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But she’s not solely responsible for the searing rage I’m feeling.
Everyone carries on around me and I’m standing here frozen solid to the ground, watching the picture-perfect family cheering on my brother—only my brother.
It’s as if my mom was just plucked out from between them and Celia was set down in her place.
Elodie continues to purposefully cheer on Wilder and I know it’s to get a rise out of me. My dad must have opened his big fucking mouth and told her I was suspended for half the season. Fucking great. Now she’s got ammo to piss me off even more. I’m watching intently as she turns around to grab something off the bleachers, and my heart stills.
On the back of her Misfits football hoodie is my last name—Cromwell.
Just like the one my mom used to wear to all our games.
Dad wouldn’t give her my mom’s hoodie. No fucking way.
When Elodie turns back around, her phone raised in her hand snapping pictures, I hear her shout, “We’re so proud of you, Wilder!” She looks at me again, and the fury inside me grows tenfold.
She flashes me a crooked smile, completely unaware of the impact of her actions. I clench my fists, my own smile growing on my face as I think about all the ways I’m going to tear that girl to shreds.
Her first mistake was crossing me. Her second was putting on my mom’s shirt.
“And that’s a wrap! Another victory for the Misfits. Quarterback Rome Cromwell has carried his team to the state championship. Even as a sophomore, the boy is a beast. I think we’re all pretty excited to see what he does for the Misfits in the future.”
The announcer's words continue to fill the stands, and my heart races as I stand on the field, helmet in hand, surrounded by my teammates. At this moment, I’m a star. I’m fueled by the energy of the crowd chanting my name. Adrenaline surges through me, and nothing can compare to this feeling. This might just be football, but I feel larger than life right now.
I look out at the crowd and see my mom. “Way to go, Cromwell boys,” she beams victoriously with her hands in the air.
Grinning from ear to ear, her dimples deepen and her eyes sparkle with pure joy. I can’t help but mirror her smile, feeling the warmth of her excitement radiating through me.
We exit the field and Wilder and I are immediately surrounded by our parents, Sayer, and Callan.
Dad pats me on the back and congratulates me, while Mom pulls me in for a hug.
Her arms wrap around me tightly.“I love you, son. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Mom’s my biggest cheerleader, and I can’t imagine doing this without her support.
“I love you, too, Mom.”
A ball of hot lava lodges in my throat as I shake away the memory. Peeling my eyes away from Elodie, I haphazardly look around the field in search of a distraction. That’s when I see Wilder getting the recognition he deserves.
He’s being hoisted in the air like the champ he is. I should be happy for him, but this—on top of all the emotions already swimming through me—is just too much. So, I sprint off the field, leaving my team, and my brother, behind me.
CHAPTER 10
ELODIE
I’m watching Rome as he stares at me with a worried crease on his forehead. He snaps out of whatever daze he was in and hurriedly looks away. His eyes sweep the football field, landing on Wilder being lifted in the air triumphantly by his teammates. I watch as his eyes flick with envy. Suddenly, he sprints toward the school, leaving everyone behind.
Something is definitely wrong, and I get the feeling this isn’t just about his brother being in the spotlight.
It’s possible his sour attitude has something to do with the reason he didn’t play tonight. I asked Grant about it, but his response was short. Just said Rome had to sit this one out. I didn’t press because it’s not my business. But I can’t help but feel responsible in some way.
Perhaps the gum incident caused this and that teacher didn’t just drop it. Could that be what he meant by me ruining his life?
I know I was taunting him by cheering on Wilder, and I shouldn’t care that something seemed to break inside him when he looked at me. He’s been a dick ever since I moved in. Hell, he’s been a dick since I met him at that party and he made out with Abby mid-conversation with me.
So why am I pushing through the sea of people in the bleachers and jogging down the metal stairs to chase after him? I haven’t the slightest idea. But something inside me is saying I need to help him. No one else is.
No one else seemed to have noticed the way his eyes fell the moment he walked onto the field, or the tension in his shoulders every time Wilder threw the ball. But I did. At first I thought it was just jealousy, but he looked at his brother like he was genuinely happy for him.
