AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I cup her face. It’s unbelievable to think she’s here with me, in my lap, in my arms. “No,” I reply softly. “You’re not crazy.”
“You’re not crazy, worthless, or pathetic,” he tells me firmly, but in the back of my mind, I hear Vance convincing me that I am. “You can get through this, Mere. You just need a new plan, or to go with the flow for once.” When my jaw drops at the absurdity of that idea, he laughs. “There’s the Meredith I know.”
I slap his shoulder. “This is serious, Noah. What am I going to do?” My voice cracks with my question. “I’m going through all of this PT, but for what? There’s still a long road ahead of me, and who’s to say I’ll be able to play at the end of it?”
“Why don’t you wait and find out? It sounds like you’re already giving up.”
I am, but with good reason. “My shoulder doesn’t feel right. I doubt I’ll be able to play again,” I whisper, hating the words and hating that I’m even admitting it’s a legit option. “The strength isn’t there anymore. Hell, I’m too scared to even try and find out if everyone is right about my career being over.” And I mean everyone has told me it’s over.
“That day is coming for all athletes, Meredith,” Noah gently tells me, like that might make me feel better. It doesn’t. Not at all.
“It’s too soon,” I whisper.
He doesn’t understand. He should! It would be a long road if he were to get injured and then have to slowly work his way back. Everyone knows that the longer you don’t play, the harder it is to get back to where you were. The difference for me is that I’m so discouraged with how things have turned out so far that I don’t know if it’s even possible for me to get back to that point. I’m nowhere near where I should be with my recovery. Not to mention that I’m losing my mind in the meantime. To distract myself, I play with the hair at the base of his neck.
“Why didn’t you finish college?” he asks.
“I was busy and it started to feel like a hassle, so I took a break. I never went back to finish.”
He nods like he understands. “I ended up taking classes over the summer to finish my degree. You can go back to school.”
“Why? To get a degree to coach a game I might not be able to play? I probably don’t even have that much in me.”
“Hey.” He uses his thumbs to wipe away two fresh tears. “You don’t have to figure it out right this second. It’s too late to start this semester anyway. Think about what you might want to go back for, if you want to at all. Get a job in the meantime if you want.” Noah lets his hands slide down my neck, over my shoulders, and down to my hands, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Think you can do one of those?”
“Yeah.” He’s right. I don’t have to know right this very second, but I’ve been trying to figure it out since I came home and I’m still no closer to an answer. I need to be prepared for the biggest “what if” I’ve ever faced in my life.
“Now,” he takes a deep breath, “what happened with your engagement?”
I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing we could skip over that entirely. Where’s Noah’s skill for changing the subject when I need it? His brown eyes are waiting patiently when I reopen mine. “He left me,” I say simply.
“Why?”
“Why do you need to know? That’s not my issue,” I semi-lie. Vance is partly the issue, but not in the way Noah probably thinks. I got over my broken engagement months ago. It was what happened during and soon after the engagement that I’m struggling with.
“Really? Then you’ve talked about what happened with your mother?” My silence is answer enough for him. “Tell me.”
“You want to know?” I ask, unable to keep skepticism from my voice. I certainly don’t care to hear about any relationships he’s been in since I’ve been gone. I might’ve walked away, but I can’t stand the thought of him being with anyone else.
“No, I don’t, because it kills me to think the girl I’ve always wanted was so close to never being mine again. I want you to talk about it, though, so I don’t mind listening.”
My forefinger begins to trail over his shirt where the letters of my name are hidden. I wish I could see it again. It’s not just some black script; it’s my handwriting. He had me write my name for the tattoo artist because he didn’t want a random, generic font. I don’t want to tell Noah the full truth, not yet at least, which means I need to figure out what I’m going to say.
“Mere?”
I lift my eyes to his. “He loved me, but he wanted a wife he didn’t need to take care of, a wife who was independent and self-sustaining. It seemed clear to him that I needed to retire, which left me with no immediate new plan, so I was leaning on him too much. The ugly side of him started to show and our relationship fell apart. He left me soon after.” There. That’s mostly the truth.
Noah analyzes me for a moment. “The ugly side of him? Did he hit you?” Already, there’s an underlying current of rage waiting to be unleashed if I say yes.
“No,” I rush to say. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then explain that part to me.”
“He was mean sometimes, that’s all.” Never had he spoken so viciously to me as he had in the final month of our relationship. It was as if all the stress I was feeling transferred to him and turned him into a sharp-tongued bully.
Noah’s eyes widen slightly. “Those words you said earlier, pathetic and worthless, he said that to you, didn’t he?” I shrug and Noah curses under his breath. He takes a ragged breath, cupping my face again. “Why are you here, Mere?” When I pull my brows in, he adds, “I want you to say it. I want you to tell me the exact reason.”
Before I can realize that I am in fact crazy, I whisper, “Because I want to be with you again.”
