Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I don’t like you now, either.”
“I know, honey.” Two more steps closer. “I want to make you like me again. Maybe even love me.”
She glances at me with tears coming down her face. I close the gap and gently wipe them away. “I don’t want to ever make you cry, Kelsey.”
She nods but is unable to say anything because the tech comes in to set her arm. Once the cast is on and he leaves the room, I help Kelsey put her coat on. “Can I take you home?”
“Look, Alex. I need some time. All of this, it’s too much. Maggie . . . I saw her kiss you today, and if you’re the father of her baby, I don’t want to have anything to do with any of it. She clearly feels differently, and after all the crap with her friends and the media, it’s never going to stop. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“Kels, please don’t do this,” I plead but she doesn’t say anything. I step back and look down at the ground to hide my own tears. “I understand. Can I at least make sure you get home?”
“I’ll be fine.”
It pains me to leave her in the room by herself, but I do. When I get back to the waiting room, I tell Basha that she’s ready, and then I leave. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do, except beg, but I’m not even sure that’ll work.
TWENTY-THREE
KELSEY
The flight to Buffalo took forever, or at least it seemed to. I’m sure the fly time was normal, but when you don’t want to go home, and yet it’s the only way to get away from your life choices, everything drags on.
My dad, Mel, meets me at baggage claim and hugs me for a long time while I cry into his chest. I didn’t fail even though that’s what it feels like. I went out to Portland with the intention of advancing my career and being successful. I’m home because I need a break. I need to not see Alex everywhere I go or be at his disposal. I need time to heal and not see him on television or walking down the street. Everything about my time with him hurts. Even though I never said those three words that can easily change a relationship, he knew. And I told Basha. For me, it was love at first sight. The lust part came by the end of the night. Hook-ups aren’t my thing, but I would’ve hooked up with him if we had met under different circumstances.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” my dad says as he rubs my back. “Mom has soup on the stove for you.”
“I don’t need soup,” I tell him. My parents think soup fixes everything.
Dad steps back and keeps both his hands on my shoulders. “But you’re hurt.” He eyes my cast because he can see the physical pain, not the emotional stuff. Sometimes I wish people could see a broken heart because then maybe they’d think twice about their actions.
“My arm will be fine, Daddy. Come on, I gotta get my luggage.”
When we walk over to the carousel and my brother, Dalton, is there, waiting for my suitcases. He pulls me into a side hug and kisses the top of my head. “Whose ass do I need to kick?”
I laugh. The image of Dalton and Alex going at it is funny. Dalton wouldn’t stand a chance against my footballer.
No, I can’t call him my anything. Not anymore.
“I appreciate it, but I’ll be okay.” Eventually.
Dalton and my dad take care of my bags, with me following behind. Thankfully, Dalton drove, which means we’ll get to my parents in a reasonable amount of time. We’re about an hour south, but my dad insists on driving under the speed limit, where Dalton will go at least ten over.
My brother holds the door open for me while I crawl into the back of his SUV. He tries to buckle me up, but I bat his hands away. “I’m not an invalid,” I tell him.
“Does mom know this?”
I stick my tongue out at him.
When I told my mom about Alex, she suggested I come home for a visit, telling me I can recharge here and then face things with a fresh outlook. I didn’t agree until I fell and fractured my arm and ended up with a minor concussion. Granted, the break is tiny, and I only have to wear my cast for three weeks. It was this or figure things out on my own. I could’ve managed, but there’s something about having your mom take care of you. It wasn’t until Dalton told me he booked a flight out that night that I packed my stuff and took a cab to the airport.
I close my eyes for the fifty-minute car ride. When the crunch of gravel sounds under the tires, I open them and find my mom, Tilly, standing on our front porch, wearing an apron. If she’s anything, she’s the poster for small-town living. If I had to guess, I bet she’s made a half dozen pies for church on Sunday and there isn’t a single hair out of place from the everyday bun she wears. People would be shocked if they ever saw her with her hair down, which goes well past her waist. I can’t remember a single time she ever got her hair cut while I was growing up.