Exception (Cambria University Series Book 1)

by Sadie T. Williams

  “Ladies, it will work out. I’ll make sure of it. Brooks will make sure of it.”

  “Will it? Where will you live? Is this it for the four of us?” Blaire pouts.

  “I don’t know. Everything has been happening so fast.” I choke on my words.

  “You know what?” Watts pipes up. “Fuck it. This is the best news, KK. Your life is shaping up the way it should. You deserve this. We weren’t going to be roommates forever, right? But—” She pauses. “Can we win a national championship first?”

  “Hell fucking yes we can!”

  “That’s right. We all knew the day would come.” Blaire sighs. “I guess I’m just not ready to let you all go. You’re my people. I fucking love you.”

  “Cheers, bitches!” Duncan screams and raises her bottle.

  We all meet in the middle of the living room floor and wrap together in a tight, roommate group hug.

  “I love you bitches. You’re all in my wedding. You know that?”

  “On E!? Fuck yes! Ryan Gosling better be there.” Watts laughs. “I got dibs!” We all laugh.

  “You’re still fucking Rhodes. You only get one.” Blaire giggles. The thought of Rhodes dating anyone, let alone my sassy southern roommate, makes me smile.

  “Eff. Fine. I choose Jessup.” Watts smiles devilishly. They’re really a match made in some kind of fucked-up heaven.

  “Blaire, will you be my maid of honor?” I turn to my BFF. Tears spring to her eyes.

  “Of course, KK. I love you. I just can’t imagine life without you. I’m so fucking happy for you though.” She starts to sob into our group hug.

  “Ladies, this is not the end. This is the beginning of something great.”

  Next week, we’re hosting the NCAA division one super-regional as the number-two seed. If we win then we’re headed to the women’s college world series in Oklahoma. Memories from last year flash through my mind. The heartbreak of getting so close just to have Alabama squash my dreams. Not. This. Year.

  My girls and I sit together in the living room for a long time, drinking champagne, laughing, reminiscing, and talking about the games next week. There’s nothing that being around your squad can’t fix. Your support system and biggest cheerleaders. The humans who share your world and hold a piece of your heart. Who’ve been there with you when you were in hell and supported you as you crawled your way back out. Brooks has my heart and soul obviously, but these ladies? They’ll always be a piece of me, no matter where we end up.

  Chapter 28: Brooks

  June

  The nerves I’m feeling right now as Kiernan and her teammates take the field are insane. I’m sitting in the ASA Hall of Fame Stadium in Oklahoma City. The Golden Knights cruised through the super-regional tournament easily, taking care of CSU-Fullerton in two straight games. Kiernan sprints to her position at shortstop. The girls are donning their all black uniforms as the home team. Her number 22 diamond earrings are sparkling in the sunlight. She is a fucking badass, and she’s all mine.

  It’s been ten months since that meeting in the library. Our families are here, together. Rhett, Rhea, Bo and Brett to my left, and Bateman, Blake, Rhodes, John and Monica on my right. Rhodes and Tori started a thing after the bowl game, and kept it a secret from all of us. I’m pretty sure Rhodes is pussy-whipped.

  We’re six weeks post draft, and the excitement around our proposal and New England’s shocking trade up has calmed down… a little. Walking into the stadium this afternoon was quite interesting, considering my recent experience and that I was flanked by two NFL hall of famers. We drew a crowd to say the least.

  The game is sold out. It’s a rematch of the national championship game last year, Alabama vs. Cambria. We’re in bracket play of the double elimination tournament, so if Kiernan loses her team isn’t finished, but they’ll have a much harder road to win it. My leg is shaking and I feel a hand touch my knee to stop the bouncing.

  “Darlin’, it will be okay.” My mom smiles at me.

  “I know. She wants this so bad though. I don’t want to watch her heart break… again.”

  Coco is in the circle. She’s had a great freshman season. She’ll be an all-American one day, if not this season. Cambria and Alabama both won their opening round games. The winner will be sitting in the driver’s seat of the tournament and another team will have beat them twice to reach the championship game, which is a best of three series against the winner of the opposite bracket.

  The game is a nail biter. Kiernan is on fire, but her team can’t seem to push a run across. Coco is throwing well. The score was a zero-zero pitcher’s duel in the bottom of the seventh inning. We need to score. Kiernan is the second batter this inning, after their ninth batter strikes out against Alabama’s all-American senior pitcher, Sam Vix. She’s been mowing down Golden Knights left and right today.

  Kiernan steps into the box, her black eyes squared straight away at Vix. I love that look of intensity and focus she gets in tough situations.

  Kiernan sweeps her eyes over the field. Alabama’s first baseman is playing deep, but they haven’t moved their second baseman up. Miscommunication maybe? I wonder if Kiernan sees it. She pulls her bat up to her shoulder and her tongue darts out of the corner of her mouth in a small smirk. She sees it.

  The first pitch of her at-bat, she lays down a beautiful drag bunt down the first baseline. She hasn’t bunted down that line all postseason, so the first baseman is caught way off-guard, and by the time she reaches the ball and makes a play, Kiernan is safe at first.

  The crowd is jumping around like crazy. I’m grabbing onto Bateman, who’s screaming like a little girl. Watching the playoffs, I have a whole new appreciation for the nerves and pulse of the crowd. When I’m playing, I’m never nervous – this though, shit. I’m sweating and my heart is racing.

  “We can fucking do this, come on, baby,” Bateman is repeating to himself as Blaire steps in the box.

  “I can’t watch this,” Rhett proclaims to no one in particular and folds his hands on top of his head.

  “Nervous, Dad?” I almost laugh. We’ve come a long way in the last month.

  “Shit, yeah. This is insane. My heart is going to beat out of my chest,” he says.

  “No shit!” Brett exclaims.

  “I can’t breathe,” Bo exhales harshly.

  “You boys.” My mom laughs from her seat. “So dramatic. What did we do wrong, Moni?”

  “I’m not sure, Ree.” Monica chuckles. “The women in this family are tougher than the men!”

  Our families have nicknames for each other and have spent more time together since the Golden Knights postseason started. It pains me to admit it, but it warms my stupid heart.

  Blaire takes the first pitch for a strike.

  “Fuck.” Bateman sighs.

  “It’s okay,” I offer. “She has two more.”

  “Yeah, but this pitcher is the best in the country. She needed to work ahead.”

  Vix takes the sign and on the pitch Kiernan takes off.

  “GOING!” the Alabama bench screams in unison.

  I know it takes her less than three seconds to steal a base, but it feels like an eternity.

  The catcher fires down to second with a perfect throw and the shortstop lays down a tag on Kiernan’s helmet.

  “SAFE!” the umpire yells. “Foot was in first!”

  “HOLY SHIT!” I scream. Alabama’s catcher has only given up two stolen bases all season. No tries to run on her. The crowd booms with the call. I have chills.

  “Okay, she’s in scoring position. She can score on a base hit. Come on, baby,” Bateman prays with his hands folded to his chest. The whole stadium is on their feet.

  The next pitch to Blaire is a ball inside. Her count is now one ball and one strike.

  Vix sets on the mound and takes her next sign. Kiernan sprints off the base. No way’s she stealing third on this catcher. Jesus Christ, she is. I hold my breath.

  The pitch is a changeup low and away from Blaire.
Good pitch to steal on, actually. Kiernan slides into the base using a backdoor slide to hit the corner furthest away from the catcher. She definitely caught their third baseman off-guard, and she fumbles the throw from the catcher and attempts to lay a tag down. “SAFE!” yells the umpire. “NO CONTROL!” He bounces his hands up and down like a teeter totter.

  Bateman and I grab each other and scream. We’re fucking little girls at a sleepover calling boys for the first time. I am sure my reaction is all over ESPN and the internet. I’ll be a meme soon.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” I mutter under my breath.

  Everyone in the whole stadium is thinking about it. Suicide squeeze. Kiernan will take off on the pitch for home and it’s Blaire’s job to get a bunt down. If that happens, there’s no way they can field the bunt, toss it home and tag her out. She’s just too fast.

  Blaire’s count is two balls and one strike. The next pitch would be ideal. If Vix misses, Blaire is up three balls to one strike. That wouldn’t be good for Alabama.

  Vix settles on the mound and takes her sign. Blaire doesn’t square to bunt and Kiernan sticks right on the base, not even taking a lead. The pitcher throws a ball high and outside, the catcher grabs it and fires down to third. Alabama was expecting a bunt or Kiernan to try to steal home again. Coach Richardson, or let’s be honest, Kiernan, is one step ahead. She didn’t even move, and the throw was wasted. “STRIKE!” calls the home plate umpire.

  “WHAT THE FUCK?!” I yell. “That’s bullshit! That was high! Terrible call! Come on!”

  The whole Cambria crowd is booing. That was horseshit. It was a pitch-out. It was intentionally high.

  “BULL-SHIT! BULL-SHIT!” the crowd chants.

  Bateman is fucking livid. “That is fucking ridiculous!” he screams at the umpire. “She can’t bunt now. If it’s foul she’s out,” he says and puts his hands on his head. Which is true. If you bunt a third strike foul, you’re automatically out. Stupid fucking rule.

  Blaire takes her place back in the box. She looks down the line at Kiernan. “Bro.” I grab Bateman’s arm. “They’re doing it. Right now,” I practically whisper, as if the other team can hear me over the crowd.

  “No!” He holds his breath.

  The count is two balls and two strikes. Vix can throw a ball in this position, so Blaire may not get a very good pitch. “Oh God,” I murmur.

  The pitch is away, and so is Kiernan. If Blaire doesn’t bunt this, Kiernan is toast.

  “GOING!” half of the Alabama bench yells while the other half screams “BUNT!”

  The pitch is high and outside again, but Blaire gets her bat on it. It hits the dirt and rolls toward the pitcher’s mound. Blaire takes off for first base. Not a great bunt, but she got it down.

  Kiernan is a blur of black as she sprints down the third baseline toward home. Vix fields the ball and without standing up flips it out of her glove underhand toward her catcher, who is blocking the plate. The catcher drops to her knees just as Kiernan leaps. There’s a collective gasp in the stadium as Kiernan goes airborne over the head of the catcher, who was expecting her to come in low. She looks like Superman in flight. She tucks her head and somersaults as she hits home plate.

  “SAFE!” the home plate umpire yells and motions her arms straight out to her sides, indicating her call.

  “NO WAY!” Bateman and I grab onto each in a hug and are jumping up and down together. Everyone is going fucking crazy.

  Kiernan is still laying spread eagle, my favorite way to see her actually, on the ground. If it were snowing, she would look like she was trying to make a snow angel. The Cambria bench clears and pig piles on top of her. Blaire, who made it safely to first, comes sprinting back and dives on top of the pile.

  Bateman and I are hugging everyone around us. Our friends and families and complete strangers. I don’t give a shit. This is the best feeling.

  Two days later, my girl hoists the NCAA division-one national championship trophy over her head. They upset number-one seeded Oklahoma in three games. They lost the first game, but battled back and won two in a row. She was spectacular, and was named tournament MVP. I’ve never been so proud.

  Kiernan turns toward the stands and her black eyes meet mine. Love you, she mouths to me.

  Love you, too, I mouth back.

  The most unconventional love stories are deemed the greatest. While our love story isn’t necessarily unconventional, it is ours, and in my opinion, it’s the greatest love story of all. Fate brought me to that library, to a floor I shouldn’t even have been on, to find her and to fall in love with her. To make her the exception to every rule I thought I needed. We’ve loved, lost, endured, grown and forgiven. We’ve battled and fought for what is ours when the people around us tried to break us. Maybe we’re a bit unconventional, now that I think about it. Forever will never be enough time with her.

  Epilogue

  Kiernan: June 13, 2022

  I’m standing in the living room of my parents’ East Hampton summer house in my white A-line satin gown with a plunging neckline and open back. My Swarovski crystal belt sparkles in the sunlight coming through the windows. The only thing brighter are the number 22 earrings shining in my ears. A braid sweeps around my head and gathers my hair on the side into a loose ponytail, held together by a large white peony. Blaire curled the ends just perfectly for our big day. She’s standing in front of me with tears in her eyes. Watts and Duncan are speechless – their mouths gaped as I entered the room a few minutes ago. They all look stunning in their navy blue bridesmaids dresses that mimic my dress.

  It’s been just over two years since junior year of college. Since we were crowned national champs and my entire universe shifted under the magnetic force that is Brooks McCarthy.

  Brooks had a phenomenal rookie season. Brady went down in week three with an ankle injury and Brooks came in. He never looked back. I have no doubts my man will be a Super Bowl champ soon. I’ve been working for ESPN, and it’s the dream job I didn’t know I wanted. I opted out of my senior season when Cameron got me a great gig as the ESPN correspondent for the New England Patriots. I completed my degree online while I traveled to all of the games to report from the sideline or the booth, depending on what’s needed. It’s the best job, and I couldn’t be happier. They love my wit, knowledge and inside track with my connections (aka Brooks, Rhett and John).

  Today, though? Today is about us. Looking back to what got us here, and looking forward with so much hope. We’re saying our vows in front of our closest friends and family in the backyard of my parents’ house, overlooking the ocean.

  Simple and intimate. Just like us.

  “Ready?” John asks. “You sure look like you are. Straight from a magazine, KK. You’re simply stunning. Your mom is a sniveling mess. She’s going to flat out lose it when she sees you.” He gives me a large dad hug. We’ve come a long way as a family in the last two years.

  I pause as he opens the door. The fresh air and the sound of the ocean fill my senses. I’ve always loved it here. “Thanks, Dad.” I blush and nudge his shoulder.

  Duncan and Blake lead the way, followed by Watts and Rhodes, and finally my maid of honor, Blaire, and Brooks’ best man, Bateman. They each take their places on their respective sides of the altar. The altar is beautiful – it was constructed of Atlantic driftwood by a local artist. It sits under a white pergola covered in white peonies, calla lilies and orchids. In front of the altar, my future stands in his tan linen pants and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His sandy blond hair is tousled and blowing in the light breeze. His tan skin glows in the sunlight, and when he sees me walking toward him, a bright white smile spreads across his chiseled face. His glacial blue eyes beam with love, lust, and purpose. He is still the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.

  ✽✽✽

  “You may now kiss the bride,” the pastor says.

  Brooks cups my cheeks with his hands and presses his lips to mine. The fire burns through my body today, o
n our wedding day, just as it did the first time his lips touched mine.

  “About fucking time,” he whispers in my ear and then leans in to kiss me again.

  I can hear the photographers clicking rapidly all around us as our small, intimate crowd of guests claps and whistles. Every media outlet wanted to be part of our day. We decided to let ESPN send photographers and a video crew. They have been nothing short of fantastic to both of us.

  The pastor clears his throat to urge Brooks to stop kissing me. Brooks lets out a chuckle. “Okay, padre, you win.” He smiles at our pastor.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the pastor continues, “it is my pleasure to present for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks and Kiernan McCarthy!”

  More applause and whistles. My mom and Rhea are sobbing messes in the front row. Rhett and John are beaming from ear to ear and whistling between their teeth. Blaire is sniffling next to me. She reaches up to brush away tears and I see her sparkling engagement ring catch the sunlight. I’m so happy for her and Bateman. I just wish they lived closer. Bateman was drafted by the Seattle Seahawks, so they packed up after graduation and moved across the country. I miss my best friend.

  Brooks grabs my hand to lead me down the aisle, back toward the tent where our reception will be held. The guests blow bubbles as we pass. This feels like a scene out of Cinderella. This is what her happily-ever-after must have felt like. No, this is what my happily-ever-after feels like.

  Instead of heading to the tent, Brooks turns and leads me into the house.

  “I can’t wait anymore, wife,” he growls into my ear as he pushes me against the wall in the living room. He crashes his lips into mine and I feel his erection through his thin linen pants.