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Nicole pulled a tissue from the box in Bailey’s lap and blew her nose. She was tired now in a way that had nothing to do with the flu. She didn’t have it in her to sort out everything she was feeling while Bailey sat there watching her try.
For a while, neither of them said anything. Ricki went to commercial, and somebody on TV got very excited about a mattress sale.
Then Bailey shifted. “Do you want me to go?”
Nicole looked at the bowl on the coffee table, still half full. An hour ago she’d been so happy just to hear Bailey banging around in the kitchen like nothing had ever changed. She didn’t want Bailey walking out that door thinking they were done. But she couldn’t keep sitting here hunting for the right thing to say.
“I’m not mad at you for what your mom did,” she said. “Okay? I’m not. I just need some time to wrap my head around all of this.”
Bailey pressed her lips together until they went white, and a fresh tear spilled over. She nodded anyway. “I understand.”
“I think I need to be by myself for a little while.”
Bailey’s breath caught. For a second it seemed like she might argue. Instead, Bailey stared down at the crumpled tissue in her hand, her eyes filling all over again, and nodded.
She got up and carried the bowl into the kitchen. Nicole heard a lid settle onto the pot, then the refrigerator open and close, and the soft scrape of something sliding across the counter. When Bailey came back, she stopped beside the couch.
“The rest of the soup’s in the fridge,” she said, her voice thick. “You just have to heat it up.”
“Thank you.”
Bailey looked like she wanted to say something else. Nicole didn’t think she could take another apology without falling apart, and maybe Bailey could tell, because she let it go and got her purse off the kitchen table.
At the door, she stopped. “Get some rest, Nikki.”
“I will.”
The door shut softly behind her, and the lock turned.
Nicole pulled the blanket over her legs, found the remote, and turned off the TV. The house went so quiet she could hear the refrigerator hum. She’d spent all this time waiting for Bailey to call her back. Now she knew why she hadn’t, and she would’ve given anything to go back to not knowing.
Her parents still had no idea who’d done it. Nicole was the only one in her family who did.
Chapter Forty-Two
Drew had seen the Heisman Trophy on TV so many times that he figured seeing it in person wouldn’t be much different.
He’d been wrong about that.
From where he sat, he could see the light catching the bronze, the ball tucked tight against the player’s side, his other arm shoved straight out in that stiff-arm pose he’d been copying since he was a kid in Pop Warner. Somebody was taking that thing home tonight. For weeks he’d tried to picture it being him without getting too carried away, but now he was sitting in the Downtown Athletic Club with a camera pointed his way, and there wasn’t much point pretending he wanted anything else.
He wanted his name called.
He shifted in his chair and rolled his shoulders under his suit jacket. The short walk from the car had been cold enough to make him pull his coat closed, but under the TV lights his collar was choking him. He ran a finger around the inside of it, then dropped his hand before he started messing with his tie again.
The last few days had gone by fast. Jed had kept him busy Thursday, and by the time his parents got in Friday, Drew had answered enough questions about his season to feel like he’d played the whole fucking thing twice. There’d been photo ops and dinners and a lot of hands to shake, and guys he grew up watching on Saturdays knew his name.
He wished Nicole had been there for all of it. They’d talked on the phone every night, but it wasn’t the same as coming back to his room and finding her in it. He’d booked this trip thinking they’d have a couple of days to themselves. Instead, he kept walking into an empty room and calling Alabama.
Tonight, at least, his parents were here. Before they left the hotel, his mother had straightened his tie, even though he was pretty sure nothing was wrong with it. His dad had stood next to her, looking at him all proud. They’d wanted pictures, and Drew had let his mother take as many as she liked.
He wanted to give them one with the trophy.
A few seats down, Tariq caught his eye, puffed out his cheeks, and blew the air out slow. Drew snorted and shook his head. At least he wasn’t the only one who needed somebody to get on with it already.
They’d gotten a few minutes to talk before the broadcast. Tariq had earned his seat up here, and Drew knew that better than most. So had he.
The program finally got around to the announcement, and the room went quiet. Drew planted both feet flat on the floor, rested his palms on his thighs, and watched the man with the envelope.
