‘Little bit.’ Colt smiles half-heartedly. ‘Couldn’t ask for a better one, though. I got to watch you guys absolutely destroy an East Coast team. Got to see you come into your own these past couple months. You lead those girls into war every single game, May. Don’t forget how powerful you are.’
Swift and painless.It’s turning into the exact opposite. Damn it, Colt. My lower lip starts to quiver. Nofuckingway. ‘It takes a team to be that powerful, you know. And you’re a part of mine.’
Don’t go, I suddenly want to cry.Please, please don’t go. Do anything but go.
‘You’re not making it easy.’ He chuckles, but he’s biting back tears, too. The typical storminess in his eyes is glassy now, hisstrong, barely stubbled jaw ticking as he tries to hold it in. ‘Can you tell why I avoided you when I left in high school?’
‘Oh.’ The sound is one I didn’t know myself to be capable of. Helpless, broken, guilty. ‘I’m not makin’ it easy. Am I?’
He shakes his head, the idiot, using a palm to push a tear away, and that does me in. ‘Come here. Come here, Colt.’
And in that dingy Charleston closet, tears rolling down our faces, we just hold each other like we are one another’s life preservers. I clutch Colt so tightly that my hands fist the fabric of his shirt. I hug that man as if he’s the sole island in the middle of a deserted ocean.
For real this time.
Chapter Forty-One
Wheels Up
Colt
‘And I talked to my parents. You’re welcome to stay until the house is—’
‘I know, Colt.’
May, clearly pushing away her emotions, stands with fists planted on her hips, in her trusty denim shorts and Riders T-shirt combo, the shirt with a jagged hem that curls up, product of a DIY crop-top job. Her hair, thrown into two low space buns at the back of her head, reflects the setting Oklahoma sun, glowing a brown-red as she steps forward, pointing to the truck. ‘Go on.’
I cough awkwardly. She’s seen me in pretty much every form of broken at this point: physical, mental, emotional.
‘May—’
‘Do youwantme to call your parents up so I can tell them their son’s stalling?’ She raises an eyebrow, deadpan.
‘Please don’t,’ I say way too quickly.
‘That’s what I thought.’ She crosses one leg over the other, leaning against my truck. ‘Gonna get a move on, then?’
‘I guess I have to.’ I drag a hand through my hair, glancing up at the clear blue sky. God. Clear blue sky. Huge family dinners. May and I walking to class together. Constellations like you never see in New England that are perfectly visible at night.
Ihavemissed home.
She opens the door to the driver’s side of the cab. ‘I’ve put a can of Red Bull in your bag. Drink it before you get to TSA. But wait a minute, actually.’
May turns back to the house, and she bolts so fast I think she’s going to lose a sandal. She’s back within the minute, with a big gift bag. ‘May, I can’t take this.’
‘You can. Here.’ She shoves the bag into my arms. ‘If you’re going to take for ever to leave like this, you might as well open it now.’
I sigh, but I remove the tissue paper from the top. I pull out the gift. A custom, genuine straw cowboy hat, with a brown leather band etched with flowers. Roses.
‘May.’ I take a sharp breath in through my nose as my fingers run over the roses. Just like the ones on her Roper Rivalry suit. ‘This is …’
‘It’s just a little something we wanted to leave you with.’ She looks away, clearing her throat. ‘All right. Get in the truck.’
I oblige and step up into the truck, one foot at a time. But I don’t want to. I want to share a million more moments with May.
I want to go for a ride with her down the Prosperity trail. I want to crack open seltzers and play a round of lacrosse underthe dim lights of our backyard. I want to take her out to dinner and then laugh so hard at something she says that my drink almost snorts out my nose. I want to walk around town with her, wearing her jersey, so everyone knows I’m hers. I want to hear my name leave her lips like it did that night in the back of the truck, over and over and over. I want to see her smile when she makes a perfect goal, and the dry Oklahoma wind blows just right, and she looks like an angel, beaming as the sun beats down and the breeze tussles with her ponytail. I want to ask her if she’s ready for bed, and I want her to tell me she has to finish the chapter first. I want her in her glasses. In nothing but her giant Diamond Quad map shirt. I want her in pantsuits, in lacrosse uniforms, in Wranglers, in boots with butterflies on them. I want her in the first house we buy. I want her in my heart. I want her in my life.
‘Thanks,’ I say as I start the car.
