CHAPTER 21
Remy
Cameron University’s auditorium is surprisingly full.
I wonder if that means some professors still offer extra credit for attending these things.
I’d like to believe it’s because the students know my man is about to speak, but that might just be me.
It’s surreal to stand here at the back of the room where I spot a few professors doing the same near other doorways.
On my way in, a gaggle of kids who looked like lost freshmen called me ‘sir’ and asked me if this was where the winter break safety briefing was.
That expounds on just how long it’s been since any of them could have been me or Chris. God, we were just kids when we met.
People act like once you turn eighteen, you’re an adult. I used to think that too. It takes a hell of a lot longer than that to figure yourself, the world, and life out, though.
The emcee concludes her opening address and announces Chris.
My stomach flips with nerves. He’s being so freaking brave doing this.
I know he tried to act like he wasn’t freaking out the last few days, but I think I’m freaking out.
He’s so hard on himself. I’m terrified he’ll either not get through it or critique himself too harshly afterward.
He was up late last night, poring over his notes on his computer, Gale asleep by his feet, until I dragged him back to bed, insisting he try to turn his mind off.
The introductory applause sounds obligatory until Chris walks out on the stage.
Immediately, a few catcall whistles echo through the auditorium, making me chuckle.
Chris’ stoic face looks like he’s ready to go into battle, but his gaze darts to the crowd in confusion for a second.
He really has no idea how handsome he still is. This man.
He reaches the podium, and the dean shakes his hand, turning over the mic to him.
To my surprise, he doesn’t stand behind it.
He takes a few idle steps, explaining his affiliation with the university—his college football career, getting drafted and playing for the NFL, and how he’s a sportswriter covering their games for the paper now.
“So, why am I here to give you your winter break safety meeting?” he asks rhetorically.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. I didn’t want to be here about as much as you probably don’t want to be right now either.
” That gets him a laugh, but my stomach muscles tighten, and I press the skin at the tip of my thumb between my teeth.
“That’s what bad decisions do to you,” he explains.
“They make you want to hide, not show up, or walk around with your head hung in shame, because they never go away. You can learn from them, sure, but you spend a lot of time wondering what life would have been like if you’d never made them in the first place. ”
He then explains some details about the night of his accident; some I knew, some I didn’t. It only gets worse when he talks about waking up in the hospital, his surgeries, and his recovery.
“But it wasn’t exactly a recovery,” he adds. “Because guess what I did? I made yet another bad decision.”
He elaborates on the temptation of the opioids he was taking for pain management.
How they numbed his emotional pain. How it got easier and easier to rely on them.
How it seemed easier to numb the physical pain than to do the actual work of physical therapy.
He tells them that by the time you realize your decision was bad, you might already be trapped.
I swipe a tear off my cheek, grateful he hasn’t looked up here, even though I told him right where I would be if he needed to see me to ground himself.
All the while, he paces slowly back and forth across the stage, one hand tucked in his pocket, in front of a sea of silence as though he’s a natural.
Should I have expected anything less from Chris when he puts his mind to something?
“When you head out for the holidays, and even when you come back, I hope you can take something from this throughout the rest of your time here because you’ve got your whole lives ahead of you.
There will be days, weeks, or months, even, when you might feel like no one understands you or what you’re going through.
There will be times you won’t think you’re enough for yourself, your family, or maybe a special someone. ”
My breath catches when he pauses and searches the back of the room until his eyes land on me. He flashes me a sympathetic smile that heals an old wound I didn’t know was still there.
“Or your introduction to a bad decision might just look like celebrating when you feel so good you think you’re invincible. But we aren’t,” he affirms with finality.
“I could have made this university very proud once, but a bad decision found me, and I took it. I was on top of the world, living a life some people only dream of living for a twenty-three-year-old. That party I told you about? The one where I was at a mansion, surrounded by celebrities and women throwing themselves at me before I got in my car—a car that would take me twenty years to afford now. I wasn’t happy.
I was miserable, in fact. I’d never felt so alone or trapped in my life.
And the pressure I thought I’d overcome by finally making it seemed like it had just been reset, knowing I’d have to keep being the best every single day on the field after that.
All I wanted was someone to talk to and maybe a hand to hold, not champagne, money, fancy cars, or a Super Bowl ring.
The hand I wanted to hold belonged to another student here at Cameron U.
” He pauses, and I don’t know how I’m still standing.
“Because there are a lot of happy times you’re going to have here, too.
Some of the best times of your life. But back then, I was so conflicted, thinking there was no way I’d be able to hold his hand and be allowed to play on national television.
Walking away from him was actually my first bad decision and cost me more than I can ever explain. ”
A few whispers float over the audience. Chris runs his hand over the top of his head and clears his throat. God, I just want to run to him and tell him he’s done enough.
“I didn’t know if the team would drop me, if my family would look at me the same way.
If anyone would. I was scared and overwhelmed by expectations I didn’t think I had control over.
So, I got in my car and drove as fast as I could, chasing that feeling of invincibility, to let life know that it couldn’t break me.
Just so I could feel like I was in control of something for a few minutes. ”
He finally comes to a stop, squaring off with the audience. He shakes his head.
“Life doesn’t break you. But your bad decisions can feel like they do for a long time.
So, when you’re out there, think about what it is that you really want.
Think about what you want your life to look like when you’re faced with drugs, alcohol, or feeling like you don’t belong here.
They’re not decisions; they’re just temptations.
Saying yes to them is the bad decision. Don’t let them win, or you might never know how great you really could have had it after you overcame your struggles on your own.
Because they’re sure as shit not going to help you. ”
I hiccup out a laugh that they got a glimpse of the full Chris. Only one expletive is impressive. He thanks them and waits for the dean to walk over to retrieve the mic. She doesn’t let him sneak away, though. The attendees are all on their feet, applauding, a thunderous sound.
Trembling with anticipation, I push out the door, the noise erupting with me out into the hallway. My pulse is pumping with every step down the side corridor that leads to the back of the auditorium, where I told him I’d meet him.
It’s my turn to pace now, anxiously walking in circles as I wait for him to appear. Each time the door swings open and a staff member comes out, my heart jumps into my throat.
Finally, the hinges creak again, and out walks Chris. His complexion is pale, his eyes searching until they land on me. He looks like he just came from a bomb blast.
I smile encouragingly and open my arms as he lumbers over. He buries his face against my neck and grabs onto me like he’s about to collapse. His chest pushes against mine, a heavy exhale ghosting against my skin.
“Hey,” I coo, rubbing his back.
“How awful was it?” he mumbles against my shoulder.
“Awful? Chris, I’m not letting you go because every man and woman in there probably wants your phone number right now.”
My flattery earns me a scoff against the seam of my sweatshirt. I practically have to pry him off me just to get enough space so I can cradle his face and force him to look at me. I’ve never seen a more pitiful and yet endearing sight.
“I’m serious. You were fantastic. You were…you.” I wish there were better words to reassure him, but that seems appropriate. I suck in a breath, trying to hold my tears at bay. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
He searches my watery eyes, shaking his head. “How?”
“Because I could never do what you’ve done.”
I want to rattle that skeptical look off his face. Brushing my thumb against his cheek, I shake my head, insisting, “I couldn’t.”
He sighs, giving up arguing with me, and chews on his lip. I wish he’d been in that audience so he could have seen and heard himself. My big man with his big feelings.
Running my hands down his arms, the smooth fabric of his dress shirt feels damp in places. Someone was clearly sweating himself into a tizzy. I lace my fingers through his, realizing I have one other idea on how to boost his spirits.
“Listen, I need to ask you something…”
That gets him to lift his head. The wariness in his features tugs at my heart.
I remember how vulnerable he looked last week when he told me he wished for me to look at him like he deserves me.
Each time I look at him, I ask myself what I did to deserve him, and I think now is a good time to reassure him.
“I was wondering if it’s okay that I’m in love with you?”
His mouth falls open, and he blinks several times, looking at me like I’m not real again. God, could I have ever asked for more love than that?
His features crumple suddenly, scaring me into thinking I said something wrong. Then, he yanks me against him, crushing me in his arms, and sputters.
“Thank you,” he heaves against my neck like the words freed him from a prison.
I’m jostled, and he pulls back, cupping my face with tears in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he whispers again, kissing me.
His mouth moves to my cheek, but doesn’t stop there, peppering little kisses all over my face.
“I’m going to make sure I deserve it every single day. ”
Love is now not a big enough word. I squeeze his arms, pressing my lips to his cheek near his ear. “You will deserve it. It doesn’t cost anything.”
“I am so in love with you.” The words flow out of him like he’s been holding them in.
I feel them pour through me, over me. They’re as strong as his arms that wrap around me. The door hinges creak behind us, and a janitor rolls a cleaning cart inside. Chris smiles down at me, looking more composed. I reach for his hand and tug.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
Home. I want to laugh at how different that word sounds than it used to. It doesn’t matter whether it’s my house or Chris’, whether it’s a co-lease or not. Home is wherever he and I are. Together.