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Cade’s gaze narrows. “For getting home late?”
“I’m pretty sure he guessed what I was doing, considering I’ve never gotten home that late before.”
Cade picks up my chin and makes me look at him. “Charley, you’re twenty-two and just had sex for the first time. No one would call you a tramp. Absolutely no one.”
I shrug. Yeah, I know that logically. My dad was only mad because he didn’t get his food, which puts me in a whole other range of emotions about how unfair my life is. I’ve learned from a young age not to go down that rabbit hole, though.
“He should never have said that to you.”
“You’re…mad?”
“Yes. You’re my girl, and there was nothing about what we did last night that would come close to you deserving to be called that.”
I take Cade’s hands. “Thank you.”
He puts his arms around me, kissing my forehead. In this moment, I’m in a Cade bubble, feeling like I can do anything in the world. Like the fire inside me blazes a little brighter.
19
Cade
Even after Brady’s death, football was like going to a therapist. The smell of the grass. The hash marks on the field. Players talking smack. Coaches yelling. It’s like coming home.
I line up, staring straight ahead. No one is across from me since we’re only running plays. Limbering up and stretching our muscles in a way that should be fun. In this case, though, I can’t find the enthusiasm.
Aidan hikes the ball, and I take off for my route. Fake a left, then run along the sidelines. I peer over my shoulder for the ball, and there it is, sailing right in my direction. I gauge the distance, the speed, all within seconds to turn on the throttle so I can make it to the ball.
Breath saws out of my lungs. I’m trying to stay hyper focused on that spiral, but I’m distracted. I’m not only thinking about catching the ball, Charley’s in my head. Or Charley’s father, rather.
I stretch out, jumping at the last second. The ball grazes my fingers. Barely. I think I only got my middle finger on it before I’m plummeting toward the cold, hard ground and skidding.
No catch.
The offensive coach says something to me, and I nod in return as I get up. His words go in one ear and out the other, my brain filled with a rushing in my brain ever since Charley told me her dad called her a tramp.
Atramp.
But the thing that’s beating me up the most is that I never guessed it. This whole time, thinking Charley was a regular college student, only to find out aboutthis. I thought she was a tough nut to crack. One of those moody girls who’s a good fuck, but the fact that she had her shields up the entire time?—
“Farmer, what in the hell are you doing?”
I glance up.
“Get on the line. We’re going again!”
“Got it, Coach.” Shaking my head, I jog toward the line where everyone else is waiting for me, and we run the exact same play again. This time, I’m more off. Aidan underthrows it, and I can’t make the correction.
Aidan throws his hands up like he can’t believe I missed the catch. The pressure that was slowly building inside me snaps. “There are four other receivers on the field, bro!” I yell, making my way back to the line. My feet heavy like cement, the only other thing I can really feel is the beating anger of my heart.
“Try catching the ball!”
“Try throwing it to me.”
“Dude, I’m throwing it where they’re telling me. We’re practicing. Get it?”
“Take ten,” the offensive coach calls with a sigh.
I blow out a breath, and Aidan walks toward me. “Man, you’re usually begging me to throw you the ball. What’s up?”