Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 99012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Oh, okay.”
The rest of the game was a nail-biter. The teams battled it out until the last ten seconds, when the game hinged on a long field goal attempt.
Bella and I stood as Wyatt jogged out onto the field.
“God, this is so stressful,” she said. “I can’t imagine what he feels like right now.”
I smiled. “This is the moment you live for playing this game.”
She covered her heart. “I couldn’t do it. I’d fall apart under the pressure.”
“Nah. You’d kill it. You find out how strong you are at times like this. But even if he doesn’t make the shot, it’s coming back the next day to work harder so you have a better chance of making it next time that counts. Like you walking into that corporate office on day one only to have your sister screw with you the first hour. You kept coming back. That’s what makes you better at what you do.”
Years of pep talks from a dozen coaches had definitely influenced what I’d said, but when Wyatt reared back and punted the ball, I’m not going to lie—I held my breath.
“He made it!” Bella jumped up and down, while I stuck two fingers in my mouth for an ear-splitting whistle. The bleachers went crazy, and I might’ve gotten a little choked up when the team lifted Wyatt onto their shoulders and paraded him around the field.
“Damn,” Coach yelled. “That was some game!”
Between the after-game celebration and people asking me to take selfies and sign autographs, we didn’t get out of there for almost two more hours. Then we dropped off Coach and Wyatt before going back to my place.
“I had a really good time tonight,” Bella said.
“Me too. It was a great game.” We were sitting on the couch, and I lifted her feet onto my lap and rubbed as she sipped the wine I’d poured her.
“It was. But it was more than that. It felt like I spent the night with family.”
I looked back and forth between her eyes. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “It’s been a long time since I felt something like that. Ever since I found out about my father and got to know my grandfather, my visits have mostly been learning things about him and the family I never knew. And while that’s great, and I love listening to his stories, it was really nice to just hang out tonight. I realized I’d spent my time with him over the last two years trying to fill in missing pieces, but while I was doing that, I wasn’t moving forward and enjoying who he is today.”
“What changed?”
She looked into her wine glass for a while. That was one of the things I loved about Bella; she didn’t fill airspace. She thought about her words carefully, which made them so much more meaningful. “I think I changed. I’ve spent the last fourteen years afraid to get attached to anyone new because it hurts so much when they leave me.” Bella looked into my eyes. “It’s not that I’m not afraid anymore, but I finally found people who are worth the risk.”
I took the glass from her hand and set it down on the coffee table before cupping her cheek. “I’m glad you feel that way. Because I’m fucking crazy about you, Bella.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but they were happy ones. “I don’t want to look back anymore. I want to go forward and appreciate what I have.”
I stroked her cheek with my thumb. “That sounds like a good plan.”
And it was, a damn great one. Too bad I didn’t follow the no-looking-back rule the next weekend…
CHAPTER 23
* * *
CHRISTIAN
I felt like I was doing something wrong.
The following Saturday after practice, I took Coach to the storage building as planned. I’d debated all week whether I should cancel, mind my own business, and leave things be since Bella seemed determined to move forward and not look back anymore. Yet here I was, watching the garage door inch its way up. Aside from the feeling that I was sticking my nose in a place it didn’t belong, I also had no idea what the hell I was looking for—other than the blue 1954 Ford Thunderbird that sparkled from the far side of the room the minute the door finished opening.
Coach shook his head. “Damn, I forgot how these old things bring back memories.” He pointed to a white Chevelle at the front. “Got my first hickey from Nancy Woodrow in the back of one of these.”
I wheeled him over and opened the driver’s side door so he could see inside. He leaned in and inhaled deeply. “She even smells the same.”
“Nancy smelled like leather? I like my women to have a more feminine smell, maybe floral or something.”
Coach chuckled. “Knucklehead.”
I took a lap around the Chevelle, checking it out, but couldn’t stop myself from glancing over at the Ford a few times. At least I’d managed to not make a beeline for it the minute we’d walked in.