That brings me up short. “T, no. Why the hell would you do that?”
“She doesn’t need this heat. Hell, they’re already blaming her for my fuckups.”
“And you’ll just prove those assholes right if you do this. She loves you. Don’t break her heart and yours.”
He opens his eyes and looks at me from over his shoulder. “How would you feel if it was your girl they sat around blaming? If you saw her hiding tears? Still want to subject her to that?”
It would kill me. But the thought of letting Penelope go? No. No way. That would most definitely kill me.
You’d keep her even if this life made her miserable?
Gritting my teeth, I work through the surprising burst of rage the hypotheticals create inside me. This life I’ve chosen, it has highs that feel like the best drug on earth. And lows that can break you. It’s every player’s job to find a balance. Peace.
Penelope is my peace.
“I think...” I say slowly, “if you love this woman, really love her, you’ve got to talk this out with her and let her choose.”
We’re silent for a long moment. Then Jelly speaks, his voice sandy with emotion. “Maybe that’s the problem. What if she chooses to go?”
And there it is: The problem we both have. The one I don’t have an answer to. Because what if?
Thirty-One
Pen
After our guys lost—by one stinking point via field goal—Monica had left, subdued and agitated. The game had ended late on the East Coast, and I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to August aside from a text he sent, telling me he’d be back tonight.
I go to class and find myself in the fishbowl of attention. The loss seems to have the effect of amplifying the usual stares.It’s just a small part of being his girl.I repeat this to myself as I walk across campus and am subjected to the occasional catcall or stares. I can handle it. I’ve spent my whole life building walls around myself and being content as a party of one. Whenever it feels like too much, I simply recede into my imagination. It’s as easy as breathing.
It’s a bright and clear autumn day, something to appreciate. I drift in my own little world where I contemplate the lecture I just heard in class, what I want to make for dinner, the way August’s toned belly bunches just so when I nibble on his...
“Penelope!” A finger taps at my shoulder just hard enough to really feel.
I blink out of my fog and see Jessica from one of my classes. “Sorry?”
She makes a face but pushes a smile. “I’d been calling your name forever.”
“I was drifting.”
“Clearly.”
We walk together for a few paces before she speaks again. “You done with classes for the day?”
“Yes.”
“You’re on your way home?” She leaves the question sort of dangling in the air.
I realize I have to catch on here, but I’m fairly terrible at knowing how to act when people pop up without warning.
“That’s the plan . . . Did you need something?”
Her golden hair sways as she shakes her head. I can see the exasperation in her eyes. But it’s equally clear she doesn’t want it to show. “I was wondering if you wanted to go over to Ackerman and get something to eat?”
Oh. She wants to be friends.
Discomfort wars with soft, floating hope. I find I like having friends. But I’m also wary. If Jessica hadn’t brought up August when we first met or questioned how he was in bed, I might be a little less cagey. But now I can’t help worrying if this is about getting to know me, or August. After all, we’ve been in classes together for going on four years and have never spoken. But maybe she’s shy like me and...
“Penelope?” She frowns, and it’s obvious I’ve taken too long to respond. “I mean, it’s cool if you have to go. If I had August Luck waiting for me at home, I’d be booking it too.”
