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Olivia shut the fridge door with a thud. “You shouldn’t listen to my exes.” She tossed the last of the moldy vegetables into the garbage. “And you should block Miles.”
“I would,” Matt said, already smiling at his own joke, “but he makes a good wingman. The guy knows where to pick up women.”
Olivia reached into the garbage for the moldy green peppers. “I will throw these at you.”
Matt headed out of the kitchen, laughing. “Why so upset? You didn’t care that much about Miles. That’s the whole point.” Despite his words, her brother had enough sense to hightail it to his room.
And the rest of the time Olivia spent cleaning the kitchen she wondered if she actually had a problem letting men get close to her.
* * *
School started,with all lovely teenage energy and drama filling her classroom. Olivia kept busy with class prep and grading in the evening, but she made time for calls to Denver. Carson was generally in a good mood when they spoke. Besides having to ice his foot each night, he seemed to be holding up fine. Practice was tiring but going well.
For the first time ever, Olivia willingly watched the NFL preseason games. Or at least she watched the ones Carson played in. She took a break from everything else, sat with her sketchbook in her lap, and drew while waiting for him to take the field. In the first two games, Carson hardly played. The third, the coaches put him in more. She didn’t care about the score. These games didn’t matter in the rankings. She only cared whether or not he did well.
He seemed to be in good form, although admittedly she was biased. The guy was a wall on the field. The defense didn’t get past him.
At the end of August, Carson called her, excited and breathless. “I made it! I’m officially on the roster!”
The world lurched a little right then, but she pretended to be happy for him. Part of her really was happy for him. She wanted him to succeed. He had the career he’d worked so hard for. He deserved his spot. He didn’t even notice the trembling in her voice as she congratulated him.
But the sensible part of her brain was repeating the words: He’s not coming home again. He’s outgrown the town just like he’ll outgrow me. He doesn’t want a long-distance relationship.
Finally, Labor Day weekend arrived. Carson flew into Bozeman on Friday evening and rented a car. He told Olivia he would stop by her apartment first thing. She’d banished her roommates so she’d have time alone with him and then spent the preceding hour nervously touching up her hair and makeup. She put on the tennis bracelet for the first time, still unsure whether it was a gift of love or a consolation prize.
Was this it—the time when he’d tell her he didn’t want a long-distance relationship?It’s me not you. Let’s just be friends. She fiddled with the bracelet, dragging it around her wrist until she nearly gave herself rope burn.
The doorbell rang.
She’d thought she’d be able to read her future in Carson’s eyes, but when she opened the door and saw him there, looking so good, so vibrant and handsome, it was hard to think of anything except that she wanted to hug him.
Wordlessly, she reached out to him. He enfolded her into his arms and pressed his face into her hair. “Livey,” he murmured.
She felt like crying, and she wasn’t sure whether that emotion was because he was back or because she was already mourning losing him. When she pulled away, she forced a lightness into her voice that she didn’t feel. “Come in. Sit down. Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat.” She’d gone from wanting to search his eyes to avoiding them. Turned out, she didn’t want to know her future after all.
She headed to the kitchen.
“You don’t have to,” he said. “They fed me dinner on the plane.”
“On such a short flight? I thought they only gave out pretzels.”
“First class gets a meal.”
Oh, of course. He could afford first class now. She glanced around her apartment, taking in how small and shabby it must appear to him with its faded couch, mismatched recliners, and worn carpet. “Something to drink then? We could go out if you like.” She suddenly didn’t want him in her apartment where he would be reminded of the vast difference in their salaries. “A new ice cream place opened up and they have great milkshakes.”
He took her hand and pulled her into the living room. “I don’t want to drink anything or go anywhere. I just want to stay here and talk to you.”
Talk or kiss? Her eyes flicked to his face. He looked serious. No sign of his usual playfulness.
He sat down on the couch, pulling her with him. He ran a finger over her bracelet. “You look good in diamonds.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze fixed on his hands. “I see you’re not wearing my wristband. Not your style after all?”
“I told you I’d wear it when I missed you. I didn’t bring it because I knew this weekend I wouldn’t miss you.”
Smooth answer. He’d probably lost it. Her gaze stayed on his hands. They were so much bigger than hers. Her hand was nearly swallowed up in his.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
