“How can this be any different, Knox? If this were a perfect world, how would you play out this relationship? Do you see a future with me beyond dating?”
His head lifts, but he stays hunched over.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” The muscles in his jaw pulse as he stares me down. “I see more than a future, Em. Fuck, I . . . I . . .”
“Don’t say it. Please don’t say those words, not right now.” I shake my head, tears in a constant flow now. “Not in this moment.”
He must sense the kind of impact those three words would have, how they’d be coated in negativity rather than a positive, joyful moment they should be cherished in, because he shuts his mouth and folds his hands together.
His teeth roll over his bottom lip before he says, “If I had a choice, this is how it would play out. We’d move past this moment, you’d come back to the loft, and you’d sleep in my arms. We’d stay together the rest of the semester growing our bond stronger until the moment I have to leave. From there, we’d promise to make the effort to see each other. Talk every night, send each other gifts, just like over winter break. Only an extended period this time. It will be hard, we’ll get in fights, but in the long run, we’d always come back to each other, because”—he motions between us—“we’re meant to be together.”
I curl my knees to my chest and rest my face in my hands, trying to envision how that would work. He makes it seem so simple, and yet, three years is a really long time, three of the most important years of his career, where he needs to work his way up through the farm system. He can’t be worrying about me and where my head is at. He needs to worry about himself, and that’s something I won’t budge on. This is his dream, and I’ll be damned if I distract him from giving it his all.
“I care about you, Knox, and I want nothing more than to follow through on what you just laid out, but we need to be real about this. You’re going to be consumed with baseball, and I want you to be consumed by it, I want it to be your life, your obsession. And that can’t happen if you’re worrying about me and how I’m doing, what my mental state for that week is because I’ll be honest, it will be erratic with you gone. That’s not fair.” I slide off the bed and walk to him, his large sweatshirt hitting me mid-thigh. I push him back on the chair and take a seat on his lap. His arms immediately wrap around me as I lift his chin so he has to look me in the eyes. “Rule number one.” I lightly press a kiss across his lips, taking in the softness one last time. When I pull away, I say, “Friends forever and always.”
“Shit,” he mutters, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. “Baby, please don’t do this, we can make it work.”
“We could struggle to make it work and then, a year in, we break up because we can’t handle the distance, the unpredictability, and then we’d be worse off than if we end things now. You know I’m right.”
He presses his head against my shoulder.
“But we’ll always be there for each other; we signed on it. Friends first, Knox.”
“I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your boyfriend, your goddamn forever.” His hands drive up my sides, holding my ribs, holding on to me tightly. “I want you forever, Em.”
When he pulls away, tears falls from his eyes and in that moment, every nerve ending in my body goes numb as I watch the man I love cry—cry over what we had and what we’re losing. It’s the last thing I want to do, to inflict this kind of pain on Knox, but I don’t have a choice. He needs to be free, to focus, to be the man, the exceptional ball player he deserves to be.
Mustering every ounce of courage I have left in my bones, I wipe his tears away and say, “I want you forever too, but I know when forever has to change.” I cup both his cheeks and stare him in the eyes. “You are bound for wonderfully epic things, and I can’t wait to see you accomplish everything you deserve. And I will be there, Knox. I will be the girl cheering for you on the sidelines, but in a different capacity, as your friend. The way we started.”
“I want more. I want you.”
I press a light kiss across his lips one last time, unable to stop myself. “I want you too, but I know what it’s like to get lost in someone else and forget about everything you worked for. I won’t let that happen to you. I refuse.” Tears run down both of our faces. “You’re going to be amazing, Knox Gentry, absolutely amazing. And later on, down the road, when we’re thirty and unable to handle a hangover anymore, I hope we’re still friends, still cheering one another on, still in each other’s lives, because you mean so much to me.” I love you. I love you. I love you.
Friends forever.
That’s what we promised each other.
But sometimes promises are made to be broken . . .
Chapter Twenty-Nine
KNOX
“Gentry, my office, now,” Coach Disik shouts into the locker room and then quickly disappears.
I groan and throw a shirt on over my head, my hair still wet from my shower, my muscles aching from the one-hundred-plus pushups we were forced to do at practice . . . because of me.
My head is not in the fucking game, because it’s back at Emory’s dorm room, along with my heart. Two days ago, she tore my world apart. I understand what she was saying, her reasoning, but what I don’t get was why she wouldn’t at least fucking try to keep us. I just want her to try.
She doesn’t want me to get lost in her, well, too fucking late for that. I’m pretty sure I got lost in her the minute I drunkenly held her boob in my hand and passed out.
“Coach is going to rip you a new one,” Carson points out. “It looked like he wanted to shove his bat up your ass during practice.”
“Give him a break,” Holt says from the side. “He’s hurting.”
“Because of a girl, and that’s why Coach is going to kill him.”
I came home that night, without Emory, and went straight to my room. Thanks to Carson being a nosey motherfucker . . . and because my mom asked him to check on me, I ended up having a heart-to-heart with him and Holt about what happened. Carson, the dickhead, agreed with Emory, saying she had made really good points, but Holt felt for me, saying if his girl did that he wouldn’t know what to do with his life, especially since he took her to the locker room after the game and sealed the goddamn deal.
Maybe I should have done that, even though I don’t believe in the legend. Maybe I should have given it a shot. If I did, Emory and I might still be together.
What the hell am I thinking? No locker room bullshit is going to change Emory’s way of thinking. The minute she made up her mind, there was nothing I could say or do to change it.
And she wants to be fucking friends.
Yeah, that sounds like a whole bunch of fucking fun. I want to be friends with the girl I love rather than be the man who gets to kiss her when she’s sad, or hug her when she’s happy. Sure, friends, what a great idea, so much fucking better than being able to take her naked beneath me and watch as I make her come over and over again.
Yup, friends is way better.
I stand and slip my hat over my head. “Mom is making everyone dinner before she leaves tomorrow. She’s serving at seven, prepare to eat.”