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“I cared about you. I cared about all of you. And now I just want to leave this place and never look back.”
His grip on my hands tightened. “I care about you, Ella. I don’t want to lose you.”
I stepped out of his reach so his hands fell away from me. “You did this.”
“I know. And I take full responsibility for it, Ella. I was a stupid asshole. I hurt you and I let other people hurt you. From the moment I walked into that coffee shop and spotted you I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted to keep you, period. Every stupid fucking thing I said or did to keep you away from my friends was just me wanting you without seeing a way to have you. I’ve been an asshole to you the entire time you’ve ever known me and you still gave me a chance.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do this. I can’t, Vaughn.”
He dropped his head. “I can’t tell you that I’m not going to keep trying.”
Tears filled my eyes but I blinked them away. “Can you please leave?”
He looked away and cleared his throat. “I wanted you to have this.”
I saw him grab the gift bag and shook my head. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“It’s yours, Ella Rae. I’m just returning it.” He saw that I wasn’t going to take the bag and put it at my feet. “I tried my best to fix him.”
54
***Ella***
Ibrought the gift bag home with me for Thanksgiving. I was too afraid of what I thought was inside of it and what it would make me feel to open it but I couldn’t be away from it. Mom didn’t mention it, thankfully, and it stayed on my side table, just out of reach.
Mom had done a lot of things to make sure I was okay. She only talked about the guys if I brought them up first. She saw that I’d lost a few pounds since she’d last seen me and she made all my favorite foods to guarantee I found those pounds and some. She sat with me on my first day back home and watched hours of court TV, despite hating it. The one thing she refused to give up was football, though. As much as she loved me, football had been her first love. Well. Men who played football had been her first love. The game was a quick second and it stuck long after the men did.
Her daughter’s college football team was in a division championship the day before Thanksgiving and she wasn’t going to miss it, no matter how many dirty looks I shot her way. Natalie had texted me first thing, just before the game started, to tell me that she definitely wasn’t going to watch the game. Not a chance of her doing anything like that, she’d assured me. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at her antics as I told her to watch the game.
I could’ve stayed in my room for the length of the game but that felt like a punishment in itself. Sitting there with a gift bag that I wouldn’t open, straining to hear the names that I desperately did, and didn’t, want to hear from the next room, it sounded miserable. Instead of hiding, I paced behind the couch and drove Mom crazy during the first half of the game.
Every mention of the guys made my heart thump a little harder. The amount of air time they gave Vaughn and Fisher from the sidelines was wild and I found myself critiquing the cameraman. Chris would never. The continuous shots of them, helmets off, faces and hair wet with swamp, was almost enough to send me running to my room. Mom kept shooting me looks, though, like she was waiting for me to run and I dug my feet in.
It was a shot of Booth that hit me hardest. He was sitting on the bench with his head hung low, no trace of happiness on his face. His dimples were gone as he shot a look at the camera and glanced away just as quickly. His team was winning, most of his teammates were buzzing with energy. Booth looked like his pet had just been put down.
Mom even sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him. “Oh.”
I crossed my arms and glared at her. “Don’t say a word.”
“I wasn’t going to.” She cleared her throat and continued to stare at the TV. “It’s just that he looks heartbroken.”
“Mom.” Coming around to sit next to her on the couch, I curled my legs under me and shook my head. “Don’t.”
“I’m not!” She managed to stay quiet through the halftime show and then cleared her throat again right after the third quarter started. “So.”
The Crocs were playing defense so the guys weren’t on the field. I looked over at her and raised my eyebrows in a silent question.
“How are you doing?”
I leaned away from her on the armrest of the couch and scowled. It wasn’t at her, just at the world in general. “It’s Thanksgiving and I’m supposed to focus on the things I’m grateful for, right? Well, I’m grateful for you and for being away from that campus.”
The opposing team scored on the TV and Mom shouted. “What the fuck, ref? How did you miss that holding call? Do your job!”
I rolled my lips into my mouth and then felt a pang of sadness as the camera panned to Fisher completing a few practice throws on the sideline. He looked up and it was like he was staring straight at me before he glanced away. My next breath was a little harder.
“Oof. That kid can do broody, can’t he?” Mom saw my look and held up her hands. “Sorry! It was just an observation.”
I’d never seen Fisher attempt anything close to brooding before the night of their party. He was usually so quick with a charming smirk. The few times I hadn’t been able to hide from them on campus, he’d been nothing like the guy I’d first met. Just thinking about it made me feel guilty, like I’d helped take away something fun from the world. That thought always sent me down a spiral of anger and frustration, though, because I hadn’t caused the whole mess. They had.
