Chapter 24 - Aleksey #2
The short walk to my bedroom took only a few steps. Dragging my battered canvas duffel bag out from under the bare mattress, I tossed my clothes inside. I pulled up the Greyhound website and booked the evening bus back to campus. The ticket wiped out most of what was left in my checking account.
Waiting for the departure time was pure torture.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I watched Karter’s name pop up on my locked screen.
Two new text messages waited for me. Before today, ignoring his texts felt like a necessary sacrifice to protect him.
Now, staring at the glowing notifications, a knot of anxiety twisted in my gut.
I desperately wanted to reply, but I had no idea what to say.
The cruel lies I fed him before walking away could not be undone with a quick message. Fixing this mistake required standing right in front of him and taking whatever anger he threw at me.
Hours later, I sat crammed against the vibrating window of the Greyhound bus heading out of Detroit with the steady hum of the engine seeping through the thin floorboards.
A cracked plastic vent under the seat blasted dry heat against my boots as I leaned against the rattling bus window.
To distract myself on the long ride back to Ridge Cross, I tapped my phone to keep the screen awake. Karter’s name sat at the top of my message app.
Taking a bare-knuckle punch to the jaw felt easier than figuring out what to type.
Tapping the keyboard, I drafted a quick line.
Coach called. I’m heading back.
The letters sat there, sterile as a line change update. I held down the backspace key until the screen went blank. The overhead vent rattled above my seat while I stared at the empty text field.
For the next twenty miles, I typed out a dozen different apologies. Every single attempt got wiped away.
Typing out the truth was the only way.
I’m coming back. I don’t know if you still want me after everything I said. But I’m done running. I’m done being afraid. You called me a coward, and you were right. Let me prove you wrong.
My thumb tapped send.
The green bubble loaded onto the illuminated screen. A tiny delivery receipt appeared right beneath the block of text. Pressing the side button, I rested the phone against my thigh.
For the next four hours, the dark cabin offered nothing but the rumble of the diesel engine. And every time the bus tires hit a rut in the asphalt, I checked the display.
The message thread remained empty, and anxiety began to churn at the base of my throat.
Karter saw my text. He is choosing not to answer.
I ran a frustrated hand over my face, shoved the phone deep into my coat pocket, then leaned my head against the cold window glass. The engine vibrations rattled through my jaw.
Walking into Karter’s room that day and lying straight to his face earned me this exact silence. Expecting forgiveness over a text message was a complete joke. I broke it, and now it was going to stay broken.
Yellow street-lamps bled through the tinted windows as the Greyhound bus lurched off the highway. Grinding gears vibrated through the cabin before the vehicle jerked to a halt beneath the concrete overhang of the Ridge Cross transit center.
Hauling my duffel bag from the empty seat beside me, I walked down the narrow aisle and stepped out onto the pavement.
The stinging wind cut right through my jeans the second I cleared the bus doors. Zipping my oversized winter coat up to my chin, I hoisted the canvas strap over my shoulder and started the mile trek toward campus.
Rock salt crunched under my boots as the college town was unusually dead, even so late at night. Past the dark storefronts and plowed snowbanks, the looming roofline of The Ice House finally appeared at the end of the block.
Ten minutes later, the front door of The Ice House clicked shut behind me. Down in the foyer, the grandfather clock chimed twice. At the third-floor landing, stopping dead on the top step, I stared down the narrow hall.
Karter sat on the hard floorboards directly outside my empty room. Drawing my first full breath in days, I just stood there and took him in.
Digging my fingers into the canvas strap of my duffel bag was the only thing keeping me from crossing the space between us and hauling him up against my chest. He wore my old gray hoodie, the thick material swallowing up his shoulders.
However, instead of staring down at a phone screen, he was resting his empty hands over his bent knees.
Then he lifted his head and noticed me.
“You made it,” Karter said.
Letting out a long breath, I stayed near the stairs. “You ignored my text.”
“Words are cheap,” Karter replied. “I saw it pop up, threw my phone on the bed, and came out here. I needed to see you actually walk up those steps to believe it.”
My duffel bag hit the floorboards a beat later, and I walked over to him.
I so wanted to rush over, drag him up from the floor and bury my face in his neck.
But I settled for sliding my back down the chipped plaster wall and taking a seat right beside him.
Keeping a single inch of space between our shoulders required grinding my teeth together.
A door slammed two floors down. Muffled laughter and the loud thud of feet carried up the stairwell, but the noise faded toward the first-floor kitchen. Everyone else still awake in the Ice House was staying downstairs.
Staring at the scuffed baseboards across the hall, I refused to hide behind excuses. “I thought packing my bags fixed the problem. But I just messed everything up instead.”
The floorboards creaked as Karter shifted. “You left me. Left me behind.”
“I know.” The words scraped out before I could dress them up. “I saw what you’d lose. Decided for you.” A beat of silence filled the narrow hallway. Karter’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. “I figured if I ended it first,” I continued, “they couldn’t take you away from me.”
A full minute of silence passed after that.
Unable to hold back any longer, I slowly reached out, my fingers hovering over his arm.
I braced myself, waiting for him to pull away from the contact.
But when my hand rested against the thick hoodie material, Karter let out a shaky breath.
A second later, he leaned against my side.
“Corby called me,” I said, keeping my voice low. “He told me exactly what you did. So, guess Trenton is off the roster.”
Karter stared down at his hands. “Yup.”
“And your dad?” I asked, tracing the side of his face. “Guessing he knows the whole story now.”
“He is furious,” Karter admitted. He picked at a frayed thread on his jeans. “He is threatening to freeze my accounts and pull my tuition for blackmailing his friends.”
I stared at the opposite wall. “Then we protect your tuition.”
Karter stopped picking at the thread. “How?”
“Your dad wants this quiet. You’ve got the recording. He’s got the money.” I kept my voice low, even though the hallway was empty. “So we give him quiet. Let the rumors die. Keep our heads down in public.”
Karter narrowed his eyes. “So I just pretend you’re nothing?”
“You let him think he won.” The words tasted like ash, but the math was simple. “He pays your tuition. My roster spot stays intact. Behind closed doors, we do whatever the hell we want.”
A sharp scoff cut through the dark hallway. His shoulder bumped hard against mine. “No. I’m not shoving you in a closet every time a donor walks by.”
That heated edge in his voice made me smile at how stubborn he was being. I turned to face him. “Karter, going after them right now just hands your dad more ammo.”
“Then hiding in this attic forever is your brilliant solution?”
“Playing it smart is the solution.” I held his gaze. “And we get to keep what’s ours in here,” I tapped a hand over my heart. “That’s how we last through the rest of this season. And even if it doesn’t, I’ve got you covered.”
Karter’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means when I sign a contract. Some team picks me up.” The confidence in my own voice caught me off guard. “Then your dad’s checks don’t mean a damn thing. He cuts you off? Fine. I’ll pay your tuition. Every semester. Room and board. You finish pre-med on my dime, not his.”
Karter went still against the wall. “You’d do that?”
“I’m not asking to hide us away forever.” My palm found the plaster beside his head. “Just until I sign. Until it’s real. Then we never need to pretend again.”
He stared at me, throat working.
“You’re serious.”
“Well, you did call me a coward.” I tapped two fingers against his chest. “So, I thought you’d appreciate me planning ahead for once.”
Karter stilled and searched my face. He made me wait. One beat. Two beats. Then he grabbed the collar of my jacket and hauled me forward, crashing his mouth against mine.
Groaning against his lips, I shed my coat and let it drop to the floor. Hooking my arms around his waist, I dragged him to his feet and backed him along the narrow hallway straight into his room.
Kicking the wooden door shut behind us, I pinned Karter against the wall. Looking over my shoulder, I checked the perfectly made mattress on the opposite side of the room.
“Where is Matt?” I asked, suddenly remembering Karter’s roommate.
Karter swallowed and glanced toward Matt’s empty bed. “He met some girl at the victory party. Told me he’d crash at her place tonight.”
“Convenient timing.”
“Not really.” His thumb started working at a loose thread on his jeans. “The locker room got loud after the game. Everyone heard the rumors. Matt decided bunking next to me wasn’t worth catching whatever the guys were slinging around.”
A spark of anger flared behind my eyes. “Sounds like a real friend.”
“Forget Matt.” Karter’s hand slid up my chest, fingers curling into the collar of my jacket. “He’s not here. You are.”
He was right. Right this minute, I didn’t want to talk about anyone else—or think about anyone else—besides Karter.