Chapter 39 #2
She loosens her arms around me. “I didn’t see you at field day,” she says. “And Miss Andrews said you were sick.” Her eyes widen. “She was nice, and third grade was okay. But I still like second best.” She grins, a tooth missing on her bottom row. “It’ll always be my favorite.”
“That’s so nice.” My throat swells. I want to cry, and I’m not even sure why except that I’m being bombarded by strangers. But it’s not even that. I don’t understand why I feel so sentimental toward a little girl I don’t know.
“Hello, Miss Conrad,” the girl’s dad says.
“You’re here to watch the game?” the girl says. Then she nods, answering the question for me. “Me, too. Dad said he’d buy me a Lucca Cruz jersey.” She bounces her brows once.
“That’s really fun,” I tell her. “I’m—I’m so glad I saw you.”
“Me, too.” She hugs me once more around the middle. “I love you, Miss Conrad.”
People are just coming out of nowhere to tell me that these days. What in the world?
“Let’s get that jersey, Millie,” her dad says. “Kickoff is in ten minutes.” He nods my way.
“Bye!” Millie croons with a wave.
I watch her go, my thoughts at this strange crossroad: I can’t escape anyone, and that girl was my student. She loved me. I taught her something and made her year special.
It’s a strange sensation. My heart thumps like a jackhammer and my breaths come a little more ragged, but it isn’t awful. It’s been worse—so much worse.
Still, I stop at the next stand and, as if I were Zendaya attempting to hide in plain sight, I buy a Red Tails baseball cap and throw it on my head. If only I had sunglasses, surely I could hide from all the strangers who know me.
I find section D without any more incidents. My hat is doing the trick. In fact, when I walk down to that front row to find Fran, she doesn’t even notice me at first.
“No,” she’s saying to someone next to her. “That’s the same day as Callum’s family’s summer garden party.”
Okay, not someone, but the blonde with the baby. Stella and Ivy are here. There’s a brunette on the other side of Stella. She sees me first, and by the way her eyes land and don’t leave, and by the way she pinches Stella next to her, I know that she knows me.
Crap.
Why did I come again?
Why did I think Fran would be all by herself? That we’d be able to talk, that there would be room for me and Zev and we’d have this special introduction and moment. That I’d feel somewhat normal for a second.
I suppose Zev and I can go up to our cheap seats if he ever gets here.
“Fran,” the brunette says, calling attention to my bestie, but she’s still looking at me.
Fran turns around and gasps when she sees me.
“Rosalie!” Her arms wrap around me, pulling me in and squeezing me tight.
With both hands on my shoulders, she steps back.
She tries and fails to hide the tears in her eyes.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She shakes her head as if remembering that we aren’t alone. “Oh, um, Rose, you know Stella.”
I nod. “Hi.”
“And this is Maggie.” She points to the brunette, who clearly knows who I am.
Cute Maggie with freckles on her cheeks and the most fabulous eyelashes ever holds out a hand to me. It’s awfully sweet of her, seeing how her expression completely gave away that we know one another.
“Hi,” she says. “So glad you could make it.”
“Thanks. Um, is there room for me? I have a ticket for a different seat. I can always—”
Fran loops her arm through mine. “There’s always room for you.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, facing the field and hoping the others will, too. “I bought an extra ticket for Zev. But I don’t know if he’s coming.”
“For Zev,” Fran says, and when she turns slow and steady to peer at me, Stella and Maggie are looking, too.
“Yeah.” I lick my lips and pretend I’m not on display. I yank the Red Tails hat from my head—it’s useless! “He must be at work because he hasn’t responded to my text yet.”
“Oh, I’d wager he’s at work,” Maggie says. She looks at Stella who looks at her right back.
I narrow my brow and focus on Fran rather than the women who are so good at making me feel jumbled. My body is tensing and trembling on the inside. It so easily resorts to panic these days.
“I wanted you two to meet. But we can always try another day.”
“Maggie!” A man in a Red Tails’ jersey jogs from the team tunnel next to our seats, looking into the stands where we sit.
Maggie smiles, natural and wide. Then she steps up to the wall separating us from the field and leans over the partition.
She plants a kiss on the man’s lips. He grins, then scans over to Stella, Fran, and then me.
“Rosalie,” he says, his tone excited, his accent something I can’t quite place.
Then he hoists himself up and over the wall separating us.
“Lucca!” Maggie laughs as the man joins us in the stands.
He steps in front of me and half a second later, I am pulled into a hug—by a man I never remember meeting.
“We’ve missed you.” He sets that charming grin on me, but I don’t feel charmed.
I am anxious. I am being hugged by a stranger.
Apparently, I picked the worst day ever to leave my house.
Finally, he releases me. With one more kiss to Maggie’s lips, he’s over the partition and back on the field.
“And that’s Lucca,” Fran says, her words clipped.
“Lucca Cruz?” I ask. Millie mentioned him just minutes ago.
“Yes.” Fran gulps, questioning eyes on me. “You—”
“No, I do not remember him. Someone said his name earlier.”
“Are you okay?” Fran asks, her words a whisper meant only for me.
I blow out a trembling breath and peek past my friend to the other women here.
They both stare at the field. At least they aren’t looking at me anymore.
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” But I haven’t fallen into a panic attack that steals my breath and the use of my legs.
So, I think I must be sort of okay. “How many times did I come to these games?”
“Um, often,” she says, and her tone tells me that is an understatement. I suppose I should have gotten that from Dave at will-call knowing my name.
“And I was friends with these women?” I whisper. My heart is now in my throat.
“Yes.” Her hand finds mine at my side and she laces our fingers. “You’re doing great.”
I don’t feel like I’m doing great though. I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread. Like I’m lucky I’m still standing.
I could leave. I don’t have to stay here. I could text Zev and tell him, Never mind, don’t come, I had to go.
“There’s something else that you should possibly know.” Fran swallows, her brown eyes focused on me.
Her lips move—but I don’t hear any more of her words.
Because Callum just walked out of the team tunnel we sit by, and next to him, shoulder to shoulder, is Zev.
My Zev.
He runs a hand through his red hair and laughs at something Callum has said. He’s wearing team sweatpants and a Red Tails’ jersey with the number five on his back. The name Hayes written in big block letters. It’s his jersey.
“Zev’s a Red Tail,” I say, my breath hitching.
“Yes,” Fran whispers.
“You already know him.” The blood drains from my face and my legs feel weak with the realization.
“You knew him, too, sweetie,” Fran says.
The view in front of me—Zev and Callum walking—blurs and my heart threatens to stop. My knees give out on me and I dip, no longer able to stand on my own.
“Rose,” Fran squawks, wrapping one arm around me. I hear her, but I can’t see her.
“Zev!” one of the girls next to us bellows.
She knows him, too.
They all do.
Zevulun was never the stranger I thought him to be. I’ve been foolish and wrong this whole time. Again.
My world narrows to a pinhole just before I’m lost to the blackness.