This was his night to celebrate. His night to shine. And as I stood in the bleachers on a cold, clear December night, the stars drowned out by stadium lights, I wished yet again Jude had a different dream. I wished he would come to UT Austin with me and play football. Or any other college in Texas. He could have had his pick. He could have gotten a full ride. We could have been together.
But it was useless to think of what could have been.
He’d signed a contract. Five years of his life signed away before he would be released from active duty.
Now, I watched Jude run down the field with his teammates, fists held high. His helmet clutched in his hand, hair slick with sweat, black war paint under his eyes. To me, he looked like a giant among men. Shoulders impossibly broad under the shoulder pads tapering down to his narrow waist, thighs encased in blue football pants with gold bars on the sides, he was the only player I could see on that field. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
He was searching for his family in the stands like he did after every game. When he spotted us, he grinned and held his helmet in the air. I blew him a kiss. He caught it in his hand and pounded his fist against his heart.
I love you, I wanted to shout, loudly enough for everyone in the stadium to hear it.
I loved that boy so much that sometimes it hurt.
His smile grew wider, those dimples in his cheeks making an appearance, and I was grinning back at him like a fool. Then I was laughing when Christy said, “Someone is going to get lucky tonight.”
All I wanted to do was get him off that field and somewhere alone where I wouldn’t have to share him with anyone. I was greedy and so selfish that way.
But I knew it would be hours before I could have him to myself.
Headlights shining, bonfires blazing, and car stereos cranked up on high, this was how we celebrated our victories or drowned our sorrows after a game. This week’s field party was at Austin Armacost’s ranch. We’d been here an hour, and I’d barely seen Jude. I unscrewed the lid of my water bottle and took a swig, wishing I hadn’t volunteered to be designated driver.
“Are there any girls here willing to give our buddy a pity fuck?” Tyler yelled, slinging his arm around Reese’s shoulder. “Our boy’s gonna be a Marine. Shipping out tomorrow.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Reese said, laughing. “But seriously.” He scanned the groups of girls hanging out, his eyes stopping on two blondes sitting on the hood of a car, fruity wine coolers in their hands. “Any takers?”
Laughing, they turned their heads. Reese ambled over to me and Christy where we were sitting on the tailgate of Brody’s truck. He and Kylie had disappeared as soon as we got here. “Christy. What d’ya say?”
She put her finger on her lips and tilted her head like she was giving it serious thought. “No.”
He deflated. “Damn. I thought you were really considering it.”
“I would but I have my sights set on someone else.”
“Yeah? Who is he?”
“Not a he, a she.”
“Damn. So it’s true. You go for girls.”
“I’m equal opportunity. I go for girls and guys.”
“Gives you a bigger playing field.” Reese settled on the tailgate next to her and I shook my head, laughing as he peppered her with questions about her sex life.
“Baby, baby, baby.” Jude came to stand between my legs. “Have I told you that I love you?”
“You’re drunk,” I said, laughing as he nuzzled my neck. Drunk Jude was kind of adorable. “So it doesn’t count.”
“It counts. I love you, Lila, and I want everyone to know it.” He turned around, giving me his back and spread his arms, a beer bottle clutched in one hand. “I love Lila Turner!”
“Louder for the people in the back,” Tyler said. “Not sure they heard you in the next county.”
“The next county,” Jude scoffed. “I want all of Texas to know it.” He jumped onto the bed of Brody’s pickup truck and shouted at the top of his lungs. “I love Lila Turner.”
“Yeah. We know,” Reese said, rolling his eyes.
“I love Lila Turner!”
“Shut up, McCallister,” someone shouted.
Jude hopped to the ground and stumbled, laughing as he righted himself. “Shit. The ground was closer than I thought.”
That made us all laugh.
“Is that any way to treat your QB? He’s our man. Our MVP, yo,” Austin said, thumping Jude’s back.
“Couldn’t have done it without you. You’re the man,” Jude said, looping his arm around Austin’s neck and rubbing his knuckles over the top of Austin’s head. “Who caught that ball? You. You. You. Shit. I love you, man.”
I laughed as they held on to each other, swaying, and I suspected if they weren’t holding each other up they’d both go down.
“So does this mean I’m forgiven for kissing your girl?” Austin asked when they let go of each other and clinked their beer bottles in a toast.
Jude snarled. “Why’d you have to bring that up? Now I’ll have to punch you.”
“No, you don’t.” I jumped off the back of the truck and tugged on the hood of Jude’s sweatshirt, dragging him toward me. He spun around and pulled me into his arms, his fight forgotten in his drunken haze.
“Love you, baby.” He rubbed his nose along the side of mine, the scent of beer and whiskey on his breath. “Love you soooo much.”
This would have all been really great if not for the fact that the first time he’d told me he loved me was at a bonfire party after a football game when he was drunk off his ass.
Dipping his head, he kissed me on the mouth then dragged his lips across my jaw. “Do you love me, Rebel?”
I nodded.
He pulled back and studied my face intently, his eyes glassy from
