who are suffering to those willing to help without charging a kidney per session.
Finding happiness is easy to some, but happiness is subjective. It costs more than anyone can fathom because the very things that make you feel even the highest high in the moment can also bring you crashing down in the next.
Not all of us want to stay unhappy.
But not all of us have another choice.
Porter stops at the door where Mom and Dad stand speaking in quiet tones to the Griffiths. He turns to me with a sad smile. “I was looking forward to that apple pie.”
I roll my eyes at his weak attempt at lightening the mood. “I’ll make you a fresh one sometime. I’m good in the kitchen.”
“That’s what Mom says.”
My heart flickers to life, thump-thumping as my eyes go to the woman in question. She’s looking at me with a shy smile on her face before turning back to listen to whatever Aiden’s father is saying.
Porter nudges my foot with his shoe, careful not to let his giant boot crush my bare toes. “Thank you for letting me crash here. I know your message wasn’t an invite to barge into your life, but I’m glad I came.”
“I’m glad you did too.” I give him an awkward hug. “Although I’m sure the biggest reason you’re glad you came was because of the boy crush you have on my boyfriend.”
The second it’s out there, my face blossoms with heat. I feel at least three different sets of eyes on me—my brother’s amused ones, Mrs. Griffith’s knowing ones, and Aiden’s. His burn the hottest on my face, but I do what I can to avoid them.
My brother gives me an out. “He was a bonus, but I think we needed this. I wasn’t sure what I’d say, but your boyfriend—” His lips twitch into a little grin. “—has a way of convincing people that it’s not so much about the words that count.”
Swallowing, I nod slowly.
It’s the actions.
Letting out a tiny breath, I give him another hug, this one tighter, before waving at my parents as they open the front door.
When they leave and it’s just Aiden and I left in the living room, I turn and look up to see a smirk on his face. “Don’t say it.”
“Boyfriend, huh?”
I blush. “It just came out.”
His parents are back in the kitchen finishing the meal preparations, so he leads me to the couch. “I didn’t mind it.”
“But we haven’t—”
“It’s always been you, Ivy,” he cuts me off confidently. “Why shouldn’t we label it? We’re always going to be friends, but we’re also more than that. I don’t want to see some other guy with his hands on you, so I might as well make my claim now.”
Attention darting to the kitchen where something falls, I sink into the cushion. “I think you already made that claim a while ago,” I inform him in no more than a murmur.
“So don’t question me.”
“Does this mean I’m your girlfriend?” He gives me a look like that’s a stupid question, making me laugh. “I don’t think I want to stay here.”
His brows pinch over the sudden topic change. “Where? The house?”
“In Lindon.”
Slowly, he blinks. Once, twice… “Where do you want to go then?”
“Remember when you used to follow me into the woods knowing I’d wind up at that dilapidated fort? I never asked you to, but you’d do it anyway. Or when I’d walk to the ice cream shop on the other side of town alone when it was open during the summers to get their pistachio cones and you’d wind up there annoyed I’d walked by myself?”
“Because you needed me so you didn’t get abducted,” he replies dryly, his hand moving hair away from my face. His voice softens. “And because I wanted to be there with you.”
“Exactly.” I tug on the shirt he’s wearing, picking a piece of hair off it, and peeking at him through my lashes. “I want to be with you. Let’s be real, Aiden, I never liked school anyway. I’m not any good at it. But what I am good at is baking, and I can do that anywhere. And this isn’t me saying I expect you to take care of me because you know I won’t allow it. I’ll get a job. I enjoy working at Bea’s, and there’s got to be other places like it wherever you go.”
“Ivy, you can’t—”
“I can,” I inform him, leaning into him. “Because I want to. Remember what I asked before? Let me have some control. Let me make my own decisions.”
He sighs in defeat. “Are you sure?”
“Out of your head, Griffith,” I tease him, tugging on his shirt until he meets me halfway for a kiss. “Overthinking won’t get you anywhere.”
A sly, knowing smirk stretches his lips as he pecks me again. “Turning the tables, I see.”
I simply shrug, waiting for the line.
When he realizes that, he chuckles. “My head is always in the game, Underwood.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aiden
Rachel Holloway congratulates me on finishing the semester with straight A’s, passes me my final transcript in case I’ll ever need it to reenroll in the future, and sends me on my way. I notice the way she quickly grabs her phone and blushes at whatever is on the screen, and I have an ugly feeling I know what it is considering it went off multiple times during our ten-minute meeting.
When I walk out of her office, I see Matt walking toward it. He smacks the hand I lift and bumps our shoulders together. “I bet you’re happy to be done with this place. I’m jealous, man. I’m over it.”
My brows raise as I gesture toward the athletic adviser’s office he’s obviously heading toward. “Word of advice, if you want to get out of here unscathed you’ll end whatever the hell that is. You know you’re a good player. Train, focus, and you’ll be invited to the next combine.”
My teammate, who’s usually the class clown with DJ, shoots me a displeased expression at the advice he’d be stupid to ignore. “No offense, but not all of us want to be miserable like you. Some of us go after what we want the second we know we want it.”
“What do you want more?” I press. “Do you want football? A career out of it? Or do you want to risk everything for something that may not last. Be honest with yourself, Matt. You’re a thrill seeker. You’ve always done dumb, risky shit because the idea of getting caught excites you for some damn reason.”
His nostrils twitch before he eyes the office door that’s wide open for a moment before turning back to me. “Mind your business. You got the life you wanted. I’m getting mine.”
My hands raise in surrender. It’s not my problem and I’ve said my piece. That’s the best I can do. “Fine man. I’ll see you at the house.”
I start walking away when he sighs. “You and your girl sticking around? I heard DJ saying something about you guys hanging out while you train with Pearce in his free time now that the season is over. What else are you going to do? The combine isn’t until February.”
Coach Pearce knows some trainers who are going to push me to my limits to get me ready for the combine. I’m on a strict diet that Ivy has been helping with even though half the shit I eat now is something a goddamn rabbit would consume, but I’ve already noticed results in my energy alone that the dietician said will get me prepared for when my training exercises begin after the New Year.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I nod. “We plan to stay at the house for a while and then spend some time in our hometown.”
His brows go up. “Shit, yeah. Forgot that’s how you know each other. Shouldn’t surprise me I guess. Not just anyone was going to catch your eye. Don’t know if you know this, but you’ve got serious trust issues.”
I snort. “You a therapist now?”
He smirks, the tension between us gone like that. “Nah, just hella observant. DJ always said you would have had to have known Ivy for you to get all territorial over her. Plus, who the fuck hangs out at a bakery instead of sleeping in on the one day off a week we get?”
He has me there. “You’re going back to the city for break, right?”
His hesitation makes me wish I hadn’t asked, especially when his eyes dart back to the office I came from. “Er, yeah. For Christmas at least. My parents are doing a cruise to Alaska or some shit, so it’ll give me time to do my own thing.” He doesn’t need to elaborate on what that is, and I know better than to ask. “Your girl going to be ready for what’s coming your way? She said she officially put in her enrollment withdrawal, so it seems like she’s serious.”
“If anyone can manage, it’s Ivy.” She’s at Bea’s for her shift right now, telling Bea that she may be gone by the summertime. She was nervous telling her boss that after everything she’s done for her, but I know Bea will be happy.
He glances down to the phone in his hand, lighting up with a name. All I see are the first two letters and decide it’s my time to go. “I’ll see you around, man.”
I’m pushing the door open when he calls out, “Hey. Thanks. You know, for the advice.”
Nodding once, I head out and find Coach hanging up his phone as I approach his office. He waves me in before I can even knock, so I drop my shit into the chair and sit on the opposite one.
“Just got off the phone with Wilkins,” he informs me as I stretch my legs out. “He said the Bills are still interested, but he has good sources that say the Patriots are going to try snatching you up based on how you present yourself in February. And before you say anything—” He eyes me as my lips part to speak. “—I also heard they plan on making a spectacle of the tensions between you and Mahone. They won’t want any problems between teammates, so they’ll make sure it’s understood you’re on the same ground. No repeats of your time at Wilson Reed together.”
My face drains of emotion, eyes narrowing. “That seems like bullshit. It’s been years and they want to bring it up to make sure the media doesn’t play on it?”
He leans back in his chair, tapping a pen against the playbook open in front of him. “A team like that will do whatever they can to make sure their reputation is clean. I have no doubt they’ll offer you a pretty penny, son. Doesn’t mean the monetary value is going to be worth your sanity if you sign their paper.”
“I haven’t even done the combine yet, so I’d rather not think about an offer.”
“You doubting yourself?”
“No, Coach.”
He studies me. “You change your mind about what you want then?”
“Absolutely not.”
He gives one firm nod. “Good. Then don’t go psyching yourself out before you’ve had a chance to prove to them what you can do. We both know you’re good. Hell, you’re better than every guy on the Dragons and I’ll confirm that on camera even if it pisses off the others.”
Porter turns to me. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I’m not sure if they’ll go through with it since they’ve talked about it before, but they’ve been talking about separating. If you ask me, it’s about time.”
Mom sucks in a breath. “Porter Lee Underwood! That is hardly appropriate to say, and it’s none of your business.”
He raises his hands. “Seriously, Mom? You’re miserable. Dad is miserable. You gave Ivy the brunt of your frustrations and the only reason you took it easy on me was because you wouldn’t be able to explain why another kid left if I decided I’d had it.”
Dad’s eyes grow wary. “That is enough.”
Mom’s hands go to her face for a moment before scraping back her frizzy hair. “He’s right, Fred, and you know it. We have been over this time and time again and nothing changes.” Her hands drop to her sides as she addresses me and Porter. “Your father and I are serious this time. It should have happened a long time ago, and for what it’s worth, I’ve known that for a while. But I’m supposed to hold everything together and I thought I could do it when I couldn’t.”
When our eyes meet, the burnt gold color staring back at me captures all my attention when she says, “Letting you go after your insistence that you’d be better off made me believe it, because I was barely hanging on by a thread myself, Ivy. You have to understand, I thought sending you to Gertie’s would have been better. I thought I’d figure out how to… That doesn’t matter. Because I did none of the things I sought out to do. The point is, who was I to think you that you couldn’t achieve greatness just because I couldn’t?”
Aiden’s arms tighten around me as I stare at the woman in disbelief. My remaining tears start to dry, my face still damp and eyes still stinging, but for the first time maybe ever I see her clearly.
A woman in pain.
A woman who gave up long before I did.
But she’s still fighting.
She’s trying, whatever that means.
I swallow, saying what I should have to them before that night I caved at the truck stop after the man who picked me up tried forcing himself on me. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I put you through, but I wouldn’t mind a second chance. I think we both sort of need one. If not right now, then down the line. I’ll take anything I can get.”
Porter steps closer to me, taking my hand in his, showing his support without saying the words. He knows it’s what I need. If nothing else, I can mend the relationship I broke with him. It’s a start. It’s something.
Mom steps closer, a hand extending then lowering in doubt. “I think there are a lot of things we all need to work out in order to become a family, because we haven’t been one in a very, very long time.” Her eyes go over her shoulder to Dad, who eventually nods along without saying a word about anything. “I’ll give you my cell phone number and we can start there because I was wrong too, and I’ve wanted to tell you that for a while now.”
She looks down, her hands fidgeting at her sides before she reaches out and touches one of my stiff hands. “This isn’t going to be easy. We all need to acknowledge that now. But I’m sorry, Ivy, for not trying sooner. You need to know that.”
I feel Aiden’s lips on the back of my head and feel a sense of relief—from his minor touch and at the peace offering my mother gives me. It’s small, chipping away at the many layers of ice coating the organ in my chest, but it’s something.
I don’t know where any of us will go from here, but I’d like to think this moment is a step toward putting the pieces together again, even if they were never assembled right to begin with.
A throat clears from behind us and the Griffiths are both standing there. I’m not surprised when it’s Emily who says, “We’re celebrating Thanksgiving a little late this year and we’ll have plenty of food once lunch is ready. You’re more than welcome to stay and join us.”
Porter and I exchange a doubtful look before turning to our parents. I refuse to hold any hope because I already know what they’re going to say before Dad confirms it. “I think it’s best if we go,” he tells them, voice low as he tips his head. “But the offer is appreciated. Porter?”
My brother presses into me. “I want to stay here for a little while longer. Just until—”
“You have school in the morning,” Dad tells him firmly, a reminder that I take into consideration too. “And you can’t miss practice. I’m sorry, but we need to leave.”
He looks to me for help, and I want to tell him to stay, but I don’t have that power. “We have each other’s numbers now. We can talk. Text. Whatever you want. I promise, Porter.”
His eyes go to the floor before he nods, but not before I see the guarded caution on his face that reminds me of myself when promises are made.
Aiden unwinds his arms from me and presses another chaste kiss to the back of my head before helping Porter get his things from downstairs.
Like my little brother, I’m afraid this is it, that after they close the door behind them it’ll be like this never happened. But a tiny seed of hope plants itself in my chest when Mom pulls out her phone and asks me for my number. I don’t mean to look to Mrs. Griffith before I read it out, but Mom notices the exchange between me and Emily and hurt flashes in her eyes.
I think back to my conversation with Aiden the night I left. Mom wouldn’t have been okay with me staying next door because she never liked my relationship with Emily Griffith. It was a reminder that ours would never be like that. And maybe I used that to my advantage, to hurt her subconsciously. The more I think about it, the more guilt washes over me.
My eyes go back to Mom where I watch her type something on her phone before feeling mine buzz in my pocket. “If you want to try, then I do too,” she reassures, seeing the doubt etched into my features when she puts her phone back into her purse. “There’s something I think you should know, Ivy. I got a call from St. Mary’s Hospital one night. The nurse said she’d been concerned about why you were there, but she couldn’t express any details. We were on our way when they called the next morning and said you’d left. Your father and I…” Her lips fold into each other as she collects herself. “Your father and I were going to come get you. Bring you home. But we couldn’t find you anymore after that. You didn’t have a credit card or phone or car to track, so we were back to square one until there was nothing we could do.”
I stare at her blindsided by the statement.
St. Mary’s is the hospital in Vermont that I escaped from shortly after what I’d done. It was the beautiful, castle-like establishment I looked over my shoulder at as I ran into the night having a heavy feeling in my stomach that everything was going to change.
And it could have for the better.
If I stayed.
Mom’s eyes don’t go to my sleeves, which makes me think she still has no clue why I was there. “There are things we can do, people we can see if we need the extra guidance. A family counselor or something.”
All I can do is nod, feeling doubt over the insinuated sessions knowing those cost a pretty penny to attend. I’ve looked into counseling before when I was at my lowest, needing somebody. Just because resources exist for people like me who suffer from our own minds doesn’t mean it’s easily accessible. Every time I see a commercial or flyer about getting help, I believe less and less that the people who create them understand what it takes to link those who are suffering to those willing to help without charging a kidney per session.
Finding happiness is easy to some, but happiness is subjective. It costs more than anyone can fathom because the very things that make you feel even the highest high in the moment can also bring you crashing down in the next.
Not all of us want to stay unhappy.
But not all of us have another choice.
Porter stops at the door where Mom and Dad stand speaking in quiet tones to the Griffiths. He turns to me with a sad smile. “I was looking forward to that apple pie.”
I roll my eyes at his weak attempt at lightening the mood. “I’ll make you a fresh one sometime. I’m good in the kitchen.”
“That’s what Mom says.”
My heart flickers to life, thump-thumping as my eyes go to the woman in question. She’s looking at me with a shy smile on her face before turning back to listen to whatever Aiden’s father is saying.
Porter nudges my foot with his shoe, careful not to let his giant boot crush my bare toes. “Thank you for letting me crash here. I know your message wasn’t an invite to barge into your life, but I’m glad I came.”
“I’m glad you did too.” I give him an awkward hug. “Although I’m sure the biggest reason you’re glad you came was because of the boy crush you have on my boyfriend.”
The second it’s out there, my face blossoms with heat. I feel at least three different sets of eyes on me—my brother’s amused ones, Mrs. Griffith’s knowing ones, and Aiden’s. His burn the hottest on my face, but I do what I can to avoid them.
My brother gives me an out. “He was a bonus, but I think we needed this. I wasn’t sure what I’d say, but your boyfriend—” His lips twitch into a little grin. “—has a way of convincing people that it’s not so much about the words that count.”
Swallowing, I nod slowly.
It’s the actions.
Letting out a tiny breath, I give him another hug, this one tighter, before waving at my parents as they open the front door.
When they leave and it’s just Aiden and I left in the living room, I turn and look up to see a smirk on his face. “Don’t say it.”
“Boyfriend, huh?”
I blush. “It just came out.”
His parents are back in the kitchen finishing the meal preparations, so he leads me to the couch. “I didn’t mind it.”
“But we haven’t—”
“It’s always been you, Ivy,” he cuts me off confidently. “Why shouldn’t we label it? We’re always going to be friends, but we’re also more than that. I don’t want to see some other guy with his hands on you, so I might as well make my claim now.”
Attention darting to the kitchen where something falls, I sink into the cushion. “I think you already made that claim a while ago,” I inform him in no more than a murmur.
“So don’t question me.”
“Does this mean I’m your girlfriend?” He gives me a look like that’s a stupid question, making me laugh. “I don’t think I want to stay here.”
His brows pinch over the sudden topic change. “Where? The house?”
“In Lindon.”
Slowly, he blinks. Once, twice… “Where do you want to go then?”
“Remember when you used to follow me into the woods knowing I’d wind up at that dilapidated fort? I never asked you to, but you’d do it anyway. Or when I’d walk to the ice cream shop on the other side of town alone when it was open during the summers to get their pistachio cones and you’d wind up there annoyed I’d walked by myself?”
“Because you needed me so you didn’t get abducted,” he replies dryly, his hand moving hair away from my face. His voice softens. “And because I wanted to be there with you.”
“Exactly.” I tug on the shirt he’s wearing, picking a piece of hair off it, and peeking at him through my lashes. “I want to be with you. Let’s be real, Aiden, I never liked school anyway. I’m not any good at it. But what I am good at is baking, and I can do that anywhere. And this isn’t me saying I expect you to take care of me because you know I won’t allow it. I’ll get a job. I enjoy working at Bea’s, and there’s got to be other places like it wherever you go.”
“Ivy, you can’t—”
“I can,” I inform him, leaning into him. “Because I want to. Remember what I asked before? Let me have some control. Let me make my own decisions.”
He sighs in defeat. “Are you sure?”
“Out of your head, Griffith,” I tease him, tugging on his shirt until he meets me halfway for a kiss. “Overthinking won’t get you anywhere.”
A sly, knowing smirk stretches his lips as he pecks me again. “Turning the tables, I see.”
I simply shrug, waiting for the line.
When he realizes that, he chuckles. “My head is always in the game, Underwood.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aiden
Rachel Holloway congratulates me on finishing the semester with straight A’s, passes me my final transcript in case I’ll ever need it to reenroll in the future, and sends me on my way. I notice the way she quickly grabs her phone and blushes at whatever is on the screen, and I have an ugly feeling I know what it is considering it went off multiple times during our ten-minute meeting.
When I walk out of her office, I see Matt walking toward it. He smacks the hand I lift and bumps our shoulders together. “I bet you’re happy to be done with this place. I’m jealous, man. I’m over it.”
My brows raise as I gesture toward the athletic adviser’s office he’s obviously heading toward. “Word of advice, if you want to get out of here unscathed you’ll end whatever the hell that is. You know you’re a good player. Train, focus, and you’ll be invited to the next combine.”
My teammate, who’s usually the class clown with DJ, shoots me a displeased expression at the advice he’d be stupid to ignore. “No offense, but not all of us want to be miserable like you. Some of us go after what we want the second we know we want it.”
“What do you want more?” I press. “Do you want football? A career out of it? Or do you want to risk everything for something that may not last. Be honest with yourself, Matt. You’re a thrill seeker. You’ve always done dumb, risky shit because the idea of getting caught excites you for some damn reason.”
His nostrils twitch before he eyes the office door that’s wide open for a moment before turning back to me. “Mind your business. You got the life you wanted. I’m getting mine.”
My hands raise in surrender. It’s not my problem and I’ve said my piece. That’s the best I can do. “Fine man. I’ll see you at the house.”
I start walking away when he sighs. “You and your girl sticking around? I heard DJ saying something about you guys hanging out while you train with Pearce in his free time now that the season is over. What else are you going to do? The combine isn’t until February.”
Coach Pearce knows some trainers who are going to push me to my limits to get me ready for the combine. I’m on a strict diet that Ivy has been helping with even though half the shit I eat now is something a goddamn rabbit would consume, but I’ve already noticed results in my energy alone that the dietician said will get me prepared for when my training exercises begin after the New Year.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I nod. “We plan to stay at the house for a while and then spend some time in our hometown.”
His brows go up. “Shit, yeah. Forgot that’s how you know each other. Shouldn’t surprise me I guess. Not just anyone was going to catch your eye. Don’t know if you know this, but you’ve got serious trust issues.”
I snort. “You a therapist now?”
He smirks, the tension between us gone like that. “Nah, just hella observant. DJ always said you would have had to have known Ivy for you to get all territorial over her. Plus, who the fuck hangs out at a bakery instead of sleeping in on the one day off a week we get?”
He has me there. “You’re going back to the city for break, right?”
His hesitation makes me wish I hadn’t asked, especially when his eyes dart back to the office I came from. “Er, yeah. For Christmas at least. My parents are doing a cruise to Alaska or some shit, so it’ll give me time to do my own thing.” He doesn’t need to elaborate on what that is, and I know better than to ask. “Your girl going to be ready for what’s coming your way? She said she officially put in her enrollment withdrawal, so it seems like she’s serious.”
“If anyone can manage, it’s Ivy.” She’s at Bea’s for her shift right now, telling Bea that she may be gone by the summertime. She was nervous telling her boss that after everything she’s done for her, but I know Bea will be happy.
He glances down to the phone in his hand, lighting up with a name. All I see are the first two letters and decide it’s my time to go. “I’ll see you around, man.”
I’m pushing the door open when he calls out, “Hey. Thanks. You know, for the advice.”
Nodding once, I head out and find Coach hanging up his phone as I approach his office. He waves me in before I can even knock, so I drop my shit into the chair and sit on the opposite one.
“Just got off the phone with Wilkins,” he informs me as I stretch my legs out. “He said the Bills are still interested, but he has good sources that say the Patriots are going to try snatching you up based on how you present yourself in February. And before you say anything—” He eyes me as my lips part to speak. “—I also heard they plan on making a spectacle of the tensions between you and Mahone. They won’t want any problems between teammates, so they’ll make sure it’s understood you’re on the same ground. No repeats of your time at Wilson Reed together.”
My face drains of emotion, eyes narrowing. “That seems like bullshit. It’s been years and they want to bring it up to make sure the media doesn’t play on it?”
He leans back in his chair, tapping a pen against the playbook open in front of him. “A team like that will do whatever they can to make sure their reputation is clean. I have no doubt they’ll offer you a pretty penny, son. Doesn’t mean the monetary value is going to be worth your sanity if you sign their paper.”
“I haven’t even done the combine yet, so I’d rather not think about an offer.”
“You doubting yourself?”
“No, Coach.”
He studies me. “You change your mind about what you want then?”
“Absolutely not.”
He gives one firm nod. “Good. Then don’t go psyching yourself out before you’ve had a chance to prove to them what you can do. We both know you’re good. Hell, you’re better than every guy on the Dragons and I’ll confirm that on camera even if it pisses off the others.”
