17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
TEAGAN
Ikick the door to my dorm room open then slam it shut behind me, glad Tommy decided to catch dinner with his girlfriend after practice. The stale scent of pizza fills the air and makes my stomach rumble, so I drop my bag on the floor beside the door and make my way toward the kitchenette.
The soles of my sneakers squeak over the linoleum, announcing my arrival, and when I swing the fridge door open, the light from inside glows in the din of the room, reminding me I hadn’t bothered to turn on the light.
That’s okay. The darkness matches my sour mood.
Grabbing a protein drink, I give it a quick shake, then crack the lid open at the same time my phone rings.
With a groan, I dig it out of the pocket of my athletic shorts, not really in the mood for conversation, unless it’s from the one person I want to hear from.
Brynn’s name flashes over the screen, and after a moment’s hesitation, I answer. “What’s up?” I say, my tone gruff.
I should be at the top of the world, vibrating with excitement.
We beat Alabama over the weekend by a field goal, pulling our rank. We’re now thirteenth in the fucking country. Yet I can’t seem to give a fuck because Lane’s ghosting me.
“Whoa. Everything okay? You sound like shit.”
“Feel like it, too,” I grumble.
It’s only been five days since I’ve talked to Lane, I remind myself. Five fucking days. I need to chill the fuck out, but I can’t seem to figure out how.
“What’s going on?” Brynn asks, her tone soft.
I exhale and tip my gaze to the ceiling. “I think I pushed too hard and scared Lane off,” I blurt.
“Ah.”
“What do you mean, ahhh?” I ask, annoyed.
“Nothing. It’s just I should’ve figured this was about her. So, I think it’s safe to say the ol’ friends plan isn’t working?”
I grimace. “I mean, it was. Kind of. Until I pushed my way into her house and proceeded to gush over her, and then send her texts twice a day, every day since Friday night reminding her how fucking amazing she is.”
Brynn whistles.
“Yeah.” I take a drink of my shake, wishing it were something stronger.
“You are hook, line, and sinker for her, aren’t you? This is worse than I thought.”
I swallow, then screw the cap back on my drink and set it on the counter when my stomach rumbles in protest.
I thought I left Lane’s place on a positive note. I thought things went well, but now I have no idea what to fucking think. I haven’t seen her since that night, and when I showed up at Wyndham Hall on both Monday and Tuesday to help her with the uniforms, she wasn’t there. All I found was the rack of cleaned gear, which meant she’d deliberately moved her shift to avoid me. And when I inquired about it via text because I was too chicken shit to try and call her, she just gave me some vague response about having some appointments this week.
I drag a hand down my face. “I don’t know what to do. Obviously, I came on too strong and spooked her. What do you suggest?”
To say I feel like an asshole is an understatement. It’s only been a couple weeks since I met her in the park that day, and I knew she had walls up. I should’ve eased into friendship, but something about Lane makes taking things slow seem like a Herculean effort.
“Maybe there’s nothing to do, T.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I snap.
“Maybe you just need to give this time. It was your idea to do the friend thing, so take a step back and give her some space. Don’t take her silence personally. When she’s ready to be friendly again, she’ll find you.”
“So, just do nothing?” I stare at the door to the dorms, mulling this over.
“Yeah. She has a child, remember? There’s a lot going on in her life. She might need more time to process, or maybe she’s just busy. Maybe she’s not getting enough sleep or it’s her time of the month or she’s exhausted from potty training. There are a million reasons she might have to keep her distance, and you pushing her won’t help.”
Fuck, Brynn’s right.
I need to take a step back.
“Put the ball in her court,” I say.
“Exactly. From the sounds of it, she knows where you stand, so let her work through whatever is going on and I guarantee she’ll come back around. Sometimes persistence means patience.”
“Damn. You’re good at this.”
“Duh.” I can practically hear her eye roll over the phone, and it makes me smile.
From here on out, patience is my middle fucking name.
“Teagan!”
I pause, frozen at the sound of her voice. I’m almost afraid to turn around and look in case it’s not her and instead it’s some sort of mirage or my brain playing tricks on me.
Several heartbeats later, I hear my name again and I pivot. A vise grips my chest at the sight of Lane hurrying to catch up with me. Two cups of coffee are clutched in her hands, her auburn locks trailing over her shoulders as she spans the distance.
Relief unfurls inside of me, spanning the length of my body like a growing vine as I wait, hands tucked into the pockets of my jeans.
She inhales, slightly winded from her jaunt across campus as she steps in front of me. “Shit,” she breathes. “Maybe I need to start working out.”
My lips quirk, and when I take a quick inventory of her in black leggings and a loose-fitting Wildcats T-shirt that falls off one shoulder, I beg to differ. She’s nothing short of perfect.
I meet her eyes once again, and her cheeks flush. “Hey,” I say as if the last five days she’s been avoiding me haven’t been pure torture.
“Hey.” She offers me a soft smile.
“Tired?” I motion toward the cups in her hands.
“Oh.” She jolts, as if remembering them and holds one out. “This one’s for you.”
I arch a brow. “You bought me a coffee?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs, and I take the offered cup. Our fingers brush, and I marvel at the resulting sparks from the simple contact. “Consider it a peace offering since I had to switch my schedule and haven’t seen you all week. I felt bad you went looking when I wasn’t there, and, well . . . I feel bad about hardly texting you back. I’ve just been so busy and—”
“Lane?” I dip my head, catching her eye again.
“Yeah?” she whispers, dark lashes fluttering.
“Breathe.” My lips quirk as she audibly exhales.
“Right. Sorry.” She reaches into the front pocket of her messenger bag and pulls out a little baggy filled with creamer and sugar packets. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, so . . .”
“This is perfect,” I say, raising my cup. “So, does this mean you’re done avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t—” She bites her lip, cutting off her words. “Okay, maybe I was avoiding you a little.”
At least she’s honest.
I chuckle. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes. I’ll be at Wyndham Hall at one, if you’re interested in coming to hang out while I work.”
I grin. “I think I can find the time.”
“Okay, great.” She takes a step back, eyeing me as she bites her lip. “Oh, and uh, good game on Saturday. My dad won’t shut up about it.”
His eyes brighten. “You watched?”
She nods. “Of course I watched.” Then she bites her lips as if debating on whether to say more. “I went to the game and stayed until half time, and then I took Sophie home and watched the rest on TV. You were . . .” She shakes her head. “Amazing.”
Joy spikes my bloodstream like a fucking drug. One positive affirmation from this girl and I’m on a high.
Shit, I’m screwed, but I’m finding it hard to care because Lane Turner was there, watching me play, and she wants me to know it, too.
“I know.” I wink and when she laughs, I want to do it again.
“If only everyone had your confidence.”
You will, once I’m through with you.
She flashes me one last smile, then turns and starts walking away while I unabashedly check out her ass as she goes.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” She whips back around and almost catches me as I jerk my gaze back to her face. “Sophie said thanks for the cake.”
The next week and half go something like this:
Training.
Classes.
Football.
Working with Lane.
More football.
And when I’m lucky enough, Lane again.
Between schoolwork and busting my ass on the field, I see Lane whenever I can, mostly in the laundry room before practice, but occasionally in the evenings, too. We’ve gone to Slice twice more with Sophie after practice—once last week, and again this week—and I’m starting to wonder if this won’t become some new tradition, one I’m quite fond of.
I wring a pair of practice pants out, then hand them to Lane, who takes a soft bristled brush to the grass stains, grinding in the oxygen booster and stain remover before they go in the wash with industrial strength detergents to get the stains out.
We’ve formed a routine in the last week and a half, working in tandem. She no longer has to direct me, and I no longer have to ask.
“I suppose you won’t be going to the game tomorrow?” I ask. It’s an away game, and I can only imagine how hard it would be to take Sophie on the road for what would be a long and boring weekend for her.
“Nope. We’ll be sitting this one out. I’ll still be watching, though. In fact, Sophie asked me if we were going to see you on TV.” She glances over at me and shakes her head, a grin spreading across her glorious lips. “Between you and my father, she’s going to be one heck of a football fan when she’s older.” She chuckles. “Though right now, she loses interest after about five minutes.”
Damn. I fight the surge of disappointment she’ll be absent from the stands.
Catching sight of her cheering us on last weekend was like a hit of valium, and two plays later, I scored a touchdown.
“A girl after my own heart. So, what are you doing tonight, then?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual, despite how much I crave spending time with her.
“Tonight, I’m meeting the contractor at my house.” She beams as she glances over at me and takes the damp jersey from my hands. “I got my first paycheck, so I finally feel comfortable putting the deposit down on the roof and getting started. He’ll come over, I’ll sign the contract, and if I’m lucky, I’ll have a new roof in a couple of weeks. Which also means I can finally start work inside now that I know it won’t get ruined by leaky ceilings.”
I frown. “How bad is the roof?”
“It’s already leaking in a couple of spots, nothing too bad, but enough that if we get a huge storm, I’m worried about the integrity of it. The roofer said the leaks are new, and so as long as we nip them in the bud, they don’t pose a mold risk. He’ll remove the entire thing and replace some of the damaged plywood on the water damaged parts. Then once he’s finished, I found a drywaller to patch the ceilings where they’ve leaked. Like I said, it just needs a little TLC.”
I nod, but my mind is working overtime, focused on the idea of her going to this house alone and meeting a contractor. I know he’s a professional and so he’s most likely trustworthy, but after what happened to my sister, I trust no one.
I shift on my feet, angling my body toward hers and taking a defensive posture as I cross my arms over my chest. “So, you and Soph are going to the house alone to meet this contractor? Is it just him or a team of guys?”
Not that I’m sure it makes a difference. Either way, I can’t stomach the thought of her going by herself, though I’m not sure how she’ll react to my concern. Will she take offense? Think I’m controlling or overprotective?
She lifts a shoulder. “Since he’s not doing any work, I’m sure it’ll just be him. But he’s a friend of the family. It’s probably the only reason he agreed to meet me outside of normal work hours. Why?”
Friend or not, meeting her outside of work hours is just another reason to be suspicious.
Knox was a friend once, too.
“I don’t like it,” I say, bracing for an argument.
Her brows rise, and it’s a moment before she says, “Wait. Are you worried about me being alone with him? The guy is harmless. My parents have known him for years. Besides, I met him myself the first time around, too. Single, working, college mom, remember?”
And your father was okay with that? I want to ask but don’t. I have no doubt my line of questioning won’t go over well. She’s not a child; she’s very much a grown, capable woman. Of that, I’m well aware.
But still . . .
I don’t like the idea of her meeting him alone at night.
I tug on the back of my neck, contemplating my next move and how I can assert myself into the situation without coming off as overbearing.
Fuck it. There’s no tiptoeing around what I want.
“I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you let me go with you.”
She stares at me for a moment, forehead furrowing as my words sink in. “You want to spend the Friday night before your away game hanging out with my daughter and protecting me from harmless contractors?”
Sounds perfect.
“I mean, that’s what I want, yeah.” I shrug, and she shakes her head slowly.
“But why?”
I can’t tell if she thinks I’m crazy or if she’s in disbelief or . . .
Before she can refuse me, I step forward and grab her hands, threading her delicate fingers through mine—God, we fit so perfectly—as I look her in the eyes. “I was hoping we could hang out, anyway. But knowing you’re meeting this guy—some stranger—alone, worries me. My twin sister was assaulted in high school, and it haunts me every fucking day that I didn’t stop it, that I wasn’t there for her. So, please, even if my worries are in vain, let me tag along?”
She sucks in a breath, and emotion flickers in the blue depths of her eyes. “Oh, I—I’m sorry.” She squeezes my hands. “But you know whatever happened wasn’t your fault any more than it was hers, right?”
I clench my jaw, saying nothing because the truth is, I don’t know what the fuck to think. Part of me does still harbor a little bit of guilt over that night. How could I not when years later, it turns out I not only knew her attacker, but he was one of my closest friends? I should’ve kept an eye on her that night. I should’ve noticed when she slipped away from the dance to meet him.
The thought curdles my stomach.
I might not be able to change the past, but I can change the future. So, I focus on Lane and convincing her to let me help because it’s not lost on me that she still hasn’t agreed.
“I can entertain Sophie while you’re talking to him,” I say, ignoring her question entirely. “That way, you won’t be interrupted.”
Her eyes search mine, and I let her read me because I have nothing to hide. “All right,” she says after a moment.
I blink. “All right? I can go?”
I don’t know why I thought she’d put up more of a fight. Maybe because I’ve been seeing her so much lately as it is, or because she’s so fiercely independent and hellbent on doing everything herself?
“Yeah. If you want to come, it’ll be fun.” She glances down to the jersey she’s scrubbing with a private smile and adds, “I’m actually planning on spending the night there, so that tomorrow, I can get up and start prepping walls for paint. I planned on doing it while watching the game. You can even stay after I put her to bed, if you want?”
Joy unfurls in my chest at the invitation. Though it won’t be my first time hanging out with Lane alone, it’s the first time she’s invited me.
The prospect of it has my heart pounding like a fucking teenager.
I place a heart over my chest, willing it to calm the fuck down as I say, “Lane Turner, are you asking me if I want to spend time with you alone?”
Her blush is instantaneous and so fucking adorable, I want to lean down and kiss the cherry-red tinge skating across her cheekbones.
“You’re right.” She waves a hand in dismissal. “Forget I said—”
“Lane,” I place my fingers under her chin and tip her face to mine, “you’re insane if for one second you think I don’t want to get you alone.”
She tugs her lower lip into her mouth with her teeth, and the resounding spike of yearning I feel is like a mule-kick to the chest.
I step even closer, until I can feel the warmth of her breath feathering over my neck. “And for the record, you don’t even have to ask. Just say the word and I’m there.” The red in her cheeks deepens. “In fact, it’ll be the highlight of my week.”
A moment of tense silence follows before she exhales and rolls her eyes, pushing me away. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure it’ll be thrilling, hanging out with the single mom and her daughter.”
“Everything about you is thrilling,” I admonish.
She swallows before she groans, and I decide I like seeing her flustered. “Stop. I’m sure you say that to all your female friends.”
“Nope.” I wink before I lean forward and whisper into the shell of her ear. “I’m not in the habit of having friends that are girls. Only you.”