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“Stay.”
I settled back beside her. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m never going to leave you, I promise.”
I jolt upright in bed, calling out Riley’s name. Sweat paints my skin, and my breath comes out in short, harsh pants. I’m no longer in the hospital but in my room at my parents’ house.
I’m never going to leave you.The words I promised her all those years ago are on repeat in my mind as I try to calm my racing heart. That promise I broke only weeks later.
Of all the moments I had to dream about tonight, why that one?
Nightmares have plagued me since that night. Sometimes, they were like a replay of the accident; sometimes, Riley was the one that I lost instead of Tanner. The worst one of all was when I witnessed the accident as if I was a bystander passing by the scene. I screamed out for Riley and Tanner as I watched the car roll and Tanner get thrown from the vehicle. No matter how hard I ran toward them, I could never get close enough.
The nightmares have gotten so bad that after my first season with the team, I started getting my own hotel room because I was waking Ace up with my screams.
I fall back against the pillows, scrubbing a hand over my face.
I don’t know which is worse—the emptiness in my chest, the sound of Riley’s scream after she slammed the front door last night ringing in my ears to fill the silence of my bedroom, or the vision of Riley completely heartbroken, standing in front of me.
Hours pass by, and morning comes too soon without another wink of sleep or peace of mind.
Austin:Meet at my house at 9:30.
That text came through around 7:30 when I was on my umpteenth cup of coffee. It’s also the reason I’m standing on their front porch minutes before 9:30. I don’t see Riley’s car anywhere, and I’m not sure how that’s supposed to make me feel.
I raise my fist to knock when the door swings open, revealing a flustered and disheveled Austin. The ends of his hair stick out. Last night, I had left Austin at the bar before I came here and waited for her to arrive home. I’d say that he could just be severely hungover if it wasn’t for his expression. If looks could kill, I might be dead, buried, and resurrected to do it all over in just these few split seconds.
“Cooper, are you here for good?”
“Well, good morning to you, too.” I lift my backward hat from my head and run my free hand through my hair before placing it back on my head and shoving my hands in my pockets. That is quite a greeting first thing in the morning, especially with how the last twenty-four hours have gone. The hardened expression tells me he’s not making room for small talk today.
When I don’t respond, he huffs out a breath. “I mean it, man. No chance you’re leaving again? Because you need to stop fucking with her. If there’s even just the slightest chance you’re going to leave her again, don’t even bother with her. Just leave her the fuck alone. She’s not as strong as you might think.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s—” he begins but pauses and shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the ground as if something on the floor holds all the answers. I follow his line of sight and come up empty. “Never mind.” He finally steps back, allowing me to enter the house. I look around as he shuts the door behind us.
“Don’t worry, she’s not here. I don’t have a fucking death wish. She’s at rehearsal for the fall festival, not that it’s any of your business where she is.”
The hostility and tension in the small space could blow the roof off this cottage, and I need to defuse the situation before it does. This isn’t the same Austin that extended the olive branch or who I shared laughs with last night.
“Look, Austin, I’m not sure why you called me here this morning. It doesn’t matter what my intentions of being here are. She made it pretty loud and clear last night that she wants nothing to do with me.”
“And I came home last night to find her crumpled up on the floor, right there.” He points down to the corner next to the door. “Once again, crying over you. She was a fucking mess, man. It took hours of trying to console her before she finally passed out in my arms. I begged her to stay to get more rest this morning, but she refused to bail on her girls, who were relying on her.” He doesn’t say “unlike what you did,” but it’s an unspoken conversation hanging between us.
I’m not sure which has me in knots more—hearing how she was distraught on the floor, upset at my hand, or the image of Austin holding her all night.
Something changes in his demeanor. His shoulders deflate as he exhales harshly. “Come on, follow me.” Austin leads me into the living room and extends a hand for me to take a seat on the couch, so I do. He walks over to the built-in bookshelf beside the fireplace and reaches behind something, pulling out a black photo album.
Austin holds it out in front of me. “Here.”
I glance at it. “What’s this?”
“Will you just open it, asshole?”
I wipe my sweaty palms on my knees before accepting the album. The worn leather is smooth under my touch as I run my fingers over the cover.
“I’ll give you a moment.” I look up to see Austin heading into the kitchen and turn my focus back to the album.
As I flip through the pages, I see pages and pages full of newspaper clippings. Not from my affairs, indiscretions, and moments of weakness trying to cover the pain I felt inside, but the good moments—the great, even. All the way from high school to the last game I played for the Knights. She saved each one. I read articles, and the breath rips from my lungs when I see ticket stubs from games over the years.
