That’s a big fat no.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, and I blink them away.
I swore I would not cry. Promised myself I would take comfort in the fact that I’d left it all on the field.
At least you didn’t tell him you loved him.
It doesn’t matter. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have changed anything, and it’s not like I could actually feel any worse than I feel right now.
Somehow, this has gone from being the best semester of my college career to the worst.
And I have no one to blame but myself.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I pull it out to see a new message in the group chat.
Maddie: We got you, babe.
At least I have my girls. With them by my side, I can get through anything.
Brooke: His loss. Obviously.
Soraya adds a Golden Girls group hug GIF and before I can tap out a reply, another message pops up.
Brooke: Just to clarify… I’m Blanche, right?
A laugh-sob bursts from my lips, and I clap a hand over my mouth to smother it. Which is ridiculous because it’s not like anyone can hear it over the roar of the crowd. When I’ve regained control, I type a quick reply.
Me: Thanks. I love you guys.
I press send and when I look up, I’m no longer alone.
Devin stands at the mouth of the tunnel, helmet dangling from his right hand.
My pulse flutters.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Right. He probably forgot something or…
He marches right up to me, hazel eyes glowing with determination. “You weren’t the only one who screwed up, Shorty. I made mistakes too.”
“I thought you were gone.” I lean to the side, looking around him. No sign of the Wildcat. “The fans were calling you to the field.”
“They can wait.” He cups my cheek and though it’s freezing outside, his hand is warm and I melt into his touch. “I’m right where I need to be. With you.”
Warmth floods my chest and that’s all it takes for my shattered heart to piece itself back together.
“When I told you I needed space, it wasn’t a blowoff. I needed time to think and to come to terms with some truths about myself I didn’t like very much.” He exhales and his breath forms a tiny white cloud between us. “You accused me of having a chip on my shoulder and you were right.”
“Devin, I—”
He presses his thumb to my lips and a shiver races down my spine.
“Please hear me out. I need to say this, and you need to hear it.” I nod and he continues. “When it comes to academic performance, I’m sensitive. Maybe it’s because I have dyslexia, maybe it’s because I was bullied as a kid, but the why doesn’t matter. The truth is, sometimes I see slights and insults where there are none and sometimes I make assumptions I shouldn’t. It’s something I need to work through. Something I’m going to work through.”
Repairing emotional scars takes time. It won’t be quick or easy, but Devin’s not a quitter. If he says he’s going to do it, he’ll do it.
And beat himself up along the way.
