Chapter 6
The level of dread mirrored back at me in those Rhodes blue-gray eyes from across the room was an accurate depiction of the panic in my chest. Of course. Of course, they’d reduce the competition for efficiency’s sake. That or the fates had been sorely lacking in entertainment and decided to shake things up a bit. And, of course, it would be me facing off with Elora. It was always me and Pix.
I was the swim team captain my sophomore year, before Dad made me pick between that and football. That was two years before she swept the board, claiming every damn category and setting the state record for metals collected. My shoes as Student Body President were filled by none other than Elora Rhodes, with ten more votes than I’d acquired. I was awarded Valedictorian with a four-point-oh, so she took AP classes and took the title with a four-point-five.
A four. Point. Five.
What kind of psychopath could get a GPA like that? My best friends’ baby sister. That’s who.
As her eyes slipped closed, she looked less than thrilled at the current matchup, and with good reason. Our competitors all had fantastic, heart-smashing causes. And if she was anything like me, she’d been preparing for weeks and knew that more likely than not, it would be the two of us standing as finalists by the end of the week.
It always had been.
Cursing, I made my way on stage to shake hands with Miss King, and my new competition, hesitating awkwardly in front of Elora. Did I shake the hand of the woman I’d known practically my entire life? Go in for a hug and make the entire conference awkwardly aware of our friendship? What were the odds a tiny Alaskan fishing town would produce two of their finalists? We had a four-figure population. So…None. Absolutely incomprehensible.
Swallowing audibly, my shoulders relaxed when she extended her hand and gave a practiced smile. As I accepted, she practically crushed my palm, and I canted my head as one of her sculpted brows arched incrementally in challenge. The warning was implicit, as they all had been back home.
This means war.
A war I wasn’t entirely convinced I wanted to wage. But as she released me, I slipped my hand in my pocket, clutching my lucky silver dollar like a grown man’s support blanket before we all leaned together to pose for a photographer who’d scurried up on the stage.
Eyes working to get rid of the flash’s retina abuse, I thought about the absolute chaos we caused as teenagers. And while that was inevitable in a small town—hell, especially a fishing town where we grew up earning grown men’s wages to burn on fun—there were so many kids with parents on the water, or in the cannery, and nowhere to go without getting into trouble. Mistyvale needed this. Hell, after Sarah, I needed a win. You know what? El had always pushed me to do better—be better—and this wouldn’t be any different.
Game on, Rhodes. Game. On.
My bravado ended as abruptlyas it started the moment she caught up with me in the hallway in my na?ve attempt to flee. A woman on a mission, you’d have thought she was attempting to ignite me with the glower she shot my direction.
“A youth center, huh? Couldn’t have made this easy on my conscience and opted for some football program expansion?”
There wasn’t a point in fighting my smile as I glanced down to where she fought to keep up by my shoulder, heels clicking against the slick tile. Slowing to accommodate her little legs, I sighed. “Didn’t know I’d be pitted against you in the first place, Pix.”
Those delicate lips twisted sideways at the moniker, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she said, “You should withdraw. Save us both the effort.”
“I should withdraw?” I quirked a brow, shaking my head as we reached the elevators, and I pushed the tacky plastic button. I made a mental note to sanitize my hands when we reached the room. That was one too many handshakes and one too many very public, vaguely dirty-feeling surfaces for my liking. “Absolutely not. Women are eligible for all kinds of scholarships in male-dominated fields. We don’t have anything like this on the island.”
“We had even fewer amenities when we were kids and we all turned out just fine.”
“Half our peers had criminal records by the time we hit nineteen,” I pointed out. Mind you, it was predominantly petty theft and equally harmless small-town indiscretions, but a handful were hit with assault charges due to the inevitable bonfire brawls that broke out when kids had nothing to do and nobody at home waiting for them. “Not everybody had loving homes to retreat to, El.”
She looked down to her feet, scowling as she stepped into the now open elevator, and I quickly followed her in. My parents were both phenomenal, high achievers, but with that gift came long hours and missed games. If it hadn’t been for Rhyett and Jameson dragging me into their mother’s sights, my childhood would’ve been so much emptier. Loved. But quiet.
“I’ve been preparing for this for months,” she added, only my familiarity with her giving away to the irritation hidden in her matter-of-fact tone.
“Same.”
“Mara and I need the funding for the school. Contrary to your insinuation, there isn’t another program like ours in the country. We’d be the first of our kind.”
“Listen, El. The idea is great. But you have three other competitors to worry about with causes far more compelling than mine.”
“Like fate would ever be so kind,” she muttered dryly, rolling her eyes before they fell to her feet. “It’s always fucking been you.”
The words hit my chest infinitely harder than they should’ve, my throat suddenly thick as I turned to face her, the scent of her overpowering my senses. Fuck, she’d always smelled so damn good. She blinked up at me, her determined mask cracking to reveal something heavy as she held my gaze. Had she meant that to feel as weighted as it did? In the sixteen years after that prom, we’d never really…talked about what happened between us. Never thought it needed to be said. I’d been out of line, and it wouldn’t happen again. But a part of me always wanted to know if she’d seen it that way. If…if anything was different now that we’d grown up.
Tone quiet, curious, and laced in reproach, I managed to squeeze her name out in a pathetic little, “El.”
The lift dinged, light illuminating a beat before the doors whooshed open, sending us both flying back a step to opposing rails as a group of people rushed in, reeking of Nevada heat and cafeteria food. Their obnoxious chatter did nothing to cut the tension that had just settled into the space, especially not when Elora’s eyes locked on mine a beat before the doors opened again—not on our floor—and she snuck past the bustling crowd, leaving me cornered in the back of an elevator that smelled of BO and cheap suits.
I’d practically paceda hole in the tacky carpet of our room by the time I caved. This sitcom-level disaster needed a sounding board. Swiping my phone off the crisp bed covers where I’d hastily discarded it, I hesitated. Scowling, I slowly lowered onto the edge of the bed with a stone in my throat. My thumb hovered awkwardly over Rhyett’s name, and then Jameson’s before tossing it back onto the bed. Hell, my entire friend group was comprised of Rhodes. Hadn’t been an issue until I needed an unbiased opinion. I scrolled down the contact list before staring at Max’s name. He already knew. He could tell me what the hell to do, right? But Max’s loyalty was firmly planted in Camp Elora, which meant he’d probably give me the finger and curt instructions to bow the hell out of her way.
I should, really. It would be the ethical thing to do. The gentlemanly thing to do. It’s what my father would do. I shouldn’t compromise her drive to do this, and knowing Elora, my presence on that lineup would. Besides, even if I won the damn thing, every penny in that account would stink of betrayal. It would feel like stealing from her. But Mistyvale kids were on the fast path to throwing their lives away and being trapped on fishing boats whether they wanted that life or not. They needed this.
Ineeded this. To prove it wasn’t all for nothing. To prove I was more than just some small-town community college professor. That I could make an impact and put our town first, like my parents. It was their legacy that led me to rush across the room and yank open the dresser drawer to retrieve my gym clothes with enough force to throw it off its track.
Maybe a good run would clear my head.
Elora
“That’s ‘Professor Handsome’?” Mara demanded, although I couldn’t tell if the pinch in her brows was denial or challenge. As we’d gotten close and she’d noticed my…less than encouraging track record in the romance department, of course she’d heard all about Broderick. I just didn’t ever think our two worlds would collide so abruptly.
“In the glorious flesh,” I said, sinking into the stiff brocade armchair in the corner. Fuck me, he was gorgeous, and so damn captivating. Of course, he made the top five. Of course, fucking Johanna King had noticed Broderick Allen. “We’re hosed.”
“Now, now. Slow down,” she said with a laugh as she lowered into the chair beside me in her hotel room, bending to pop her heels off. Her adorable little family was down at the resort water park, soaking up the sunshine and entertainment while mama was kicking ass and taking names. “Didn’t you always best him?”
“When I could study his game plan, identify weaknesses and improve it? Yeah. But we were never neck and neck. I was always just taking one extra step beyond his precedent. He set the bar.”
Shaking her head, a coy smile crept up her face. “Ornery little thing, aren’t you?”
“I thought it would get his attention,” I admitted with a huff, pursing my lips and wishing I could go back for a very firm conversation with teenage Elora about pride and priorities.
“Likely did more than that,” she snickered. “So, how do we beat him?” Something uneasy churned in my stomach, but it must have shown on my face because before I could vocalize it, Mara was cutting me off. “Absolutely not. No. Nada. Ni. We didn’t come this damn far to only come this far. You’re not backing out because of a pretty face and a mind with a penchant for spouting off Proust.”
“It feels shitty.”
“To be pitted against your childhood flame? No shit. But we’re not quitting.”
I wrinkled my nose. But any trace of humor vanished as quickly as the guilt settled in my chest.
“Fuck, I know that face. Stop it right now.”
“What?” I mumbled weakly, not even convincing myself that I didn’t know exactly what she was saying.
“Why does this bother you so much?”
“Broderick.”
“Jesus—yes, I got that,” she said with a pointed eye roll. “I mean, why does the idea of beating him bother you this time?”
“Broderick…plays everything close to the vest.”
“Okay…?”
“He sticks to Mistyvale, aside from the occasional work trip.”
“Still missing the point,” she said, irritation slipping into her tone as she motioned to move it along.
“He never—and I mean never—does anything for himself. He tried out for football because Rhyett and Jameson were going to play, and he wanted to spend the summer with them. When he became the best running back on the team, he kept playing because the coaches begged him to. Now hes buddy coaching the high school football team with Jameson, because with the summer salmon season, James would miss too many practices.” With a huff, I shrugged. “He volunteers in town because his mother was the mayor for half our childhood, and proofs contracts for the local legal aid program on his off time because it’s his dad’s pet project.”
“So, we’re robbing a saint, is what you’re insinuating.”
I huffed a laugh, my cheeks aching. “I’ve never seen him go for something he wanted because he wanted it. As unfortunate as this is, I’m kind of…super proud of him for being here. For taking the shot, you know?”
“He’s not aiming to buy an Aston Martin; he’s trying to help a bunch of punk teenagers with too much time on their hands.”
“Punk teenagers just like we were. Mistyvale kids have always been too bored for their own good.”
With a pinch between her brows, she immediately countered, “You guys turned out just fine.”
“We were lucky,” I pointed out with a laugh at the irony, like he had just forty minutes earlier.
“And our aspirations are no less admirable just because his are also noble.” Leaning back, Mara crossed her arms, lips twisting to the side as she focused on me.
I shook my head. They weren’t. Women still faced such a radical disadvantage in the workplace, in pay gaps, in a country bound and determined to kill off new moms through medical negligence, if not actual malicious intent. God forbid you take the time to heal and bond to your newborn, or get your breasts back to a non-painful, cantaloupe-sized state before being thrown back into the workforce. Don’t get me started on the lack of paternity leave—as though fathers shouldn’t bond with their babies and look after healing baby mamas. Such an anomaly that the suicide rates are astronomical.
Weneeded this. A school that didn’t just equip but empowered. A network of like-minded, badass business babes that would rally and support each other as we figured our shit out. First as students, then as associates, both near and far. Mentors in their industries. Professionals in marketing, advertising, and finance to lean on even after graduation. This mission was about cultivating long term success after equipping them to envision and engineer their reality in the first place. Entrepreneurship was the one way we could guarantee our own benefits in the long run.
A school like ours didn’t exist, and it was about damn time somebody made it happen.
“No,” I begrudgingly agreed. “The dream hasn’t lost value, just…the ease with which I intended to bring it to fruition. I didn’t know the competitors. It was easier that way.”
“Hey, we don’t even know if we’ll both survive the first round of elimination. The judges could make this easy on us.” I inclined my head, aiming for a disapproving glare, but the involuntary tilt to my mouth obviously ruined the effect, as she burst out laughing. “Yeah, okay that sounded too easy, even to me.”
“This is going to suck.”
“Or or or” she exclaimed as she leaned forward conspiratorially. “It doesn’t have to suck. It could be fun.”
“Fun?” I drawled dryly.
“Look, he’s not actually Mother Teresa. The man broke your heart in high school and rejected you when you fileted yourself open again as a grown ass adult. Perfectly capable of consenting. Perfectly capable of making your own choices, away from the prying eyes of your meddlesome-as-fuck family.”
“Ahh, yes, I just love reliving romantic trauma. Please, continue.”
Ignoring my dripping sarcasm, Mara forged ahead uninhibited. “He’s not some innocent little doe, El. Maybe, you use this opportunity to show him what he’s missing out on. Maybe one last shoot out is exactly what you need to get him out of your system.” She flashed a cheeky little wink, adding, “Or…what he needs to get into it.”