Chapter 26
NOVA
I stare at myself in the mirror. My lipstick is cherry red, but my eyes have shadows under them, and my face is pale. As I apply blush, I picture a BBHS without Ronan, and my hands set down the makeup and cling to the edge of the sink.
He’s going to choose, and I already know which one makes the most sense—
My throat prickles with emotion I’ve been holding at bay for hours since the reporters showed up.
Gathering my things, I tug my Bobcats shirt down over my skinny jeans and walk out of the stadium restrooms. Sabine and I watched the game from the top row of the stadium in the shadows of one of the overhangs.
My heels click on the tile as I enter the field house. With most of the players dressed and gone, it feels strange and quiet after such a huge win. Most of the team has headed to Randy’s Roadhouse for the party. Normally, I’d be gone, too, but I left my work satchel in Ronan’s office and need to grab it. I waited until I thought he’d be gone.
I frown when I see that his door is partly open. I hear voices.
“Back to the Pythons. Coach Dixon seemed all right, but I guess he’s worsened. He’s a fine man, and I know you admire him. It sucks that he has cancer, but it’s your chance . . .” The voice sounds familiar—I think it’s Tuck. I saw him on the field talking to Ronan.
I can’t hear Ronan’s reply but catch bits and pieces of Tuck’s words.
“The whole team is chanting your name. It will be great to have you back, man. You can stay with me or find your own place, whatever.” Tuck pauses. “I imagine it’s gonna be hard. Those kids . . . you took them far. What about Nova? You said it was getting real with . . .”
My heart thuds painfully as I inch closer to the door.
“Leaving with no entanglements. That was the plan,” Ronan says with a ring of finality.
“You’ve got two victories, bro. Your win tonight and your win tomorrow in New York . . .” Tuck chuckles.
I need you . . .
I don’t know the future . . .
Both of those are his truths.
I close my eyes, my chest rising. He never made a commitment. I was the one who put my heart on a platter. I knew him leaving was a possibility—I did, but I jumped off the cliff straight into the volcano.
I lean against the wall, gathering myself.
Sabine and Toby appear at the end of the hall, and I straighten up and hurry toward them. They dashed off earlier to grab a few posters to keep.
“Your face is wet,” Sabine says. “Were you crying?”
I wipe at my face. I hadn’t realized.
Toby frowns. “You okay, Ms. Morgan?”
“Right as rain,” I reply to his earnest gaze.
“But were you crying?” Sabine insists.
“Just a little, but it’s fine now. The game really got to me. You played amazing, Toby. I took tons of video for Bonnie. Let’s go see her and show it to her,” I say, anxious to get away from Ronan. My satchel can wait until Monday.
We grab take-out food, then head to Toby’s house. We devour our food in the kitchen, then head to the den for Bonnie to watch Toby’s big plays. I chat with her while Toby and Sabine sit side by side on the floor, her head on his shoulder, his hand playing with her hair. He leans down and kisses her cheek, then murmurs he loves her, and she says the same, then snuggles into his chest.
Later, we pull up at the house, and Darth Vader is still in my window. I wince, pulling my gaze off him. Sabine heads to her room, and I sit on the couch, with something on TV that I’m not watching. My head feels blank. A little numb. My phone is next to me. It’s been blowing up with texts from Ronan since this afternoon. I never went to his office after the press conference. I stayed in my and Sonia’s closet, my head churning with thoughts. He sent more texts before the game. I can’t bring myself to reply.
Around eleven, I put Sparky’s leash on him and head outside. We turn right, away from Ronan’s house, and head to the front of the neighborhood. He prisses along but pauses to look at me a few times.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
He seems to narrow his gaze.
I blow out a breath. “I swear!”
He turns back, sees a small frog, pounces, and then eats it delicately.
Crickets resonate, still hanging on to the last bit of warm air in Texas. Next week is Thanksgiving, and I center my thoughts on which of Mama’s dishes I’ll make.
We walk past Caleb’s house, make the turn at the stone entrance, and then start back. I’m almost to my house when I see a tall, broad form ahead of me, leaning against an oak tree in my yard.