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“I just wanted you to know that I was in a relationship once, too, and it—ended.” I clear my throat, fighting the urge to pace. “I know it’s hard to have that happen.” I shake my head. “I mean, it’s not the same situation. But—"
“Right. Yes. It’s okay,” Oakley says. “I mean, I’m sorry about the painful stuff you’ve been through. For me?” Her gaze goes around the room until it settles back on mine. “We hadn’t dated long. There were some red flags right from the beginning that I wish now I’d paid better attention to. Things like the way he deferred to his dad all the time.” She squints, as if remembering. “And the drinking was over the top.” Her sigh holds a lot of tension. “You’re probably wondering why I even started dating him in the first place.” A humorless laugh escapes her. “Sometimes I wonder that, too. It just happened. I was spending all my time with the team, and he was always around.”
Points of reference start collating in my mind. His dad…his drinking.
“You weren’t dating Brandt Bordy, were you?”
Her cheeks flush pink and her chin drops to her chest. “How’d you guess?” Her voice is feeble, defeated. Brandt Bordy could definitely make a person feel that way.
I squeeze her hand briefly, platonically. “No judgments, okay? I know Boozy Brandt Bordy probably has qualities that attract the ladies.”
She lifts her head and rolls her eyes. “That stupid nickname. I honestly thought it was started by people who were jealous about who his dad was. I should have known it was spot on. Ugh. It all happened so fast and before I knew it, I found out some things that changed everything.” Her mouth is thin and hard.
A flame hits my gut as Brandt’s face comes to mind. “I’m truly sorry. He seemed to get anything he wanted, just because of his dad.”
She takes her time to respond, grabbing a lock of her brown and blonde hair and twisting it around her finger. “You’re right. The preferential treatment probably wasn’t even legal.” Letting go of her hair, her lips curve up into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
Some immature urge has me wanting to help her forget things, to ease her discomfort. And certainly to steer the conversation away from Brandt Bordy. “When I win the bet and you realize there’s no hope for my poor excuse for a knee, I’ll buy you a steak from The Summit. Lionel, the chef, is famous for his steak…you should try it before you go home. It will make you weep.”
She makes a face.
“You’re not a fan of steak?” I ask. “We’ve got people from all over coming to our restaurant for it. Lionel’s a magician with beef—and basically everything else.”
“I’m a fan of steak. I’m not a socialist, Alec,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “And I’m not afraid of weeping. But I’m making this face because your knee is going to improve.”
I snort a laugh. “Well, we’ll see.”
Her eyes stretch wide and she laughs, too. “I think there might be some self-sabotage going on here. It’s like you don’t want to heal.” Her cheeks are pink now, and the way her eyes glow challenges me. She’s fighting to stay light, joking. But there’s a concern there.
I take in that concern. It’s something I’m used to feeling from people. But with her, it’s different. It’s like she wants to fight for me to want more. To want better.
I return to the bench and sit again. “It wasn’t easy to get the death sentence on my career, Oakley. I was in a bad place for a long time.” Suddenly, there’s this ball wedged down my throat. “It’s hard to care now.”
“You’ll find what lights your heart on fire again, Alec. Don’t worry.” She sits beside me, her tan legs stretched long.
I shake my head. “Losing Callie and football—it changed me. I don’t think there’s anything out there that will light me up again.”
She clicks her tongue. “Twenty-five-years old and you’re talking like you’re eighty.” Then, her expression softens. “Her name was Callie?”
When I nod, she swallows hard. “I’m sorry.” Oakley chews on her bottom lip before speaking again. “What was she like?”
Not what most people say when they find out.
“I don’t really know how to describe her.” I let out a breath, but it does nothing to open the vise that’s got ahold of my lungs. I stare out the window. “We met junior year at OU. Because of football, I hadn’t dated much before her. And I haven’t dated at all since she passed away.” I hazard a glance in her direction.
Oakley blinks. “I didn’t realize she passed away. Oh my gosh. I thought she dumped you—” She smacked her palm over her mouth. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.” She crushes her fist into her forehead and squeezes her eyes closed for a moment. “Please tell me more about her.”
“It’s okay. She was pretty special. Big temper. Big personality.” Without meaning to, a laugh escapes me. “She’d go from zero to sixty in ten seconds flat.” My voice grows quieter. “I really loved her.”
“How did she die?”
“An ATV accident while she was camping with her family. I had an away game that weekend, or else I would have gone, too. Wish I would have been there, you know? Maybe things would have been different.”
“When did this happen?”
“Three years ago. During our senior year. I keep waiting for it to not be a big deal anymore, but that hasn’t happened yet.”
She only nods her head and we sit in silence. I like that Oakley didn’t try to tell me I couldn’t have prevented Callie’s death if I’d been there. And I like that she’s not saying anything right now.
