For Emery (For You Book 4)
Page 4
Had Sabrina and Finlay not been standing there, I probably would’ve leveled him with my fist.
Sensing my anger, Sabrina stepped in between us. “Grady’s a hell of an offensive tackle. So be sure you don’t get out there and blow it, freshman.”
Flip snorted. “Right.” His eyes jumped amongst us before he turned and walked off, joining some people at the bar.
“Well, he’s a real ass,” Finlay said.
“See, Grady?” Abbott called across the table. “He makes you look like a puppy dog.”
“It’s gonna be a long fucking season,” I grumbled.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Grady
Coach’s whistle blew and we huddled around Flip at the thirty-yard line. Everything about him made my skin crawl. The way he called plays. The way he ordered us around on the field. Sure, it was his job, but he needed to earn that spot. He needed to earn our respect.
Sweat pooled everywhere on my body. I searched out the new water boy, but couldn’t find him. Finlay would’ve eventually shown up with a bottle, even those times she pretended she didn’t hear me ask for one.
“Let’s run an outside hook,” Flip said, pulling my attention back to him.
We clapped our hands and jogged to our positions. I lined up, waiting for the snap. Once he called hike, I held off the defense from pummeling him. Even though I made all my blocks, I enjoyed watching every time someone else’s block was missed and Flip went down.
So far for me, my new physique had worked in my favor. I thought my weight had worked for the position, but now I saw the added weight held me back from my full potential. I wasn’t nearly as out of breath as I used to be. I also jogged now instead of lumbered.
Coach’s whistle blew and we huddled up again. Flip called another play and we assembled on the line of scrimmage. On his call, I flew forward, totally misreading our defensive back’s next move. I landed on the ground and ate a mouthful of grass as he moved around me.
I spit out the grass, got to my feet, and twisted around to see the defensive back on top of Flip.
Whoops.
They untangled themselves from one another. Once upright, Flip’s angry eyes sought mine through the bars on his helmet. They narrowed, relaying what his words didn’t.
“My bad, kid,” I said.
“Kid?” he spat. “Fuck you!”
“A kid with a foul mouth,” I corrected myself.
The fire in his eyes was comical. “You got a problem with me, Grady?”
“Now that you mention it. That pointing thing you do. Yeah. That bothers the hell out of me.”
His disgust with me was evident. “Think you can make a fucking block?”
“A fucking block? Is that the same as a normal block?” I asked.
Some of the guys chuckled behind me.
Flip didn’t like that. He flew across the space, shoving me in the chest. But like my run-in with Caden two years earlier, he didn’t move me.
Though anger coursed through my veins, I grinned down at where he’d shoved me. “I’ve been working out.”
Flip didn’t like that either. He lowered his shoulder and charged at me.
“This’ll be fun,” I said, braced for the impact.
As soon as he hit me, I flailed back. So much for bracing for impact. He landed on top of me and everyone stepped back, letting us go at it. He punched at my padded chest but I easily shoved his ass off me and jumped to my feet. “Maybe I’ll start protecting you once I respect you,” I said as he got to his feet. “And right now pretty boy, you ain’t earned it.”
Flip glared at me.
“Stop acting like your shit don’t stink and start acting like a leader. A true leader. Caden Brooks never would’ve pulled the shit you’re pulling.” I walked to the sideline, grabbed a bottle of water from the table, and squirted a stream down my throat.
The fucking nerve of that chump.
“Well done,” a voice congratulated me from nearby.
I glanced to my side.
Coach wasn’t looking at me as he grabbed his tablet from the bench and walked out onto the field.
Huh. So, that’s what he meant about getting Flip adjusted to how things were done around here.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grady
Though you couldn’t see the speakers with all the people crowding my living room, the bass shook the mother-effing house. Football parties were the biggest and best parties on and off campus. And, since the entire student body had returned to campus, everyone wanted in. But I wasn’t in charge of the door tonight. This Saturday night was about letting off steam before our first game. Once the season officially began, my drinking needed to be kept to a minimum.
It was past ten when I sought another pitcher of beer to guzzle. It wasn’t normally on my new diet, but tonight was no-holds-barred. And I was fucking indulging.
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed an empty pitcher from the top of the fridge. I pushed myself to the front of the keg line because, let’s be real, who was gonna stop me in my own house? I filled the pitcher and made my way through the first floor checking out the scene, including the fresh meat. I poured the beer down my throat as I walked, some of it missing my mouth and dribbling down the front of my white T-shirt. Fuck it. I pulled it over my head and draped it over my shoulder.
Some of the girls lining the hallway took me in. I wasn’t used to the attention. Rewind. I always received attention, but it was normally because of my big mouth. This time girls were checking out my bare chest and the six-pack abs I now sported. “Yes, ladies. They’re real. And I’m definitely not opposed to you touching them.”
Some of the younger girls giggled. It must’ve been their first college party. Some of the familiar faces, the ones who ordinarily would’ve rolled their eyes at me, were appreciating my reformed body. I swaggered my way toward the living room so they could really admire me. The room grew quiet as I entered. Were more people interested in my abs than I realized? I spun around. But no one paid me any attention. All eyes were on the front door. Fuck. Had the cops been called to break up the party?
As if in a bad dream, Flip-fucking-Caruso stepped through my front door. Some people shouted his name, and he did that pointing shit again. I took one step forward, ready to bounce his ass from the property. We may have been teammates, but it didn’t make us friends.
“Be cool,” Abbott said, grabbing my arm from behind and stopping me from moving forward. “He’s your teammate.”
“Right,” I balked. “A great flippin’ teammate.”
“Grady,” Abbott warned. “There’re a lot of people here tonight. They should only see you guys getting along.”
“Fuck everyone,” my drunk ass spewed, loud enough for everyone around to turn and look at me.
“Dude. Be smart,” Abbott persisted. “And put a shirt on.”
I stood there stewing, watching the faces of all the girls in the room—even the guys in the room—eyeing our new quarterback with awe. What the hell was it about this guy? Why were they so impressed?
And then it happened.
The floor nearly dropped out from beneath me.
I blinked hard, trying to clear the liquor-induced haze from my eyes.
Was I dreaming?
Was I drunker than I thought?
I focused hard on the girl who walked in beside Flip.
Her blonde hair hung past her shoulders and a loose braid was twisted across the top of her head before disappearing into her waves. Her eyes, the lightest shade of blue I’d ever seen, searched the room. They stopped when they landed on mine, widening on contact.
Emery.
It was as though a large dose of electricity zapped through my body. My thoughts swirled in a hundred different directions as I stared across the room at the girl who’d disappeared from my life without a trace four years before.
My breath whooshed out of me.
She was alive.
She’d grown.
She was taller
. Curvier. More beautiful.
Her entire face lit up and a huge smile spread across her lips.
It had been a long damn time since someone looked at me that way.
She didn’t hesitate, rushing forward and weaving anxiously around the bodies separating us. She finally stopped in front of me. We weren’t quite at eye level, so she tilted her back to look up at me with big twinkling eyes. “Hi.”
I said nothing, just stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. I breathed in her fresh-scented shampoo. “You’re real.”
Her body shook with laughter.
I stepped back and stared down at her. “You’re really alive.” It wasn’t my drunkenness talking. When her stepdad disappeared, I expected the worst. I had nightmares he somehow found them. Those dreams lasted for two fucking years.
Sadness shone in Emery’s eyes. Hadn’t she realized that’s what I would’ve thought since she never contacted me? “Jordan. I—”
“Emery?”
We both turned quickly, realizing we were in the middle of a very loud and crowded room.
Flip stood there staring at Emery. “What are you doing?” he asked before draping his arm around her neck.
Vomit crept up the back of my throat. Why the hell wasn’t she brushing his arm away?
“I…” she began, her eyes jumping between us.
Confusion grasped hold of my drunken brain. Then hatred stronger than anything I’d ever felt before spread through me, the white-hot searing kind that made you do irrational things.
The Emery I knew didn’t hang out with assholes.
The Emery I knew didn’t let guys hang all over her.
The Emery I knew…walked out of my life four years ago.
Then, as if I wasn’t standing right there, Flip turned them away from me and walked toward the kitchen.
Emery glanced over her shoulder and mouthed, “Sorry.”
Flip pointed left and right to people I had no clue he even knew who pointed back at him.
Oh, hell no.
Emery wasn’t walking away from me again. Especially with him. I needed to talk to her. I needed her to explain what the hell happened. Where she disappeared to. And why the fuck she was with Flip.
I wove around the people crammed into the hallway, bumping them left and right without apology, until I reached the kitchen. Flip filled a red cup at the keg and handed it to Emery.
Hell to the no fucking way.
I stormed over and ripped the cup out of her hand. The beer inside sloshed back and forth, spilling over the sides of the cup. I pinned Flip with my eyes. “She doesn’t drink, asshole,” I slurred like a drunken dick.
Emery’s eyes narrowed.
Why was she looking at me that way?
“You’re drunk?” she said quietly.
And even though I knew why she was disgusted by my obvious drunkenness, she wasn’t gonna drunk-shame me in my own house after she deserted me. After she showed up with that asshole. After she—
She turned to walk away from me.
I grabbed hold of her wrist.
She gasped as I pulled her toward the back door. “Jordan.”
“What the fuck, Grady?” Flip said, following us.
Abbott jumped between us, stopping Flip from moving outside. “Dude, give him a minute.”
I tugged Emery out into the backyard until we were away from prying eyes. I stopped by the woods lining the yard and faced her. “Why are you with him?” I demanded, the slur in my voice noticeably worse.
“We haven’t seen each other in four years,” she said with hurt emanating from her eyes. “And that’s the first thing you ask me?”
“Maybe if you’d called, I wouldn’t have to ask. I’d already fucking know.”
Her eyes widened.
“Does the truth hurt?” I slurred, wanting to shut up but incapable of stopping my lips from moving.
Emery’s eyes had shown nothing but love and admiration for me since the day we met. But as we stood alone in my empty backyard, with music pounding the walls inside my house, I could see that look had disappeared. And in its place was disappointment. “I can’t believe I thought about this moment every day for the last four years.” Her eyes drifted over my bare chest with distaste. “What happened to you?” It wasn’t a question. It was an observation. And I couldn’t even blame her. I’d become a shell of the person she once knew.
Before I could make another brainless comment, she spun on her Chucks and stormed off. It took no more than five seconds for her to reach the house and disappear inside, leaving me outside alone. I hadn’t felt that alone since the last time she left me.
Drunk and angry, I tunneled my fingers through my hair. “Fuuuuuuuck!” I yelled into the woods.
I had no idea what to say when I knew Emery had been right. That wasn’t at all how our reunion should’ve gone.
“Grady?”
I spun around.
Sabrina stood on the deck staring out at me. “You okay?”
I knew the stubborn girl would stand there until she had an answer so there was no use lying. I shook my head.
She hurried down the steps. “What happened?”
I shook my head again, in no condition to unload my latest fuck-up on one of my only friends on campus.
“Come on,” she said. “You don’t look good. You’re coming home with me.”
I scoffed. “Don’t promise a guy he’s coming home with you if he’s not coming home with you.”
She shook her head. “With you this drunk, it’s not even worth it.”
“I’m not even worth it.”
She wrapped her arm around my waist, and I willingly let her move us toward the back gate. We both knew it was smarter to avoid the inside of the house. Nothing good would come from me going back in there.
CHAPTER NINE
Grady
I rolled over, nearly slipping off the side of the bed. My arm shot out. The wall that normally lined the left side of my bed was no longer there. I struggled to open my crusty eyes. Once I did, sunlight infiltrated my vision, stinging like a mother. No wonder why the wall wasn’t there. I was in Sabrina’s room. I opened and closed my mouth, but I couldn’t rid it of the cotton texture and stale beer taste.
“Morning, sunshine.”
I looked to the floor where Sabrina lay under a blanket texting on her phone. “What are you doing down there?”
“I wasn’t about to sleep with you.”
“Why not?” I propped myself up on my elbow. “I would’ve made all your dreams come true.”
“Then Crosby would’ve killed you.”
I scoffed. “I’d like to see him try.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s really a moot point since you could barely make it up the stairs to get up here. You weren’t making anyone’s dreams come true.”
“That bad?”
“That bad,” she assured me.
I fell back on the bed and scrubbed my hands up and down my face, trying to recall the night’s events. How much had I drank?
“You gonna tell me who that girl was?” Sabrina asked.
“Girl?”
“The one with the quarterback.”
“Fuck!” I sprang up. “Emery.”
“Who’s Emery?”
Fuck, Fuck, fuck. “I’ve gotta find her.”
Sabrina’s face scrunched. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I groaned as the previous night’s events flooded my brain. I was such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot.
My parents and friends back home knew never to mention Emery. So it had been a long time since I’d actually talked about her. But I trusted Sabrina. And I clearly needed someone to talk to. So I talked.
I talked a lot.
I talked until Sabrina stared at me with pity in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” I warned.
She huffed. “Forgive me for liking the vulnerable side of you.”
“I’m not vulnerable,” I grumbled. “I’
m pissed.”
She snorted. “There’s the big baby I’ve grown to know and tolerate.”
“Liar. You love me.”
“Don’t let Crosby hear you talking like that.”
“Why? I’m already sleeping in his girl’s bed.”
Her eyes widened with amusement as she grabbed her pillow and chucked it at my head.
“I knew you girls loved your pillow fights.”
She shook her head before grabbing her phone to make a call.
“Are you really calling him? Because I’m not looking to have to kick your boy’s ass.”
She rolled her eyes and lifted the phone to her ear. “Hey, Leigh, it’s Sabrina. I’ve got a big favor to ask…Yeah,” she said lowering her voice. “I’ve seen Grady’s abs.” She peeked over to see if I’d heard her.
I didn’t even try hiding my shit-eating grin.
Sabrina shook her head as she continued her conversation. “I need you to find out which dorm Emery Pruitt’s living in and her schedule…Yup. That’s it. Thanks so much.” Sabrina disconnected the call and looked to me. “Leigh works in the registrar’s office. She’ll check tomorrow.”
I nodded, nervous to actually find Emery again. What would I say? Would she even talk to me? Better yet. Would she tell me why she was on campus?
CHAPTER TEN
Emery
I rolled over in bed, not having slept well at all the previous night. And though the blinds were closed, sunlight filtered into my dorm room. My roommate Raquel’s comforter was still neatly in place. Guess she ended up staying with the guy she met at the party—Jordan’s party.
God.
My heart tripped over itself at the sight of him. The feel of his arms wrapped around me brought on so many emotions. I almost burst into tears in the middle of the party. His hand on my wrist elicited tingles I hadn’t felt since I shared his bed. But when his touch became tighter than necessary, I knew that wasn’t my Jordan. My Jordan would never have handled me roughly like that.
I hadn’t been lying when I told him I’d thought about our reunion every day since I’d left. I had. I longed for the day I could get into Alabama and be with him again. But it wasn’t at all how I saw it play out. Jordan was angry. And drunk. The angry I could understand. I’d dropped off the face of the earth and magically reappeared four years later—at his house. I expected resistance. What I didn’t expect was his drunken belligerence. He’d seen the life I lived with a drunk and violent stepdad. I never imagined he might’ve turned out like him.