twenty-eight
Evan
I run my finger along Callie’s back, kissing her shoulder as she sleeps. She stayed over since I was gonna stay with her, but Cameron didn’t leave for break yet. She has another test she has to take today. Callie and I are done with our classes, and we plan to leave tomorrow, which stresses me out a bit. I was surprised by how Coach took our relationship, and even Callie laughed it off when I told her he knew, but I don’t think things will go well with Nico. As much as I want to believe he’ll get his head out of his ass and see how great we are together, I know I have a much better chance of being Emery Brooks’s next murder case.
I don’t take offense to how he treated me. I think mostly it’s because of Callie, but with his diagnosis, I also know he doesn’t do well in social interactions. He’s always been awkward as hell, but that was the first time I’ve seen him be a total dickbag. It was shocking, to say the least, but once I thought about it, the more I know he did it out of fear of the unknown. It’s obvious how much he loves Callie, Aviva, and Vance, so I get it, but I am owed an apology that I’m pretty sure I’ll never get. Not only do I think he doesn’t believe he was wrong, but it couldn’t happen without Callie, or even Owen, getting wind of it.
I’ve somehow surrounded myself with very protective people. Owen would kill for me, and I’m pretty sure, even in our short relationship, Callie would stuff the body in a bag. That’s just the way she is, ferociously protective of the ones she loves. One of the kids at the center hit Kyle, her baby, and I thought she was going to get the kid kicked out of the program. It wasn’t the first time the kid had done it, but he was throwing a tantrum, and sometimes things fly when kids get to that point, especially our kids in the center. A chair flew into Kyle’s head. There was no warning for the outburst. I was singing to the kids, this kid freaked, and the next thing I knew, Kyle was on the floor, needing stitches. It was terrifying, but Callie was scarier.
I think it makes me like her more. Added to all the other amazing and unique things about her, I find myself in complete admiration of her. She hasn’t had to go in to work out for the last two days, but she has. By herself, behaving as if she is in competition. She didn’t talk to me, didn’t look at me, or even acknowledge me. I did my online exam, and she worked; it was a good night. Then we came here, I turned into Pooh Bear once more, and then we watched a movie before falling asleep.
It was utter bliss.
Now, as I watch her sleep, desire swirls in my stomach. She’s so beautiful, with her wild curls and straight-as-hell lashes. Her lips move, almost in a suckling motion, and my heart aches in my chest. So adorable. Her cheeks are rosy, and a little line of drool leaves her lips once they part again. I almost feel bad for wanting to wake her, but my need for her is greater. I kiss her shoulder again, trailing kisses up her neck, and just as I’m about to grab her between her sweet thighs, a knock comes at my door.
Everyone is still here in the hockey house since they have practice today before they can leave, so my duty is not over yet. I groan inwardly as I get up, picking up my sleep pants from the floor, pulling them over my naked self, and heading to the door. I open it to find Jackson, and I know something is wrong.
“Do you have a second?”
I come out into the hall, shutting the door. The RA room is on a floor by itself—it’s basically the attic—so no one is around, and we still have privacy without going into my room. “My girlfriend is sleeping. What’s up?”
I cross my arms over my naked chest as he exhales heavily. “I told my parents I’m gonna quit college here and maybe try to get on a team next year close to home.”
I press my lips together. Honestly, I saw this coming. He’s been more and more withdrawn when I’ve seen him with the guys. Unfortunately, the whole situation has kicked his ass.
“My mom is all for it, but my dad suggested I talk to you and Coach Sinclair first to see what you guys think.”
I nod. “Why do you want to transfer schools? Because of everything that happened with the softball player?”
“Yeah, the rumors are fucking insane. Like, no one wants to talk to me, and sometimes I feel as if I’m the most hated dude in the house.”
I give him a look. “Jackson, you’re not. I always see the guys including you, and they’re being very supportive. You’re the one pulling back.”
“I know,” he says, shaking his head. “It just stresses me the fuck out. I don’t want to make my boys look bad, and I don’t want them to hate me because people are talking about them. I just hate that this has happened.”
“Absolutely. It fucking sucks,” I agree. “Have you talked to the guys? What about your roommate, Benny? I know him. He’s a good guy. English is weak as fuck, but he’s a good listener.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, but I don’t think he really understands what I am going through. He tells me to ignore it and just do me.”
“He’s right,” I add, holding his gaze. His eyes are full of fear and torment. I feel for the kid, but I sure as hell don’t want him to quit. “Let me ask you a question. Why did you choose to play for Bellevue?”
Jackson pauses for a second. “I love the history the team has, the campus is badass, and we’re close to Nashville, where I want to play.”
I lean my shoulder into the wall and nod. “All great reasons. I picked this school for the campus and because it was close to my family. After retiring—”
“I wouldn’t call it retiring. A sabbatical, really.”
He’s so hopeful for my return, just as I was. Hell, probably as hopeful as Owen still is. “I’m not going back,” I admit, looking him in the eye. “I am on a new journey now. I want to be the person I needed when my anxiety and panic attacks started.”
“Oh,” he says, his eyes wide. “I mean, it sucks. But at the same time, you gotta do what’s best for you.”
“Absolutely, which is what you need to do. Do you think you’d be happy back home, playing for some other college?”
“No,” he says slowly.
“So then, why change? Because people talk? You’re the convo now, but it’ll change as soon as the next thing happens. Don’t throw away this opportunity because of other people. Listen to me,” I stress, really begging him with my eyes. “I stayed in a sport, in a situation, because of other people. Because I cared so much about what my dad would say, about what my brother would say and how it would affect him. I was living for other people. Don’t make my mistake. Live for you.”
When his eyes get cloudy, he looks away, and I reach out, cupping his shoulder with my hand. “You’re an incredible right winger, Jackson. They need you, and I promise, everything will pass and it’ll be back to normal in no time. In the end, you have your teammates, you have me, and I know your parents are being supportive.”
He nods, still unable to look at me. “They are. Everyone has been. I’m just in my feelings.”
“Which is thoroughly understandable. But as my mom would say, ‘It’s only a moment of your life. The next moment could be greater or worse, so go in headfirst and enjoy the ride.’” He finally meets my gaze, and I smile. “She’d add I’m her favorite and she loves me the most, even though I have four other siblings, one of whom is a twin.”
He grins. “That’s funny.”
“She’s the best mom,” I say proudly. “But for real. And maybe go see Kayla over at the autism center. She’s an incredible sports therapist.”
“I don’t need therapy.”