Weston reached out to rub his thumb along my wrist. “Then, what does it mean?”
“I was never ready for you. I wish I’d been more prepared when we met.”
“Sounds like finality,” he said in a hard voice. He pulled away. “We can’t just beus, can we?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. What are you going to do about your coaches?” I dared to ask. “About David and Dakota? Now that you know you’re not the only one being taken advantage of, will you do the favor?”
His silence scared me. I thought the answer to this question was a no-brainer. He searched my eyes, hoping for understanding. I reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers. He squeezed back.
“Lawrence looked into Bill’s background,” Weston started with furrowed brows. His gaze strayed outside of the windshield. “The guy coached at ten schools in the past six years.”
I shook my head, confused. “What does that have to do with their request?”
Weston trained his gaze back on me. “Wherever he goes, he screws up. He has a temper and there’s a police report file, a restraining order against him, but the names involved are sealed. Lawrence can’t find a victim.”
I leaned back in my seat. “You have to expose him. Axe too if he’s helping to cover something.”
“No,” Weston said firmly.
My eyes widened. “Are you really that afraid of your dirt being leaked? Weston, they’ll lord their favors over youforever. You want this to follow you to the pro-league? If they get caught, you’ll go down with them. Axe and Bill will throw you under a bus in a heartbeat.”
“They’re not going to lord shit over me when I’m done with them,” Weston promised through gritted teeth.
“More violence.” I let out a dry laugh. “Because that’s not what got you into this mess.”
“I’m sorry,” Weston said as he placed his hand on the key still in the ignition. “But it works. It always has and always will.”
I pressed my fingers against my temple, trying to massage away the racing thoughts. He turned on the truck. Weston reached over to turn down the music. The eerie sound of a woman’s voice sung in the background as Weston told me, “I have to go home for a few days. My family needs me to take care of something at the house.”
“Okay.” I nodded, taking his words as a request to leave. My chest felt empty as I reached for the door handle.
“Come with me?” he asked before I could open the door. “Please?”
I studied him. The pleading in his eyes made me want to give him an instant yes. His question felt like an olive branch, but I had to ask to be sure. No more assumptions.
“Will you at least consider my idea on how to deal with Axe and Bill?”
“If I say yes, will you come?” He raised his eyebrow at the last word. I suppressed a smile because through all this drama, Weston was still Weston.
“Always bargaining.” I shook my head.
“Is that your yes?” Weston asked with a grin.
When I hesitated, he added, “We can use this trip to be average. Get away from all the worries lurking here. We can pretend to be who we should have been.”
“When you put it that way, how could I resist?” I couldn’t. I couldn’t resist the grin he gave me, the way his fingers felt on my thigh when he reached over to give me a light squeeze, the way his voice sounded when he suggested I packed an overnight bag.
Weston didn’t waste a second once I got back with my things. He pulled out of the dorm parking lot and started towards the highway. As we drove, I snuck glances at him while imagining who we should have been. Who we couldn’t be. If I couldn’t convince him to take down his coaches without violence then, who we could be would always be a dream. A weekend getaway. A fantasy.
Chapter 32
“Step one to being average,”Weston said as he peaked his head through his rolled-down window. We’d stopped at a gas station about twenty minutes outside of his hometown. In the hour we’d been driving, I’d dozed off twice. The night sky was bright with stars and a half moon. The darkness made me drowsy, but it seemed to breathe life into Weston.
“Argue over snacks,” Weston explained as he drummed a simple beat on his door. “Come on, Covee. Let’s pick our poison.”
I laughed and tried to shake away my sleep by rolling back my shoulders. “Lead the way.”
Rows and rows of junk food welcomed us in the small gas station. I ventured towards the chips while Weston lingered in the candy aisles. He held up options for me across from the other side of the displays. I shook my head at most of his choices, Sour Patch, Warheads, and the most unforgivable: Toxic Waste.
