Chapter 24
Randy
We didn’t party last night. Instead, the team gathered at Coach’s house for quiet commiseration drinks. He gave a speech and thanked the seniors for their dedication to the team. It was somber; we took the loss hard, and after leaving Coach’s place everyone opted to call it a night.
My phone lit up with messages about the bet payout and the game.
I don’t think I’ve ever been hit up this much in my life and that’s saying something.
Texts, DMs, Instagram, the university forums, they all went off.
Every ten minutes, I was getting over fifty notifications, but not one was from Rachel.
Not one of my calls or texts was answered.
If I wasn’t so worried about her, I’d be pissed. Why won’t she answer me?
My mom was waiting for me at the players’ door. It was good to see her and have her wrap me in a comforting hug. After that tight loss it was what I needed, the only thing missing…apart from the victory…was Rachel.
The next morning after breakfast with some of the team, I once again check my phone.
@Lukecole: And here we thought @Raptorsfootball was all that!
Turns out @RandyHarrisonQB couldn’t even get his team to the Championship.
The Raptors remain where they belong, on the list of extinct species.
@Cyclonesfootball are going all the way, baby!
!!! #massivefail #Notasgoodaseveryonethinks #Cycloneschampions #overrated
@raptorscollege
Motherfucker! I swear to myself, I can’t stand that guy! With us officially out of the running for the championship game, the Cyclones are now in the best position to take the trophy—and it’s driving me insane. I slip my phone into my pocket and shove thoughts of Luke Cole out of my mind.
I cross the grass nearing the edge of the campus property line as I head for home. My head hangs low, my hands are shoved deep in my pockets, my mind racing with everything and nothing all at once.
You looked great last night, Randy. Let’s hope we do better next season.”
I don’t know her name—pretty sure she’s a junior but she gives me a sympathetic smile. I thank her and shoot her a wink. Then immediately question myself, why the fuck did I wink? Did that seem flirty?
This whole Rachel thing is messing with me. I’m usually cool. Confident. Untouchable. Nothing gets under my skin because I always get what I want. But right now I don’t, and worse I have no idea how to get it and it’s driving me fucking insane.
I walk through the door, throwing my keys on the little side table.
Shelby and Christian relax on the couch with Seth seated in the single recliner watching the morning news and sports highlights.
No wonder Christian didn’t want to have breakfast with the team when he can have ‘let me make you feel better’ sympathy morning sex with his hot girlfriend.
Seth did some serious defending last night and ended the night being sore. He went to bed with ice strapped to him in two areas, pain killers, and a shot of whiskey, so I knew he wouldn’t make breakfast. Even now he’s reclined in his chair, an icepack on his shoulder.
“Seen the latest post?” Christian asks, and I know exactly what post he is referring to.
“Yep,” I groan, leaning against the doorframe. “He is such a dick! The Cyclones better not win the championship this weekend!” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
“I don’t know if I can even bring myself to watch it, just in case they do win,” Christian says, shaking his head in disgust.
“It’s going to be shit if they win,” I mumble. “He’s always been a massive shit stirrer, taking every opportunity to antagonize me. Imagine how bad it will be if they win!”
“Let’s hope they lose!”
Shelby leans forward. “Speaking of Instagram and changing the subject from this team rivalry. I was thinking of starting up a proper Instagram account for myself. One that actually has photos and my name and stuff.”
Christian looks toward her with an impressed smile. “That’s great, babe, I would love for you to do that. Taking your life back. I’m so proud of you and how strong you are.” He throws his good arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
“Just make sure you add me as your first official friend,” I say with a grin.
Shelby graces me with a smile.
“You wish,” Christian adds.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I quickly retrieve it, only to be once again disappointed.
“Have any of you heard from Rachel?” I ask as I stand in the doorway, staring at my phone in bewilderment.
“I have been texting her all yesterday and this morning and I haven’t got one message back.
My phone calls have gone to voicemail and I’m really starting to worry. ”
Shelby’s blue eyes meet mine from across the living room, a flicker of confusion mirroring my own.
“Umm, yes… actually,” she says hesitantly.
“She texted me yesterday. Said she couldn’t meet us to get into the stadium early, and that she wouldn’t be able to meet me at the players’ door last night either. ”
An ache pulls at my heart with the realization she has been texting Shelby, and I know my phone is working because it hasn’t fucking stopped going off.
“Okay, well, at least I know she is alive, but then why the fuck isn’t she replying to me?
” I say, staring down at my phone like somehow it magically holds the answers.
The more I stand there thinking about it, the more frustrated I get.
“I’m going over to her place to see what is going on,” I say, reaching for my keys in the bowl.
The jacket hanging above the keys catches my eye as I turn back to the living room.
“Whose is that?” I point to Christian and the jacket he is wearing.
“What? My jacket?” he says, looking down at his clothes. “It’s mine,” he says with a confused look.
“Well, whose is that?” I say, pointing to the one hanging neatly on the hook in the foyer.
“I thought it was yours,” he replies.
“No, I lent mine to Rachel,” I say, my finger still hovering mid-air and pointing toward the jacket.
“No, Rachel returned yours yesterday before the game.”
“What!” I question. “When?”
“She stopped by as we were leaving,” Shelby answers.
“We met her in the driveway. I told her to head straight on in because you and Seth were just in the kitchen making breakfast. Didn’t she say hi?” Christian finishes.
I looked at Seth, at the same time he puts the pieces together.
I see it as his eyes go wide. “Fuck,” I yell as I drag my hands through my hair.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I yell some more as I pace the small hallway.
The urge to punch something builds. “Shit,” I yell even louder as my fist goes through the drywall in the hallway.
I feel the rush of pain shoot up my arm as I feel the emptiness of the wall on the other side.
“Jesus,” Shelby yells, shooting to her feet.
“Fuck, man!” Seth says, coming over to my side and inspecting the wall.
“What the fuck is wrong?” Christian says, walking over to me and standing next to Shelby.
Shelby studies my face and reaches for my damaged hand and I know she can see the guilt in my eyes. “What did you do?”
“It’s bad, Shelby. Really bad…I called Sam baggage and she must have heard the conversation.” I wince as her jaw hits the floor, eyes wide in absolute horror as her hands still cradle my reddening fist.
“What!” Christian says, the look of disgust coming across his face. “You said that to her?”
“What? God, no! I was talking to Seth about how much I like her—and I do. But she has a kid, and I used the word baggage to refer to him.” I glance at Seth like maybe he’s got the right words to fix this, or at least back me up.
“I was just rambling—thinking out loud with no filter, saying shit about how hard that might be to navigate. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.
Swear to God, I regretted it the second the words came out. ”
“Wow, you really do have a big mouth,” Christian mumbles.
I remove my hand from Shelby’s and stride into the kitchen, my friends following behind me.
Guilt and hopelessness fall over me like a gray storm cloud, fitting!
I reach into the freezer and grab an ice pack, pressing it against my hand as I turn to face my friends.
They’re staring at me in shock, sympathy, and straight-up disbelief written across every expression.
“I feel like shit! I didn’t mean it. I was just overwhelmed—between the pressure of the game and the reality that she has a kid.
It’s going to be different, dating her.” I press the ice pack harder against my knuckles, welcoming the sting like I deserve it.
Fuck, if I’ve messed up my hand, Coach is going to kill me.
Though—at least the season’s over now. Fuck.
She heard me. She fucking heard me. And that’s why she’s not calling me back.
“I can’t believe you’re talking about dating someone period,” Seth says, falling down into a dining room chair, pushing his long legs out in front of him.
Shelby leans against the other side of the kitchen island. “Do you know for sure that she heard you?”
“Well…no. But let’s be real, she came by yesterday, dropped off my jacket in the foyer while I was in the kitchen with Seth, talking shit and calling her son baggage. She never came into the kitchen. And I haven’t heard from her since. So yeah… I’m guessing she heard.”
“Maybe you’re just really bad in bed,” Seth shoots into the conversation.
I turn to look at him. “You know, right now I would be happy to take that as a possibility over the reality,” I reply back, removing the ice pack from my hand, making a fist a few times.
Christian watches my hand as I move it around. “You royally fucked up, man.”
“You think I don’t realize that?” I say, shaking my hand and placing the ice pack back on it.
“How’s the hand?” Seth asks.
“Hurts like a motherfucker,” I grit out, kicking gently at the island. The pain still shooting up my arm, an ache beneath the knuckles sharp and deserved. I welcome it. I deserve it.
“This is bad, Randy,” Shelby sighs.
I exhale slowly, my breath shaky. “I know, Shelby. Fuck... I know.”