“Jake, you wouldn’t.”
“Without a second thought or glance back. Are we clear?”
“Jake—”
“Are. We. Clear?” he growls.
There’s a moment of silence, and I wonder for a beat if his mother had a heart attack or is just in shock. But then her beady voice sounds over the line. “Yes.”
Jake doesn’t say another word and hangs up on her. He thrusts the phone at Jeffries, pulls the door open, and reaches for our daughter. Once she’s secure in his arms, he turns to me, a smile so carefree, it steals my breath. “Ready for that life I promised you?”
It’s almost strange to laugh at a time like this, but I nod, a laugh made from happiness and promise falling off my giddy lips.
“Good. About time I build you that house I promised you.”
And One by Rebecca Jenshak
Chapter One
Rylee
Of all the things I dreamed of over the past two years while putting off college, sitting in the stands at a basketball game wasn’t even on the long list. I fantasized about living in a small dorm room with a shared bathroom, pledging a sorority, studying in the library, finding a perfect spot somewhere on campus to people watch and write, staying up late to cram for tests, and even eating cafeteria food.
It’s amazing the things that sound glamorous to an eighteen-year-old on the brink of freedom. At twenty, I now have a less idealistic world view. Life more than the years have shown me what is really important.
Upbeat music pumps from speakers. The Valley student section is alive with cheers and chants led by cheerleaders in blue and yellow outfits that show off their tan legs and toned stomachs. All around Ray Fieldhouse, locals fill the seats dressed in Valley gear, ready to watch their beloved men’s basketball team in tonight’s exhibition game.
The Valley players haven’t made their entrance yet, but a team from a local elementary school has everyone’s attention as they run up and down the court. A little girl, only a few years older than my Indie, dribbles the ball. It’s bigger than her head, but that doesn’t stop her. She rushes past a boy a foot taller than her and takes a shot under the basket. She’s ecstatic when the ball goes in the net and I can’t help but think I’m probably enjoying this more than I will the team we came to watch.
Dragged to watch if I’m being completely accurate. My best friend Lindsey insisted and after two months of turning down invites, it seemed like a better first official college outing than a frat party. A trip to frat row my senior year of high school is the reason I had to put off college for two years.
“Wow, maybe I won’t need the book I brought in my purse after all. That little girl is amazing.” I have to raise my voice significantly to be heard over the pep band who starts up in front of us.
Lindsey eyes me to gauge my sincerity. “You didn’t?”
“No, I didn’t, but I do have my phone and there are lots of books on that. Don’t judge, you never know when you’re going to need to escape a social situation. You do it with texting and scrolling Instagram, I do it with books.”
“You won’t need to escape this. It’s the best game of the season. You know me, I don’t really get that excited about sports.”
I do know her. Or I did. Since high school, though, we’ve been separated. Her at Valley like we always planned and me back in our hometown raising a baby.
“Besides,” she says. “This is the perfect place to look around and see if you see him.”
“At a basketball game?” I shake my head, but even the ridiculous notion sparks a flame of hope that I can’t seem to snuff out. “No way. He was nerdy and goofy, and… no, he isn’t here.”
“Nerdy guys go to basketball games.” She nods her head to the ones in front of us. They’re playing video games on their phones, completely ignoring the court and everything else around them.
Point made. “Maybe, but he didn’t strike me as a big sports guy. He was so laid back and fun. He knew more trivia than anyone I’ve ever met. We talked about books and even politics a little.” I chuckle as I remember the random things we discussed. Hours and hours of conversation. I’ve never EVER had that type of connection with anyone. Everything that was important to us, but nothing personal enough to locate him as it turned out.
“Everyone comes to the exhibition game. It’s a giant pep rally followed by the most epic party of the year at The White House.” She does a little shimmy. I’ve already told her there’s no way I’m going to a party at the basketball house, but I have a feeling my friend will end up there when I go home. Even in my previous, much cooler, life, I wasn’t cool enough to hang out with the jocks. High school was spent with my nose in a book and a superpower of invisibility. Good girl Rylee blended right in with her surroundings, which was fine by me. I had Lindsey and she was all I needed. Seems my friend isn’t quite the wallflower she used to be though.
“I’ve looked everywhere, Linds. He must have graduated already.”
“Not everywhere. You’ve looked in the places you expected. It’s time to go unconventional. He’s here, somewhere. I know it. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you did. It was just one night.”
That hurts more than it should, but she’s right.
“We’re here anyway, you might as well use this opportunity. Maybe he’s a section over, scanning the crowd looking for the girl he met three years ago because he can’t stop thinking about her. And if he’s not here, he’ll definitely be at The White House. Come with me.”
Bless her heart, I think she actually believes that’s possible. I did too for the first six months of my pregnancy. I hoped, against all odds, that I’d find that great guy I met one stupid (but absolutely fabulous) night. He’d be so happy I found him and confess that he too had been searching.
A first name was all I had. If only my hookup had been named Atlas or Zeus, or anything less common than John. By the time Indie arrived, I’d given up on finding him, or being found, and accepted that it was going to be just the two of us.
“No, I’m not going to a party to have people shove me around and spill beer on me.” That’s not a part of college I feel like I missed out on.
“Think about it. If only for research. You can observe and write it all down, become the Hemingway of our time, penning books about the parties and socialites of Valley University.” She nods enthusiastically.
The buzzer sounds and the tiny players jog off the court to enthusiastic applause and a stadium on their feet. The overhead lights dim, and everyone continues to stand.
“Oh, it’s time.” Lindsey bounces beside me.
The music starts low. The jumbotron lights up and a video begins. Clips of the team, their games, and media shots set to a peppy playlist.
I lean over to Lindsey. “I’m going to call my mom and check in on Indie before she goes to bed.”
“Now? The team’s just about to come out. It’s the best part.”
“I’ll be quick. Promise.” I hold the phone to my ear and use my free hand to plug my other ear as I hustle up the stairs to find a quieter spot.