Love, Ally: A Second Chance Romance (Brooks University Book 1)

by Hannah Gray

  I’m almost out the door when the family restroom door swings open, and Cole and the blonde stumble out. Her hair is a mess, and he smirks. A callous smirk.

  I try not to let my gaze linger too long, but it’s hard. This man that I have loved since I was in seventh grade is doing everything in his power to hurt me. I know that’s what his plan is. It isn’t hard to see.

  “Classy,” I mutter just loud enough for him to hear before I head outside.

  He wants to get a reaction, and I refuse to give it to him. He can hate me all he wants. He can even try to punish me for things I had absolutely no control over. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of acting affected. The way he’s acting, he doesn’t deserve it. And besides, if he ever finds out the real reason why I left, he’ll be the one looking like a complete tool.

  Pulling the car door open, I hand Sloane her phone.

  “Was Knox still there? Or was he with all those slutty girls?” she blurts out instantly, proving that she does care for this guy.

  “He was there. He was alone,” I answer as we pull out.

  “He was?” she says, surprised, turning her head toward me.

  “Yep. I’m all for you making him sweat it out, but look, I have a gift at reading people. I think he’s a good one.”

  “Y-you do?” Her voice sounds unsure.

  I nod. “I do.”

  “Good to know because, Ally?”

  “Yeah?”

  “My judgment usually sucks.” She laughs.

  “So, what you’re saying is, I could be a serial killer and want to chop you up and feed you to my cat, and you wouldn’t pick up on any creeper vibes?” I deadpan.

  Her eyes widen as she glances over at me. “Shit. Are you going to do that?”

  “Nah. You’re too skinny.” I pause for a moment. “Besides, I don’t even have a cat. Allergic.”

  We both laugh, and admittedly, it feels good. I like Sloane. I can tell this just might be the start to a beautiful friendship. And I’m well aware that I sound corny as fuck, saying that. Honestly, I don’t even care.

  She might look like she’s perfectly put together. Her edges seem smoothed out while mine are so damn sharp that they could cut you. But I know she’s not as innocent as she might appear. I know there’s a side to Sloane that I’m betting not many people have seen.

  I hope, one day, she trusts me enough that she can show me that and tell me all of her secrets.

  And I hope to one day trust her to tell her mine.

  five

  Cole

  Finishing my last rep, I push the bar up. My muscles are screaming with pain. But truthfully, I don’t mind. The pain distracts me from my thoughts constantly going back to Ally.

  Walking over to my water bottle, I squirt some into my mouth.

  The image of Ally’s face flashes across my mind as she saw me and whoever the fuck that girl was I took into the restroom. I guarantee she thinks I fucked her. She’s wrong. I didn’t.

  That was the point—for her to see us. I wanted her to hurt because she’d hurt me. But when I saw her face, shit, it made me sick to my stomach. I’d never intentionally hurt that girl in my life. Well, until then.

  She tried to hide it, play it off with some snide remark, per usual. But I know that girl better than the back of my hand. She was hurt. And if I’m being honest with myself, no matter how pissed I am at her, I still have a lot of love for Ally. She’s my fucking family. I’m man enough to admit when I fucked up.

  And fuck up I did.

  “You never did tell me what the fuck was up with you and that sexy, dark-haired beauty from the movies,” Knox says next to me, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel and then throwing it over his shoulder.

  “Dude, you call her sexy again, and I’ll rearrange your teeth,” I threaten him without thinking twice.

  “Oh, simmer the fuck down, would ya? Geesh, someone’s panties are in a bunch.” He chugs down his Gatorade. “Anyway, I want to know, what the fuck is up with you two?”

  Shrugging, I say, “Nothing to tell, man.”

  “Oh, fuck off. A blind person could see that you two had history.” He shakes his head. “Come on. Tell Knoxy boy. Don’t leave a brotha hanging.”

  I sigh. “We grew up together—that’s all.”

  “As in Florida?” he asks, completely oblivious.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Ohio.”

  I’ve never told him that I grew up in Ohio, bouncing between shitty foster homes.

  His eyebrows pinch together. “Ohio? I thought you were from Florida.”

  I blow out a breath. Fuck, I did not want to get into this with him. “I moved to Florida a year ago with my adoptive family. I had grown up in Ohio with my dad but moved to a different part of the state when I was twelve to live with a foster family,” I explain, having to all but force the words out.

  Luckily, Knox and I came earlier than the rest of the team to work out, so it’s just us here. I hate opening up to anybody about this shit, but Knox and Weston are quickly becoming like brothers to me. So, eventually, I’m sure I’ll have to tell Weston too. Though I have to admit, I’m sort of glad he’s not here right now. I don’t think I could handle spilling my guts to both him and Knox at the same time.

  His eyes grow wide. “Fuck, man. I had no idea. Sorry.”

  “How could you? I keep that shit to myself.” I play it off with a grin and smack him on the side. “It’s no big deal. Don’t go turning into a pussy on me. I can’t be changing a litter box and buying you cat food,” I joke.

  From what I’ve heard, Knox grew up in a traditional mom-and-dad household. He’s the oldest of four kids. I’m sure they probably traveled to Disney World and shit as kids. Likely ate pancakes for breakfast. I bet the Easter Bunny and Santa always found his house. Shit, he probably even had a lunch box with a matching thermos. So, I’m sure my situation sounds traumatic to him. And trust me, it was. But it’s also all I’ve ever known.

  Weston doesn’t talk about his family much, leading me to believe that, like me, he has some skeletons dancing in his closet. Then again, I think everybody does.

  “So, you knew each other from Ohio?”

  “Yeah. We met when we were twelve.” I don’t tell him she was a foster kid as well. That isn’t my story to tell; it’s Ally’s. “Anyway,” I say, needing to change the subject, “did you make it right with the blonde chick?”

  I guess she didn’t take to him cheering me on to get laid last night. That was a knucklehead move on his part. You don’t take a chick to the movies and do something like that. Chicks are too sensitive for that.

  “Nope. She thinks I’m a slimeball.” He grimaces. “Not that I can blame her. What the fuck was I thinking, yelling that dumb shit out?”

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I eye him over curiously. “Why do you care so much? You met her once.”

  “She’s hot—that’s why. And she seems cool,” he answers quickly, but I can tell it’s more than what he’s letting on.

  Knox seems like the type of dude who could sleep with any girl he wanted, but in the end, he just wants a girl to cuddle with and take home to his mom. He wants someone sweet and nice. The safe choice.

  Not me. I want someone who can stand beside me. Not behind or in front of me. She needs to be bold and strong. That’s why I know Ally is it for me. She is the strongest damn person that I know.

  “Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but if you pissed Blondie off, then you likely pissed Ally off too. And that girl doesn’t play,” I tell him honestly.

  If you’re in Ally’s circle, she’ll do anything and everything in her power to keep you safe. And if she trusts that blonde chick, she’ll be loyal to her. Which I’m guessing she does, or she wouldn’t have gone to the movies with her. She would have told her no.

  Good news for Sloane, bad news for Knox. Ally is fierce. And sometimes, she scares the piss out of me. Though I’ll admit, I enjoy provoking her. At the movies, I knew she was likely lo
sing her shit, watching me flirt with those annoying-as-fuck girls. I expected her to jump up and tell them to get the fuck away from her man. Only she didn’t. That’s when Operation Restroom came into play.

  Looking back now, I see that it was all immature as shit to do. But there was the devil on my shoulder, telling me to punish her for her sins. And leaving me was a big fucking sin.

  “Great. Now, I have to make it right with not only Sloane, but Ally too?” He groans.

  “Afraid so, brother. Afraid so.”

  “Oh well. Let’s go to Lenny’s. I’m fucking starving.”

  “Sounds good, big dawg. Let’s roll.”

  Lenny’s is a restaurant right off campus. It’s a bit of a hole in the wall, but they make a mean burger. Over the summer, we ate there basically every day. But now, with double practices and classes, we’ve had no time. It beats the hell out of cafeteria food.

  It’s killing me that I don’t have Ally’s new number. She changed it way back when she left Charlotte’s Falls. I tried to get information out of my foster parents, Dave and Marion, but they were mute. They are both shady fuckers anyway. Hell, I’ve even entertained the idea that they ran her out of town. Only problem is, I can’t think of a motive.

  I wasn’t mad that she went and found herself a family. Because if they were decent to her, then great. I mean, it still sucked for me and went against our pact, but if it gave her the life she wanted, even better. All I ever wanted was a good life for that girl. And even though I wanted to be the one to give it to her, I would have been happy if someone else did it first.

  What’s unforgivable for me is the way she went about it. In the couple weeks that I was gone at football camp—which I had been lucky enough to get chosen to not only attend, but to also go for free—she left. She changed her cell phone number and never reached out. Gone like a fucking ghost. Quit her job, disappeared from the foster home, never so much as glancing back. Not even for the person she’d said was her soul mate. To me, that’s bullshit.

  But now, she’s back. That girl who fixed me after everyone else in my life broke me down, well, she left too. Leaving me once again shattered, incomplete, empty, and even more fucked up than before. Oh, and spiteful.

  So fucking spiteful.

  Now that she’s within arm’s reach, so close that I could hold my hand out and touch her smooth, creamy skin, I can’t trust her anymore. Not after she took off so callously.

  That’s the fuel behind the part of me that wants to hurt her the way she hurt me. Only more.

  The only problem is, the other part of me—the bigger part—wants to pull her in and never let her go. I want to make her realize how much she missed me while she was away. I want to make her cry out my name like she used to and make her laugh until the tears are rolling down her cheeks again. I’ve missed that so much. I’ve missed her so much.

  Now the question is, which part of me is going to win? That’s the fucked up part. I already know the answer. She’s my kryptonite, my drug of choice, and the only one who can bring me straight down to my knees. I can’t push her away, no matter how badly I want to.

  six

  Ally

  “Can I get you anything else tonight?” I ask the sweet couple seated in my section.

  “No, thank you. Everything was great.” The mom smiles as she bounces the baby on her knee.

  “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll be right back with your bill.”

  I’m still new here at Lenny’s, but I’ve waitressed before, so I caught on quick. I can be bitchy in real life, sure. But as a waitress, I have impeccable customer service skills. I need the money. Bitchy waitresses don’t make good tips—that’s a fact.

  I hear the door open and shut but don’t look up as I circle the total on the couple’s bill. “Sit anywhere you’d like,” I call out.

  “Fuck, where’s your section? So I can avoid it,” a voice drawls.

  I’d know that voice anywhere. And even though I hate to admit it, that voice makes my heart damn near skip a beat.

  When I look up, Cole’s cocky smirk greets me.

  Blowing a loose strand of hair out of my face, I put my hand on my hip. “I’m the only waitress tonight, dipshit. So, you can either deal with it or go somewhere else.” Shit, there goes those impeccable customer service skills.

  He probably isn’t going to tip me anyway. Well, unless he tells me to dress warm when I go to hell. That would probably be it for tips from him when it comes to me.

  “What do you think, fellas? Should we mosey on down to King’s Pub instead? Say fuck this place?” he says to his friends, though his eyes never leave mine.

  “King’s burgers suck, man. I want a fucking Lenny’s burger.” Knox pouts.

  The fact that he’s dissing our competition makes me already like him more. King’s is down the street, and Lenny can’t stand the owner. Apparently, they go way back.

  “What he said,” the other one chimes in.

  He wasn’t with them at the movies. Or if he was, I didn’t see him. He’s cute. Dirty-blond hair and a completely jacked body. The three of them together are sure to give every bitch they pass whiplash. Though neither Knox nor this other dude hold a candle to Cole.

  Excuse me while I clench my thighs at the sight of him.

  “Fine,” Cole answers and struts over to the corner booth, taking a seat.

  “Do you need menus?” I call over to them before I deliver my other table their check.

  “Nope. Three Lenny’s burgers, three fries, three Cokes,” Knox yells back.

  I glance at Cole to check that is what he wants, and he gives me a single nod.

  Such a cocky fucker these days.

  When I make my way to the couple’s table, the baby babbles and smiles at me. As he holds his chubby little hand up, drool runs out of his mouth. It melts my heart of stone.

  “How old?” I ask.

  “Nine months,” the dad answers, smiling proudly while handing me cash to cover the check. “Keep the change.”

  Tucking it in my apron pocket, I nod. “Thank you. He’s precious. I hope you three have a wonderful evening.”

  While I wait for their food to be finished, other than delivering their drinks, I avoid the guys’ table altogether. Weeknights are slow, and they are the only table here right now.

  The picture of him and that slutty bitch walking out of the restroom is etched into my brain, unfortunately. Making me more hostile to Cole than I typically would be.

  Trying to make my facial expression somewhat welcoming, I deliver their food.

  “Fucking right. I’ve been dreaming about this burger all day,” Knox basically pants.

  Licking my lips at the sight of Cole, not the food, I look between them. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “Nope,” he says curtly. “There’s nothing you can help me with.”

  “I’m sure you got plenty of help in the movie theater restroom,” I coo. I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction that I care. But goddamn it, I couldn’t help but say it.

  He chuckles. “And there it is. Allycat here is jealous,” he says in a satisfied tone.

  I’m already regretting opening my big mouth. Now, he knows it bothered me.

  I scratch my cheek with my middle finger. Leaning closer to him, I drop my voice lower. “Don’t flatter yourself, asshole. I have no interest in catching whatever diseases you’re lugging around with you these days.”

  Both his sidekicks burst out laughing. Cole says nothing, just glares at me.

  “Hey, is Sloane still mad at me?” Knox asks in between bites. An apparent frown on his face.

  I shrug. “I have no idea. Do I look like her keeper?”

  “Well, no. I just … I just thought—”

  Putting my hand up, I stop him. “You thought you’d just yell some stupid shit at dipshit here”—I jerk my thumb toward Cole—“and you pissed her off. Now, you need to make it right. Understood?”

  With his eyes wide, he nods frantical
ly. “Y-yeah, yeah. I got it.”

  I set their check down in the center of their table. “I’ll take that whenever you’re ready,” I say and walk off.

  We closed five minutes ago, which means I can get my side work started and get the hell out of here.

  I’m on the other side of the restaurant, wiping down the tables, when I feel him behind me. Without turning around, I sigh. “What do you need, Cole? Change?”

  “Nah, it’s all set on the table,” Cole answers surprisingly softly.

  “Okay. What do you want?” I retort back at him. “Because I’m trying to get my shit done so that I can get out of here. So, if you have any smart-ass remarks, save it.” There goes that A+ customer service again. Right down the shitter.

  His last name is Storms, and when we first met, with the way he went through life and the way he played football, I couldn’t help but begin calling him Storm because he was a storm—a force, a weapon. He took his shitty life, and he used the bad parts to make himself better and stronger. Like Mother Nature, there has never been any stopping that boy when he wants something. It’s inevitable.

  The funny thing is, since I was a kid, I’ve always loved storms. Much more than sunny days.

  I can remember when my mom was all fucked up on whatever drugs she’d snorted or shot into her veins, and she and her friends would be partying in the living room. I’d lock the door to my bedroom, scared someone would get in and try something. I would look out my window, and I would pray for a big ol’ storm to come and drown out the noise. That way, for a few short hours, everyone would be feeling the chaos of the same storm that I was. It made me somehow feel less alone. Even as I got older and after my mother overdosed and died, I’d still find the nearest window and just watch, listening to the rain pelt off of the roof and against the windows. It calmed me. Maybe other kids my age would have been scared and climbed in their parents’ bed. I didn’t have that option, so I learned to embrace it.

  That’s what made Cole’s nickname so special and something only we had. He knew what I meant when I called him “my storm.” Because he calmed me, and he turned the loudness into white noise. He took away all of my pain. But now that he’s some big football star, everyone and their grandmother calls him by that name. And it somehow seems far less genuine now. What used to be something special between us now makes me feel like I’m just like everyone else. And it reminds me that I now share him with an entire campus.