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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Kelton

“That blonde played your drunk ass.” Tripp laughs and I can’t even get mad about it. It’s true, she saw me coming and noticed my guard was down. I’ve always been good about that, avoiding situations that could backfire. It pisses me off that I’ve managed to put myself in the spotlight now.

“Is her hand on your?” Evan leans in closer and I wait for it. “Nope it is inside the waistband of your jeans.” He laughs. “You had to be smashed not to notice that.”

They all carry on, hassling me and when coach walks by I can’t even look him in the eyes. I can feel his disappointment without eye contact.

“How’s Emerson feel about this?” Murph asks and he actually looks genuinely concerned.

“Haven’t talked to her,” I confess. “Called a few times, but she sends me to voicemail.” He doesn’t respond just pats me on the back and walks away. What can he say? I did this, I put myself in this spot.

Despite my mood, we won our game. And when everyone mentioned going out for a drink after to celebrate, I instead went back to my place. I don’t know if they were actually going or if it was more of a dig at me. Regardless my ass wasn’t setting foot in a bar for a long ass time.

I sent my sister a text and got no response. When I called Gran she listened, then she told me how foolish I’d been. I didn’t argue, because I had no fight to win.

Sitting back on my couch, I close my eyes and hold my phone securely hoping it will ring.

My head is pounding, my body aches, and I can feel my eyes growing heavier.

Last night wasn’t a peaceful sleep. If I’m being truthful, the last several days haven’t been peaceful.

I find myself reaching out for Emerson in the middle of the night, only to come up empty.

Then I lie awake, thinking of her, and before I know it the sun is rising. It’s a vicious cycle.

I’m woken up by the sound of my phone ringing , and I sit up quickly hearing my phone hit the hardwood floor. Scrambling to find it I hit answer and lift it to my ear.

“Hi, yes, hello, hi,” I fumble, almost dropping it twice.

I’m met with laughter and it’s the greatest sound I’ve heard all day.

“Please tell me that I didn’t interrupt another wild night out,” Emerson says and I close my eyes thankful she’s finally called.

“No more nights out,” I confess. “That is not the norm for me.”

“I know.”

She falls silent and my pulse quickens.

“It’s not what it looked like,” I interrupt the silence. “You have to know that.”

“I do.”

“You do?” I’m surprised, but so fucking relieved I sag back against the cushions on the couch.

“We’ve been a little off lately,” Emerson says like she’s spent all day thinking this very thing over. I could interject and tell her everything is great, but I’d be lying. She’s right, things have felt off, forced even.

“I didn’t want to have this talk over the phone, but?—”

“Wait,” I say, quickly stopping her mid sentence. “Just give me a minute.” I’m up off the couch, pacing my living room. “Just wait,” I tell her again trying to come up with the perfect thing to say.

“Kelton,” Em whispers, and my stomach feels like it bottoms out. “I didn’t call to tell you this wouldn’t work. I called to find out what we can do to make sure it does.”

“Whatever it takes,” I tell her without hesitating.

We talk for a few hours, and three words dance on the tip of my tongue the entire time. But I don’t want her to be hundreds of miles away when I tell her, I want her in my arms. I want to see her face, taste her lips and I want her to see mine too.

When I wake up the next morning, I’m still on the couch, the phone resting on my chest and I can’t help but smile.

Picking it up I see that we are still connected and I press it to my ear.

“Em,” I say and if I listen close enough I can faintly hear her soft snore. If I close my eyes and focus it almost feels like she is right here with me.

“Em,” I try again only this time a little louder. “Babe?”

Her breath gets louder and then I hear a rustling.

A little side noise, things getting muffled and then once again clear.

“Hello.” Her voice is laced with sleep. The low raspy whisper I’d heard the few nights she’d slept in my bed.

“Morning,” I offer, my cheeks aching from the smile on my lips.

“Good morning,” she replies. “I don’t even remember falling asleep.”

“This is how we make it work.” I sit up. “We may not be side by side, being able to touch one another but we can still fall asleep sharing our days. We can wake up and start our mornings together too.”

It may be a little cheesy, but I don’t care. Until I have her back here in the way I truly want her to be, this will have to work.

Emerson tells me I am crazy with a laugh but never once disagrees. So it’s decided and for now it would have to work.