The Quarterback Sweep (The Four Quarters Collection #4)

1. Chapter 1

“You can do this, Honey,” I say to myself as if it will change anything today.

It won’t.

I tug my jeans on with one hand and wrestle my shirt over my head with the other as I try to narrowly avoid the corner of the desk in my hotel room.

“Ouch.”

Fail.

I wince as pain radiates from my thigh all the way down my leg. My shoulders slump and I drop my head. Yet another failure to add to my list.

Failed at finishing St. Michael’s...

Failed at following in my father’s footsteps...

Failed at figuring out what I want...

I could keep going, but the more I think about it, the worse I feel.

Hopping on one foot, I lose my balance completely and crash to the floor with a dull thunk, landing beside my half-unpacked suitcase.

“Great,” I mutter. When I finally open my eyes, I stare up at the white hotel ceiling. It’s a blank slate, a fresh start, which is something I’m supposed to be benefiting from. Then why do I feel so completely lost?

“Just breathe, Honey,” I whisper in Dr. Reeves’ voice. It’s a pathetic attempt at calming myself, but it’s all I’ve got. “You're already late and this is only going to make things worse.”

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

After a few seconds, I slowly stand and focus all my energy on getting my jeans on. Once I’ve finished, I work on my blouse, which is harder than usual since my hands won’t stop shaking.

“Are you seriously going to leave me, Honeycomb?”

The question I never answered—the last words from my would-be fiancé if I had said yes. They’ve been replaying in my mind since I willingly boarded the plane here. Unfortunately, the alcohol I used to knock myself out last night did nothing to stop the question waking me up this morning.

I run a hand over my face and glance at my reflection, frowning when the dark circles under my eyes are still there. With a sigh, I grab a couple of cleansing wipes and drag them across my skin, removing the makeup I was too exhausted to wash off last night.

The mascara goes, but the dark bags don’t.

Well, that’s just fantastic.

My hairbrush is next and I wince with every snag it hits through my hair. Styling it today is going to be fun.

When I’m finished, I step back and stare at myself in the mirror. Even with new clothes and a fresh face, I look like hell. Worse than hell.

My hands are still shaking, and nerves wrack through my body. Over what? A wedding? Getting my hair done? Seeing people I haven’t seen in months? Seeing him?

All of the above.

“Ready?” I ask my own reflection, knowing the answer.

No. I'm not ready. I may never be ready to see the future I willingly walked away from. It will only serve to remind me of what a fucking failure I am, but at this point, it’s not like I have any other choice.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“Shit.”

My phone rings, and I know it’s Tiff.

I’m late, and officially the worst bridesmaid a girl could ask for.

Missed the bachelorette. Missed the rehearsal dinner. Missed the dress fitting. I missed every single part of this wedding prep, and for some godforsaken reason, Tiff still wants me here today.

“Where the hell is it?” I fumble around the room, looking for my phone. When I find it under the bed covers, I’ve already missed her call.

No point calling her back. It’ll be quicker if I leave now.

I step over the clothes spilling out of my suitcase before slipping on my flip-flops and grabbing my room keys. Then I throw my door open and move ahead.

Thwack!

“Whoa!”

My hands are on a hard chest, and I know the voice before I look up.

“Morning, Honey.” Chris steadies me by placing his hands on my arms, making this only marginally less embarrassing than if I’d outright face-planted into his chest.

“Morning, Chris,” I say far too chipper to be believable as I step back and brush off my jeans. “Morning, Chase,” I mumble when I clock his brother next to him.

Great. Well, this just makes things worse.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall on you... I mean—on top of you.

” I wince, lifting a hand to fix my hair, only stopping when my fingers catch in the knots.

I can’t get the correct words out. It’s not entirely my fault.

The last time I saw Chris, we kissed and I subsequently ran out of the room crying. “I’m just late and look like a wreck.”

“A wreck? Please. We all know you could wear a paper bag, and you'd still be the prettiest girl in the room,” Chris says, and I freeze.

The prettiest girl in the room.

My vision blurs, and all I hear is Zach’s voice. He said those exact words when I was in his truck senior year before giving me the most devastating smile I’d ever seen. It was the moment I realized I was in love with him.

My stomach rolls, and yup, I’m about to throw up at the mere thought of Zach. What am I going to be like when I actually have to see him?

Chase barks out a laugh. “Jesus, bro. Could you be any more desperate?”

Chris shoots his brother a glare. “Shut up.”

Chase chuckles, raising his hands. “Sorry. I'm just saying, if you're going to lay it on that thick, you might want to buy her a croissant first.”

“Croissant!” I blurt, sidestepping them both. “No time. I've got to go.”

“Where are you—” Chris starts.

“Hair and makeup,” I say over my shoulder, already speed walking toward the elevator. “I'll see you later.”

“Honey, wait—”

But I don't stop. Instead, I'm jabbing the elevator button frantically, and when the doors finally slide open, I throw myself inside.

I catch a glimpse of Chris and Chase as the doors close. Chris steps forward as if he's going to follow me, but Chase grabs his arm. They’re both watching me like I’m a flight risk.

Which... isn’t exactly wrong.

I’m pretty sure no one expected me to actually show up today. The only reason I’m here is because Olivia and Mike escorted me to the airport.

When the doors finally close, I relax and slump against the mirrored wall. Then I close my eyes, trying to breathe and center myself.

In for four, hold for four, out for four.

It doesn't work.

I'm not ready for today. I'm not ready to stand up there while everyone talks about how destined Tiff and Jamie are for each other—while I look at the guy who thinks I'm his destiny across the aisle.

My chest tightens as heat creeps up my neck.

This is your own fault. You chose this; I remind myself. You said no to Zach, and yes to being a bridesmaid for his cousin.

Pull it together, Honey.

Today isn’t about me or my spiral or the fact that I can barely keep my hands from shaking. Today is about Tiff and Jamie and their wedding and me being a good friend.

The elevator dings in the lobby.

I step out and head for the conference room where we’re getting ready for the day.

Well, I guess here goes nothing.

“There you are!” Tiff beams the second I push through the conference room doors. My steps slow, echoing across the oversized room. The bridal party is small—just me, Madison (Tiff’s cousin), and Tiff’s five-year-old daughter, Ella—so the space feels even bigger.

“The room’s enormous, I know.” She gestures around us as she heads toward me. “All their smaller conference rooms were taken.” She pulls me in for a hug, holding me tighter than I’d expect considering all the shit I’ve put her through these last five months.

Holding onto my arms, she pulls back to take me in. “Hey, Honey.”

Her smile. That’s all I really take in because she’s radiating happiness that I could only dream of right now.

“Tiff. You look beautiful.” I pull her back into another hug, unable to put my true feelings into words.

I’m sorry for letting you down. This is the best I could do.

She hugs me a little tighter as if she knows exactly what I mean.

“Thank you. I’m so happy you’re here.”

I’m glad one of us is.

“Admittedly, I was starting to think you bailed on me,” she whispers with a hint of amusement in her voice. I’m not surprised, considering the last time she saw me, I was bailing. Out of St. Michael’s. Out of everything.

“Never,” I say, forcing a smile that I hope looks genuine as I pull back. “Just overslept a little. The flight took more out of me than I expected.”

She takes me in with glassy eyes, and I can tell she’s holding back what she really wants to say. “Thank you for being here. It really does mean everything to me.”

My heart clenches at her words. We might not be blood-related, but she’s my family, and being away from her this long with such little contact has really taken its toll on me.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say, half-meaning it. I am thrilled for her, and of course, I’m happy for Jamie. They both deserve this chance together; I just wish celebrating with them didn’t have all these extra complications.

When I left Indiana five months ago, I had no intention of ever coming back, yet here I am, standing in the best hotel in Hope as my past catches up with me, and I have nowhere left to hide.

“Still.” She pauses for a quick second. “I know how difficult it must be—”

I raise my hand and wave her off, laughing slightly, knowing that if she mentions his name, my knees will probably buckle, and I'll end up a sobbing wreck on the floor.

The laugh is awkward and forced. I’m sure she notices, but she doesn’t call me out on it. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not difficult. Who wouldn’t want to see their ex-fiancé marrying the love of his life?”

Oh, shit.

It was supposed to come out as a joke to move away from talking about Zach, but it seriously sounded like I regret losing Jamie. Yes, he's technically my ex-fiancé, but that was in a weird “rich people arrangement” as Zach would call it. We didn’t really love each other.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say with my eyes closed, because I can’t bear to look at her as I fail at something yet again.

Tiff squeezes my arms. “You’re good. I knew what you meant.”

She frowns, her gaze softening as she looks at me with quiet pity. If I didn’t already feel like a wreck, the way she’s looking at me seals it.