6. Callum
If you removed yourself from the situation and looked in as a neutral bystander, you’d say that talking to Ivy is the first step.
But you almost made her cry. She doesn’t need this bullshit.
Who is that guy holding her bag for her? She smiled at him.
Those used to be OUR smiles.
I had a terrible practice. We had our home opener this upcoming Saturday, and I needed to get my head in the game. I was the one who made others look good. It was what I did day in and day out. Never wanting the fame and glory like Luca, Brady, Dean, or Xavier. My job was to help us win, and I loved this support role.
But I fucked it up, and Dean called me out for not focusing.
I knew the reason, and it was because Ivy fucking Emerson was on the field, holding water bottles and squirting them into guys’ mouths like it was no big deal. I whipped the towel around my neck, squeezing both sides in a groan. Her arm hurt her, yet she continued on.
“Figure your shit out.” Dean pointed at me, a towel on his hips. Jayden stood behind him, our new team captain.
I kinda liked how Coach didn’t chose Dean as the leader this season. It was unconventional, and honesty Dean’s ego was already so large. I loved the guy, and shit, I would die for him, but seeing Jayden lead was pretty cool. I eyed them with a snarl. “Or what?”
Come on, little leader. Fire back at me.
Jayden crossed his arms. “You’re making it harder for the offense to do their job when you won’t do yours. We all have a role, and when you fail, we all fail. You seem a little sad today, actually. Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sad, J.” I tossed on a shirt and deodorant, hating how the word sad felt in my mouth. I never felt sad. Ugh. It was a useless feeling. If you were sad, just stop being that way. Easy as that.
“You seem it. I study people, and I’m good at it. And you have the signs.” Jayden shrugged and hit Dean on the shoulder. “He’s your dude, fix him.”
“I’m perfect as is,” I said, smiling through my teeth. I was the glue that held us together in tough times, but this sad comment was new territory. “See? My smile is real.”
“Pain in the ass, old man.” Jayden winked before moving onto the special teams. I had to hand it to him, he was really trying to be a leader. But I’d kick his ass later for the old man comment. Little prick was feeling himself a little too much.
That used to be you. Confidence is a good thing.
“Lo told me something interesting.” Dean whistled, like he had all the time in the world.
“That she regrets not punching you in the womb?”
Dean rolled his eyes and sat on the bench next to me. “Ivy and you have some history, where you need to make shit better.”
“Your sister is annoying.”
“Watch your mouth.” Dean glared. “As your quarterback, I don’t trust you right now. You’re chaotic, not focused. It makes me anxious for Saturday. As your friend, I can see the signs of this shit wearing on you. Instead of running from whatever happened, why don’t you talk to her?”
I hate when Dean is right.
“I’ll consider your opinion.”
“You do that.” He laughed and hit my shoulder. “You’re a piece of work, dipshit, but I’m glad you’re around.”
I didn’t dignify his comment with a response. I was a piece of artwork maybe, but I knew that wasn’t what he meant with that comment. I eyed my watch before getting dressed and leaving the locker room. If Ivy’s arm was still hurting her, I could offer her a ride home. Or walk with her. Yeah, I could do that.
Abe and Ivy waited outside Henry’s office, laughing at something on her phone, and they both glanced up when I approached. Abe scooted closer to her, like he was going to protect her or something, which, my god. I could flick him with one hand, and he’d be on the floor. He’d let me too. The guy idolized us.
Ivy didn’t need protection from me.
Her green eyes narrowed, like she was annoyed I existed, and it reminded me when she used to do that to anyone who interrupted us when we hung out. She liked our time protected and hated feeling second to anyone else, which made it difficult when football became my everything.
Not that she didn’t support me. She definitely did. She’d been my biggest supporter, always knowing what I needed.
“Is there something you need help with, O’Toole?” She masked her face, demonstrating the upmost professionalism. I wanted to ruffle her hair and pull out her orange bow to rough her up. “Abe and I are leaving for the evening, but Henry or one of the other staff can assist you with ice.”
“No, I’m okay. I’d actually like to speak with you.”
Fear flashed in her eyes, coming in strong and lingering as she tried to blink it away. Ivy despised showing weakness, and even now, she ran her pointer and thumb fingers together in circles, the pads rubbing together as she pursed her lips. “I’m quite busy.”
“I can wait.” I jutted my chin toward the bench a yard or two away. “Let me know when you head out.”
Monday nights, I had nothing to do. The NFL hadn’t started yet, so I wasn’t gonna watch a game, and girls’ night was tomorrow. My ass could wait on this bench until Ivy marched home. She’d totally stomp a little bit too, her way of throwing a fit. God, I forgot how much I loved her Ivy-isms. I tried not to let myself think about her the last three years, and in doing so, it prevented the weird achy feeling in my chest but also the joy that surrounded my memories with her.
In way, my life felt like it spiraled the last couple years, where I couldn’t find a place to land. I had my team, Lo, and Mack, and they were great. But the itchiness, the need to do something rash had always been settled by Ivy.
I crossed one leg over the other and watched her and Abe whisper-shout. They were not quiet, at all, when Abe said, “Go speak to him!”
“No! I have nothing to say.”
“He does, clearly. You’re being a fool.”
“Okay, so?”
“He is Callum O’Toole! How are you not wanting to talk to him? I know you said he upset you once… I can go with you?”
“No,” I said, joining their conversation with a smirk. “She doesn’t need you there when I speak with her. Now are you done pretending like you’re not going to talk to me, Ivy Lee?”
She sneered, red blotches covering the upper part of her cheeks. “Let’s go now, O’Toole.”
“Happily!”
I stood up and almost skipped toward her, reaching for her bag and grabbing it without asking. “Walk or drive?”
“What?”
“Want to walk to your place or drive? I know you like to walk to help ease the tension in your muscles, but I also know your arms have to be killing you after hoisting all that water all day. Happy to follow your lead.”
“Callum, I don’t—” She pulled at her hair, letting out an animalistic sound. “Stop this, please. I got over you, and it hurt, but this… it’s bringing everything back, and I don’t want to feel it. I’m doing fine.”
She’s doing fine. Without us? Unacceptable. You’re not doing well.
“Maybe I do want to everything to resurface. I don’t want you over me,” I said, not caring that my insides screamed at me to shut up. Or that I also didn’t want to feel all these things. Or that my heart beat twice as hard hearing her say she got over me… like I was a sickness or an ex she could discard. “Life works out in weird ways, Ivy, we both agree with that, so maybe us reconnecting is part of a greater plan.”
“No.” She crossed her arms as she turned a sharp right out of the stadium, indicating she wanted to walk home.
Home.
I had no idea where she lived, and I didn’t like that.
I understood the hypocrisy that I hadn’t worried about her the last three years. I knew it. But now I couldn’t stop the worry and concern and the desperate need to know everything about her. Esmerelda was her best friend, and her parents moved away from our hometown to chase another college coaching opportunity, but that was it. I mean, I knew she volunteered at Miss Paige’s, but my friend had changed, and it hit me that I’d missed it.
“Which way are we going?”
“Callum.” She stopped and faced me with moisture in her eyes. “Can you leave me alone? Please.”
I shook my head, ignoring the weight that suddenly formed in my feet, rooting me down to the spot. Panic only happened to me on the field, where I knew a hit was gonna come and I couldn’t stop it. But to feel a burst of holy shit, no in real life, off the field, made my pulse race and sweat form. “I can’t leave you alone, Ivy. Call me selfish, but since you started with the team, I’m off, and you’re clearly still harboring some anger toward me. I think its best we hash it out.”
“You want to hash it out?” Her voice rose an octave. “After three years, you finally want to have a conversation about how you broke my heart? How instead of us following all our college plans we made together, you ghosted me and tossed me aside? How you said the cruelest words to me, knowing they would hurt, and then never spoke to me again? Sure, let’s hash it out and never speak to each other because you are not worth my time,” she said, emotion clawing out of her.
She didn’t yell the words, but she whispered them. And that was somehow worse. I took it. I deserved it. But my dumbass couldn’t just listen. “You hurt me too.”
“No. No.” She tried to take the bag off my shoulder and yanked, a desperate cry coming from her. “Give me my bag. Give it to me now!”
“I’m walking you back.”
I deserved a Heisman for how calm I remained externally, seeing her freak out and lose it on me. She swatted at me and dug her nails into my arm, trying to get her bag before she gave up.
“I don’t care. Keep it. Just… keep it.” She sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve, and marched ahead of me. “Do not follow me.”
“Ivy, you know I don’t take commands well.”
You are a piece of shit.
You deserve to have a hole in your sock every day the rest of your life.
Have you ever heard of shutting the fuck up?
“God, you have changed. My Callum would’ve respected me, would’ve listened, would’ve tried to be empathetic instead of crass. He would never have said what you did that summer, or if you had, you would’ve apologized and made it right. Clearly you haven’t grown up since then. Football and partying got to you.” She kept her head down, her gait fast but not fast enough to avoid me.
She was upset, and I had to make sure she got back. Plus, I wanted to know if her building was safe. She tried jogging but stopped once I caught up with her. We walked in silence for fourteen minutes before approaching a tall sleek building. She stood outside and held out her hand. “Bag.”
“I want to walk you to your door.”
She rolled her eyes, accepting defeat as she marched toward the elevator. You knew her pain was bad for her to willingly take the elevator—she hated them. When we were bored once, we looked at all the elevator deaths just to try and prove they were hard to come by, but it had the opposite effect. It made her more nervous.
She looked really good. Now that we had good lighting, I eyed her up and down, admiring the strength she had in her legs. She had always been cute, but she’d grown into her looks. The same flicker of interest took root in my gut as I wondered how her thighs were feel if I touched them.
It was uncomfortable to be attracted to her while knowing she hated my guts. Did not recommend this for anyone.
I followed her into the small elevator, watching as she pressed the fifth floor. Being this close to her, her shampoo was the same as it was in high school: lilac. The doors shut, and the elevator made a weird, scraping sound.
My hand went out—to what? I wasn’t sure. I dropped it to my side. That sound was weird, and Ivy had to be nervous. “Hey, I’m sure it’s okay.”
“Right.”
The sound repeated, and the elevator just stopped moving. Somewhere between the first and fifth floors, the elevator car stilled, the doors remaining locked. A roar formed in my ears, my adrenaline spiking in fight or flight.
Operator. Use the emergency phone. “Ivy, sit in the corner, alright?”
“F-fact; lying on your back is the safest way to survive an elevator crash. The butt is a thick muscle and can help lessen the impact.”
“Hon, we aren’t going to crash.” I grabbed the phone, dispatch immediately picking up. “Hi, our elevator is stuck.”
“What’s your location?”
I rattled off the address and thanked them as they informed us a team was on the way. We should stay put and remain calm.
“What does your brain remember from our research?” I asked, lying on the floor next to her. It was probably disgusting, but I knew she’d need it.
“Thirty minutes is the average time of waiting. One man was stuck for forty hours though. Callum, what if we’re here for two days?”
“We won’t be.” I grabbed her hand and intertwined our fingers. “They’re coming now, I promise.”
She took a shaky breath, her body shuddering.
“I’m sorry,” I said, letting the words fall out even though it hurt and was difficult as hell.
“You didn’t break the elevator, unless your ego is too large and did it.”
“Oh, you have jokes.” I laughed, so happy to hear her humor. “I didn’t mean for this. I meant… for everything. What you said… I think I do need to hash this out with you. I want you to call me names, say how badly I hurt you. I need to hear it all, so I can say sorry.”
She swallowed, a tear falling down her cheek as she kept her eyes closed. “Why now?”
I took my own difficult breath. “I don’t have a good answer. I think… I avoided it until I couldn’t.”
“So if I didn’t have this internship, you would never have done this.”
“Yes, if I’m being honest.” I squeezed her hand when she tried to let go. “Apologizing is hard for me, and I think I masked it?—”
“That’s not an excuse. Saying sorry to those you care about should be easy, but you were too proud to do it.”
“I’m not now.”
“Well, maybe it’s too late.” She whipped her hand out of my grip and held onto her shirt in a fist. Her breathing picked up fast. “Will we run out of oxygen?”
“No.”
You don’t know that, idiot.
Lie to her! She is freaking out.
Do we have to pee? I think we do?
“Tell me a fact, Ivy.” I scooted closer to her, not touching her but enough to feel her heat and breathe her in. The fact she smelled the same, and good, made me miss her even more.
It was strange. I had good friends, close friends, who knew me well, but they paled in comparison to our past. Ivy and I had lived through heartbreak together, through ups and downs. When I used to imagine the future, she was always there with me. Celebrating getting drafted, visiting me in my penthouse (because obviously I wanted to live in one). Our kids playing together. But suddenly, the thought of her having kids with someone else made me want to punch a wall. That sounded terrible, actually.
“F-fact: I’ve pretended I didn’t miss you for three years.”
My throat constricted, like someone gripped it and withheld air. The raw pain in her voice was too much, too real. My instincts were to joke it off, make an excuse, run from acknowledging the root of it. Me.
Every muscle went taut, my pulse radiating chest to fingertips as I took a few calming breaths. “Did you?—”
“Fact: I tried texting and reaching out to you for weeks after that summer. You never responded.”
“Ivy—”
“Fact,” she said, her voice growing louder. “You hurt me so badly I’m still not okay. I think I am, most days, but then a memory hits, and my heart aches all over again.”
I opened my mouth, but she turned to her side, her green eyes ablaze with emotion. She shook her head, and I shut up.
“I spent my entire life not being enough for people. You were the one person I felt that way with. Safe. Home. No matter how bad my parents were or people at school or even my body… I had you. You made me feel like I had a place.And you left me without warning. You made me feel like I didn’t matter.” She swallowed. “I know I do. I had to rebuild my confidence alone, and I’m grateful because I’m strong as hell. You might not be asking for forgiveness, but I’m telling you, I don’t know if I can give it.”
My inner monologue was going off the rails. I was her home, and she didn’t have one anymore. Of course, she mattered. What the fuck? I wanted to argue back, explain things, help her understand what had happened and that it hadn’t been leaving her in the slightest. She was rightful in her hurt and anger.
Before I could even try to respond to her, the elevator vibrated for a second before moving.
“What is this?” she whispered, fear lacing her tone. “What?—”
“It’s fixed.” I stood and held out a hand to help her up.
She refused.
Her throat bobbed as she wrapped her arms around herself, a terrified look on her face. The doors opened, and she bolted out. I shouldered her bag and followed, each step weighing on me.
Adrenaline must’ve fueled her because she walked fast toward her door at the end of the hall, unlocked it, and glared at me. “You’re not coming in.”
“Yeah, I am. You need pretzels.”
She blinked, slowly, her lips parting in confusion.
“I remember your favorite snack, Ivy. I know you need the salt whenever you have a little freak out. I won’t stay long, and we don’t have to talk, but I’m going to make sure you’re okay and get your snack. Do you have any, or should I run out to buy some?”
She stared at me for a second, the fury and hurt gone from her eyes. Instead, a curious softness painted her face. It didn’t last long before she shoved the door open wider. Then, without a word, she marched toward her kitchen.