#Awestruck (A #Lovestruck Novel)

by Sariah Wilson

  “Grandma?” In all the time I’d known him, he’d never mentioned a grandmother. “Why didn’t you stay with her after your parents’ accident?”

  “She had a pretty severe stroke a long time ago, when I was a little kid. She’s unable to communicate or interact, and she’s living in a nursing home.”

  I started to feel uneasy. “You could move her.”

  “I could move her. But I wouldn’t want to. Portland is her home. This is my home. I try to get out to visit her every Tuesday morning during the season.”

  The uneasiness inside me started to bloom into something darker and ickier. The feeling nagged at me, and I had the sneaking suspicion it might be guilt.

  Then I got annoyed with Evan for making me feel guilty. “What does any of this have to do with what happened between you and me?”

  He picked up his water glass and took a quick drink. “Sorry, I started off down that road but got a little sidetracked. The point of what I was trying to tell you was that when you knew me, my family was gone. I was estranged from my ‘substitute’ family. The only family I had were the guys on the team. For about six months after the accident, they were the only thing that kept me from throwing myself off a bridge. And I should have been stronger, and I should have stood up to them when they went after you. I was afraid that if I went against them, they would turn their backs on me. I just . . . I didn’t want to lose the only family I had left. I’m sorry.”

  I could understand what he was saying. I didn’t know what I’d do without my parents and my two sisters. Losing my grandparents had been hard enough.

  I’d been so angry at him for so long for something he hadn’t even done. If he was to be believed, and in that moment I did believe him, he didn’t have anything to do with the letter or the constant teasing. And I understood why he hadn’t stood up for me. How could I blame him for having a very human reaction?

  It still didn’t let him off the hook entirely. He needed to know what he had done to me. “I appreciate that, and I even kind of get it. But do you have any idea how hard my life was back then? Do you know that for the crime of having a crush on you, I was bullied and tormented and teased to the point that my parents had to pull me out of school? That I suffered from depression because of it? That all my friends ditched me, including you?” My voice cracked on the last word, and with horror I realized I was about to start crying.

  A look of deep concern settled on his perfect features. This time he did reach out and hold my hand.

  And I didn’t pull away.

  “Ashton, there is nothing I can say to make up for what happened. If I could go back and fix it, I would. But I can’t change the past.”

  “You could at least have the decency to be haunted by it.”

  His grip tightened. “I’m haunted by it every day in so many ways. And if you never want to see me again, if that’s what I can do for you, I’ll do it. I hope it’s not, because I’d like for us to be friends again.”

  “Yeah. Sounds like you still need a kid sister.”

  A rueful smile twisted his lips, and he let go of my hand. Weirdly enough, I felt sad when he did it. “I won’t ask for your forgiveness yet. If you’ll let me, I’d like to try and earn it. But for now, how about we dig in before our food gets completely cold?”

  My appetite had returned with a vengeance. And something else was different. I felt . . . lighter. Like by letting him explain and apologize, a weight had been taken from me. One I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying around.

  Maybe I should have let him explain it years ago.

  I had just cut my first bite of filet mignon when he said, “Tell me about your family.”

  “I have one.”

  My default setting had been sarcasm for so long it took me a second to register what I’d just said. “I’m sorry, Evan. That was really insensitive of me. I wasn’t trying to be mean. Just to blow off your question.”

  “Which is kind of mean in and of itself.”

  He didn’t seem to be hurt by what I’d said, but now I got to feel like the world’s biggest jerk.

  “I don’t know how to stop being mad at you,” I admitted. “I can’t just flip a switch.”

  “Maybe you could pretend I’m someone else. That we’re meeting for the first time, and this is our first date. Hi. I’m Evan Dawson. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, ready to shake mine.

  “I appreciate the gesture, but there’s too much that’s happened to just pretend to ignore it. I probably need some time.”

  He picked up his lobster tail and studied it, like he was trying to figure out the best offensive move to crack it open. “So we can still work on the reunion committee together?”

  “Sure.” I could handle that.

  “And maybe we could hang out some other times? The last time we played Madden, I’m pretty sure I won.”

  “Your memory is flawed. That never happened. I am the supreme champion of that game.”

  “Then I want a rematch,” he told me with a smile.

  And again, I couldn’t help myself. I smiled back.

  “Number Five,” he said under his breath, more to himself than to me. He seemed . . . happy. I was responsible for that. Maybe confessing and apologizing made him feel lighter, too.

  Which made me feel guilty all over again. “So you said you don’t have to worry about money? If the team cuts you?”

  He grinned at me. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to stick you with the bill after dinner because I forgot my wallet.”

  “That’s not why . . . I mean, you’d be okay if it did happen, right?”

  “My parents left me a pretty substantial life insurance policy, on top of the money the Jacks have paid me.” Which was in the tens of millions. “But you know what NFL stands for.”

  “Not for long.”

  He nodded. “And nothing lasts forever. We’re always one injury away from our careers being over. So I’ve made sure to invest it all wisely and have done really well. I would be fine.”

  “I bet you’d trade it all in for one more day with your parents.”

  An anguished look clouded his bright-blue eyes. “I would.”

  “Me too. I have a trust fund from my grandma that I’d hand over without even thinking if I could see her again. You know, I was named after her. Well, kind of.”

  “What do you mean?” He was watching me intently, like I was the only person in the entire world, and he couldn’t wait to hear what I said next.

  It made me nervous, so I, of course, started to babble. “Her name was Evelyn. She was one of those debutante types who developed a love for football, especially the Portland Jacks. And more than anything she wanted to be a sports announcer. But they barely let her do any reporting at all. They wouldn’t even let her in the locker room after the games. She did end up writing for the Portland Blaze’s sports section by taking her maiden name and her married name. Ashton Bailey. Because it sounded like a man’s name instead of a woman’s. So the readers wouldn’t know. I’m her namesake. Aubrey was named after my mom’s mom.”

  He put down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Why did your youngest sister get left out of the A naming thing?”

  “She didn’t. Her actual name is Aurora. My mom claims it had something to do with the aurora borealis, but I suspect that it’s for the Disney princess.” I grabbed a roll and some butter. Better to stuff my face than to keep saying stupid things.

  “I have an A nickname. Sounds like I’d fit right in.”

  I stopped buttering my roll. “My whole family sort of hates you because of the high school stuff. I mean, we’re a Jacks family with season tickets, and we cheer for you on Sundays, but they’re ironic cheers.”

  He shot me one of those knowing smiles. “So the Jacks are your favorite team?”

  “Obviously.” How could anyone live in Oregon and not love the Jacks?

  “Which by default would make me your favorite player, right? Seeing as how I’m the QB a
nd all.”

  “Hardly. And here’s why.”

  I brought up a bunch of different players on the team and their skill sets, but even I had to secretly admit that Evan was the best.

  Our conversation just kept snowballing from there. We talked about our college experiences. He told me some funny stories about the other players on his team, trying to make a case for why he should be my favorite. He admitted to his superstition about putting on new laces for his cleats before every game.

  If it had been any other guy sitting across the table from me, I would have considered it a really successful date. We had a lot of common interests. We clicked, we bantered, we connected.

  But it was Evan Dawson, and it wasn’t actually a date. Just the chance for him to say sorry and for us to catch up. For me to think about forgiving him and moving on.

  Or, more accurately, a chance for me to get him to admit he was lying to everyone about his personal life.

  We had dessert and kept talking and talking. Jeannie brought in the check and said to stay and keep enjoying ourselves. Evan signed it and then excused himself to use the restroom.

  Without even thinking, I leaned over and opened up the little leather check folder. I’d always been too curious for my own good. Dinner had been expensive, and he’d left her a $500 tip and included a handwritten thank-you at the bottom.

  Of all the things he’d done that night to impress me, the one thing he’d done that he hadn’t expected me to see was what impressed me the most.

  My phone buzzed with a text message, and I realized it was still recording. I held it up, pushing the stop button.

  I’d started the evening off thinking that I could give the recording to Brenda. He’d stayed with his “I’m a virgin” bit, but there were lots of really personal things on here we could use for the show.

  Without hesitation, I deleted it.

  “Ready to go?” Evan asked. “I’d like to walk you out to your car.”

  “Yep.” I grabbed my flowers and followed him out. He moved quickly through the main dining room of the restaurant, and I realized it was to avoid being recognized. The hostess thanked us as Evan opened the front door for me, putting his hand on the small of my back to guide me through it.

  I felt his touch all the way to the cuticles on my toes.

  He didn’t drop his hand, and we continued to walk quietly toward my car. When we got there, I suddenly felt thirteen again and completely awkward. I pushed the button on my key fob to unlock the car.

  I turned to face him, standing in front of my driver’s side door. “So, thanks for the flowers and the blackmail and the free steak.”

  His grin was slow, sexy, and smoldering. I leaned against my car for support. “You wanted to come to dinner with me. You let me win.”

  “I didn’t . . .” But the words died in my mouth. I had totally let him win. I knew it, even in the moment when it was happening, no matter how much I’d tried to convince myself otherwise.

  “And I had a really fun time tonight. If you’re interested, I’d like to see you again.”

  See me again? Like he wanted me to stand in his line of vision, or he wanted to go on another sort-of date? He needed to clarify.

  “Because call me crazy,” he said, putting his hands on the side of my car, effectively trapping me in place. I tried to back up but was met with a wall of metal behind me and a wall of muscle in front. “But I think we’re having a moment.”

  “A moment of delusion?” I croaked, my throat not operating properly since my throbbing heart was stuck in it. “We’re kind of friends. That’s what we established.”

  “I can move from the friend zone into the end zone.”

  It was so cheesy I laughed, and he held up one finger. Now he was counting laughs, too? “You are a very long way off from the end zone.”

  His eyes flicked over me, studying my face, and my skin went hot, like he was touching me again. Even though he wasn’t. “Have you ever seen me drive a ball down a field?”

  Of course I had. He was the best at it. Chopping away at the other team’s defense, slowly gaining yard by yard until he scored.

  I was now greatly concerned. “That’s not happening.”

  “The last time you said that, it did happen.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “I don’t have to. You’re doing that for me.”

  How was I doing that? My flushed skin? My rapid heartbeat? My wobbly knees?

  He might have had a point.

  “I want to make things right. I know words aren’t enough. I’ll do whatever I need to do to earn back your trust.”

  Somehow he moved even closer, making my pulse skitter and my nerve endings totally fray.

  “And, Ashton? I don’t think of you as my kid sister.”

  He reached up, his large, warm hand totally engulfing one side of my face. His gaze trapped mine before it traveled down to my lips. His breath mingled with mine, and I felt the soft material of his pants against my bare legs.

  Evan Dawson was going to kiss me.

  Even more shocking? I was totally going to let him because his touch had rendered me unable to resist.

  My eyelids drifted shut as he moved in closer, and my breath stuttered when his lips softly brushed against my cheek. I’d been right about the total spontaneous combustion thing earlier. All he’d done was gently kiss me on a place other than my mouth, and my entire body melted. Like my blood was made out of molten lava, and he knew just how to ignite it.

  “’Night, Ashton.”

  He reached behind me to open my door, waiting for me to get in. Not knowing what else to do or how to process this entire night, I got in the car. I was going to wait for him to leave so I could put my head between my knees and breathe slowly, but he stood there, waiting for me to drive off. Presumably so he knew I would be safe.

  Despite the fact that my brain was scrambled and my heart was racing and utterly confused and my stomach had twisted itself into a thousand knots, I drove out of the parking lot and headed home to my condo.

  It took me a very long time to fall asleep that night with all the questions that kept running through my head.

  Had he told me the truth about what happened in high school?

  Did Evan like me? Could I like him? And would any of that matter once he found out my main objective in spending time with him?

  And when had I lost total control of my body? It was like it was acting without my permission and doing whatever it wanted.

  Why had I deleted the recording?

  Did I forgive him? If not, would I be able to? Or was it better to hold on to the anger, to keep some distance between us? I’d lose out on my dream job if I didn’t find somebody to verify that Evan wasn’t celibate.

  But the question that concerned me the most was this one: What was I going to do when I saw him again?

  CHAPTER TEN

  I’d been so dazed by Evan’s cheek kiss that although I’d managed to put his flowers in a vase when I got home, I’d forgotten the water. I added it when I woke up the next morning. Which was later than normal, because I had no alarm. And no phone with said alarm. After searching my entire condo for more than an hour, I discovered I had left my cell phone on the front seat of my car, where it had died. I brought it back in and plugged it into the charger.

  Although I knew I should dress up for Tinsley’s tea party so as to fit in with the natives, I was worn out. Emotionally and physically. So I put on some jeans and a nicer shirt than I might normally wear, put my hair up in a bun, and scrubbed my face clean. (My forgetfulness the previous night had also extended to not washing off my makeup.)

  Traffic was light on the way to Tinsley’s place. I checked in with her doorman, who nodded when he saw me. “Ms. Bailey! A pleasure to see you again. Mrs. Hale is quite excited to see you. She said to send you right up.”

  He walked me over to the elevator and pushed the P button for me. I thanked him. I’d never lived in a building with a doorman
before. Were they all that enthusiastic? It felt a little weird.

  On the ride up I took out my phone, wondering why it had been so quiet all morning. Usually by this point I had at least three different reminders from my mom to not forget about Sunday and our season tickets for the Jacks game. The same thing we did every week they played at home, rain or shine. I completely understood why she thought I might possibly forget. Even though I’d been doing it for over two decades.

  And although I had recharged my phone, I hadn’t turned it back on. A few seconds later it started to beep and buzz repeatedly. I looked at my notifications. There were, like, ten missed phone calls from my mother. I needed some kind of automated response that said, “I promise I’ll be there. You can stop nagging me now.”

  But strangely enough, there was a series of texts from Brenda that all basically said to call her right away, no matter the time.

  There was a text from Aubrey.

  What? I had to respond.

  I pushed SEND as the doors to Tinsley’s penthouse opened. I had more texts and missed calls, but I’d deal with those later.

  First I wanted to take my chance to appreciate Tinsley’s elaborately set-up tea party. My niece had a serious Alice in Wonderland obsession (especially the Mad Hatter scene), and this would have made her giddy. I was about to take a picture for her when I got accosted by Nia.

  “What is happening?” She was smiling at me, giving me a hug, but her words came out as a hiss under her breath. “All anyone can talk about is how Evan Dawson is engaged.”

  Engaged? He’d taken me out to dinner and been all charming and apologetic and hot and sexy, and he was engaged to someone else? “To who?” I demanded.

  “To you.”

  “Me?” I squeaked, completely stunned. “Trust me, I am not engaged to Evan Dawson.” I was pretty sure I would have remembered if that had happened.

  “Not according to the internet. I’ve been texting you all morning because it made no kind of sense. How did you two get engaged?”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”