I roll my shoulders, but my muscles are still tight with the realization that for the first time. Something matters more than the game—more than the win.
“Beckett,” Coach Harris growls my name, a warning that’s mere decibels from a threat because as much as he attributes this winning season to our futures, his own stands to benefit heavily as well.
“He’s good. He’s good, Coach,” Arlo says, patting my shoulder before slinging his arm around me. “He’s just ready for the game.”
Coach Harris stares at me, a silent threat of the hell he could make reign on my life.
I nod, turning to follow Arlo, who remains at my side. “What the fuck was that?”
A single look, and he knows. “I was wondering how that was going…”
“He’s pissing me off.”
Arlo nods. “He’s trying to get into your head. He wants you to fuck up. Don’t give him that.” He pounds an opened palm against my chest. “Rae doesn’t give a shit about him. You know that.”
I can’t get into how my fears are spiraling, hitting far beyond the possibility of Rae liking him and straight into what type of threat he could potentially pose to her safety—again.
“Focus on Utah now. We’ll deal with asswipe tonight.”
We hit the field, and the lights, the noise, the adrenaline take over the second I step onto the grass.
Arlo pats me a couple more times. “We’ve got this. Don’t sweat it.”
Pax catches up to us, a sports drink in his hand. “What’d I miss?” he looks across the field.
“Nothing,” I say automatically, knowing if I tell Pax about my assumptions, he’ll lose all sense of sanity.
30
Raegan
“Wait. Rewind.” Poppy says, her feet dancing as her smile spreads, pausing with her half-opened bag of cotton candy still in one hand. “You slept with him, and you didn’t call me?”
“I tried calling you a million times yesterday.”
“I know, but this is newsworthy of you hiring one of those airplane guys who write words in the sky.”
“I’m not addicted to pain. In fact, I’m trying to avoid it. Can you imagine the crowd of pitchforks coming at me? Paxton in the lead.”
Poppy flinches, but her face relaxes before my concerns. “I think he’s going to be fine with it.”
“I think you’ve had too much sugar.”
She laughs. “Seriously. Pax loves you. Your happiness matters to him. If you tell him Lincoln makes you happy, he’s not going to get in the way of that.”
My thoughts take off on their own, considering the different responses Paxton might have to the news and how my words might impact his reaction.
“When are you guys going to tell him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, since you’re not going slowly anymore, you guys should consider doing it soon because I don’t think he’ll take the news very well if it comes from an outside source.”
“It’s only been a few days. We don’t even know what is going on between us. There have been no labels or expectations.”
Poppy stops herself from saying something more by pressing her lips together. I know she doesn’t agree—that she wants to shrink talk me in hopes of getting all my emotions to the surface so we can neatly sort and label them and thus Marie Kondo’ing my thoughts and make everything better.
“Have you tried calling your mom again?”
I give a single nod. “She didn’t answer, but my aunt said she’s still planning to fly home on Monday. Maggie called me today.”
Poppy’s face scrunches. “That couldn’t have been an easy conversation.”
“It wasn’t. There were a lot of tears. I think that’s the hardest part of this whole situation—none of us saw this coming. It’s like we’re all paralyzed and don’t know how to react or move forward.”
She nods thoughtfully. “But you will. It’s going to be hard, but you guys will figure this out.”
“Is it strange that I worry about him? I worry he’s all alone and will do something awful. I mean, he lost all of us, even Grandpa, and his job… But, then I think of how he reacted that day we packed up my stuff, and it makes me wonder if I even know who he is and if I want him to be in my life?”
“That’s a decision you’ll have to make. But, there’s no timer on it. You don’t have to decide today or tomorrow or even next week. Focus on these things that are bringing you happiness now, and the other things will find a way of working themselves out.”
I nod, hating the nervous energy that still exists in my chest when I think of all the unfinished pieces of my life at this time. “Lincoln invited us to a party tonight,” I tell her. “He said most of the rugby team will be there.”
She fishes out a large handful of cotton candy, hesitation clear in her green eyes.
“You’re afraid to run into Chase?”
“Not afraid… I just don’t want to make a bad decision if I start drinking, and he’s there.”
“I’ll be your wing girl. Pax is going to be out, so I was planning to spend the night with you, anyway.”
Thankfully the teams both take the field to start the third quarter. Paxton started the first quarter slow, his strides unsure and his vision tunneled, but Lincoln cornered him two minutes into the game, bringing their facemasks together, and since that moment, Pax has looked like himself, being the natural leader and breaking down all the barriers set forth by the opposing team.
“How’s Pax doing?” Poppy asks, nodding toward the field.
I shake my head. “He could probably use some of your EQ.” I bump her knee with mine. My voice is teasing, but I’m truly considering if it might help him. Paxton has always struggled to face his emotions, but once he does, he’s always been good about discussing them. Meanwhile, I have a penchant for avoiding both.
“What about Derek?” Poppy asks, her voice a little quieter, more serious.
I glance at her. “You mean, have I told him about Lincoln?”
“Just that you’re not interested in him…”
I shake my head. “He texted me this weekend, and I ignored it.”
“Maybe that’s the best course of action. I mean, it’s not like you guys were actually together, together. But, if he keeps trying, you should just tell him you’re not interested. You don’t want him to get too invested and leave a wasteland of hearts at your feet.”
Her words haunt me, drawing my attention over the field, watching Pax, then Lincoln, and finally, Derek.
“Maybe we should swing by my house and change,” Poppy suggests as I help her gather the wrappers from her concession stand dinner.
I glance at my purple coat concealing my red Brighton U sweatshirt and black matchstick jeans. “That sounded more like a suggestion than a question.”
She nods. “It was.”
“Of course, it was.”
My phone vibrates in my palm, and though I was expecting a text from Lincoln, actually seeing it sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.