Meant To Be (The Callahans Book 4)

by Monica Murphy

  With a sigh, I decide to go ahead and confess. “It’s true. She said something rude, and I hit her.”

  Brandy’s mouth drops open and she rests her hands on her hips. I can see the disappointment in her body language, the way she’s watching me. The utter disbelief in her eyes. “Are you freaking serious right now? What the hell, Ava?”

  “I don’t know! She made me mad.” I throw my hands up in the air.

  “Not a good enough excuse,” Brandy starts, but Cami cuts her off.

  “There’s no excuse. I’m sick of her crap. I want her off the team!” Cami yells.

  “Come on, settle down. Despite you always thinking you’re in charge, that’s not your decision,” Brandy says to Cami. “Let me look at your face.”

  I wait for them while Brandy closely examines Cami’s jaw, the spot where I punched her. Did I really hit her that hard? No. Her skin has a small red mark, but it isn’t swollen or cut up or anything. I bet she won’t even bruise.

  But she’s going to make a huge deal out of this. She’ll do her best to get me into lots of trouble, and I deserve it. I just might’ve fucked up my high school cheer career completely, thanks to my impulses.

  And I’m not an impulsive person. Not by a long shot.

  Brandy sends Cami over to the rest of the girls to continue leading practice before she turns to me. “Ava.”

  The sadness in her voice just about breaks me.

  “I know,” I say miserably. She doesn’t need to say anything else. I’m screwed.

  “You actually hit her?” Brandy shakes her head. “You’ve got some balls, I’ll say that. No one messes with Cami. Most of the teachers leave her alone so they don’t have to deal with her wrath.”

  “She’s a horrible human being,” I spit out bitterly.

  “Doesn’t matter what you think of her, or how horrible she acts in your presence. You can’t put your hands on another student. You definitely can’t physically harm your teammate during practice.” A long, ragged sigh escapes her. “You know with this incident, I’m going to have to suspend you from the team.”

  Tears start flowing down my cheeks, and I briefly close my eyes. I have no one to blame for this but myself. I ruined my cheer season. It’ll disappoint the girls who count on me, which is all of them, but especially my stunt team.

  “For how long?” I ask, wiping away the tears, but they keep on coming.

  “At least a week. I’ll have to talk to the athletic director about proper protocol with situations like this.” She makes a wincing face, as if she knows what she says next will hurt. “You’ll have to go speak with Adney in her office tomorrow morning.”

  The vice principal’s office. Great. I’ve never gone there before in my life, with the exception of when I needed something from her in regards to leadership. I’m supposed to be a good kid, not a bad kid who gets busted for fighting.

  “Okay,” I say, ducking my head.

  “This suspension could last longer. You might even get kicked off the team. I’d hate to lose you. You’re one of the strongest bases we have, and it’s only your first year. You’re a natural, just like your sister.” I glance up just in time to see the disappointment written all over my coach’s face. “I’d hate to see you go.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice cracking.

  “Can you apologize to Cami? See if that’ll get her to ease up?” Brandy asks gently.

  “Absolutely not.” She pretty much asked for me to punch her.

  A ragged sigh leaves her. “Being stubborn is what got you into trouble in the first place.” Brandy shakes her head, and my heart sinks. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re done for the day. Most likely for the week. Gather up your things and expect to see Mrs. Adney during first period tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” I nod once and stalk over to where my backpack and Hydro Flask sit on the ground, scooping them both up and walking away as fast as I can. I hear Cami start to call my name. Brandy immediately tells her to stop.

  But she doesn’t tell me to stop. She lets me go. I suppose she has to. After all, I just punched Cami in the face.

  Holy shit, I actually punched Cami Lockhart in the face!

  I wander through campus, making my way to the school parking lot. Clouds are rolling in, and when I glance up at the sky, I see they’re gathered to the north, dark and ominous looking. It’ll probably rain.

  The weather reflects my mood. I’m mad. At both Cami and myself. More myself, because I couldn’t control my emotions, and she totally baited me. Did she expect me to hit her? Probably not. But did she say that knowing how upset it would make me?

  Most definitely.

  I stomp my way toward my car, grateful no one is around to ask questions. Everyone’s either gone for the day or at practice for whatever sport they participate in. Once I toss my backpack behind the passenger seat, I start the engine and tear out of there, enjoying the squeal of my tires when I turn out of the parking lot and onto the road.

  It’s when I’m driving past the town limits sign, heading south, that I semi-realize where I’m going. Definitely not home. I don’t bother calling or texting Ellie to see what she’s up to. She’s currently at work. I suppose I could’ve stopped by the Juicery and bought a smoothie, but again, Ellie would’ve wanted answers as to why I was there.

  And I don’t feel like dealing with that. With her. With everyone.

  Except for one person.

  Instead, I drive with purpose down the highway, like I’m trying to outrun the thunderous clouds chasing after me. They keep pace with my speeding car, almost like they really are following me, and by the time I turn into the school parking lot, fat drops of rain splatter on my windshield.

  I drive slow through the lot, until I’m close to the stadium, and pull into an empty spot that’s right next to Eli’s gleaming red Charger. I shut off the engine and squint into the distance, spotting the football team out on the field, still practicing. Screw it, I think as I climb out of the car, grabbing the extra hoodie I keep in my trunk and slipping it on before I make my way over to the stands.

  As I approach the field, I spot Eli first. He’s getting ready to throw the ball, his arm cocked and poised, the ball gripped in his hand. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and athletic shorts, and he’s got this wide, stretchy headband in his hair that all the boys love to wear. I can see why, since it keeps their hair out of their face, and honestly, he should look ridiculous, but guess what?

  He doesn’t. He looks frickin’ fine as hell. My heart lurches when I take him in, and I stumble a little bit. Almost trip and fall.

  Talk about making an entrance.

  I discreetly settle in on the bottom bench of the stands, yanking my hood up to cover my head when I feel the rain start to actually fall. I will sit out here for the next two hours watching him if that’s what it takes to talk to him. To have him put his arms around me and tell me everything’s going to be all right.

  I need that right now. I need him.

  It takes him about five minutes to notice me. He’s concentrating on throwing that ball, his expression intense, his brows lowered. He throws it again and again, and when he’s knocked to the ground by one of his own players playing defense, I jump to my feet with a gasp, hoping he’s not hurt.

  Eli gets back up with no obvious issues. He even yells, “Can’t take me down, motherfucker!” to the guy who just tackled him.

  Typical Eli. I can’t help but smile.

  When he finally does notice me, his eyes go wide and he rests his hands on his hips, studying me. I offer up a little wave, my heart rate starts to increase as he makes his way over to me.

  “Are you really here? Or are you a figment of my imagination?” he calls to me.

  I stand, anxious for him to get closer. “I’m really here.”

  He jogs toward me and yanks me into his arms. I cling to him, resting my cheek against his chest. I can feel his hammering heart, smell his woodsy scent. He’s damp from the rain and h
e feels like heaven and I swear to God, I will be so mad at myself if I start crying.

  “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you had practice.” He runs his hands up and down my back, as if he can sense I need comfort.

  “It’s a long story,” I say, my voice muffled by his T-shirt.

  He slips his fingers around the side of my neck, pulling me away slightly so he can look into my eyes. “You all right?”

  His voice is low and his eyes are full of concern. I can feel my lower lip tremble, and I bite down on it. Hard. “Not really.”

  “Practice is almost over—”

  “Bennett! Get your ass back on the field!” a booming voice yells. I assume it’s his coach.

  Eli swiftly glances over his shoulder, before returning his attention to me. “Practice is almost over. Just—give me fifteen minutes. Don’t sit out in the rain. Go to your car and wait for me. Where are you parked?”

  “Right next to your car,” I tell him with a faint smile. The relief I feel at being in his presence is absolutely staggering.

  “Go wait for me where it’s dry. I’ll join you as soon as I can. Okay?” I nod, and he dips down to lightly press my mouth with his. “See ya in a few.”

  He turns and jogs back across the field. I stay where he left me, too captivated by the easy way he moves. He claims football doesn’t consume him, but I don’t know. He’s a natural athlete. He’s really good at what he does. Maybe not as good as Jake, but he’s definitely a solid A-tier quarterback.

  And I’m the lucky girl who gets to say that #1 QB belongs to me.

  Eighteen

  Eli

  “Who’s the skirt?” Coach Weston asks me when I return to the sideline.

  I wipe the rain from my face, then wipe my hand on the side of my shorts. “That’s my girlfriend, coach.”

  I can’t believe he called her a skirt. Who the fuck says that? What era is he from anyway? Sounds like something out of the eighties. Or maybe even older.

  I don’t know. Before 2000 is all history to me.

  “You actually have a girlfriend, Bennett?” Coach’s eyebrows shoot up toward his non-existent hairline.

  “He’s fucking Jake Callahan’s sister,” one of my asshole teammates yells.

  Glancing behind me, I scan their faces, searching for the one dumbass who said that. They all look equally innocent—or equally guilty.

  Annoying fucks.

  “Is this true? You’re dating Callahan’s sister?” Coach hesitates for only a moment, his eyes buggin’ out. “Drew Callahan’s daughter?”

  He sounds downright flabbergasted.

  “Yeah,” I say irritably. “I am. Is that a problem?”

  “Hell no, son. You might want to try to get some intel? Find out their secrets? Get a gander at their playbooks somehow?” Coach asks hopefully.

  There is no way in hell I’d even contemplate doing something like that. It would put my relationship with Ava—hell with her entire family—in jeopardy.

  Nope. No can do.

  I make a hissing sound, like I’m full of disappointment. “Afraid I can’t help you there, coach.”

  “Damn. It was worth a shot.” He shakes his head. “You’re playing with fire, dating that girl. She’s the enemy.”

  I am so fuckin’ tired of all this rivalry, enemy talk. It’s bullshit.

  “I’m in love with her,” I say firmly. “So no. She’s not the enemy.” I turn to face the rest of my team, letting my irritation show. “Let’s play, pussies!”

  “But it’s raining!” one of them whines.

  “Get over it! Let’s go!”

  “Yeah, get out there! Now!” Coach says, backing me up.

  I appreciate that, but I’m still annoyed he called Ava the enemy. I’m tired of the drama. Tired of the us versus them mentality. I sound kind of like a wimp, but damn. That girl, my supposed rival, is my world. I’m in love with her. Sometimes, I worry I love her more than she loves me. Isn’t that the way it happens in a relationship? There’s always one who loves harder than the other? I saw it with my parents. Mom had a perpetual boner for Dad, and he seemed only about fifty percent into her most of the time, if that.

  Thinking back on it, seeing that sucked. Mom always sucking up to him. She used to talk in this simpering baby voice that grated on my nerves. He always seemed to respond to it too. As if he actually liked it.

  Thank God, Ava doesn’t treat me like that. Talk to me like that. She’s real. As real as they get.

  And I am real ready for this practice to be over so I can talk to her. Find out why she’s here. She should be at cheer practice. It’s difficult for us to see each other during the week. We’re both always so damn busy. There’s no normal reason for her to be here during this time of day.

  I need to find out what’s going on.

  Twenty minutes later and I’m heading toward the parking lot, satisfaction seeping through me when I see her car parked right next to mine. That sleek BMW is one fine ass vehicle, and my fingers are itching to drive it. Especially in the rain. I bet I could make the tires squeal like a mother on the wet roads.

  “Why is she here anyway?” Brenden asks curiously. He’s walking beside me, Jackson on the other side.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask,” I say. “But I’m about to find out.”

  “Something’s up,” Jackson says.

  “What makes you say that?” I ask, sending Jackson a skeptical look. I never thought of him being particularly perceptive, but maybe he is.

  “I saw her face when she first showed up. She looked kind of upset,” Jackson says with a shrug.

  She did. She also clung to me when I hugged her, and her throat sounded thick with tears. I hope nothing bad happened. I hope her brother didn’t do anything stupid. Or her parents said she couldn’t see me anymore.

  Panic grips me in a chokehold, and I mentally tell myself to calm down. I hope to hell that’s not the case. I refuse to let anyone’s shit get between us ever again.

  “Maybe cheer practice let out early,” I say, though I know deep down that’s not the case. She bailed and came to see me.

  But why?

  “I’ll see you guys later,” I tell Brenden and Jackson as I break away from them, heading straight for Ava’s car. She’s sitting in the driver’s seat, her head bent over her phone, I assume. She’s still got the light gray hood over her head, and I catch only a glimpse of her bright blonde hair, peeking out from under the hood. Her lips are pursed and just seeing her makes my heart swell full to bursting.

  I round the front of her car and go to the passenger side door, knocking lightly on the window. She startles and jerks her head in my direction, rolling her eyes at herself when she spots me. She hits the unlock button and I open the door, slipping inside the sleek, leather scented interior.

  A hint of her perfume lingers inside the car as well. Or maybe that’s just her. She smells fucking delicious. Makes me want to eat her whole.

  But that’s not what this is about right now. I need to focus on my girl’s needs and make sure she’s okay.

  “You’re wet,” she says, reaching out to brush rain drops from my cheek with a soft sweep of her finger.

  Again, I’m tempted to make an inappropriate joke. Statement. Whatever. I am tested on a daily basis, swear to God.

  “It’s starting to rain harder.” I point at the windshield. “See?”

  We both look just in time to see a few of the girls from the cheer team walking by the front of her car. Including Josie Price. She does a doubletake when she spots me, her mouth forming an O as she blinks at me sitting in Ava’s car. She nudges one of the girls walking beside her, blatantly telling her to check me out, and they both swivel their heads in my direction.

  Busted. But really? I don’t give a shit.

  “Isn’t that the girl who was giving you a lap dance at your house?” Ava asks, her voice steely.

  Uh oh. She sounds pissed.

  “Yeah,”
I say warily.

  Without warning, Ava grabs me by the front of my hoodie. Yanks me close to her. Presses her mouth to mine and kisses the hell out of me. I pop my eyes open to find her eyes are open too and she’s glaring at Josie as she continues kissing me.

  Damn. My girl is fired up.

  When Ava finally breaks the kiss, Josie is walking away with an expression on her face like she just smelled stinky shit. Her friends trail after her, their mouths flapping.

  I’m assuming Ava and I will be the topic of their discussion for the rest of the night.

  I rub my mouth with the back of my hand, staring at this furious version of Ava sitting next to me with a glower on her pretty face. My Disney princess is rockin’ the villain look. “Don’t think she’ll be giving me lap dances anymore.”

  “She better not,” Ava spits out.

  “Whoa, easy there, tiger. What’s got you so twisted up?” Reaching out, I push her hood down so I can touch her hair.

  A ragged exhalation leaves her before she says, “I think I got kicked off the cheer team today.”

  My fingers still in her hair at hearing what she said. “What do you mean?”

  She turns her head so her gaze meets mine. “I got in trouble. Brandy asked me to leave practice.”

  “Why did you get in trouble?”

  Ava shrugs. Looks away. “It’s all Cami’s fault,” she mumbles.

  “What did Cami do?”

  Now Ava looks downright pained. “She said something shitty to me and I—I hit her.”

  Shock courses through me, rendering me still and silent. All I can do is sit there and gape at her like a dying fish. My lips parting and then closing because I can’t come up with anything to say.

  And I’ve always got something to say.

  “What?” she asks after a few silent seconds. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” The words push out of me forcefully, like it took everything I had to say that.