Page 18 of Big Man on Campus

“Did she tell you that?”

“Yes.” I don’t ask if it was on her deathbed because I know it was, know she lived until the early morning, that she was conscious and her family around her. That’s the only memory I carry with any comfort. That and our last moments together in the car before the police and ambulance arrived.

He smiles at me, one of those Kace classics, except for the shadow of sadness. Sadness is everywhere and I need to get away from it, need to lighten our lives because I just can’t stand being sad anymore.

“What excuse did you give the police for crashing the car into a tree? Driving without your glasses?”

He doesn’t laugh. “They gave me a citation for driving without a license because I didn’t have it on me.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. I know he’s holding back.

“What else?” My voice shakes, my whole body shakes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I had a couple of beers—”

“Shit, shit, shit. What did you do, Kace? What did they say?”

“They said nothing. They took my word that I crashed because I was distracted.”

“Distracted by what?”

“You.”

That stops the conversation for a moment of contemplation. Emotions swirl and my head hurts, my chest feels unbearably tight. I can’t tell him what I’m thinking, how I feel. Things are still unsettled between us. The gulf of three years seemed so small when we made love two weeks ago in his bed, but now . . .

“What is it, Glory? Tell me. Don’t close up on me.”

“I don’t want to be a distraction.” My voice is small, so unlike me, and I hate it.

“Relax. You’re not a distraction. I didn’t crash the car, remember?”

“You can’t take the blame. It’s not right.”

“I have to, Glory. If they know you were driving under the influence they’ll throw the book at you this time. Besides, they don’t know that I had a couple of beers. They asked what caused the crash and I said I was on the phone with you. They didn’t give me a ticket for distracted driving. They’re calling it an accident.”

“You can’t fix this, Kace. I need to tell the police the truth—”

“If you do that you’ll get me in even more trouble for covering for you. Trust me. I know how the law works.”

He does. His dad the cop made sure of that. I gulp and try not to throw up. “Surely doing the right thing can’t be the wrong choice,” I say, not sure at all.

He laughs. “I am doing the right thing, Glory. I need to do this, to have your back this time. Unlike the last time. Your right thing is to make good choices, to make up for Sky’s death by living the best life you can.”

“Wow. You’re a good speechmaker. They really have taught you something here at SPU.” I try to keep under control, but I’ve messed up. Talking about Sky doesn’t help, bringing tears up, tightening my chest another notch. Did I think by coming here I could escape my guilt over killing her? I bury my face in his shirt and let my tears flow, thankfully silent.

“It’s okay, my Glory Rose. My heart aches too, sometimes till I want to cry. For all of us.”

I don’t deserve him, but I’m going to take him anyway. Live up to who he deserves. The warmth and strength of his chest, the steady, hard beating of his heart, give me strength and I stop crying, stop the flood of sadness and hold myself in this moment. Appreciate each moment you live in the here and now, Glory. I would be a fool not to appreciate the warm hunk holding me in his arms right now. And I may be heartbroken and confused, but I’m not a fool.

Looking up at him, I say, “I’d like to stay the night. If it’s not against the rules.”

“Fuck the rules,” he says, a fierce smile touching his lips. “What good would it be having you here at SPU if we can’t spend the nights together?”

He cups my face with shaky hands and swallows my mouth in a desperate kiss. The broken place in his soul finds the mirroring crack in mine. He softens his mouth and I open up, needing to mend him, me, us.

My thighs clench in anticipation when we fall back to lie on the bed. I wrap my arms around him to feel his muscles ripple, to feel the hard strength of his body against mine until I choke with need.

“You’re burning up. Or maybe that’s me,” I say.

“You light my fire, babe. Set my wick aflame.”