I had to fight the urge to grab my phone from my pocket. Even if I called to check on him, he probably wouldn’t answer anyway. His phone would likely be turned off. Besides, I wasn’t sure he would want to hear from me. Maybe our relationship hadn’t reached that point. Things were moving fast for us, but we’d only had three dates and one night of unforgettable sex. Technically we’d only been together a few weeks. I figured I’d just call him later after my shift was over.
The rest of my shift felt like I was walking underwater as the night dragged. The clock seemed to taunt me with each hour passing in slow motion. My nerves were stretched to the limit as the look on Dalton’s face kept flashing in my head. It was killing me not knowing what was wrong. I was sure it was just game stuff, but they’d still won. My hand closed around my cell phone for about the hundredth time since the game ended, but I forced myself to drop it back in my pocket. I would wait.
Closing duties were like an exercise in hell. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. Like spilling water all over the entryway carpet when the wheel on the mop bucket got stuck, or dumping an entire tray of premade burgers on the floor as I was trying to slide them into the industrial-sized refrigerator. By the time Amanda and I left, I was in a foul mood and anxious to drop her off so I could finally call Dalton.
I was dialing his number before Amanda had even closed the car door. I bit back a groan of dismay when it went straight to voice mail. “Shit,” I muttered to my empty car.
I stepped on the gas a little too hard, spinning out as I pulled away from Amanda’s dorm. I called Dalton again once I got home. It went right to voice mail. Fifteen minutes later, voice mail again. I lay on my bed and typed a frustrated text message, telling him to call me when he got a chance.
The next morning, I woke to find my message hadn’t been returned. No missed calls or voice mails, either. More than a little disappointed, I tossed my phone aside and climbed from bed. A burst of energy had me stripping my bed before heading to the laundry room with an armful of linens. Once the sheets were in the wash, I headed back to my room and gave it a whirlwind cleaning. I needed something to keep my mind occupied.
After changing out of my pajamas, I tried to call Dalton again with the same result as the night before. I sent him another text message before leaving my clean room behind. The nagging thoughts creeping into my head were beginning to frustrate me. I did my best to ignore them, heading to the kitchen to grab some breakfast before going over to Mom’s for the day. Honestly it probably wasn’t fair to think Dalton could be giving me the brush-off once again. I was freaking out over one night of unanswered calls and text messages. There had to be a reasonable explanation.
The kitchen was noisy and crowded when I entered, tempting me to hit a drive-through instead. It was great that Indy and Misha were both in love, but seeing them wrapped around their guys first thing in the morning after the sleepless night I’d had wasn’t all that appealing. Kier gave me a nod, looking uncomfortable amidst the chaos. In the small amount of time I’d spent with him, I had discovered he was quiet and not overly comfortable in loud settings. I smiled at him sympathetically before grabbing a package of Pop-Tarts and heading back to my room.
“Hey, where are you going?” Misha called after me. “Darryn decided to cook us all breakfast. Isn’t he a sweetie?” she asked, patting Darryn’s butt.
I snorted at her term of endearment. Darryn was known for being a badass and had even been thrown out of his last place for fighting, but he was downright docile in Misha’s hands. At the moment, it was just too mushy for my stomach to handle.
“Wait, I thought I was just making breakfast for you,” he joked, pulling Misha in close.
Chloe and I exchanged looks. They had it bad.
“Shoot. I’d like to stay, but my mom is expecting me.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Mom was expecting me, just not this early. Edging out of the kitchen, I made my escape, breathing a sigh of relief as I closed the front door behind me. I really was happy for my roommates, but at the moment I had too much drama going on in my head.
Mom was still in her pj’s reading the paper when I arrived at her apartment forty minutes later. She was the only person I knew who still had the Sunday paper delivered to her house. I found her sitting on her living room couch with her legs folded up under her while she sipped her coffee.
“Hey, you’re early,” she said as I bent down to give her a hug.
“Things were a little crowded at Hamilton House this morning.” I pulled off my jacket and tossed it on the recliner. Mom raised her eyebrows. I knew what that meant. Sighing, I picked up the jacket and walked to the closet to hang it up. Even now that I was an adult, one of Mom’s looks still got me to jump into action.
Once my coat was stowed away to her satisfaction, I joined Mom on the couch and grabbed the sales ads. Not that I was a big shopper, but I liked to skim through each one. One of these days I wouldn’t be a poor college student anymore, and hopefully would have the money to actually buy something frivolous. That was if I could find work after graduation. I had this terrible fear that I would finish school only to discover there were no jobs available. I was forever second-guessing my major. Art history was a narrow field, to say the least.
Mom left me to my reading for a few minutes before playing the mom card. “So, who do I need to hurt?” She set her empty coffee mug on the table.
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence. I buried my face in the newspaper. Mom always had the uncanny knack of being able to read me. She said I was like an open book and she could see my every feeling as if they were words on a page.
I sat stoically silent, willing myself to remain strong. As long as I used the paper as a shield, she wouldn’t be able to see my face. The silence stretched on, and finally I couldn’t resist peeking over the newspaper to see if she’d given up. It was a classic mistake that had bitten me in the butt numerous times growing up. I should have known. Mom never gave up. Lowering the paper, I found her eyes on mine.
I made a production of dramatically sighing and folding the paper before answering. “It’s no big deal.”
“If it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t be keeping it from me.” That was her mom wisdom in action. There was no arguing with her reasoning.
“I’m a little confused,” I finally muttered, getting up to grab a Coke from the refrigerator.
She waited until I returned with my soda before asking. “About what?”
Her question was simple enough, but it opened the floodgates. Before I knew it, I was pouring out every detail to her: Dalton’s sudden interest, the text messages, the heart on his cheek that had earned him a date in the first place, and finally the look on his face after last night’s game and how he wasn’t returning my calls or messages. I didn’t mention that I had slept with him, and luckily she didn’t ask. I expected her typical parental advice about how we all learn from our mistakes, but she surprised me.
“There may be a simple explanation for what’s going on. I would wait until he calls before making any snap decisions.”
I looked at her incredulously. It wasn’t like she was a man-hater, but she’d always kept the guys she dated at arm’s length.
“What if he doesn’t call?” I asked, voicing my worst fear. “He did it before.”
“Oh, sweetie, he was just a boy back then. If I can bestow any of my wisdom onto you, I would encourage you to be patient. There might be things going on with him that you don’t know about. After your father, I always assumed every man would hurt me like he had. When any relationship after that would encounter a bump, I would walk away without a backward glance. I thought it was the only way to protect myself from getting hurt again. The older I get, the more I see the mistakes I’ve made. Not only did I push away a few promising relationships, but I also passed my distrust of men onto you. You’re young, and yet I already see you acting under the same assumptions I did.”
I couldn’t believe the words pouring out of her mouth. All my lif
e I thought she was so strong the way she would see through the men who tried to hurt her. To hear her take responsibility felt wrong. She was just trying to protect her heart. How could she blame herself for that?
“You were always so strong.”
“Honey, I wasn’t strong. I was scared. Too terrified to give my heart to anyone after your father broke it. Now I’m a lonely old woman who wonders what I could have had if only I’d allowed myself to trust someone. I’m happy enough, but I feel like I missed the boat. You understand what I mean?”
“You’re not old,” I argued, moving to the couch to hold her hand.
“I feel old. But sometimes I’m just downright lonely.”
My heart ached at her words. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t realize you were lonely. I can come over more often. We’ll do more stuff,” I said as her eyes filled with tears.
“Sweetie, you’ve always been so good to me. I treasure every moment we spend together, but I know you’re busy with school and work. Besides, this kind of loneliness is different. I ache for companionship.”
I silently gnawed on her words. In a million years, I never would have expected to hear that kind of admission from her. I’d always admired Mom for her strong sense of independence. I wanted to be like her. Now I found myself reeling, not knowing what to believe.
She changed the subject, and for the rest of the afternoon we continued to chat like we did every Sunday, but we stayed away from the sticky subject of relationships. Only when I was pulling on my jacket to leave did she tell me to take her words to heart.
The next day Dalton still hadn’t called or texted. My doubts increased. Despite Mom’s big revelation, I was starting to think my instincts were right. Dalton had got what he wanted from me and he had moved on. I ended up skipping classes that morning and moping around the house.
I was debating watching a House Hunters marathon or taking a nap when my phone finally chimed. I nearly dropped it in my haste to answer when I saw Dalton’s name on the caller ID.
“Hello,” I answered. My voice was harsher than I intended.
“Courtney?”
“I see you found your phone again.” The sarcastic reply tumbled from my mouth before I could even think of retracting it.
I heard him sigh over the phone before he answered, “I’m sorry about that, Court. I know in light of our history that didn’t come off well.”
His voice sounded defeated and my sudden flare of anger completely dissipated. “What’s going on, Dalton?”
He hesitated, exhaling deeply before answering, “Just a bunch of crap.”
“With the team?” I sat on the edge of the couch on pins and needles waiting for him to get to the point.
“Nah, I wish. This is the same shit I’ve been dealing with for years. I guess you could say it finally came to a head.”
“Is it anything I can help with?” My heart was starting to ache from the pain I could hear in his voice.
“You’re doing it, babe. Just talking to you makes me feel so much better.”
“I wish I was there,” I said wistfully.
“Nah, you don’t. There’s nothing good about the place my mind is at right now. I would drag you down.”
“Dalton, can you tell me what’s wrong? Maybe talking about it will make it more manageable.”
He sighed again. “It’s just the same old family drama, trying to live up to the expectations of my asshole father.”
“You’re kidding, right? Your dad’s a sports guy. Aren’t you like a sports dad’s wet dream? Excuse me for putting it that way, but how the hell could you not be living up to his expectations?”
He chuckled wryly. “Shit, now I do wish you were here. I like hearing you all fired up. I bet you look seriously adorable right now, all ferocious.” He sounded marginally happier. “My father’s just always demanded the best from me. Sometimes I think he wants my basketball career more than I do. Every once in a while I get sick of hearing his shit. That’s basically what happened this weekend, but times ten.” His voice trailed off.
“What happened?” I was sure I sounded pushy, coaxing him along, but I wanted him to continue opening up to me.
“I pretty much told him to fuck off.”
“Wow.”
“I couldn’t stop myself. I’ve got enough going on in my head with the tournament without him coming to my room to tell me I’m fucking up by obsessing over some girl who means nothing. I lost it. I swear I wanted to rip his head off. Collin talked me down, but in the end I told him I was done with his abuse, that I was done with basketball. Coach Riley showed up. It turned into a whole thing.”
“No,” I gasped. I couldn’t believe things could escalate to that point. To think Dalton would be willing to walk away from basketball.
“I meant it. I’ll finish out the season, but I’m done trying to carry his dreams. It’s stopped being fun.”
“It could still be fun, Dalton,” I said. “If your dad would take your not so subtle hint and back off, maybe you could start to enjoy the game again. And I’ll be there, cheering you along.”
“You will? I was worried you wouldn’t forgive me for not calling. I just couldn’t until I got my shit together. My head has been seriously messed up the last few days. I’m sorry for doing that to you, babe.”
“Dalton, I understand. You don’t have to apologize. Want to know the truth? I had my doubts, but that’s my lame-ass insecurities.”
“Damn, I got to go. Coach is calling me.”
“Go. Call me when you get a chance. And, Dalton?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll be watching you tonight. I expect to see you enjoying the moment. And kicking some ass.”
He laughed. “You know it, babe.” He went silent, making me think he’d hung up already.
“Courtney?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
• • •
“Hey, girl. Why aren’t you answering your messages?” Amanda demanded to know when she showed up for her shift.
“Did you text me?” I pulled my phone from my apron pocket. “Crap, it’s dead. I forgot to charge it after I talked to Dalton earlier. What did you need?” I asked as I plugged the phone in behind the bar. I definitely needed a charged phone.
“All I know is Collin told me you have to watch SportsCenter tonight.”
“What time?”
She pulled her phone from her apron to check the time. “Oh hell, like now,” she said, grabbing one of the remotes to change the channel on the TV that was closest to us.
“Hey,” a middle-aged guy nursing his third beer tried to gripe, but he was in over his head at the moment.
“Shush,” Amanda said, glaring at him.
Any other time, I would have chastised her for being rude to a customer, but my eyes were glued to the TV, where the announcer had just said Dalton’s name. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. Dalton was once again sporting a painted face, but this time it was nothing but the letter C on his cheek.
A giggle bubbled up through me. I was certain that C was for me. Dalton had found a way to make sure I was there. Beer Belly Dude muttered under his breath that Dalton was turning into a pansy, which earned him another glare from Amanda.
We turned up the volume so we could hear the interview.
“Dalton, I have to ask. What does the C stand for?”
“All I can tell you is that it’s meant for someone very special to me.” With his answer, Dalton looked directly into the camera and held up his hand in the shape of the letter C.
The interview was short. Less than sixty seconds, but it was all I needed. With tears in my eyes, I grabbed my phone, which luckily by now was partially recharged, and sent him a message even though I knew with the game starting he wouldn’t get it for a while. I just hoped he used a password for his phone, because the message was definitely for his eyes only, making it pretty clear what my plans were for him when he returned.
> • • •
Three days later, the team returned home conference champions, just like Dalton promised. There was a buzz throughout Gruby’s since everyone knew the team would be showing up tonight to celebrate. I bounced around the restaurant, feeling carefree and light as a feather. Dalton and I had talked a lot over the last few days and had grown even closer. He and his dad were still on the outs, but I could tell Dalton felt better after finally confronting him. He still had the big national championship tournament coming up and the team had earned a number-one seed, so expectations were at an all-time high. Somehow I knew Dalton could handle it. It was who he was. With or without the pressure from his father, Dalton was a leader. Only he knew what direction he was going to take with basketball, but he vowed it would be fun again.
I was busy dropping an order ticket off in the kitchen when I heard the whole restaurant explode into cheers. Hurrying out through the swinging door, anxious to see him, I didn’t see the obstacle in front of me until it nearly knocked me on my ass. A large warm pair of hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me on my feet. Lifting my eyes, I found Dalton peering down at me, making my heart race.
“Dalton,” I breathed, trying to give the appearance that I was perfectly calm. “How’s it going?” I knew the question sounded stupid the moment I’d asked it.
“Uh, good.”
Of course it was good. I thumped myself on the head before Dalton grabbed my hands. “Sorry. That was a dumb question. Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.” My words were heartfelt. I wanted him to know that his dad might be a douche, but there were some of us who truly appreciated what he did.
“Thanks, babe.” He reached down to stroke my cheek. “What time do you get off?”
“Why?” I teased him playfully, but seeing him for the first time in several days, I was thinking the same thing.
“Because the only person I want to celebrate with is right here. And the kind of celebrating I have in mind is best done without an audience.”
“Let them look.” I threw my arms around him as he lifted me up and planted a deep kiss on my lips. Loud cheers and catcalls erupted through the sports bar. We would never learn. “We seem to have a thing for making out in very public places,” I whispered, blushing as the staff whooped with delight.
When We Met Page 25
