“I’m sure you do. You have no responsibilities, no drive and no idea what you are doing to your future.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “August, I swear to god, you need to focus. I have plans for you and none of them involve dancing around in your underwear with a tart!”
“Dad, please do not speak that way about Hendrix.” I swallow and decide to just lay it all out there. “I love her.”
He laughs in my face, actually laughs, and then shakes his head. “Son, you’re a Cromwell. Of course, she’s going to love you and give you all the tail you want. She only wants you for your name.”
“She’s not like that,” I protest.
“All women are the same.” He levels me with a glare. “And you will be leaving this university and going somewhere morerespectable. I will make the arrangements. Say goodbye to your girlfriend and be ready to leave by this afternoon.”
I don’t know how long my father had been talking before I notice the movement in the hallway—just the faintest shift of a shadow near the edge of the kitchen doorway. I glance over, expecting nothing.
And then I see her.
Hendrix.
Half hidden behind the wall.
Frozen.
Her eyes are wide, not with anger but with something far worse—hurt. The kind that sinks deep and quiet. Her mouth is parted like she’s forgotten how to breathe. Her shoulders are pulled tight, as if she were trying to make herself smaller, disappear into the drywall.
My stomach drops, thinking that she heard his words.
“Dad,” I straighten my shoulders, hoping that I look braver than I feel right now. “I am not doing that. I am staying here. I promise I’m focused and you have nothing to worry about.”
“August, break up with the girl, pack your shit and get ready to leave.” He turns and heads to the door.
“And if I don’t?”
My father laughs at me. “Oh, August, if you do that, you’re no longer a Cromwell and we both know you can’t survive on your own. What are you going to do? Call up your mother and ask her to come take care of the child she abandoned? August, be serious. Broads are a dime a dozen and there will be plenty of time for that later.”
With that, my father turns on his heel, slams the door and leaves. My attention turns back to Hendrix. Her mouth is agape in shock. Her eyes are full of tears.
“Are you leaving?” she asks me. I study the floor for a moment but before I can respond, she yells, “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”
“I have no choice,” I admit.
“Yes, you do. You’re twenty years old, August. You can make your own choices,” she pleads with me. “We can figure this out together.”
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry, Hen. I’m so sorry.”
I head into the bathroom and close the door. I hide in there until I hear my apartment door slam.
That wasn’t the last time I saw her. I gathered up the courage to face her and say goodbye. That exchange earned me a punch to the gut and a knee to my balls. I took the pain and whatever memories I had of her and tried to block her out. Sometimes it actually fucking worked. Until I saw her name as a prospect on the listing of goalies who were entering the NWSL draft. My father didn’t even recognize her. But I did. The only woman I have ever loved.
And I did it. I drafted her and brought her to Tampa on my team. Because I had to. I had to see her again and have her around me. I knew she wouldn’t be happy to see me, but I just didn’t realize the hate would run so deep.
I drain the rest of my glass and stare out at the city. I swear to god, I saw a glance of the woman who used to love me tonight. It was faint and very brief, but it was there. Plus, she still wears my necklace. I thought a few times I’d seen it around her neck. But I could never be sure. Tonight, her V-neck T-shirt showed off the delicate silver chain. I recognized it immediately and a little spring of hope bloomed in my chest.
I could actually get her back.
My phone chimes and I look to see who it is. It’s a booty call looking for a little action tonight. I stare at the phone,contemplating telling her to come on over. But something, or should I say someone stops me. Because for the first time since I’ve starting fucking her out of my system, I can’t do it. It’s been almost three years and there’s no way that I would be able to prevent myself from moaning her name and pissing off the woman I was using to numb the pain.
I decide not to invite her over and continue looking out the window, wondering what Henny’s doing right now. Especially since all the friends have coupled up. I hope that works in my favor and maybe even tampers down some of the hate that she is feeling towards me. And we’ll both be the odd man out at the table when our whole group is together. It would be nice if we could be civil or have more conversations that aren’t as guarded, like we did tonight.
But for now, I’ll do what I’ve been doing and take the scraps that she lays at my feet. That and let her direct all of her anger and frustration towards me. I like to think she’s going to realize that it’s not anger she feels. It’s love. I know I do.
Chapter Three
