Her brow furrows, her full lips turning downward. ‘Well, yeah, of course. We couldn’t send you back without a proper hat.’
I shake my head. ‘Not just for the hat, May. For everything else. For finding the room in your heart to forgive me.’
She laughs, one that dissolves quickly. Sweeping a hair from her forehead, she looks down at her sandals. ‘There was always room for you there. Always will be. If you ever feel like comin’ back.’
God. It’s been five years, and I’d still drop everything, cancel my flight, fuck my contract over, just so I could stay here with her.
I do the next best thing. I swing myself down from the truck, and I let the space in my heart I’ve always saved for her do thetalking. I take her face in my hands, and I press my lips to hers. I move my hands to her waist, and hers loop behind my neck, tangling themselves in my hair. We kiss like we’re in a bid for oxygen, and the only place we can get it is from each other. Her cropped shirt comes up, the both of us so close together that my belt buckle presses right against her body. My grip on her creeps up to her ribs, just skimming the bottom of her bra. When I pull away, I feel like she takes a part of me with her.
‘I’m always gonna feel like coming back,’ I whisper, my lips brushing her ear. ‘Save a room for me in the new house.’
‘I will.’ Her chest rises and falls against mine, and she steps back so I can climb into the truck once more, driver’s seat, click on my seat belt. The engine thrums. I grip the handle of the door.
‘Win that championship.’
She bites her lip, but she nods. ‘We’ll try.’
‘Try?’
‘We will,’ she corrects herself with a chuckle, wrapping her arms around herself. ‘Don’t forget to clear your head, Colt.’
‘I won’t,’ I assure her.
‘Bye.’
‘See ya.’
I finally close the door and, with it, I get that dumb stinging feeling in my throat. Maybe I’m allergic to goodbyes.
May waves as I pull out of the driveway, and I wave back. I do my damnedest to save the image of her in front of my house, with those messy space buns and that chopped-up shirt of hers; to save every detail I can remember of her face, down to the way her eyes, shaped like almonds, tip up just slightly, and her eyebrows talk before she does, every trace of her on my skin, every feeling, every note of her perfume. Every piece of her.
I get to the airport right on time. I down the Red Bull that May gave me in under five minutes before I hustle through security, whipping my carry-on and my lacrosse bag around behind me until I reach my gate just as boarding starts. I wait for them to call business class, and once I’m on the plane, I finally relax, collapsing in the leather seat.
I’m all good until a heavy wave of guilt hits me as the plane taxis down the runway, picking up speed.
The wheels of the plane go up when it takes off. Just like the first time I left this place, I think to myself – as I leave Oklahoma, as I leave May – that I’ve fallen that much harder, all over again. I think about the fact that I’m never going to be able to clear my head completely when I play. I can’t. There’s still one thing Ihaveto think about when I pick up my stick, always.
Her.
Chapter Forty-Two
Where You’re Meant to Be
May
‘Tell me the story, Mumma.’
My mother laughs, leaning back against the couch and tipping her head over against mine, where it sits on her shoulder. ‘Which one?’
‘The only one.’
‘My dear May. You areallgrown up now. You don’t need me to tell you stories.’
‘This one, I do.’
‘Sure.’ Mumma pretends to roll her eyes. My mom is a sweet woman at her core: forgiving, kind, but fierce when it comes to her family, and determined to make sure I stand on my own two feet sooner rather than later. Nevertheless, she won’t ever pass up an opportunity for me to be her little girl again, even for a moment, and I can tell from the quiet smile on her facethat she’s glad I’m still asking her to tell me this story.Herstory.
I’m glad she’s glad. Selfishly, I just need someone to assure me that somehow, it all works out. Always. No matter how.
