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Rome wouldn’t hate me. He’d be preparing to go to UCLA to play football. And Stanford would be a sealed deal. Nothing in my life is going to be safe until I repair the damage I’ve caused. But there is hope now, and that’s enough to eliminate a tiny fraction of the unease I’ve felt for days.
“You never told me who you have plans with tonight,” Wilder says, breaking the silence. “Care to elaborate?”
“Not really, but I guess I can tell you.” I sigh. “I’m going to the movies with Gage.”
Wilder’s eyes snap to mine before drifting back to the road. “Gage Hanson?”
“Yeah. Is that a bad thing?” Worry sits heavy in my gut as I watch Wilder’s expression.
He rolls his shoulders and taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “I know someone who might consider it a problem.”
“Let me guess, Rome?” I say his name like it’s a curse because at this point, it is.
“He’s not Gage’s biggest fan. They had some beef back in middle school and it’s been lingering ever since.” Middle school was a long time ago. I thought girls were the type to hold grudges, not guys.
“Well, my business isn’t Rome’s, so he’ll just have to deal with it.” I cross my arms, sealing the deal in my mind. Since I arrived in Willow Creek, Gage is one of the first people to act interested in me. I am sure as fuck not going to cancel my date just because Rome doesn’t like the guy.
That’s why he got all puffy chested when I was talking to Gage. It shouldn’t make me giddy that Rome might be a little pissed I’m going to the movies with Gage, but for some reason, it does.
CHAPTER 19
ROME
In the middle of practice, Coach asked me to meet with him to talk about my return in a couple weeks. I’ve been on pins and needles ever since, worried he’s going to bench me longer because he can do whatever the hell he wants.
He could suspend me the entire season, or let me play now. The ball is in his court. But he said he couldn’t allow me to go unpunished, so he decided on taking me out half the season. I fought like hell, but it wasn’t enough. However, if he is bringing me in here to tell me I am out the rest of the season, I won’t leave this room until I change his mind.
“You wanted to see me,” I say, grabbing Coach Ivers's attention as I walk through the door to his office.
He lifts his head from the playbook opened in front of him and gestures to the chair in front of his desk with the pencil in his hand. “Have a seat, Rome.”
I’m practically holding my breath, ready to pass out as I sit down. I slap my hands to my knees, ready to hear what he has to say.
“I wanted to check in with you. See how things have been.” A sympathetic look washes over his features and I finally draw in a breath. “I know this year hasn’t been easy for you and your brother.”
He’s referring to the loss of my mom. Of course it hasn’t been easy, but I’m not willing to talk about it with him. Coach treats us boys like we’re his own kids. He guides us, checks in on us when we need it, and even reprimands us as he sees fit. He’s like a therapist and coach all in one. But the topic of my mom is one everyone knows not to touch.
“Things are good,” I tell him, not willing to give him much more of a response.
He leans into the desk, leveling his eyes with mine, and I blink away, feeling like I'm under scrutiny. “Your grades are telling me otherwise, son.”
Fuck. I should’ve known. Preparing myself for this conversation, I bite my bottom lip and take another deep, audible breath.
“You’re still passing, but they’re slipping fast. You’ve got two and a half weeks to get them where they need to be if you want back on that field.”
I nod. “I know. I’m gonna try harder. I can do it.”
“I know you can. You wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t think you could. I believe in you, Rome. Now you just need to believe in yourself.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I say, emotion welling in my throat. It means a lot that he believes in me.
My phone beeps in my front pocket and I put my hand over it to silence the sound out of respect.
He presses his pencil to the playbook. “Go ahead and get that. We’re finished here. Go home and read a book or something. Keep your wits about you and stay out of trouble. You’re almost there, son.”
“I don’t know about reading.” I chuckle as I stand. “But maybe I’ll actually finish my homework tonight.”
He smiles. “That’s a start.”
