“There you go again,” I said, chest aching. “Always saying things you have no business saying.”
“Come on.”
His strong arms went around me and hauled me to my feet. I sagged against him and lifted my heavy, alcohol-soaked head. My bleary eyes scanned his face, wanting to preserve every detail.
“You’re really a handsome bastard, you know that?”
“You’re drunk,” he said and hefted me with a sexy grunt.
“It’s not even subjective,” I continued as he half-carried me to the bedroom. “Just fasts. Fats. Facts. No one would ever kick you out of bed.”
He smirked grimly. “You did.”
The floor tilted and I gripped the lapels of River’s letterman jacket. His blue eyes were filled with concern and something deeper. Something I’d never seen before, except that I wanted to live in it.
I smiled sadly and touched his cheek. “I’m going to miss this face.”
“Holden…”
“You said it yourself, but did we listen? Ohhhh, no. Not us. Not me.”
“What did I say? When?”
“At the pool. It’s a mistake. We’re a mistake.”
His frown deepened and he held me tighter. “I was flipping out. I didn’t know what I was saying. I—”
“Yes, you did,” I said softly. “And you were right.”
I pushed out of his embrace and crawled onto the bed, flopping onto my back. I patted the space next to me. “Stay with me a little. Just a little while…until I fall asleep. Won’t take long.”
River hesitated then took off his jacket and sat down on the other side of me.
“I don’t get what happened,” he said. “A few days ago—”
“I lied. My big speech about keeping things casual?” I shook my head. “I can’t do it. Not with you. And you can’t be seen with me.” I sang weakly, off-key, “So let’s call the whole thing off.”
He swallowed hard. “That’s what you want?”
“That’s what I want. It’s best for both of us.” I poked him in the side. “And you know it.”
A silence fell, the only sound was the rain spattering the windows and the thunder, growing more distant.
A grimace hardened River’s handsome face. “I don’t know what to say. Or do.”
“Just stay with me the night, okay? And be gone in the morning.”
He warred with himself and then nodded, and my last flicker of hope went out.
What did you expect? That he’d fight for you? He won’t. He can’t…
I rolled over, onto my side, my back to him. I felt the bed dip and knew he was lying down too.
“I don’t want to leave here unless I know you’re going to be okay,” he said.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Tonight isn’t giving me a whole lot of confidence.”
“It’s what I do. I have like…an episode. A bender. I get it out of my system, and I move on.”
“Don’t you think you need professional help?”
“Why? As far as I know, I’m delightful.”
“I’m being serious.”
“I’ve had year-round, round-the-clock professional help,” I said, pressing the side of my face into my pillow. “This is the best they could do.”
I felt River turn on his side to face me and scoot closer. The warmth of him grew stronger. His head lay close to mine. All I’d have to do was turn over and…
We’d make the same mistake all over again.
“Holden…?”
“Stop worrying,” I said. “I’ll be fine, and our brief affair will become a distant memory. You’ll see me from across the quad at school one day and think to yourself, ‘There goes Holden Parish. Nice fellow. Once put my dick in his mouth.’”
River pressed his forehead between my shoulder blades. “Christ.”
I chuckled and then wanted to cry as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling my back tight to his chest. I held his arms that held me.
“You sure?” he asked hoarsely.
“It’s better this way,” I whispered, my eyes falling shut.
“Then why does it feel like shit?”
“That’s a catch-22. The solution to our dilemma is inherent in the problem itself.”
“Which is?”
“We both want something we can never have,” I said as sleep dragged me down on vodka fumes. “A normal life.”
Part III
Chapter Fourteen
March
“They’re here,” Dad said, a grin splitting his face. He held up four large envelopes. “Texas, Auburn, Alabama, and Michigan. Call me crazy, but rejection slips are never this heavy.”
He dropped them on the dining room table like a conquering hero bringing home the spoils. Mom was just finishing dessert—a tiny wedge of apple pie—while Amelia and I cleaned up the dinner plates.
“That’s quite a haul,” Mom said to me when I returned from the kitchen. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
Her voice was tired, as if she’d just woken up. Since Christmas, she’d been coasting on relatively good health, though she still had good days and bad. Today was bad. She had a check-up with her oncologist in a few days. The dread of what he might say hung over the house like a cloud that Dad tried to keep from choking us with his enthusiasm.
“We need all the good news we can get,” he’d told me that afternoon as I helped him at the auto shop. “Your mom wants to know, more than anything, that your future is secure.”
Mom wants us to be happy, I’d thought then and again as he fanned out my future on the table in front of us.
“Well?” Dad said. “Which do you want to open first? I say we save Alabama for last.”
“Sure,” I said, smiling weakly.
During our college application process, we’d discussed which school would be the best fit for my career prospects and the University of Alabama came out on top. Because of course it did. It
