Page 32 of His to Protect

“Fine.” His shoulders dropped and he reached for a North Face jacket. “But call me if you need anything. Or if something happens.”

“I will. Promise.”

I wouldn’t, but the small lie seemed to make him feel better. With a quick brush against the top of Boomer’s head and a command for him to take care of his mama, Declan gave me a quick wave goodbye and headed out the door.

Once he was gone, Boomer let out a sad, high-pitched whine.

“Come here, boy,” I said and slowly got to my feet. I’d been sitting on the couch reading a book for the last few hours and my legs were cramped from the position. “Let’s go for that walk.”

“Woof!” His tail thumped against the floor and he began jumping against the front door.

With another quiet laugh, I grabbed Boomer’s leash, slipped on my shoes, and headed out for a quiet walk in the brisk afternoon air.

It surprised me how fast fall hit in Michigan. In Kentucky, the weather stayed in the eighties through most of September, sometimes into October. But the temperatures had been in the low seventies, and last night I heard on the news that the leaves of the trees would be changing their colors soon. It seemed as if everything weather-related here happened a few weeks earlier than I was used to.

“C’mon, Boomer.” I tugged on his leash, getting him next to my right hip where he generally walked with ease, and we headed out. We walked for almost an hour, while I kept track of streets and turns so I could find my way back to Declan’s without any problems. The last thing I wanted to do was get lost. When we returned to Declan’s house, my limbs ached with the immediate aftereffects of a decent workout.

My shirt stuck to my back, slightly damp from sweat, and while I chugged a bottle of water, I watched Boomer lick his water up from his bowl as if his very life depended on it.

“Woof!”

I laughed softly. Drool dripped from his jowls, making me crinkle my nose. “Gross,” I muttered and patted him on the head. “I’m going to head up and take a bath. You take care of the house while I’m gone. Deal?”

“Woof!”

—

I was curled on the couch, in what had become my standard position, resting against the right armrest. Next to me was a plate of nachos I’d nuked in the microwave and a glass of red wine.

My body was slightly tender from the workout, yet relaxed from the combination of the long bubble bath and the wine I’d been sipping while I flipped through channels.

As I was flicking through the numerous sports stations, my finger paused on the channel button when I saw a familiar football stadium.

The University of Kentucky’s Commonwealth Stadium was on the screen, shown in all its beautiful glory.

I wasn’t raised to be a football fan, but somewhere along the way, as happens to most people born and bred in Kentucky, a love for the Wildcats got into my blood. It was in part because that’s where I went to college—to my mother’s chagrin, because she attended the University of Louisville, Kentucky’s greatest rival. That was how my family started our playful football rivalry.

It might also have been because those were the last pure, good, happy memories I had of my mother and father, before he passed and my heart began to ache.

My college years were the last years of my life when I felt free, and as I stared at the television screen, watching the game between the Wildcats and the South Carolina Gamecocks begin, I let the roar of the crowd in a stadium that seated almost seventy thousand crazed fans seep into my soul. Memories of a life when I was carefree and full of joy came rushing back.

Like sorority rush week.

That first week of classes as a freshman, when the campus felt too large, and I walked around feeling more lost than ever. Yet it hadn’t taken long for that campus, and the dorm room that I shared with a girl named Rachel Evans—a girl who chose a competing sorority house, which pitted us against each other from the very beginning—to become my home.

I cried at the end of my freshman year when I had to go home for the summer. I had wanted to stay on campus instead of going back to my hometown, a hometown that had always been good to me. I hadn’t wanted to leave the security and connections I’d found on campus.

And when I returned for my sophomore year and moved into my Alpha Chi sorority house, it was with a larger smile and a confidence I’d never had before.

I grew in college. I became stronger, more assured of myself. I learned how to handle drunken assholes and escape parties without being taken advantage of. I learned the meaning of overnight cram sessions and showing up for finals with eyes feeling like they’d been scoured with sandpaper.

I learned who I was.

And somehow, just a year after graduation, I threw that girl away and became someone I never wanted to see again.

A forceful puff of breath left my lips as I shook off memories that came after all the good times.

I didn’t want to think about Kevin.

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