The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1)

by Martin, R. C.

  “He doesn’t want me there,” I reply softly, wrapping my arms around myself. The ache of his absence is all consuming. I can’t believe it’s been three—going on four—days since we’ve spoken. I don’t know what it means, but it’s killing me. I want to know how he’s doing; if he’s read the letter; if he threw it away. I want to know what he’s feeling and what he’s thinking. I broke my promise to never keep secrets from him and now it seems as though the distance between us is filling up with secrets—thoughts, feelings, truths—things that would never even be considered secrets if we were speaking to each other. But we’re not.

  “Snap out of it!” she demands, stomping her foot. “He does want you there. If you just got out of your own way for two seconds, you would remember that.”

  “Claire, I hurt him. I hurt him so badly and we haven’t—”

  “Spoken. I know! Trust me, honey, we all know. You’re both miserable shadows of your former selves without each other. But just because he can’t say the words, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you there today.”

  “There’s going to be thousands of people there!” I mutter, pushing myself up into a seated position. “He won’t even notice if I don’t come!” Saying the words out loud is like running a dagger through my heart.

  “Bullshit. Pardon my French.” She huffs out a breath and then takes a seat next to me. “Listen to me. This is your first fight, but it sure as hell isn’t your last. This isn’t the last time you’ll hurt him. Sooner or later, he’s going to hurt you, too—and it’s going to feel worse than this. I guarantee it. But you two love each other something fierce. It’s like Romeo and Juliet epic—except for without the death. Damn Shakespeare and his tragedies.” She shakes her head and then squares her shoulders as she refocuses. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, you’ll get through it. I know you will. But if you don’t come to this game today, you’ll regret it forever. It’s the last game he’ll play at Mile High! It’s his last season opener. It’s his last big rivalry game. This year is going to be filled with lasts—but with you by his side, there will be just as many firsts! This is your first game as his girlfriend and you cannot miss it. So will you please get out of this bed?”

  Her words hit me like a slap in the face. For a moment, I’m too stunned to think, let alone move or even speak.

  “Okay,” she says as she stands. “Guess I have to pull out the bait.” When she leaves the room, I notice that Addison and Sarah are standing at the door, both of them dressed and ready to go. Like Claire, they’re in shorts and each of them is wearing their favorite CSU t-shirt. They also have their hair pulled up into ponytails with matching yellow bows wrapped around the base. Neither of them says a word and we all watch as Claire comes back into the room. When she holds up the shirt, my jaw drops open. “My mom made you one, too.”

  The shirt in her hands looks almost exactly like the one she’s wearing; the only difference is, instead of “Davis’s Future Wifey,” it says, “O’Conner’s Shorty;” and on the back, below “My Man,” is the number ten—Sonny’s number. When my eyes fill up with the tears I didn’t think I had, she shakes her head at me.

  “No crying. We don’t have time for crying. We have to leave in forty-five minutes and you are behind. Now get your tush in the shower—and don’t make me beg.”

  She’s right. I know she’s right. I told Sonny that I would fight for him and there’s no way I can do that in this bed. I refuse to break another promise to him, so I get up and I get in the shower.

  Forty minutes later, I’m armed for battle. I’m wearing a pair of white shorts and my gifted shirt, which tells the world that Grayson is mine and I am his. Claire has painted CSU across my cheeks, and now all of us girls are sporting our school pride on our faces. My hair is washed and halfway dried—which will have to do—and I feel so much more like myself. I leave it down, where it hangs almost to my waist, and I tie a yellow bow in it as a headband. I slip my feet into my favorite pair of Toms—the navy ones I was wearing when Grayson asked me to be his girlfriend—and just in time, we’re out the door.

  We arrive at the stadium at eleven thirty and our small crowd climbs out of Hammy’s vehicle immediately. I’m vaguely aware that Hammy is the only man standing without Sonny and Jack; at least today he is. Sarah, Addison, Claire, Logan, and I make up his entourage—but I’m so distracted, even Logan’s presence doesn’t bother me. Not even a little bit. Kickoff is at one thirty and, while everyone else eats sandwiches, chips, and cookies, I keep checking the time—which is moving too fast and too slow all at once. I’m so anxious, I can hardly sit still.

  I know that I won’t actually get to speak with Sonny, but I’ll get to see him. Yeah, it might be from very far away, but it’ll be more than I’ve seen of him since Tuesday. Then, of course, there’s the game to worry about. He needs a win. I know that better than anyone else. Today, when I’m routing for our team, it’ll be about so much more than school pride. I need our team to win so that he has something to feel good about—a victory that he can hold onto in the midst of everything else that sucks in his life right now. I want this for him more than anything.

  And, to be honest, I’m hoping that a win will soften his heart a little; maybe then he’ll finally talk to me.

  “Come on, Little Red,” says Claire, reaching for my hand. “I can tell you’re chomping at the bit to get in there. Let’s go.” I circle my fingers around hers and check the time. 1:00. My heart beats faster in anticipation.

  Whether or not the others follow, I’m not sure; I assume they’re right behind us and if they aren’t, then they will be soon. By the time we get to our seats, after Claire insists on a bathroom stop, there’s less than fifteen minutes until the game begins. My stomach is in knots and I suddenly feel like I need to go for a run. I don’t, of course; instead I sit impatiently in my seat. As I guessed, we’re pretty far away from the field—but when the team finally comes out, my heart stops when I spot him. I recognize him right away. I’d know my man anywhere.

  “Hey, take a breath,” instructs Addie as she squeezes my knee. She’s sitting on the opposite side of me, leaving me sandwiched between her and Claire. Sarah is on the opposite side of Claire which puts Hammy in an Addie and Logan sandwich.

  How interesting.

  “This is going to be fun,” continues Addie, interrupting my thoughts. “Don’t worry so much. He’s the starting quarterback for a reason. He’s going to lead us to victory and you’ll be so glad you came.”

  I offer her a small smile before looking back down at the field. I watch him take off his helmet and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of his dark auburn hair. “I already am,” I murmur.

  After the national anthem and the coin toss, the game begins. The first quarter flies and five minutes into the second, I remember Addie’s comment about how this is going to be fun and I cringe. This game is the opposite of fun. We’re not doing very well. We haven’t tanked our chances yet, but we’re just barely scraping by. The score is 14-3; Sonny’s been sacked three times, his passing yards are scoff worthy, and he even managed to fumble the ball. Sonny has never fumbled the ball. He isn’t perfect, and he has thrown a few interceptions over the last couple of years—what QB hasn’t?—but he’s never fumbled the ball. It’s been something he could brag about. Not anymore. The reality of that truth crushes me.

  Two minutes before the half, CSU has possession of the ball. We’re on the twenty-yard-line in CU territory, and I’m hopeful—we’re all hopeful—that we’ll finally score a touchdown. On our second down, Sonny gets sacked again! On third down, he throws an interception.

  I think I might cry.

  CU kicks a field goal just before the half, making the score 17-3.

  “Shit! Is it me, or is this the worst game Grayson has ever played? I think you broke him!” cries Logan as she looks at me incredulously.

  “Hey—watch it!” Claire bites back with a glare.

  I shake my head and bury my face in my hands. The
crazy thing is, I think she’s right. I broke him. “She’s right,” I moan.

  “I have an idea,” says Claire. “Come with me.” I look up at her in question and she offers her hand in response. “Right now, get up. We gotta go.”

  I groan as I do what I’m told. I surrender to her tug, unsure where we’re going and uncertain if I even care. The hope I felt at the beginning of this game is all but gone after Sonny’s first half performance. His head is so not in this game and I know that it’s my fault—which makes it less likely that he’ll want to talk to me afterwards. I’m so consumed in my thoughts, that I hardly notice when the noise of the crowd seems to die away as we go deeper and deeper into the underbelly of the stadium.

  “Um, Claire? Are we lost?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, where are we going?” I look ahead of me and see a security guard standing in front of a set of double doors. I look to Claire and then back at the guard and my confusion sky rockets. “Claire?” She ignores me as we approach the man who eyes us with as much confusion as I feel.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah. We need to get to the locker rooms.”

  “What?!” I cry, my confusion replaced with fear as I let go of her hand.

  “I can’t let you through here,” says the guard at the same time.

  Claire, who isn’t afraid of the word no fixes him with a pointed look. “Who are you rooting for today?”

  “I bleed green and gold,” he says with a smirk.

  “Great! So we’re on the same side! Do you realize that we’re losing?”

  “It’s been a rough half but we can come back.”

  “You’re right. We can—if you let her in there,” she says, pointing at me.

  “What?” he and I say together.

  Claire turns toward me and places her hands on my shoulders. “You need to talk to him. Now. I don’t care what you say, but you’re the only one who can fix his game.” She turns her attention back to the guard. “She’s the only one. You’ve got to let her in.” He furrows his brow as he looks between the two of us. “Please? She’s his girlfriend.” She points at my shirt and his eyes follow. He hesitates for another minute. “For the love of all things good, let her in!”

  Finally, he turns and opens the door. “You have ten minutes. No way you’ll make it into the locker rooms, you’ll have to wait for him to come out. Go through these doors to the end of the corridor and then take a left; you’ll see the tunnel that leads out to the field. If you don’t come back, I’ll be forced to come and find you. Got it?”

  Suddenly, I can’t breathe. “Claire, I don’t—”

  “Go! You’ll miss him if you don’t. He needs you.”

  He needs me?

  He needs me.

  I nod, pulling courage from the conviction behind her words, and then I run.

  The directions given to me to find the tunnel were easy enough, but I simply can’t remember them as I make my way down the long corridor. There are places for me to turn all over and I’m afraid I’ll get so turned around that I won’t be able to find my way back, let alone find my way to Sonny. There are people scattered all over the place—official looking people—and seeing as how I’m obviously lost and unofficial looking, I start to worry that someone will find out I don’t belong and escort me out; but then I hear the shuffling of cleats and I freeze.

  This is it, I tell myself, trying to hold on to the courage that got me to the place where I now stand. I inch my way a little closer to the passing players and push myself up on my tiptoes as I look for Sonny—I gasp when I spot him.

  “Sonny!” I cry out before I can even think about it. He doesn’t hear me, so I call out to him again. Still, with the noise of the crowd trickling down the tunnel and the echo of the teams’ footsteps, he can’t hear me. “O’CONNER!” I yell. I know he hears me when he stops dead in his tracks; as soon as he stops, my heart skips a beat. “Over here!” I call out, jumping up and down and waving my hands like a crazy person—which I’m beginning to think I am. I bite my lip when he looks at me and a blush fills my cheeks. I can’t believe I’m doing this. As he makes his way toward me, my erratic heart beats faster and louder. I have to remind myself to breathe, for the sight of him, closing the distance between us, renders me almost useless. I’ve missed him so much!

  “What are you doing?” he asks when he’s close enough to be heard. His tone isn’t cold or distant, it’s curious, which fills me to the brim with hope. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this game, but right now, I have his attention, I have a mission, and I will see it through.

  “Where are you?” I begin, timidly. “Your head is not in this game,” I continue, suddenly growing fearless. I love the man before me and I was meant to be here for this moment—I got out of bed to fight and this is my chance. “You are so much better than that first half.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I can tell he’s so beside himself that he can’t think of anything to say. “For the next thirty game-time minutes, you have to let it all go. Stop being mad at me!” I plead. “Stop thinking about your mom, or whatever it is that you’re thinking about, and play your game. Nobody can touch you out there. Isn’t that what you told me once? Out there, the world can’t hurt you. So stop letting them win! This game is yours. Do you hear me?”

  He stares at me for a moment and I meet his gaze unflinchingly. I watch him as he takes me in from head to toe and I relish in his unspoken longing to simply see me. I know exactly how he feels. I can tell when he reads my shirt because the tiniest, tiniest hint of a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth. If I would have blinked, I would have missed it. But I didn’t. I thank the Lord for all the muscles that make up the human face, for that movement, however minute, fills me with the boldness to make my next move.

  I reach up and grab hold of his pads, clenching my hand around the top rim that sits across his collar bone, and I yank him down to my level with all of my strength. Startled, he comes willingly, and when his lips are in reaching distance, I press mine to his. At first, he doesn’t kiss me back; but I refuse to claim defeat, so I reach up with my free hand and bury my fingers in his hair. His wavy mane is damp with sweat, but I don’t care. Not even a little bit.

  Then, all at once, my one-sided kiss becomes so much more. When he opens his mouth to claim mine, my stomach goes wild. It does somersaults and backflips and cartwheels and it’s as if Sonny and I have never kissed before this moment. He crushes me against him and I gasp as I’m forced onto my tiptoes. I never, ever, want this kiss to end—but at the sound of a wolf whistle from one of his team mates, and his name being called by someone I assume is a coach—considering his impatient tone—Grayson pulls away from me.

  “I have to go.” I nod and, before I can say another word, he’s running out onto the field. For a few seconds, I can’t move my feet, too caught up in the memory of his lips against mine. Then I snap out of it, remembering I have a game to watch.

  I run back down the corridor and, thankfully, locate the door that I came from. On the other side, I spot Claire pacing. She stops as soon as she sees me. “Did you find him? What happened?”

  I can’t contain the grin that spreads across my face; and as this is my first opportunity to embrace happiness in days, I realize that I don’t want to contain it. “I think we’re going to win,” I say, emboldened by my confidence in my man.

  She returns my grin with one of her own before she grabs my hand and we sprint our way back to our seats. Luckily, we don’t miss any of Sonny’s playing time, as CU receives the ball after the half.

  “Where have you two been? You missed the halftime show,” says Hammy upon our arrival. He knows how much I usually enjoy that part, but he has no idea that he’s got it backwards—he’s the one who missed the show.

  “I went to go see Sonny.”

  “You what?” he and Addie gasp in unison.

  As I sit, I turn to answer them—but my gaze is focused intently on Logan. “I fixed him.”
>
  At least, for the moment…I hope.

  Thirty game-time minutes later, I’m lost in a cacophony of cheers. After four CSU touchdowns, and not one more point scored by our opponents, we’ve won. 31-17. As I yell and scream with my fellow fans, my victory cry isn’t really for the football team. It’s for Grayson.

  Unfortunately, my good mood starts to fade on our long car ride home. I know that one kiss and one good game doesn’t fix what’s broken between us. Just because he spoke to me at the game, that doesn’t mean that he’ll want to speak to me after. So, when we get back to Fort Collins, instead of heading to the pub with everyone else, I ask Hammy to drop me at home. I give him a hug as I congratulate him and apologize for not coming out to celebrate his big accomplishment of completing his first round of medical school applications. He assures me that he understands and offers a bit of comfort when he tells me he knows Grayson and I will work it out.

  I cling to the hope that he’s right as I enter our apartment. I wash my cheeks, rubbing away my school pride and my battle paint, and try to convince myself that Sonny wouldn't have kissed me back if he hadn't forgiven me. Knowing that if I go into my room, my bed will invite me to come and mope, I decide to curl up on the couch instead. I hold my phone close to my heart and I wait. Wait and pray. It starts off as a prayer that Sonny will finally want to talk to me, but it soon shifts and evolves into a much more important plea to God. I ask that He would comfort Sonny and fill him with peace and understanding; that He would provide him with wisdom so that he might know how to move forward. Most of all, I ask for healing, because I know Sonny’s heart is broken in more ways than one.

  Then, just as I feel sleep beginning to pull at my eyelids, I’m roused by a knock at the door. I gasp as I sit up instantly. I know right away that it’s Sonny, as most of the student population is probably out painting the town green and gold, and I can’t think of anyone else who would know or care that I’m here. I hurry to the door and open it without delay. My shoulders slump in relief at the sight of him.