18. Rosie
18
ROSIE
I step outside, groaning against the cold. Big, fat snowflakes slowly circle from the gray sky. I’m running late for class, having gotten lost in studying for too long. That’s what happens when I have to play catch-up. I’ve been ignoring my schoolwork more than I should while I work to prepare the townhouse for Junior. Furniture for the nursery is ordered, as well as the cutest watercolor dinosaur wallpaper. As I head down the sidewalk, I make a mental note to hire someone to put it up. Already this morning, I spent an hour calling around in search of a person who could come babyproof the house.
Apparently, most people do that themselves.
I didn’t know that, and frankly, I don’t trust myself or Daire to get it right.
I unlock my car and toss my backpack in the passenger side. As I’m shutting the door, an unfamiliar vehicle pulls into the driveway. Immediately, my hackles raise and my heart rate kicks up a notch.
I’m not about to get kidnapped, am I?
Holding my breath, I take in the minivan, and as I squint at the driver, a laugh works its way out of me.
Why is Daire…? Oh my God.
I suck in one big, gulping breath after another, trying to rein in my hysterics. “Please tell me you didn’t buy a minivan.”
He opens the door and slips out. “Huh?”
With a hand pressed against my stomach, I grin at him. “Did you buy a minivan?”
He looks at the vehicle as if only now realizing what it is. With a shrug, he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His breath fogs the air. His blond hair peeks out beneath a black beanie embroidered with the school’s wolf mascot.
“I told the sales guy I needed a family vehicle.”
“And he steered you toward a minivan? You could’ve gotten something like mine.” I toss a thumb at my SUV.
“But look.” Excitement lights his eyes. “The doors just slide open.” He pushes a button on the fob, and both rear doors slide back. “And there are these anchor things in the seats back here that the guy said make the car seat more secure.”
“I can’t believe you got a minivan,” I mutter, surveying the behemoth in the driveway. Truthfully, it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It looks slightly more like an SUV than other minivans I’ve come across, but…
But it’s still a minivan.
Daire Hendricks is driving a minivan.
Uncontrollable laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it.
He crinkles his nose. “What’s so funny?”
“What do you think your friends are going to say about this?”
Lips pursed, he examines the minivan, then focuses on me again. “I don’t really care. I’m a dad now. This is safe and reliable.” He pats the hood. “Besides, they’re busy with their own lives.”
The hint of hurt in his voice when he says that last part pierces my chest. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs like it doesn’t bother him.
“It’s senior year,” he reasons, pushing a button to shut the door, “we were bound to grow apart.”
He can rationalize it all he wants, but I think his friends are shitty. He needs them now more than ever.
But I don’t have time to lecture him on that. Not that he’d want me to anyway.
“I’m running late. But this,” I point at him where he stands beside the minivan and make a circle motion with my finger, “makes it worth it.”
I turn to get in my car, but before I climb in, I pause and yank my phone out of where it’s buried in my coat pocket. Whipping back around, I take a photo of Daire.
“What’s what for?” he asks, face scrunched with annoyance.
“Photographic evidence—Bertie is never going to believe me otherwise.”
He huffs something unintelligible as I get into my car.
With a wave, I’m off, and somehow, I make it to class on time.
“Let me see it again.”
I hand Bertie my phone, and she cackles all over again at the picture of Daire standing beside the minivan.
“I can’t believe he bought a minivan.” She passes the device back. “Send that to me.”
“For what?”
“For whenever I need a laugh.” Her eyes dance as she takes a sip of her margarita.
I had no plans of going out tonight, but Bertie sent me a text inquiring about drinks, and I couldn’t say no. I miss her, so I jump at just about any opportunity to hang out.
Harvey’s is a staple for Aldridge University students. The building is huge, housing a massive bar in the center and a dance floor.
I’ve spent a lot of time here in my years at Aldridge, most of them pining over the athletes who hang out in the large U-shaped booth in one corner. I used to watch Daire with his friends, cursing myself and the longing that plagued me.
I can deny it to myself all I want, but I never stopped missing him after our friendship came to an end.
Back then, the booth was frequently occupied by some of the school’s most popular guys. Mascen Wade—the son of a famous drummer—and his closest friends Cole and Teddy, along with Daire, his friends Cree and Jude, and others I couldn’t name. Mascen, Cole, and Teddy have since graduated, and none of the other guys are here tonight. I recognize Luke there, though. He’s got his fingers wrapped loosely around the neck of a beer and his eyes focused on the table. He doesn’t seem involved in the conversation with the crowd around him.
Like he can feel my gaze, he looks over. His eyes glide over me and land on Bertie. Instantly, he sits up straighter and looks away. But a moment later, he covertly glances back and gives her a quick once-over.
“Luke Covey is looking at you again,” I tell her.
“Who?”
I try to hide my smile. “The same hockey player who was checking you out by the locker room the other night.”
“Which one is he?” She angles forward so she can peer at the group occupying the booth.
“Hold on, this will be easier.”
I bring up my social media account and type in his name. Nothing comes up. I put in the handle for the Aldridge hockey team instead, then scroll until I find a picture of him.
“This guy.” I pass my phone to her.
Her jaw drops. “Him?” A pink hue rushes to her cheeks. She sinks into the booth, shoving my phone back at me like it’s a snake.
“Yeah. Why are you so freaked out?”
She leans forward, keeping her head low, and hisses, “I hooked up with him.”
My jaw drops. “When?”
She exhales shakily. “Freshman year. It was before I met Tommy. Obviously.” Her hand trembles as she tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear.
“I need details. How come you never told me about this?”
She takes a sip of her margarita and holds it out in front of her, surveying it. Wrinkling her nose, she goes in for another sip that turns into a gulp. “It was at the very beginning of the year. One of the first parties we went to. We weren’t really friends yet, and after I met Tommy I just… didn’t think about it anymore. It’s not like we exchanged names.”
“Was the sex bad?”
She snorts. “Far from it. It was…” The color in her cheeks darkens. “Phenomenal. Best I’ve ever had.” She sinks down slowly in the booth.
“Wow.” I lift my margarita glass and tip it toward her. “Good for you. It seems like he might be interested in revisiting it—fuck, he’s getting up.”
“What?” Bertie practically shrieks, her eyes going wide with horror.
“He’s coming this way,” I warn.
She looks one way, then the other, sinking lower, like she wants to melt into the booth behind her.
Luke stops beside our table and shoves his hands into his pockets. He tips his head at me in greeting before setting his eyes on Bertie. “Hi.”
His voice is deep and sensual. As that one word settles over Bertie, her shoulders lower and her throat bobs with a swallow. “Hi.”
“You wanna dance?”
I’ve been here at least a hundred times, and not once have I seen Luke pay any attention to a girl, let alone ask one to dance.
Bertie, bless her, points at herself. “Me?”
He chuckles, blue eyes sparkling. “Yeah. You.”
“Go.” I mouth the word at her.
“I … okay.”
I grin at her, my heart practically floating as she slides from the booth. Luke puts his hand on the small of her back, guiding her over to the dance floor. As much as I want to watch, I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on my best friend, so I pull out my phone to distract myself.
There’s a message from Daire waiting. It’s a response to the one I sent telling him I was going out with Bertie.
Daire: Text me when you’re on your way home.
Home.
How strange is it that my home is with Daire, of all people?
Me: I will. I’m probably going to head out in a bit.
He replies with a photo attachment right away.
Daire: What’s your opinion—do I need one of these?
The picture is of some sort of baby carrier that he could strap to his chest.
Me: Absolutely.
Daire: Adding it to my cart.
Me: What else do you have in there for Junior?
He sends me a screenshot of the items, ranging from the carrier to a play mat to a set of hockey-themed onesies. I can’t help but smile. This whole situation has to be mildly terrifying for him—how could it not be?—but he’s stepping up to the plate and seems genuinely excited about it.
Baby Sammy is lucky to have him.
Me: All excellent choices.
A reply doesn’t come right away, so I set my phone to the side and spear a bite of the Caesar salad I ordered and have barely touched.
Luke and Bertie are still on the dance floor. For a moment, I can’t help but watch them. Thankfully, she seems to have relaxed a little. Luke is holding her gently, careful to keep his hand in a respectable place above her hips.
Luke Covey is a gentleman—who knew? A little zap of envy hits me, because once again, I wish I could find a man who’d treat me with so much care. But mostly, I’m giddy for my best friend.
I polish off half of my salad and most of my side of fries before flagging down the waitress for a to-go box. My leftovers will make for a good lunch tomorrow.
My phone vibrates on the table.
Daire: You think so?
Me: Most definitely.
It’s cute, the way he wants my opinion.
Me: I was thinking—we should take a baby CPR class.
Daire: Fuck. I never thought about that, but you’re right.
Me: I’ll find the website again and look at dates.
Daire: Thanks.
It’s weird, how easily we’ve become a team. What’s stranger is how much I don’t hate him anymore. Not that I’m telling him that.
Bertie is still on the dance floor, but I’m ready to head home, so I catch her eye, finding it impossible not to smile at the way she’s glowing. Bertie deserves to find some happiness—even if it’s the temporary, sexy kind of happiness.
“I’m gonna head out. You good?” I mouth.
She nods, throwing me a thumbs-up.
After paying our bill, I gather up my to-go boxes and head out. It’s strange, leaving alone. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t go home with a guy after a night at Harvey’s. My, how things have changed.
Once I’m in the driver’s seat with the doors locked, I shoot Daire a text that I’m on my way.
It’s almost muscle memory to head back to campus and the dorms—so much so that I find myself ready to turn out of the lot in that direction before course correcting and turning toward downtown instead.
I have to stifle a giggle when I pull into the driveway beside the minivan. I’m not sure I’m ever going to get over Daire’s dad-mobile.
With the back door open, I snag my backpack and slip it over my shoulder, then pick up the to-go boxes. Cursing when I reach the door, I set the boxes down at my feet to search through my backpack for the house key. Before I can get my hands on it, though, the door opens. I take in Daire from head to toe. Blond hair still slightly damp from a shower, curling at the ends. A gray Aldridge U sweatshirt hugging his muscular frame. Down my eyes go, taking in the loose gym shorts and stopping at his bare feet.
“I heard you pull in,” he says by way of explanation.
I arch a brow, bending to retrieve the boxes, but he snatches them from the ground before I can.
“Sounds like you were waiting for me.”
He shrugs, but he doesn’t deny it, which brings a stupidly big smile to my face.
Once the door is locked behind us, I follow him to the kitchen, where he puts the boxes in the fridge.
Popping his head out, he holds up a bottle of wine. “Do you want a drink?”
“Just water, please.” I set my backpack on the counter and pull out the books and materials I need. It’s late, and the last thing I want to do is schoolwork, but I should get a jump-start on it.
Daire fills a glass with ice and water, then he sticks a straw in it like I always do. “How was your time with Bertie?”
“Good.” I smile, feeling all warm inside at the memory of Luke asking her to dance. “I left her dancing with Luke.”
“Luke…?”
“Covey. On your team.”
Daire’s lips part, and his eyes go wide. “Seriously?”
“Mhm,” I hum, cracking the lid to my laptop to see how much life the battery has left. “He seems into her.”
He scratches at his jaw and turns away. “That’s shocking.”
I close my laptop with a snap. “What’s that supposed to mean?” There’s more bite in my tone than is probably warranted, but I can’t help but rush to Bertie’s defense.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He spins around and lifts both hands in defense. “Just that Luke doesn’t really go out, and when he does, he tends to stick to himself. I know he hooks up some, but it’s rare. He’s a scholarship student. He’s serious about all this. He wants to go pro.”
He’s certainly good enough to go that route.
“Good for him.” I pull out my charging cord and plug in my laptop. “I’m going to shower. Are you going to be up for a while? I thought I’d come back down after and do some homework.”
Nodding, he turns to rummage through the pantry.
Daire is always hungry. I guess it makes sense. He’s an athlete, after all. But it’s been an adjustment for me, as well as a stark reminder that while I might not live with my parents anymore, the way my mom used to monitor what foods I ate still haunts me. I have to remind myself often that Daire’s snacking is not excessive. Logically, I understand that there’s nothing wrong with having a snack, but being in his proximity like this has shown me that even though I’ve tried so hard to heal from it, some trauma lingers.
“I’ll be down here.” He shuts the pantry door.
I leave my stuff and head upstairs to my room. I’ve kept the space simple. That way, if we get caught with a social worker needing to do a home visit, it looks like a typical guestroom and not like my husband and I sleep in separate beds.
While the water warms, I reach for my speaker and turn it on so it can connect to my phone.
The EDM playlist I click on is probably not something most people would think I’d like, but the fast-paced music, usually accompanied by a booming bass, has always soothed me.
Under the spray, I work the sweet, floral-smelling shampoo through my long hair. As I rinse, watching the white soap suds swirl down the drain and disappear, my thoughts drift to Daire. How he greeted me at the door and chatted while I unpacked my things. Almost like he missed me. I gave up hope that our relationship could be repaired a long time ago, even as some little kernel inside me still stupidly yearned for him. But was it stupid? After tonight, I can’t say for sure…
Shaking my head, I reach for conditioner. I squeeze a dollop into my palm and apply it to the ends of my hair. I take my time, stalling before I return downstairs and face him again. Things are changing between us, and while I hope it’s for the better—while I think it’s for the better—I can’t help but want to protect my heart.
He already broke it once.
Who’s to say he won’t do it again?