by Lexi Ryan
I want to go back in time and tell my father that no matter how bad things are, it’s not worth it.
“She’s taking her pregnancy pretty hard,” Dad says. “What do you think about the father?”
“Keegan?” Wincing at the way I unintentionally made it a question, I scratch my head. I don’t want to get involved. Olivia’s pregnancy and the way Keegan handled it made me respect Keegan off the field for the first time since I met him. My sister’s an idiot, and Keegan has every right to walk away after her lies and manipulations. Instead, he’s doing his best to stick around, even as Liv tries to push him away. “He’s fine. He’ll do right by her if she’ll let him.”
“Poor guy’s trapped,” Dad says, shaking his head. “She shouldn’t have fucking gotten pregnant.”
That is so quintessentially my father. Even when it comes to his own daughter, the pregnancy is entirely the woman’s fault. “I think Liv feels pretty trapped right now too.”
“She’ll be fine,” Dad says. “I’ll take care of her.”
My stomach twists. If the business falls apart, he won’t be in a position to take care of Liv. I study Dad’s face and wish I could ask the question I need to ask. Are you dealing again? But I can’t. I’m too afraid of the answer.
* * *
Chris closes his laptop and takes a deep breath. “We should have this.”
“We do. Absolutely.” I bump his shoulder with my fist. I wish he weren’t so stressed about making this a winning season, but I also know that the team gets its strength from Chris’s calm leadership and high expectations.
“You’re going to destroy them,” Bailey says from Chris’s kitchen. I’m pretty sure she spends most of her free time hanging out with Mason, who shares this apartment with Chris.
It’s Wednesday, three days until BHU will play its first game of the season. Chris and I spent the last two hours watching our opponents’ games from last year, identifying their weaknesses and strategizing ways to tackle their strengths. We did it with the team and the new head coach last week, but when Chris asked me if I’d come review them again with him tonight, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to put off packing my bags and telling my parents I had to move home by the end of the month.
“Sorry for keeping you so late,” Chris says, looking at his watch. “Fuck. You probably wanted to see Alex tonight.”
Bailey snorts. “I’m sure he did.”
“She’s just a friend,” I explain to Chris.
His eyes go wide in surprise. “Sorry. I thought…”
“That’s what everyone thinks,” Bailey tells Chris.
I groan. “Why is it so surprising I have a female friend?”
Chris and Bailey exchange a look, and Chris bites back a grin. “Nah, it’s not surprising. I just misunderstood.”
“We like her, Bash,” Bailey says. “She’s really sweet. Now that Grace is back to New York and Mia’s so busy playing house with Arrow, I’ve decided I’m adopting Alex.”
Chris’s phone rings, and he grins down at it. “Speak of the devil.” He swipes his screen. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hi, Grace!” Bailey shouts in Chris’s direction before filling her wine glass.
Chris stands and covers the receiver. “She says hi, but I’m going to take this in my room. Night, Sebastian. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I follow his lead and stand from the couch. “Sleep well.”
Chris heads down the hall to his bedroom, and Bailey holds up her wine glass. “You want some?”
“I need to get out of here anyway.” I toss my beer bottle in the recycling bin under the counter. “I should start packing so I don’t have to do it all on Sunday.”
“Packing?” Bailey says. “Where are you going?”
“Fuck. Home, I guess.” Not that I want to. I already work for my dad; having him looking over my shoulder all the time would be worse. “My roommate totally flaked on the lease, and now I don’t have anywhere to stay. If he’d given me some notice, I might have been able to find a new roommate or an apartment I could afford on my own, but it turns out he’s not just a lazy slob, he’s also an inconsiderate asshole. I’ve asked around, and no one needs a roommate, and I don’t really have time to find one.”
Bailey studies me for a minute, thoughtful, and I’m convinced she’s going to suggest a potential roommate when she says, “You can move in with me.”
“You’re serious?”
“Um, yeah. I quit shaking my ass for money. I need all the help I can get. I have a second bedroom, and I hate most girls too much to live with them.” Topping off her wine, she grins. “I mean, you have to walk around shirtless all the time and bring me coffee in bed.” When I arch a brow, she rolls her eyes. “I’m joking about the coffee in bed. But yes, I’m serious about you moving in with me.”
“Why?”
She ticks reasons off on her fingers. “I know you. You’re normal. You have good personal hygiene. You’re not going to come on to me. You’re responsible, and you’re no drama llama. Oh, and you’re nice to look at. In other words, you’re my ideal roommate.”
I fold my arms and rock back on my heels. “Why do you assume I’m not going to come on to you?”
She takes a long pull of her wine and hums, avoiding my gaze. “I just know.”
“How, exactly?” She’s right, after all, but I find her confidence in the matter surprising. Bailey’s hot in the most obvious way. Long blond hair, curves, and a wicked sense of humor. And though she’s right not to worry about me hitting on her, because I just don’t see her that way, I’m curious why she would be so sure. “Bailey?”
She swirls her wine in her glass before lifting her eyes to meet mine. “Because, Sebastian Crowe, you’re in love with someone else.”
I frown, and in the back of my mind I hear the warning blare of distant sirens. “Where did you get that idea?”
Sighing, she walks around the island and gives my cheek a light smack. “If you don’t want everyone to know, you should probably stop looking at her like she’s half angel sent from heaven, half walking wet dream.”
* * *
Martina’s Journal
I went to that house again, looking for Crowe. I tried to play it cool, but his friend laughed at me and shook his head when I asked about him. He laughed, said Crowe was busy, and that a little girl like me shouldn’t mess with a guy like him.
Seriously? Challenge accepted.
Chapter Eleven
Sebastian
When I walk into the Commons on Thursday afternoon, my eyes immediately land on Alex. I swear we could be in a crowded room with thousands of people, and if she were within a hundred yards of me, I’d spot her. Women’s studies is on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, so I don’t get to spend time with her on Tuesday and Thursday unless we run into each other at the shop. Seeing her now feels so damn good it’s almost like relief.
I walk over to her. She’s scribbling in a notebook and biting her bottom lip, as if she’s thinking hard. A lock of hair falls in her face, and I have to tuck my hands into my pockets to keep myself from tucking it behind her ear.
“Can I interrupt?” I pull out the chair across from her and nod to her notebook. “What were you working on?”
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m trying to keep a journal. It’s something I started when I moved to Colorado, and trust me when I say I had plenty of time for journaling.” She laughs. “Anyway, it’s been good for me. It’s helped me start to work through…” Her eyes flash to me and back down.
“The fire,” I say.
She nods. “Yeah, and everything else.”
“Well, I think that’s cool. Keeping a journal, I mean. It’s something you can look back on later.”
She toys with her pen. “Martina was religious about it. Well…” She shifts. “She had periods where she wasn’t as good about it, but before…she made it a priority. She was a great writer.”
All the warmth I felt in my gut when
I spotted her turns to cold stone. “Really?” I try to sound intrigued rather than panicked.
“She was a fanatic. When we were in middle school, she’d write in it twice a day. Less once we hit high school, and then more sporadically once she got wrapped up in…everything.” She shakes her head. “She was so private about it, and sometimes I wonder if I’d have been able to help her change course if I’d sneaked a peek. Maybe I could have gotten her help sooner? Maybe everything would have been different?”
Her questions make my chest ache. “Don’t do that to yourself.”
“Don’t worry.” She shrugs. “I can’t feel bad about not reading them. Those books were her space. We shared everything—a room, clothes, friends, even our car when we turned sixteen. She insisted that our diaries were our space and no one else’s. We made a pinky promise that we’d never read the other’s, and that we’d never let anyone else read them either.”
I can’t think about what might or might not be in Martina’s journal. “You kept one too?”
“I wasn’t very good about it. I have one partially filled book that covers six years, whereas she filled so many she has a full shelf in our bedroom lined with hers.”
Not all of them. The rock in the pit of my stomach crumbles and digs into my gut like gravel embedded in a flesh wound.
“I’ll read them someday. Maybe.” She shakes her head as if to clear away the thoughts. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down.”
“You don’t need to apologize for talking about your sister.” Even if it ties me in knots. Even if it makes me want to choke on guilt and regret.
“Yeah. I know. But I’m trying to move on—not leave her behind, just move forward.” She lifts her palms up and pastes on a smile. “And that’s why I’m here having the real college experience.”
I laugh. “The real college experience is living in a one-bedroom apartment with three other people who get on your nerves and one bathroom that always smells like shit. A million-dollar mansion on the swanky side of town doesn’t compare.” Bailey told me about Alex’s housesitting arrangement, and as much as I hate the idea of her living in that big house alone, I understand why she took the opportunity to live away from home.
“Ah, but a girl can dream, can’t she? I’m sure I’ll get my turn at the stinky apartment too.”
“God willing.” I take a breath, glad for the change of subject. “Are you working tonight?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I have the night off.”
“I’m hanging out at Chris and Mason’s after practice. Do you want to come?”
She folds her arms. “Why do you assume I’m available? Maybe I have a date.”
I flinch at that slap to the face. I don’t like thinking of Alex dating anyone, because dates lead to kissing and kissing leads to touching. And touching leads to… Shit. “Anyone I know?”
“I said maybe I have a date.”
I frown. “So you don’t?”
She shrugs. “You’ve been awesome, Sebastian, but I don’t want you feeling like you have to hang out with me.”
“Are you going to give me that pity friendship line again?”
“Come on. Did we ever hang out in high school? Other than doing projects for class, did we ever go to the movies or have mutual friends? You were my friend. I considered you a good friend, but I had no idea who you were when you weren’t in class. I still don’t.” She shakes her head. “It’s fine. I appreciate you introducing me to Mia and your sister and the guys, but I don’t need you to babysit me.”
I want to object. I want to tell her how much I want her around, how much I love just being close to her. But I keep my mouth shut.
When the girl you need to keep your distance from pushes you away, let her.
* * *
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The game should have been in the bag, and we almost lost it. Mason has better ball control than every other wide receiver on this team—better than ninety percent of the guys in the Big Ten, honestly—so his first fumble was completely out of character. The second was unheard of. I’m just glad I was there to land on it before the other team could get the turnover.
Mason’s fuming in the locker room at halftime. I walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. “Shake it off.”
“Fuck you.” Standing, he puffs out his chest and takes a step toward me, his jaw hard. He’s been giving me the cold shoulder all day, but I figured he was just stressed about school or something. Suddenly, I’m realizing this isn’t just Mason having a bad day. I’ve pissed him off somehow, and maybe if I didn’t have so much of my own shit going on, I’d feel bad about that. But as it is, I don’t have time or the energy for his bullshit.
“Mason,” Chris says, warning in his tone.
I hold up my hands. “Whoa. What’s the problem?”
Keegan snorts from his seat in front of the lockers. “Jesus, Crowe, you’re not really that clueless.”
I look at the anger in Mason’s eyes, to the sympathy in Chris’s, to the amusement in Keegan’s. Something’s going on, and apparently every-fucking-body but me knows about it.
Chris shifts his eyes to meet mine and holds my gaze for a beat before he says, “Bailey.”
I’m confused for a minute—what about her?—but then I see the hurt on Mason’s face, and instead of being irritated at his moodiness, it clicks, and I feel like a complete dick. “This is about me moving in with Bailey?”
Mason doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t look at me, and I can see the truth in the set of his jaw.
“Well, fuck.” I shake my head. “I didn’t even think about it, but Mase, I swear it’s not like that. I’m renting a room from her. There’s nothing between us.”
“Whatever.” Mason gives me his back and throws his towel into his locker. “It doesn’t fucking matter anyway.”
Chris is still staring at me, his eyes delivering his message loud and clear: Make this right.
If we’re going to win this game, we need Mason to have his head on straight, it’s true. But for Chris, it’s more than that. Mason’s his roommate and one of his best friends. This isn’t just about football. It’s personal.
I lean against the lockers next to where Mason’s standing, and fold my arms. “It’s better this way,” I say softly. “Any other guy might have gone in there and tried to hook up with her, but you know me. That’s not what I’m about. I respect Bailey, and I respect you. I’m not going to come between you two because I’m not interested in her that way.”
Without looking at me, Mason slams his locker shut and leans his head against the red metal door. “I have no right to be jealous or territorial. I fucking know that.”
“Five minutes!” Coach calls from the other side of the locker room.
Mason’s got it bad for Bailey, and she won’t commit to him. Last spring, he told her he didn’t want to mess around anymore. He wanted her to be his girlfriend or nothing. He got nothing. No one knows what’s keeping Bailey from giving him a chance. They’re still great friends, and as far as we can tell she’s not sleeping with anyone else—even if she likes to pretend she gets around.
“Mason,” I say, waiting for him to look at me.
When Mason turns around, the anger in his face has faded. “Not right now, okay?”
“Are you good?” Chris asks him, and Mason nods. “Then let’s go win this game.”
Chapter Twelve
Alexandra
“Fuck this,” Bailey mutters. She chews on her nails and stares down to where the BHU marching band is making their way onto the field. “Mason never fumbles. Something’s up with him.”
My stomach is in knots. For someone who’s never cared much about football or sports of any kind, my visceral reaction to this game surprises me. Judging by the look on Bailey’s face, and the way she’s holding her stomach, I’m not alone.
“Maybe he’s just having an off day,” Mia says from the other side of me.
“Yeah.” Bailey shakes her head as
if to clear out the worry. “Yeah, he’ll be fine after halftime.”
“Alexandra? Is that you?” I look up to see Logan Lucas, owner of the super-hot ’65 Shelby, standing on the bleacher stairs. He steps into the empty row in front of us to face me. “It’s great to see you here.”
I’m immediately aware of my exposed scars, and I lift my hand to cover the skin at the base of my throat. “Hi. How are you?”
Grinning, he takes my hand from my neck and kisses my knuckles. “Better now.” Maybe from any other guy, this move paired with that line would be awkward or over the top, but Logan’s smooth enough to pull it off somehow. “You never called.”
I turn to look at Bailey, whose raised eyebrow and pursed lips communicate her I told you so as clearly as if she said it out loud.
“Sorry.” Logan pulls my attention back to him. He sighs heavily and squeezes my fingertips once before releasing my hand. “I have a weakness for beautiful women who know their cars.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve just been busy.”
He arches a brow, and I know he doesn’t believe that’s the reason I haven’t been in touch, but he lets it go and waves to Bailey. “You having an okay night?”
She looks at the scoreboard. “Could be better.”
“They’ll get it together for the second half,” Mia says, but she doesn’t look convinced.
“I have faith in these guys.” Logan looks out at the field before turning his gaze back to me. “Alexandra, my offer stands.” With a wink, he walks away, and my stomach does a soft little flutter. That’s gotta be a good sign, right? Sebastian’s been the only guy capable of eliciting that reaction in me since I was sixteen years old, but here’s this sweet guy with fabulous taste in cars who not only seems to genuinely like me, but he makes me feel something. Maybe I’m not ruined after all.
