Page 26 of Love at Second Down (Boys of Ann Arbor U #2)
I’m tugging my black boots back on as the guys head to the rental counter to return our bowling shoes, when Liz nudges my shoulder. “So?” she asks, glancing back at the guys to ensure we’re still alone. “How did it go? I saw you two talking when we went to get snacks.”
I offer her a small smile. “Thanks for that, by the way. Otherwise, I’m not sure we would’ve had any time alone.
Travis is attentive, which makes me feel kind of crappy about using him and this date to get to Damon,” I say with a grimace.
“Still, I guess it’s worth it. The conversation I had with Damon was .
. . good . I felt something. I mean, I always feel something with him,” I clarify, “but we shared this moment at the end there. Kind of like the one at the dance where I could sense he still feels something for me. That there’s still something real beneath all that anger. ”
Liz beams and claps her hands. “Of course he does. You were in love. That doesn’t just disappear, even a couple years later.”
I bite my lip. Prior to arriving at AAU, I’m not sure I would’ve said the same, but now . . . I think maybe she’s right.
“That was fun,” Travis says, breaking through my thoughts.
I straighten, trying not to meet Damon’s eyes when Travis slings his arm casually over my shoulders.
“But the night’s still young,” he says, giving my shoulders a squeeze.
“You guys want to have a couple beers, play a few games of pool?” He motions toward the opposite end of the alley where there’s a bar and a couple of old pool tables in the back.
My stomach twists, not from nerves exactly, but something tighter, sharper. As much as I’d hate for this night to end and risk leaving Damon with Liz, I have no desire to continue this charade with Travis any longer when all I want to do is get Damon alone.
Meeting my gaze, Liz reads my sinking expression and perks up. “I’m down,” she chirps, then glances at Damon whose gaze meets mine.
“Can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “Sorry. I have to lift with the team first thing in the morning, followed by class and film review. Besides, I don’t drink before games.”
“Always the responsible one,” I mutter with a smile.
His mouth quirks. “Some things don’t change.”
Our eyes lock for a moment and I whisper, “No, they don’t.”
Beside me, Travis clears his throat, and I jerk my gaze up to his when he asks, “Avery? What about you?”
“Um, I’m not much of a drinker, either,” I say gently, watching his face fall just a little. “But you two should stay.” I gesture between him and Liz. “Seriously. Have some drinks for us and play a couple rounds.”
Travis frowns, glancing at Damon as if asking for permission. With the sweep of a hand, he motions toward Liz. “If Liz is alright with it . . .” Damon trails off, waiting for confirmation from her, and when she nods, he says, “then you two have fun.”
“You’re sure?” Travis asks, glancing between us, obviously wanting to stay but not wanting to step on any toes.
I smile, trying to put him at ease. “Totally.”
“Okay, then.” Travis takes a step back, motioning for Liz to follow as he smiles. “Come on.”
Liz passes me, squeezing my arm with a whispered, “You’ve got this.”
Once they’re gone, I turn back to Damon, unsure of how he feels about this turn of events. Even though he and Liz weren’t exactly hitting it off, I wonder how disappointed he is that the night is ending this way?with him headed home early and his date staying behind.
“Looks like I’m out of a ride,” I say, breaking the silence. “Would you mind . . .?”
Damon’s jaw ticks—just once—but after a beat, he shrugs. “Sure.”
He waits as I pull on my coat then grab my purse, walking silently beside me as we step outside into the cold and head for his car.
When he unlocks the door, I slide into the passenger seat, swallowed by that old familiar scent of leather and spearmint and something distinctly Damon.
My hands brush against the worn fabric of my seatbelt, and a rush of memories tugs at me.
Late nights with the windows down, laughter spilling into the summer air.
Quiet drives home after a hard-won football game, our fingers entwined over the console.
It feels like I’ve slipped back into a forgotten dream, everything in its place, nothing changed.
The car purrs to life beneath us, a low, comforting rumble as he turns on the heat, and when the warm air hits my cheeks, I’m jolted back to countless other cold nights when this car felt like our own little world.
I shiver slightly, not from the chill but from something deeper that’s harder to shake.
Damon says nothing as he pulls into traffic, and I wonder if he feels it too when his eyes flick toward me.
Tension crackles in the space between us, the silence loaded and heavy, as I sift through about a dozen ways to break it: a joke, an apology, a simple acknowledgment of what’s really happening here, what’s been happening since the moment I arrived on campus.
“You still hate the snow?” Damon asks, breaking the silence first.
I let out a breathy laugh, surprised and relieved all at once. “I’m surviving,” I say. “It is beautiful, though,” I muse as we pass a field of snow-covered trees, their icy limbs reaching into the sky like arms illuminated by the moonlight.
“I was surprised you chose Harvard. I figured if you wanted to get away from me, you would’ve gone somewhere warmer.”
His words are like a knife, slicing through flesh and bone.
“Damon,” I breathe, “I wasn’t trying to get away from you.
I . . .” I trail off, knowing I can’t tell him, not yet.
Not until I’m sure he’s ready. “I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” I say, instead.
“My parents wanted me to go to Harvard.”
Damon nods, and I notice the way his grip tightens on the steering wheel. “And how did you convince them to let you transfer?”
“I didn’t,” I say. “I did it without their knowledge or approval, and certainly without their support. They only found out recently, but I can tell you, they’re not happy.”
He huffs out a laugh as he comes to a stop at a red light, turning to look at me. “Avery Astor going against her parents’ wishes?” He arches a brow. “Maybe some things do change.”
The light turns green, and he continues toward campus. We don’t talk for the next few blocks, but it’s not for lack of wanting to. There are a million things I need to say, but I don’t know where to start. And I don’t know if he’ll even listen.
Words hang between us, unspoken as the miles pass, and when he finally slows to a stop in front of the dormitories, I’m both surprised and disappointed that the ride is over so fast.
He shifts the car into park, but I don’t make any move to get out and he doesn’t ask me to. Taking this as a good sign, I tuck my legs beneath me, turning to face him. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
“Which part?” he asks, still staring ahead.
“Ruining your date.”
“It was never a real date, though, was it?” he asks, finally turning to face me.
“No. But I’m sorry if you wanted it to be. If you feel something for Liz, or anyone else for that matter, I hope you know I wouldn’t stand in your way. At the end of the day, all I want is for you to be happy.”
“Is that why you came here and turned my world upside down? Because you want me to be happy?” he asks, disbelief coloring his tone.
“Are you happy?” I ask, dodging the question.
He shrugs. “Sometimes. In the moment, when I’m on the football field with my friends, yes.”
“And the rest of the time?”
He laughs, but the sound is brittle, prone to breaking.
“There is nothing else. I go to practice and class, then home. I go to games and work my ass off, praying it’s enough.
Occasionally, I hang out with the guys, which is just another way to pass the time in between my time on the field, but there’s no real joy in it.
There’s not much joy in anything these days.
And if you must know, I don’t really want to date again.
The guys just thought it would help me move on, but I think it’s all bullshit.
Part of me thinks I’m just broken. Maybe I always will be. ”
“Damon, you’re not broken.” His words tear my insides to shreds, like a wood chipper to my heart. “And if you are, then I am, too.”
His throat works, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “How would you know?”
“I know because I broke us, and that’s not the same thing as you being broken.”
“Feels the same.” He shifts, releasing his grip on the steering wheel to run his hands through his hair with a growl.
“It’s not. Trust me.”
“Trust you, huh?” A bitter laugh rumbles from his chest as he glances down at the steering wheel. “At one time I did trust you, more than anything.”
His words hit their mark, and I fight the urge to visibly wince. “I know, and you have no idea how badly I wish I could take it all back, wipe away the last two and a half years, and start over. Because I swear, I would do everything differently.”
His jaw ticks. “That makes two of us.”
My heart aches with the weight of all the things I want to say, but I choke on the words, afraid of what might tumble out if I let them loose.
The urge to tell him the truth nags at me like a splinter buried deep beneath my skin—small but relentless, impossible to ignore, and growing more painful the longer I leave it untouched.
Telling him the truth now, before I’m sure he’s ready and willing to forgive me, is a risk. It could hurt the ones I love?destroy lives?all while closing the door on us forever and erasing any chance he’ll ever forgive me.
He looks at me in the silence, waiting, and I know it’s now or never. Sometimes love means risking everything. And if I ever want another chance with Damon, I need to stop wasting time and prove to him he can trust me again by opening up, by telling him my secrets.
Even if it means giving him the power to destroy me and my family.