“I’m not arguing that, but ultimately, it’s up to the donor.” She squeezes my shoulder. “You can take a year off. Work at the clinic and save up. The team is prepared to save your spot for next year. What’s another year?”
What’s another year? Another year means me working as much as I can, long days and nights so that I can cover my rent, pay for daycare, and somehow save enough money to cover the cost of vet school. It’s two more years at Archie’s and being the reason he and Marco can’t move in together, because I can’t afford to move out. It’s less time with my son, a mental battle I have to face for letting both of us down, putting our future on hold for another year.
Slipping my backpack onto my shoulder, I head for the door. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” I tell her quietly.
“Rosie—”
“It’s fine,” I lie. “I’m fine. Enjoy the rest of your summer.”
She watches me closely, and I see the anguish in her eyes. She hates that she has to do this, and I know it’s not her fault. But in this moment, I need to get away from her.
She finally nods, smiling faintly. “We’ll be in touch. Take care, Rosie.”
I rush through the hallways, bypassing the professors and few students roaming around. My throat burns, a tightness that squeezes like a vice. Everything feels blurry, confusing, a muddled mess I can’t see through. I burst through the front doors, stepping into the warm sunshine and fresh breeze, but it doesn’t help. It brings no clarity, and I hurry aimlessly across campus, unsure where I’m going, what I’m looking for.
I won’t find it here anyway, right? I don’t belong here. Not right now, at least.
I…I’m not sure I belong anywhere. And the realization is gutting, buckling my knees, threatening to wipe me off my feet, pull me to the ground.
But I make it to a bench before I fall apart.
CHAPTER 19
DIPSHITS
ADAM
“I swear to fuck, Adam, if we lose one more time because of you, I’m gonna lose my shit.”
“He’s distracted as fuck today.”
“Leave him alone. He’s getting laid tonight for the first time in forever. That takes a lot of mental prep.”
“I’m not—no, I’m—that’s redic…” I sigh, my TV screen splattering with the blood of my character as I die yet again, disappointing my teammates on the other end of my headset for the umpteenth time today. “Yeah, I’m definitely kinda-sorta thinking about it.”
I mean, fucking sue me. As Emmett said, it’s been forever. And also, Rosie is Rosie. Have you met her? She’s got the kindest, most patient heart I’ve ever known, and being with her makes me feel alive. Of course I can’t fucking think straight right now.
“He’s doing it again,” Jaxon mutters. “Buddy, you better hop in the shower and rub one out before your girl comes over. Otherwise Rosie’s gonna need to finish herself off tonight when you bust your nut five seconds after you get your dick wet.”
“Fuck you.” Definitely squeezing in a shower.
“What time is she coming over?” Garrett asks.
“I’m waiting for her to text that she’s ready to be picked up. She had to go into school to meet with one of her teachers.” My Apple Watch vibrates, and I chuck my Xbox controller in all my eagerness. “This is probably her.” I frown at the number, swiping the call away. “Never mind. Not her.”
“Who else would it be? Do you have other friends you’re not telling us about?” Carter accuses.
“With your larger-than-life personality? I don’t have room for any more friends.”
“You’re damn right you don’t.”
The same number jumps at me from my watch face, and my brows tug together. I don’t know it, but I recognize it as being the same one that called last week when Rosie and Connor were over. I decline the call again and sit forward on the couch, rubbing my eyes.
“I’m gonna get going.”
“He’s gonna go jack off in the shower,” Jaxon clarifies.
“Hey, Jaxon?”
“Yeah, dude?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Oh shit.” He chuckles. “Watch out, Rosie. Daddy Adam’s feeling fiery tonight.”
I toss my controller and headset to my coffee table, patting Bear’s head before I stand, stretching my arms overhead.
“Where’s Rosie, huh, Bear?” I scoop my phone off the kitchen island. Her last text message came in two hours ago, right before she dropped Connor off at Brandon’s.
Trouble
Do you think I’m getting kicked out for being a bad girl?
Me
You’re a good girl, but if you wanna be bad later, I can make sure you’re punished accordingly.
We should call you Trouble, not me. I’m an angel, and you’re a bad influence.
You can call me whatever you want as long as your eyes are rolling back into your head while you do it.
The most trouble, and the baddest boy.
Am I catastrophizing?
Maybe. But the best of us do sometimes. I’m sure it’s nothing.
I hope so. Can I still be a bad girl later?
You can always be a bad girl, just as long as you’re mine.
*smile emoji* Thanks for making me feel better and taking my mind off this. I’ll call you when I’m done. Can’t wait to see you.
I smile down at the messages, rubbing my hand over my chest, the way it puffs with pride, with happiness, with fullness. Because Rosie makes me feel all those things, and it’s been so long since I’ve felt anything but disappointment.
I shoot off a quick text, asking her if the meeting went okay, and jump in a quick shower. It’s not quick because I don’t jerk off—because I absolutely do. It’s quick because Jaxon was fucking right—it’s been too long, and I’m way too worked up over this girl to last longer than a few minutes thinking about her body below mine.
There’s no response from Rosie when I step out of the shower, and when I call her, it goes right to voice mail. Standing at my kitchen island, I tap my truck keys against the marble, trying to ignore the prickle of unease that makes the back of my neck clammy.
“Fuck it.” I toss my phone in my pocket and my hat on my head before I head out the door and climb into my truck.
Something feels off, and the closer I get to the school, the more I worry. Rosie’s phone is still off, which isn’t like her. She always keeps it on and close by when she doesn’t have Connor.
Driving slowly down the road, my gaze roams the grounds, looking for Rosie. I don’t know what my plan is if I can’t find her. I don’t have a clue where she might be in this building, and I can’t very well just stroll through it and hope no one recognizes me.