Chapter Thirteen
Marcee spent the rest of October buried in work and every extra mile she could clock on a trail somewhere.
Running in the fall was the best, and every drifting yellow leaf or gust of chilly wind reminded her of why she decided to stay in North Carolina.
Truth be told, she was doing everything she could not to think of Alex’s accusations at the grocery store, or the fact that something was clearly wrong with Cassidy Cope and she couldn’t do anything about it.
She tried to squeeze in as much outdoor practice as she could for the team, because once winter settled in, they’d be forced to move indoors for drills and weight training.
Cope’s parents provided the school with a letter from her doctor clearing her to play, much to Marcee’s dismay.
She obviously wasn’t okay and wasn’t getting better.
She was getting thinner by the week and started showing up late to practice, giving Marcee the silent treatment.
She tried repeatedly to open dialogue between them, to get Cassidy to let her help, but the strong-willed girl shut her out.
She was pushing the girls harder than they’d ever been pushed and she knew her single-mindedness was wearing thin, but Marcee couldn’t stop. If she stopped working—stopped and rested for even a minute—she’d think about everything that was at stake and every person that was counting on her.
The first day of November dawned gray with the promise of rain.
As Marcee stepped outside on the porch to stretch, a long-sleeved thermal top covering her arms, she was greeted with billowing ribbons of toilet paper crisscrossed on the tree in their front yard.
Even worse were the splatters of raw egg on her precious car, Ronaldo, spotting him like a disease.
“No!” she wailed. “My poor baby!”
After everything the past few months, it was almost the tipping point. Tears welled in her eyes, the end of her nose tingling in that irritating way that comes before a breakdown.
She tried and tried with everything and everyone, working her ass off to make things better. And this was her repayment.
She was still standing on the front porch, scrubbing at her face, when Alex came outside.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Alex brushed against her side, wrapped in a thick bathrobe and Yoda slippers. For the first time, Marcee noticed her car was untouched.
“I guess you’ve made a few enemies at school,” Alex remarked. Freddie Mercury dashed out of the pet door, weaving around Alex’s legs and mewling pitifully. He hated the cold. And the heat. He was an equal opportunity hater. Her roommate picked him up, tucking him in her bathrobe like a small child.
Marcee could just imagine who came up with such a shenanigan, too.
Another opportunity for Cope to get back at her, no doubt.
She should’ve seen it coming. Cope had been icing out Hannah for weeks, somehow deducing she’d talked to Nicole and Marcee after she collapsed.
Marcee wouldn’t be surprised if she roped the poor girl into doing the handiwork. She was lashing out, hard.
Alex motioned toward the trees. “Not to be a downer, but you do know if it rains, the toilet paper is going to be nearly impossible to get out of the tree, right?”
“Teepeed a few houses, have you?” Marcee replied wryly, her voice scratchy as she swallowed down her tears.
“That would’ve required having friends, which I didn’t. I did have to clean some up more than once, though.” Her mouth pinched with distaste. “Every single last speck of wet toilet paper. Shout-out to my dad for those precious memories.”
“I guess I better get to it and hope the rain holds off.”
Heaving a sigh, she trotted down the porch steps. She wouldn’t be getting her morning run, after all.
Marcee’s day went from bad to worse. After the smug looks from Cope at practice, she put a home security camera on the wish list of her account.
It took two hours to get all the toilet paper out of the tree, and even after the rain and a car wash, she kept finding bits of eggshell on Ronaldo’s paint.
The tree was bad enough, but touching her precious Ronaldo, that was going too far.
You didn’t egg my car, did you?
She texted Remy during the day.
I don’t even know what that means.
Throw eggs at my car? Or did you put the toilet paper in my
trees?
His response was instant.
Definitely not. It’s too cold outside to be playing childish games,
even if I did want to get your attention.
A blush worked its way up her neck and into her cheeks.
Their texts the past month had been borderline flirting, but more serious than before.
The rage she felt after he attended the meeting with Cope and her dad had subsided.
How many times had Headmaster Wilkes gone behind her back?
She believed Remy when he said he had nothing to do with setting up the appointment.
Part of her hated to admit it, but he could actually be nice, when he wanted.
Nicole was out sick with a cold, so she led practice by herself, and without her assistant as a buffer, Marcee’s impatience got the best of her.
By the time the last girl left after running bleachers in their indoor facility, she was considering going to the closest bar and ordering a double of anything.
Was there a drink called, “My yard got teepeed, my team captain hates me, and I haven’t had sex in months”?
What she probably should’ve done was get in a session with Dr. Crowley.
She used to be the fun girl in college. Always there for a smile and compliment. Now, she couldn’t even remember the last time she laughed.
After gathering up her things in the office and slinging her purse over her shoulder, she locked the door and let her feet lead her to the parking lot, mind on autopilot as she added stuff to her calendar app.
Marcee stopped dead in her tracks as a reminder popped up on her phone—a reminder she set a few weeks ago telling her she needed to buy a dress.
Oh, hell.
Pemberton’s annual fundraiser was in two weeks.
Their entire athletic department, and Alpha Ridge’s, would get dolled up and auction off their time in training sessions to the highest bidder.
All for a good cause handpicked each year by administration.
This year, the two local schools were coming together to raise funds for people whose homes had been destroyed in recent flooding.
Which meant Remy would be part of the auction. She’d be stuck in a room in some ridiculous dress while overprivileged mothers bid on sessions for their daughters or sons with Remy so they could get up close and personal with the dashing soccer star.
Marcee thought of the last time she saw Remy in person, standing in the grocery store as their eyes connected.
It was a moment—so little happened yet she’d felt so much.
If Graham and Henry Taylor hadn’t ruined it, the night could’ve gone in a completely different direction.
She flushed thinking of the storeroom, or his car, or her car, or hell, anywhere.
Nothing had compared since their night at camp months ago, and she had a sneaking suspicion that nothing ever would unless it was with him.
In fourteen days, she’d be forced into the same room with Remy decked out in a suit and tie like something from GQ Magazine, tempting and teasing her into madness. There was only so long a girl could hold out, for Pete’s sake!
Marcee ran a hand over the back of her neck, massaging the tight muscles and longing for it to be someone else’s fingers.