“She’s okay now. Her parents put her in a program so she could get the help she needed.” My voice cracks again. “Her father was grateful that I protected her when I could have used her as an excuse to make myself look good, so when all was said and done, he helped me wipe the slate clean and transfer to McKee, for a shot at a championship and maintaining my position in the draft. I fucking hurt his daughter, and he still…”
Bex’s eyes are shining. She blinks, and a tear slips down her cheek. She kisses my cheek gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not.” She cups my cheek, her eyes searching mine. “When I was eleven, my father left my mother. One day he just packed up and left. It turned out he had another family, and everything he built with my mother, the diner, their marriage—he threw it away in an instant.”
I stare at her. “What a fucking dick.”
She laughs shortly. “It destroyed my mother. She was pregnant, and the news shocked her so much that she miscarried. She turned into someone I didn’t even recognize, and even now, years later, she’s not the same.” Color floods her face. “She turned into someone who takes a valium with wine at noon and accidentally sets apartments on fire.”
“Bex—”
She shakes her head. “Even though I hate my father, I don’t blame him for how my mother still acts a decade later. What happened with Sara wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known that’s how she would react. She was sick, and she needed help.”
“She could have died.”
“And she didn’t. You helped her. You did a lot more than most people would.” She strokes through my hair, then presses our foreheads together.
We stay like that for a while, breathing in tandem.
After all was said and done, my father and I agreed: no girlfriends until I got into the league. No distractions.
But being able to hold Bex, just like this? I’m willing to take the risk.
28
JAMES
Bex: I don’t want to impose on your family though.
Me: Wouldn’t be imposing. I want you there.
Bex: Is this bc I can’t make the heisman?
Me: Nope. Ideally I’d want you at both, but if I had to pick, I’d choose Christmas.
Me: Us Callahans have some kickass traditions ;）
Bex: :） Anything would be better than being alone w/ my mom lol.
I set down my phone, even though Bex just sent another text, and try to focus on my homework. Getting her to agree to come home with me for Christmas will take a lot of coaxing. I knew this going into it, but if I’m anything, it’s persistent. Bex had to spend Thanksgiving with just her mother; her aunt and uncle went to Florida to visit other relatives. They haven’t been talking much since the fire, according to Bex, so the whole thing was awkward.
The post-season hasn’t started yet, but with the season winding down, I’ve been working around the clock to prepare. Press for the Heisman ceremony is happening too, and I haven’t even seen Bex in a couple days, which feels criminal.
Almost the second I get back into the groove with the problem I’m solving, however, Cooper bursts into my room. I scrub my hand through my hair.
“Hey,” he says as he shuts the door behind him.
I don’t even get into the whole not-knocking thing. “What’s up?”
Both of us have been so busy with our respective seasons that I’ve barely seen him either. McKee’s men’s hockey team isn’t doing nearly as well as its football team is this season, but Coop’s still been playing his heart out. He has a deep purple bruise on his cheek, thanks to a puck to the face last game.
He lets out a sigh as he sits on the edge of the bed. “You and Bex are getting pretty serious.”
I keep my grin in check by burying my nose in my textbook. “Yep.”
“Even though you said you weren’t going to date anyone the rest of your college career.”
“She’s different, man.”
Coop flops back against the bed. “Seb told me you want her to come over at Christmas.”
“Yep.”
“Christmas.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
Lately, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. Bex would fit right in with our traditions. I want to show her my parents’ house in Port Washington. My parents always go all-out for decorations, with a towering tree in the entryway that my mother has professionally decorated, plus the little one in the den with all our homemade ornaments. I want to take her downtown for the town tree lighting. Kiss her underneath the ball of mistletoe Mom always puts over the kitchen entryway. Drag her into the cutthroat game of Monopoly my siblings and I play every Christmas Eve.
Maybe it’s silly, but I want to fall asleep next to her in my childhood bedroom. I want to see if she has any cute Christmas earrings, and if she doesn’t, buy her a pair or ten. I want my family to see how special she is.
Cooper draws me out of my daydream with a frustrated noise. “James. I love you. But this is a bad idea. Dad already doesn’t like her.”
“I can handle Dad. She’s not Sara.”
“At least Sara would have followed you anywhere you went in the league.”
“What?”
“She’s committed to the diner, right? Which means she’ll be here. You’re probably going to be across the country.”
I set down my notebook. I love my brother, but this is irritating. Sometimes his over-protectiveness, a quality I usually admire in him, can be a bit much. When it comes to our baby sister, sure. But I can handle myself, and he doesn’t know Bex the way I do. “It’s complicated. Her mother is still attached to the diner.”
“Her mother the accidental arsonist?”
“Jesus, Coop.”
He sits up. “What, am I wrong? You started out pretending to date her, which was doomed from the fucking start because you get like this, man. You romanticize things. You’re letting yourself get in too deep with a girl who isn’t going to be able to give herself to you the way you’re giving yourself to her.”
“Because you’re some great expert on relationships? Have you ever even tried to be in one?” I pretend to think for a moment. “Right, you haven’t.”
“I know you. I know how you get when you think you’re in love.”
“I’m not in love with her,” I reply. But my heart jumps into my throat.
I’m not lying, exactly. But I’m not telling the whole truth, and damnit, Cooper can tell.
“I think she’s cool,” he says. “I’m not saying she isn’t.”
“But?”
“But she’s going to hurt you. It’s just a matter of when.”
Anger rolls through me. “Noted.”
He scoots up the bed until he’s sitting next to me. “Just make sure you’re thinking this through.”
“Did you come in here just to insult my girlfriend?” I say shortly. I’m officially done with this conversation.
He rubs his beard, looking me over. He must sense my resistance because he shakes his head slightly. “No, I wanted to talk about Izzy. Does she still want to go into the city for a shopping spree? Dinner after at Le Bernardin?”