“No one? Your absence is . . . obvious. I’m sure some people know.”
“No one knows.” She sighs, taking a sip of coffee and setting down the mug, keeping her hands linked around it. “I was in a car accident in the summer and got a DUI.” She meets my gaze. “I’ve never said this aloud.” She licks her lips. “My parents got my record expunged. I had to do community service during the summer and then once that was done, they thought it was only fair that I paid them back for the damages.”
“It was your dad’s car, right?”
“Yeah. The fucking Maserati.”
“Ouch.” I wait a moment because shit, she totaled that car. “DUI, huh?”
She nods, still looking at her mug and suddenly I understand why she really doesn’t want to talk about it. A DUI is a big deal, but for her to get one? I can’t even imagine her parents’ reactions.
“I don’t know if I want to play football anymore.” I swallow a gulp of hot coffee and look at her. Her eyes snap up to mine. “My shoulder has been fine for a few weeks now. The PT at UNC says it’s fully healed and it is, I know it is, but . . . ” I shake my head and say the words I haven’t even spoken in front of my brother. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” Jo’s frown deepens. “Getting hurt again?”
“Yes. No.” I shake my head, letting out a laugh. “I don’t know.”
Jo doesn’t say anything for a beat, and then stands up and walks over to my side of the booth, sliding in. “Scoot.”
I scoot, looking at her like she’s gone mad.
“Talk to me.”
“I . . . am talking to you,” I say slowly.
“Why are you scared?” she whispers.
“I don’t know. I’m not kidding. I really don’t know.”
“Are you scared that you’ll get hurt so bad that you won’t be eligible for the NFL?”
“I . . . ” Damn. I suddenly wish I could take back my words and rewind the conversation because I am not ready to talk about this over brunch. “I don’t think I want to go pro.”
“What?” she blinks. “Why?”
“That’s the issue. I don’t know why. I mean, not exactly anyway. I think this injury opened my eyes to all the others that will come. I guess I don’t want to feel like a failure. I don’t know. I’m technically not even in my father’s shadow since I don’t play his sport, and yet here I am.” I shake my head, letting out an exhale. “What kind of an athlete doesn’t want to go pro?”
“A fake athlete.” She nods, pursing her lips. “You’re a faker.”
I blink.
She laughs, nudging my shoulder with hers. “I’m joking.”
“Don’t joke like that.”
“Stop frowning.” She leans in and puts the tips of her fingers to my temple. “You look hot when you frown and I can’t kiss you in public.”
“You’re all over me, Josephine. If you kissed me right now, it would make no difference.”
She laughs loudly and looks around. “Shit, am I messing up your game?”
“Completely messing up my game.”
“Would you be pissed if I kissed you and someone took a pic?” She searches my eyes.
“Absolutely not.”
“Really?” She raises an eyebrow and I realize she’s seriously asking me this question.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Lawre—” She stops herself with a shake of her head.
“Lawrence what?”
“He was big on no public affection.” She sits straight in her side of the booth, looking forward suddenly. “Of course, that would explain the cheating.” She swallows and glances at me quickly. “You were right about that.”
“I’m sorry that I was.”
“Are you?”
“I truly am. Why would I want you to get hurt?” I frown, then frown more when I realize I almost told her I love her. But I can’t. I mean, I don’t. Right?
“I’m not saying you wanted me to get hurt.” She stops talking when Beth brings our food.
Beth, who takes a full, shocked step back when she sees us sitting on the same side of the booth, but doesn’t make a comment about it. We start eating and stop talking. After a few bites, she glances up at me.
“I’m sorry I was so mean to you when you warned me.”
“I’m sorry I had to warn you.” I meet her gaze and set my hand over hers. We look at each other for a long moment before I say, “I thought you were going to kiss me?”
She laughs before leaning in and kissing me quickly, but she keeps her hand beneath mine as we eat—her with her right hand, me with my left, and I find that I don’t want to let go. Unlike Lawrence, I don’t care who sees me with her. I don’t care what they say or assume. I like Jo. I want her more than anyone I’ve ever wanted before, and yes that thought scares me, but not more than what’s going to become of us once this is over. I’m her rebound, after all.