“Oh, shut up.” I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling, too. “And I might take you up on it—even if we really shouldn’t be seen together in person.”
“I don’t know. Who would ever put the two of us together if they didn’t know about that party?” Dean countered.
I tilted my head. “The night we met, you said that you used to be from around Crowder, right?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Pebbleton. It’s the next town over.”
“And I bet my dad knows that, doesn’t he? He also knows that I was in Crowder this summer with my friends, and that it was after a party in that area of the world that I got pregnant. He’s not going to put those two things together unless we suddenly become besties. Because I’ve never been real friendly with the guys on his football teams. It would make him suspicious.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to keep in touch by phone.” Dean lifted his hand to signal the server. “I’ve got a big paper due on Monday, and I need to get back to the barracks so I can work on it. Can I give you a ride back home?”
“In your Thunderbird?” I twisted in my seat, pretending to peer out the nearby windows. “I didn’t see it outside!”
“It’s parked in the back where my baby is safe,” Dean replied. “I don’t trust other people’s ability to parallel park and not ding her.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a ride, but you should probably drop me a few blocks from my house. I don’t want to have to lie to my parents if they see me with you.”
“Good point.” Dean took the black folder from the server as she handed over the check.
I reached for my handbag. “Let me pay for my meal.”
“Absolutely not.” Dean’s tone was final. “There isn’t much I can do for you, Willow, but I damn sure can buy you a plate of chicken strips and fries.”
“Okay, then.” I accepted with as much grace as I could. “Then I’ll just say thank you for lunch and for the ride.”
“Good.” He stuck cash into the folder and set it down on the table. “And Willow—I meant what I said before. If you need anything, you call. Or text me. No matter what.” He reached across and covered my hand with his, and my heart thudded as my breath caught. “You’re not alone in this. I promise.”
I wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his promise, but suddenly, I felt lighter and more hopeful than I had in a long time.
ChapterTen
Dean
“Phillips! What the hell are you thinking? Get your head out of your ass and pay attention to what you’re doing!”
Coach’s yelling rang across the field, and Patrick Phillips, the right guard who’d just let one of our own defensive tackles knock me to the ground, ducked his head. I lifted my hand to let him pull me up to my feet and then thumped him on his back.
“Don’t sweat it, P squared,” I said, using the nickname he’d had for almost four years. “Morton’s a beast. Just glad he’s on our side when we’re playing for real.”
“You know it!” Lou Morton pounded his chest. “King of the sack, man.”
“I should’ve been able to protect you better, Dean. Sorry about that.” Phillips stood back, hands on his hips. The guy was a hulk—not quite as big as Morton, but he’d been my number one guard as long as I’d been starting QB. Still, he was a teddy bear off the field, soft-spoken and kind. I knew Coach’s criticism had hit hard.
“I’m fine.” I rolled my shoulders. “It happens. We’re good, man.”
“Coach is in some mood today.” Norton had just trotted up to us, his helmet in his hand. “He’s been yelling since practice started. Before, even. I heard him in his office on the phone. Something crawled up his ass.”
Unease rolled in my stomach. “Yeah? Wonder what’s going on.” I heard an echo in my head of Willow’s voice the other day:He’s not going to put those two things together unless we suddenly become besties . . . it would make him suspicious.
What if Coach had found out that I’d been at Benny Havens with his daughter on Saturday? Or what if I’d been seen dropping her off a few blocks from the Caseys’ home? West Point was a small community. I could just hear some nosy person telling Coach that Willow had gotten out of my car, making Coach stop and think about where I lived and where his daughter had met the guy who’d knocked her up.
That would be enough to put him in a foul mood.
As I jogged into position for the next play, I told myself how crazy that was. I was being ridiculous. The only time Coach had seen me with Willow was when I’d gone to dinner at their house, and we’d both done an admirable job of pretending we didn’t know each other. I mean, had I snuck some glances her way? Sure. But Willow was a beautiful woman, and I was a smart guy with excellent vision, so it would have been unnatural for menotto have noticed her. That would have been far more suspicious.
Sitting with her this weekend at Benny’s had been . . . weird. Yes, sure, all of the pregnancy talk had been slightly awkward and not a little painful. Willow had given me more grace than I deserved, all things considered. I still hated that I couldn’t stand up and take responsibility for my part in this situation. But she hadn’t made me feel worse even though she would have been completely justified if she had.
That wasn’t what had made lunch weird, though. It was that when I wasn’t thinking about the pregnancy, everything had felt . . . natural. Normal. I’d remembered quickly what had drawn me to Willow on that dark porch back in Pennsylvania. Her easy smile, the way her eyes sparkled and how animated her face was as she spoke—when she told me the story about her interview in Boston, her eyes had gone wide, her cheeks had pinked, and her self-deprecating laughter had been irresistible. All I had wanted was to spend more time with her, to sit and listen to her for as long as she’d keep talking.
