Page 92 of Fair Catch
“Why?!” she screamed when she reached me, and her fists rained down on my chest as she did. She hit me once, twice, then in sync time and time again as the same question flew from her lips. “Why?!”
I tightened my jaw, accepting every blow without trying to stop her.
“Why did you have to prove me right?” She cried, her nose flaring against the tears bulging in her eyes. Her fists slowed, though she still pressed them into my chest. Her next words were a whisper. “I wanted so desperately for you to prove me wrong.”
My bottom lip quivered, and when she peered up at me with those devastating eyes, I couldn’t fight anymore.
I pulled her into me, wrapping her in my arms against the choked sob she released when I did. She writhed, bucking against me, but I held on tight until she slowed, until she was still but for her strangled breaths.
Then, she fisted her hands in my hoodie and held on like I was her lifeline.
I expelled a shaky breath, cradling her head to my chest and squeezing her tight. I didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move other than to hold her steady as she broke in my arms. I inhaled the scent of her hair, ached as I remembered so vividly what she felt like pressed against me, what her warmth did not only to my body, but my soul.
As quickly as the moment had come, it was gone.
Riley sniffed, shoving me off her without meeting my eyes. She turned and stormed for the locker room like nothing had happened.
“Wait.”
The word was a quiet plea, one I was sure she’d ignore, but she paused a few yards away, her body stiff as she turned to face me with puffy red eyes.
“I can never take back what I did,” I said, swallowing down the nerves threatening to silence me. “It’s not the only choice I’ve made that will haunt me for as long as I breathe. But I can tell you that I never meant to hurt you, Riley. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Her nose flared, and she went to turn but stopped when I continued.
“But I also realize that doesn’t matter — because I did. I did hurt you. And what guts me more than anything is that you had to pay the consequences alongside me.”
Her expression was unreadable, but she was listening.
I took that as a miracle.
“There’s nothing I can say, nothing I can do, to make any of this better. If I could go back in time and undo that day, I would — no matter what it cost me in the end. If I could go back and never even come into your or Gavin’s life at all, I’d do it. Even if it killed me, Riley, I would do it to spare you.”
Her lip trembled, a silent tear sneaking free and rolling down her cheek.
“I don’t expect you to ever forgive me. And I don’t expect to ever have the chance to hold your heart in my hands again. But I need you to know this,” I said, stepping toward her. “You hold mine. You own mine. For now, forever, regardless of what happens next. And even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I need you to know that I love you.”
All the pain in her expression released, replaced by wide eyes of shock.
“And I believe in you,” I continued. “So… if I have to lose you, I’m prepared to do it. But I at least needed you to know that.”
I was barely able to choke the words out before my body revolted, turning from her and jogging down the field toward where the balls were without letting me look back. I couldn’t stand to have her that close without reaching for her again, couldn’t look her in the eyes after confessing that I loved her when it was far too late.
My hands trembled as I retrieved each ball, shucking them one by one into the duffel bag.
When I finally dared to look where she was standing, the space was empty now, and the field quieter than ever.
My heart sank with the realization that what I had offered wasn’t enough.
But at least she knew now. There was no room for her to ever question what we had, to ever wonder if she’d imagined it all or if it was real.
She knew.
And though my chest was hollow and aching, I could hold my head high knowing that.
Riley
“You look like you’re going to throw up.”
I glared at my brother, who grabbed the waste bin on the other side of his hotel bed and put it on the mattress between us, patting the plastic assuredly.
“I’m not going to throw up.”
“I don’t know, sweetie,” Mom said, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing the back of her hand against my forehead. Her hair was the same deep shade of brown as my own, thick and silky other than the bit of gray peppering the roots. She was slight like me, too, barely making a dip in the mattress when she sat next to me. “You do look a little pale.”
