“Mom,” I groan, pressing my hands to my head. “Fuck, why did you say that?”
“Well, I don’t know. I thought it was public knowledge since there are articles written up everywhere speculating about who’s going to draft you. You didn’t tell her?”
“No. I didn’t. I was, shit, Mom. I was trying to find the right time to tell her. It’s been a slow process, getting her to date me, to trust me, and I was going to tell her this week, after you left.”
She cringes. “I’m sorry, honey. I really thought she knew.”
“What did she say? Was she mad? Is that why she left in the fourth?”
She shakes her head. “No, she said she had a migraine coming. Would she lie about that?”
“I don’t know,” I say sarcastically. “Maybe, if your boyfriend’s mom tells you he’s leaving after this semester to God knows where. Jesus, Mom.”
“Oh dear. I really feel like a boob. I didn’t mean to let the cat out of the bag.”
I sigh, hating that I’m making my mom feel bad. Letting out my frustration, I pull my mom into a hug and say, “I know, and I’m sorry for getting angry, but I’ve worried that Em’s had one foot out the door, ready to bolt at any time. I told you a bit about her past relationship, but he cheated on her, and it took a while to convince her that I wasn’t him. That she deserved much, much more than that. That I’d never be anything but honest with her. And this . . .” Fuck. Em. I have no idea how she’s going to respond to this. I drag my hand through my still-damp hair. “You don’t mind if I take off, to make sure she’s okay?”
“No, I insist, please, go to her.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I give her one more parting hug and take off toward my truck where I quickly make my way to Emory’s dorm. Thanks to Dottie being friends with the resident director, she scored me a key to the dorms, so I make my way to their suite. Not wanting to barge in, just in case any of the girls are indecent, I knock on the door and stick my hands in my pockets, willing my nerves to settle.
Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to first make sure Emory is not in too much pain, and then I’m going to talk this out with her. Help her understand that this is my last semester at Brentwood, but I’m committed to her, and even if I move across the country, she’ll always be mine. I’ll always be hers.
As I wait for someone to answer the door, I try to work out what to say to Em. I’ve tried so hard to convince her that we’re solid, and I hope to fuck she’s only hiding while she processes what Mom told her. That’s got to be it. She’s a thinker, needs time, and I’ll be there by her side so we can see this hiccup through.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
EMORY
“Okay, talk,” Dottie says, taking a seat on my bed next to me as Lindsay pulls up a chair along with a tray of Lofthouse cookies.
They both take one, but my stomach is too twisted and tied up to even consider anything at this point.
“We let you sulk for over an hour, and now it’s time you talk and tell us what happened.” Lindsay breaks off a piece of her cookie and plops it in her mouth. “Was it his mom? Did she say something mean to you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “His mom is amazing, and I don’t think she could ever say anything to hurt someone’s feelings.”
“Okay,” Dottie says. “So why did I have to pick you up from the stadium and listen to you cry all the way back to our dorm?”
“And how come you’re not eating our sacred cookies?”
“Yes, how come?”
Both my friends bear down on me. I should have known better than to call Dottie, but I had no choice with every out that passed by, my heart grew heavier and heavier. By the fourth inning, I was on the verge of tears, faked a migraine, and begging Dottie to pick me up ASAP.
The minute I shut the door to her car, I broke down, and I’ve been crying ever since, not as heavily, but tears are still falling.
Looking out my window, I say just above a whisper, “He’s leaving.”
“Knox is leaving?” Dottie asks.
“Yes, after this semester, he’s entering the draft.” I wipe a tear. “I had no idea, and his mom let it slip today.”
“Oh shit,” Lindsay says, cookie half-crumbled in her mouth.
“Like, he’s not coming back to school?”
“No.” I turn toward them. “I looked it up on my phone. You either enter the draft after you graduate from high school or you wait until after your junior or senior year in college. He’s throwing his name in after this semester and guess what, a million teams are scouting him from all over the country. I researched it. He’s considered one of the top prospects.”
“And you’re only realizing this now?” Ouch. That stings.
“I know it’s stupid, but honestly, we never really talked about anything like that. He’s talked to me about practice and the guys on the team, but we’ve never spoken about the future because we’ve been taking baby steps. Small steps that have led to one of the best things in my life . . . and that’s going to be taken away from me.”
“How do you know—?”
Knock. Knock.
We all turn our heads toward the hallway that leads to our door.
“Who’s that?” I ask, wiping away my tears as best as possible.
“I told Julianne across the hall she can borrow my straightener.” Lindsay gets up and heads down the hallway where we hear her open the door. “Let me . . . oh, hi.”
There isn’t a return hello, but instead heavy footsteps sound off down the hallway. Crap. I’d know those footsteps anywhere, and before I can direct Dottie to get out of my room, Knox appears at the doorway, looking distressed and with damp hair that looks like his hand has been running rapidly through it.
“Knox.” I sit up, trying to hide the emotion bubbling up inside me, but he can see it all over my face.
Keeping his eyes trained on me, he says, “Dottie, would you mind giving us some privacy?”
“Yeah, that might be a good idea.”
She hops down from my bed and pats Knox on the shoulder before closing the door behind her. Still staring me down, he says, “You don’t have a migraine.”
There’s no use lying to him, so I shake my head and say, “No, I don’t.”
“So you lied to leave the game. Why?”
“It just became . . . too overwhelming.”
“What did?” He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us until he’s sitting on my bed.
Hands on my lap, I twist them together, wondering how I should go about this. Ever since I’ve known Knox, he’s always been upfront about everything—well, besides this being his last semester—so I decide to be the same.
“When were you going to tell me this was your last semester here?”
Visible regret washes over his face as he turns toward me on the bed and takes my hands in his. Just from the sorrowful look, I can’t find it within me to be mad at him, especially since the reason he’s leaving is to pursue his dreams, something he’s been working toward for so long.