Chapter 2
Hayes
I slowly walk the two blocks from my new off-campus house to the address I was given.
Joel Henderson, my new quarterback at CFU, invited me to a party at his house, which is apparently called the football house because several of the team members live there. I haven’t spent much time with my teammates yet since I literally just pulled into town two days ago. But they seem nice enough and interested in including me in their pre-semester party. It’ll be a good way to help me get to know them. I hate being the new guy.
Especially since I’m the team’s newest kicker and I’m transferring mid-year, post-season. The timing isn’t great, but it’s the deal I worked out with the coach.
As we’re in the off-season, the team meetings are brief and it’s all weight room and cardio training and a few scrimmages later this spring.
As a kicker, all of that looks different for me. I don’t need to plow guys over on the field; I just need to kick a football with incredible accuracy, to ensure I hit the mark inside the goal post during the most intense periods of the game.
God, it’s hard to believe how much my life has changed in the last year.
Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be on a college football team as their kicker. That’s because I’ve always played soccer. My brother, Holden, was the one into football, while soccer has been my life since I was seven years old and I still love playing it.
Life, however, had other ideas. And it was due to a giant tragic twist of fate that I’m now going to be out on the football field instead of the soccer field this coming season.
Guilt washes over me as I think about all the things that have led me to this very moment, and I swallow back the sadness that threatens to overwhelm me almost every minute of the day. It consumes me at times, but not as much as it does Holden. At least I can make the choice to be here. Holden and Kevin, our best friend, can’t.
I push those dark thoughts aside and work to clear my mind of all the mistakes I’ve made. Being here at CFU is my chance to start over. It’s the reason I came to campus early so I can start this new life ASAP and find ways to cover up the pain that continually infiltrates my life. I’m no longer the same person I was before the accident because it made me a different person. It turned me into someone I barely recognize anymore.
Maybe, here at CFU, where no one knows about my past, I can pretend it never happened. It may allow me to finally forget about what happened and move on.
As if…
I groan at my own stupidity. I’ll never forget it or everything that has happened since then. As a result of those bad decisions, I know I’m left carting this albatross around my neck for eternity.
With a long sigh, I look down the street as I approach a block of older Craftsman-style homes and hear the makings of a good party. It’s not overly loud, but I can still hear the bass of the music thumping from inside and mingled voices that penetrate the otherwise quiet night. I’m surprised their neighbors don’t complain. Or maybe that’s an upside to living in a college town. People must be used to college students and their loud parties around here.
That’s one of the aspects of transferring to CFU I’m excited about. The school is just big enough for me to blend into the crowd. No one will talk about me. No one will whisper things as I walk by. They won’t say, “Hey, isn’t that the guy whose twin brother was injured and can’t play ball anymore? Poor kid.”
I’m a newbie, a nobody here, and I like that. The thought has my spine growing straighter as I turn onto the path up to the three-story house with its sharp roof lines and giant single window on what I assume is an attic room. The lights are all on inside and I can make out the outlines of people dancing and talking on the first floor.
This is good. I can be normal for a few minutes and forget about everything I regret. I need this. I smile to myself for the first time in a long while.
I walk up the slick cement steps, holding the handrail as I do to keep from slipping. Being from Colorado, I’m used to the cold winters and snow, but this wind is another story. I cinch up my hoodie drawstring to keep the cold at bay as I notice three guys sitting in chairs at the far end of the covered porch talking in low voices. I can make out red Solo cups in their hands. One guy has a woman sitting on his lap, his arm protectively around her. For a split second, I feel that immense grief build again, drowning my mind like a tsunami.
I give my head a little shake and look again at the door that’s partially ajar, light from inside drifting out in a stream over the porch entry.
Hendy had told me to just come on inside when I got here, and from the sound of it, no one would hear me knocking anyway, even if I did. Taking a deep inhale, I slowly push the door open and expel the air as I step inside.
Before I can even get a good look around and take in my surroundings, I hear the nickname I’ve been dubbed being shouted out across the room. It’s an abbreviated twist on my last name of McIntyre.
“Mac’s here!”
“Hey, Mackey! Come on in and join us.”
I recognize a few of the new teammates I’ve already met sprawled out on a sofa and oversized chair in the living room and I smile. The furnishings, while they look comfortable, still appear to have seen better days. Pretty standard for your typical college dwelling. No one wants nice things because they’ll just end up getting trashed at parties like this.
A quick scan as I move farther into the room provides me a glimpse at more well-used furniture, a large-screen television currently being used for video gaming, red Solo cups and beer cans everywhere, and a dining area now converted into a semi-dance floor. There’s a kitchen to my right with a bunch of people at a long counter mixing drinks with enough alcoholic beverages to qualify as a full-on bar. The lights are all dimmed and somewhere inside there must be a disco ball hanging from the ceiling because sparkly lights reflect on the wall behind the sofa.
There are enough boxes of pizza piled up on a kitchen table to feed an army and my stomach growls at the smell of food, reminding me I didn’t eat lunch today. I got too busy unpacking my suitcases to do anything more than drink a can of Coke. I reach into a bag of chips left open on the coffee table and pop some in my mouth, glancing around to see if I can recognize more of my teammates.
“Hey, Hendy,” I say with a small nod of my chin when I see my new QB’s head pop up from the sofa, a game controller in his hand. I smile and continue to nervously chew the salty chips before swallowing them down, wishing I had a drink. The whole school and team transfer postseason have me incredibly anxious on how quickly I’ll fit in with the team and I wonder how they perceive me. I don’t have the long-standing friendships the guys have developed or the close bond teammates have when they’ve played together for years.
And I’m sure the minute they hear I’ve never played football on a college team, they are going to think twice about me. Yet something tells me they’ll be cool because they seem like they’re a good crew of guys who are excited for my arrival.
“Glad you’re here, Mac. You play?” Hendy asks as he holds up a black controller in his hands, waving it around for me to see. “We have this new game we just got today. Just be on the lookout for Gracie…she looks all sweet and innocent, but that girl will fucking kick your ass in this game.”
Hendy turns back toward the TV with a laugh and I chuckle, having no idea what game he’s talking about or who Gracie is. Maybe it’s his girlfriend? My gaze follows in the direction of the screen. “Oh, sweet. I didn’t even know this came out today. I thought it was scheduled for next weekend.”
Hendy snorts. “Me too. Had I known, I wouldn’t have invited everyone over to party tonight.”
Not having much else to add, I glance behind me and find a spot on one of the wooden chairs set up by the sofa. I take a seat and mindlessly watch the game sequence until a very loud squeal to my right draws my attention. I stand in an attempt to figure out what’s happening and whip my head in the direction of the sound.
A blonde-haired girl wearing a white kitchen towel over her eyes is shoved in front of me by another shorter dark-haired chick who exclaims, “This one!”
Before I have a chance to react or move out of the way, the blonde-haired girl blindly lifts her arms and extends them toward my face. She feels around, her hands warm as she places them on my cheeks. In my confusion, I remain motionless, my head trapped between her hands and then the girl leans down to kiss me. Smack on the lips.
What the hell kind of party is this where a woman just blindly kisses a stranger?
That was my first thought. The second one, however, becomes scattered and blown to smithereens when the kiss quickly turns bold. I’m no longer caught off-guard, and I’m enveloped in a vaguely familiar scent that reminds me of Paris in summer.
Lavender and honey.
Her taste, her scent, and the incredible warmth from her is surreal. I drop back into my chair, bringing her with me. The kiss has me in somewhat of a dreamlike state. She swings both arms around my neck and seals her lips over mine almost possessively. Like she’s a woman on a mission determined to succeed with her plans. My mouth opens to offer more and a moan slips free from her throat.
And that’s when I know.
Holy shit.
This must be a hallucination.
The scent. The sound. The way her lips coast over mine like she can’t get enough.
My body instinctively reacts on its own accord before my brain completely catches up with what’s going on. If this is a dream, I don’t want it to end. I wrap my arms around her waist and tug her into me, her breasts mashing into my chest as my lips lay claim once again to hers.
When my tongue sweeps inside her mouth and I flick the tip over her silver tongue-piercing, she suddenly goes still.
She drops her arms and scrambles off my lap to her feet and takes a step back. Her hands fumble with the kitchen towel, whipping it off her face, staring at me with wide eyes. She blinks. I blink.
Once.
Twice.
She cocks her head to the side and looks around as if confused about where she is. Her gaze returns to me and she stares at me like she’s seeing a ghost.
And I return the disbelieving look.
Holy fucking shit. It is her.
It’s Kelsie Dannon.
I’m not just imagining it and this is not some dream.
Kelsie Dannon is right in front of me.
The same girl I left waiting for me in Paris on Christmas Eve and have regretted doing it ever since.
I never expected to see her again. How could we? We only used our prepaid French numbers while there and never exchanged our U.S. phone numbers or talked about where we went to school.
We left everything open and casual, just like she wanted it to be.
Yet here she is and it’s not even my subconscious wishing we were together in the same place again, wrapped up in each other”s kisses.
This is fucking real. But… oh, shit…fuck my life. I watch her expression morph from dazed and confused with the initial shock of seeing me to livid, her eyes shooting daggers.
Panic rises in my throat and I swallow it down, having the presence of mind to look contrite. I watch as anger flushes over her face, a deepening red tinting her cheekbones, and I know she’s pissed as hell at me right now for what I did to her in Paris.
She has every right to never want to speak to me again.
Or read me the fucking riot act.
And if I know Kelsie, she’s about to do just that.
That guilt I carried with me when I walked in the door tonight washes over me with a vengeance, coating every molecule of my body. This is bad. So very, very bad.
Denim blue eyes narrow on me, turning a deep sea blue and I extend my hand to her, whether it’s for protection or to reach out in case she tries to bolt. But she doesn’t. Instead, in a cold, dismissive voice she says, “You fucking bastard.”
And then before I can duck or dodge, her hand whips out and slaps me hard across my cheek, leaving a hot sting in its wake. My head snaps back instinctively, but I don’t get up. I rub a palm over the skin that’s burning with a dull pain.
But I know it’s nothing compared to the pain I caused her. I stand as I attempt to formulate a response, but my mind draws a blank.
Some dude behind her says, “Whoa, Kels! What’s the deal? Did this guy try something on you?”
She ignores the comment of concern with a scoff and all the gawkers in the room have stopped talking and turned their attention to this highly-unusual confrontation.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here, but you can get the fuck out right now!” she seethes, trying to sidestep past me, throwing the bandana on the floor like it’s just done something to offend her. My gaze tracks her as she spins on her heel, ready to make a break for it, but my hand snaps out to snag her wrist. My mind swirls as I unconsciously rub the spot on my cheek, holding her in place so I can talk to her.
The big guy who steps in, Killer, offers a protective gesture when he puts a hand up to my chest, his gaze darting between me and Kelsie, who wiggles free from my grasp. “Do you two know each other or something?”
Hendy drops his controller on the couch and stands up. Both guys are obviously ready to intervene on behalf of their friend, if necessary. And regardless of whether I’m their new teammate or not, it’s very clear whose side they’d be on if it turns out I’m the villain in this situation.
Let”s face it, I kind of am.
“Uh, dude, it’s pretty fucking clear they know each other,” Hendy adds with a snort as Kelsie gives me a death glare that could kill a lesser man if that man wasn’t already fueled by pain and regret.
I reach out for her again to prevent her from leaving, but Hendy steps between us.
“Let her go, bro.”
She snarls at me, “You don’t ever fucking touch me again…”
She doesn’t finish her thought because one of her friends pulls her toward the kitchen and out of my reach, but not out of earshot. Hendy is still in my way, arms crossed over his chest, offering his protective support of Kelsie.
Fuck. This was not the way I saw this party going tonight. I was here to make friends and now all I’ve done is create a scene.
“Grace, let me go. If he stays, I’m leaving.” She practically spits out her words, angrily pointing her finger back at me.
“What is going on right now? Who is this guy?” another girl asks, her gaze ping-ponging between Kelsie and me, concern stitched in her furrowed brows.
Hendy, now more than a little concerned over what’s happening, stares at me judgingly. “Mac, what did you do to her to make her so mad, bro?”
I suck in a breath. That’s a loaded question that I’m not sure can be answered succinctly. The answer has a level of complexity I can’t even begin to explain.
All I know is that I’ve come face to face again with the woman I fell in love with just weeks ago. A woman I was sure I’d never run into again…because I’m an idiot.
Kelsie jerks her arm free from her friend and runs toward the front door before anyone can stop her, slamming it behind her.
Shit! I take off in the same direction, pushing past Hendy and the small crowd of onlookers as I open the front door and run outside.
Hendy and Killer join me.
“You all right, Kels?” Hendy yells.
“Your coat!” Killer adds, tossing a purple coat in her direction.
“I’m fine. Just go,” Kelsie replies as she catches the coat and takes off across their front yard.
“Kelsie! Please, wait!” I call out after her as I sprint to catch up.
She stops abruptly at the corner of the street and whips around, pointing an accusatory finger at me. I stop short, leaving space between us in case she tries to slap me again. I’m breathing hard, both from the run and my anxious thoughts.
“No, I don’t think so,” she says firmly, her voice rising with every word. “You don’t get to explain, Hayes. I don’t want to hear anything from those lying, betraying lips of yours. You had your chance and you blew it. So stay the fuck away from me. I don’t know why you’re here or how you found me, but I never want to see you again.”
I open my mouth, but she takes off running again into the night. I lose sight of her as she cuts through a yard, snow flying around her. Damn, she is one fast runner. Maybe she’s on the track team?
I wouldn’t know because I have no insight into who Kelsie is outside of the girl I fell for in Paris.
We chose not to share anything about each other’s lives and now I regret all of that.
I regret everything except for meeting her.
As I stare down the street after her, I shake my head over the night’s events.
So much for new starts and forgetting my past mistakes.
Because the second worst mistake I ever made was leaving the woman I loved with just a text of goodbye.
The irony is that while the universe has offered me an open door for a possible reconciliation.
Kelsie just slammed it right in my face.