Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
Matt
M y body aches like it always does the day after practice, making me wince with every step I take down Main Street. At least Bea gave me an extra-large coffee on the house when she saw how rough I looked when I dragged my ass into her bakery with DJ.
The dickhead in question snickers when he elbows me in the ribs after seeing my hunched over reflection in the glass window of Anders Hardware—Caleb’s family business.
Listening to the front door chime as we swing it open, we approach the counter with two extra coffees for Caleb and his father. I note the way Mr. Anders pushes his glasses up his nose and tries following along to whatever Caleb is explaining to him on the computer.
“Looking a little pale today, Mr. A,” DJ notes, grabbing a sucker from the display case and tossing a dollar bill for it onto the counter. “I think you and the missus need a vacation somewhere sunny.”
Caleb’s dad has been looking a little tired lately, but they’ve been working a lot more to get Caleb ready to take over the store now that graduation is looming. Last I heard, he wants his son to be in charge seventy percent of the time by this time next year. I doubt the old man from whom my best friend gets his looks from will retire anytime soon, but he’s mentioned that being the ultimate goal in the next ten years.
I set the coffees down in front of them.
“No time for sunshine,” Mr. Anders claims, rubbing his head. “Too much to do. And the price of lumber is jacked up these days, making it harder to get new stock delivered here for people. It’s giving me a damn headache.”
Caleb rolls his eyes as he takes the caffeine offering. “Everything gives you a headache these days. The other day, we tried ordering incandescent lightbulbs, and he started going off about how much he hates the government because he couldn’t find any.”
I chuckle. “The government, huh?”
Mr. A turns to us. “Goddamn inflation makes everything too high. Nothing is worth it these days. Everybody says to support the local economy, but it’s the little guys getting screwed over. Tell me I’m wrong.”
DJ and I both hold our palms up in surrender. He won’t be getting an argument from either of us.
Caleb pats his dad’s arm and passes him the other coffee cup. “Why don’t you head out? Mom said she was making your favorite tonight for dinner. I’ll close up before the guys and I go out.”
His father frowns, contemplating a reason to stay, before eventually relenting and taking the drink we got him. “All right. I should take some aspirin anyway and get some sleep. You boys, don’t stay up too late; you’ve got a big game coming up.”
DJ salutes him, even though he doesn’t have to worry about his skills on the field. “We’d never think of it, sir.”
That’s bullshit, and everybody in this room knows it. Out of all of us, DJ is the one constantly encouraging us to stay out longer by buying everybody more rounds of drinks after we tell him it’s time to go. We’re broke, so none of us ever want to turn down a drink that’s been paid for.
It’s basic boy math.
After his father leaves, Caleb turns to us with a frown. “I think there’s something wrong with my dad. He’s not himself.”
DJ hops onto the counter, shoving his sucker into his mouth. “The dude is stressed. His son is graduating, and he’s got a business to run. I don’t know how he does it.”
Caleb shakes his head, and I can tell whatever he’s noticed is concerning him. “I don’t know, man. It seems like it’s more than that. Mom and I have been telling him to see a doctor, but you know how he is. He’s too stubborn. Every time we bring it up, he makes an excuse not to go. The store. My football games. The holidays. Birthdays. You name it. I’m worried.”
I’ve never seen Caleb like this before. “Your mom should make him an appointment and bring him. That’s what my parents do. I’m sure he won’t go on his own, but we all know he’d do anything for her. If she brought him there, he’d hardly put up a fight.”
When DJ sees the seriousness shadowing Caleb’s face, he quickly nods. “Matt has a point. If you need store coverage, you know we can help out whenever he gets seen.”
Caleb’s shoulders drop. “Thanks, guys. I’ll let you know. Anyway, let me finish up a few things, and then we can head out. Are we going to Fishtail? I heard they’re having a ribeye special tonight.”
I happen to know that our adviser has another date at Fiesta because I may or may not have been eavesdropping on her the other day. I hadn’t meant to. I was going to her office to apologize for missing my meeting, but she’d been on the phone talking about the date. I crept away without her knowing, saving the apology for another day. “Anybody in the mood for some chips and guac instead?”
DJ eyes me. “Fiesta again? What’s with you and that place? They’ve got good food, but you’ve barely gone to Fishtail lately.”
“I’m in the mood for the mole dip.”
Caleb sighs. “You didn’t.”
He knows exactly why I’m going because I dragged him along with me last time. “We have to make sure that Rach isn’t wasting her time. Plus, it’s half off margarita night. We’re basically saving money by going there instead.”
DJ shakes his head, but Caleb pins me with a disapproving look. “You really need to lay off Rachel, dude. How far are you going to take this? You’ve sabotaged like three of her dates already.”
Four, but who’s counting? “Can you really sabotage something that was never going to work out to begin with?”
Caleb pinches his nose.
DJ snickers.
I grin. “So…” I press.
The running back sighs. “I guess I wouldn’t mind a quesadilla. But you’re paying for our drinks since I’m missing out on the ribeye.”
“Deal.”
Forty-five minutes later, we’re sliding into a corner booth facing Rachel and some balding man with thick glasses wearing a sweater vest.
The waitress comes, and I order the mole dip.
Then, I send a passionfruit margarita to Rachel’s table.
As soon as it’s set in front of her, she stares at it before her eyes lift and search the room.
DJ and I lift our glasses.
Caleb grumbles under his breath.
Rachel shakes her head and shifts in her seat, trying to focus on her date with the nerdy-looking guy who probably works in IT somewhere and lives in his parents’ basement.
But I see her peek in my direction every so often, and it’s a small victory that swells my chest more than it probably should.
*
It’s hard to fathom that four years of college are almost up, which leaves a lot more questions than it does answers. Which is mostly why I’d skipped out on the original meeting I had with Rachel. I knew what she’d ask me, and I had no answer.
None.
Football was the biggest reason I went to college. Now…I don’t know what comes next. More school? Work? She was the type of girl who had everything planned out. And I was the kind of guy who rarely knew what I was eating for breakfast the next morning.
It’s a little embarrassing that I’m one of the few guys who have no clue what the future brings. Griffith has always known he wanted to go pro, and at the rate he’s going, he’ll be drafted in the fall. Caleb has been primed and ready to take over the family business, probably putting a ring on Raine’s finger and popping a baby or two out to live the white picket fence dream. And DJ…well, since his shoulder injury, he’s been talking about going to grad school as a backup option.
Maybe that’s what I need too.
Approaching the door, I barely have time to say anything when Rachel says, “Come in and sit down, please.”
She’s using her authoritative voice, which I find hotter than I probably should. But it also means she’s pissed.
I’m not surprised after showing up during her date. DJ and I may have indulged in one too many of the half off margaritas, got slightly tipsy, and tried sending random drinks to Rachel and her date’s table until he told her he had to go.
He only paid half the bill like a loser, so I pulled the money out to cover hers and made sure the waitress got it before Rachel could pay.
“You don’t have to thank me for dinner,” I tell her lightheartedly, dropping into my usual seat in the chair rather than the couch we helped her maneuver in here. That was always Griff’s spot, and it felt weird sitting where I was used to seeing him.
Rachel blinks slowly. “ Thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” I beam, ignoring the incredulous tone she said it with.
She closes her eyes and lets out a sharp exhale. “Matt, that wasn’t okay. How did you even know I was going to be there?”
How else? “I heard you.”
Her eye twitches.
“You should really stop having personal conversations at work if you don’t want people hearing them,” I say, realizing quickly by the sharp glare she gives me that it wasn’t a smart thing to say.
“Really, Matthew?”
Uh-oh. She pulled out the full first name. “I just think it’s confusing, you know? Sometimes, it feels like you want me to know your plans.”
Her gaping expression tells me I’m most likely wrong. “Why on earth would I want you to barge in on every date I have?”
Well, there are a lot of reasons. “Because they’re not me,” I answer honestly.
She’s silent as she stares at me.
I shrug, leaning back. “You asked.”
Slowly, she shakes her head. “You must think quite highly of yourself, Mr. Clearwater.” She lowers her voice, eyes moving to the door before coming back to me. “We had one night together. That was all.”
As casually as I can, I reply, “Sometimes, one night is all it takes.”
Her eyes narrow, her glare like a dagger piercing my skin. But I’m not going to take it back if I mean it.
I pull out the folded piece of paper from my pocket, switching gears. “I filled out the application for my cap and gown like you requested all of us do. Are you still collecting the papers, or do you want me to turn it in myself?”
Her tongue drags across her bottom lip as she breathes through the obvious irritation she feels over this conversation. Begrudgingly, she murmurs, “I’ll take it.”
I set it on her desk and slide it over.
She puts it in a folder with the others. “I heard they’re upping the number of tickets per person for each graduate from four to five, in case you wanted to invite one more person to watch you walk.”
I drape an ankle over my bent knee. “Are you coming to watch us graduate?”
Us. Not me.
“I don’t know.”
“I can leave you a ticket.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t need to.” She pulls up something on her computer. “Let’s discuss next steps. You submitted your petition to graduate. Make sure you request the right ticket numbers. You can always ask for five even if you don’t use them a—”
“What if I want you to have my fifth ticket?”
Rachel closes her eyes, mouthing something that looks like a countdown, before opening them. “I’m sure faculty will get the opportunity to go on their own accord.” It sounds forced when she adds, “But thank you.”
I’d like to think she’s not going to be mad forever for the move I made, but I don’t know what kind of grudges she’s capable of. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, gaining her focus back. “For overstepping during your date.”
Surprise seems to widen her eyes a fraction.
I don’t stop there. If I’m telling the truth, I’m going to tell her exactly how I feel. “I don’t like that you’re dating. And the guys you seem to be giving shots to look like tools who don’t deserve an ounce of your time. But it’s your time to do what you want with. I know I don’t have a right to tell you what you can or can’t do with them.”
All she does is stare at me.
I scoot forward on the chair until I’m sitting on the edge, leaning my elbows on my knees and looking at her. “You’re an amazing person, Rach. I always thought that. So, yeah. One night is sometimes all it takes. Pretty sure that’s all it took for me.”
Standing, I grab my bag from the floor and toss it over my shoulder as she continues to stare at me. Her cheeks are red, her lips parted like she’s trying to figure out something to say.
I’m not going to be ashamed of anything I’ve said. It feels good to say it out loud. My chest feels lighter, knowing it’s out in the open. “I think I’m going to look into grad school,” I tell her, gesturing toward the computer. “If you need to put something in my file. I’ll let you know what I decide for our last meeting.”
Her mouth closes as she lowers her hands into her lap, a gentle nod all I’m greeted with.
“I’ll see you later, Ruby Red.”