Fading Out (19 page)

I laugh. “When your boyfriend is a stubborn jock, you kind of have no choice.”

I realize my blunder before his gaze snaps to mine. His eyes are hard on me, his mouth set in a firm line. “You making it official.” It’s more than a question. His determined statement is full of hope that shreds my defenses.

I run my hand through his hair, pushing his dark bangs away from his eyes. Swallow the lump threatening to choke me. “It’s just a word, Ryder. A silly label.” His eyes flash, heated. “We’re so much more—”

“Don’t,” he says, then turns his head to kiss my wrist before he pushes back onto his knees. Staring down at me, he sighs, his broad chest deflating, making me ache all over. “Either you want us as badly as I do, or you don’t, Ari. But don’t try to dismiss it so casually, to downplay it. I’m not really a dumb jock, remember?”

Heat rushes my cheeks. I sit up and brush the sand from my hands. “I’m not saying that you are. Christ, Ryder. It’s just simpler. Less I have to deal with from my family.”

His eyes cloud into a stormy blue. “Have you even told them about us?”

Damn. I open my mouth but no words form. My hesitancy sets him off further, and he doesn’t give me a chance to reply. “Because there’s nothing to tell, right?” he says.

“God. Why are you doing this?” I crawl toward him and rest my hands over his on his thighs, needing a physical connection to him. “They’ll eventually see pics online…I mean, I’m dating the fracking quarterback of the Braxton Bobcats. I’m sure they’ll get a Google alert with my name on it and then I’ll tell them. I just wanted to keep you to myself for a bit longer.” I hear the plea in my voice, but I can see he’s not buying it completely. “Please, just make this—what we have right now—last as long as possible.”

“You keep saying that.” He sighs audibly. Then his gaze shifts and lands on something down the beach. Considering for a long moment before he says, “And when they do find out”—he looks at me—“and if they tell you to stop seeing me?”

A searing ache blooms beneath my breastbone. “I’ll fight that battle when it comes,” I say honestly. Truth is, I have no idea what I’ll do when that finally happens. I know it’s inevitable. It’s a future coming at me in supersonic speed, and I’m idly standing by, just waiting for the moment of impact.

“You’re not sure enough about me yet, though,” he says, low, the wind unable to mask the hurt in his voice. “Not enough to fight for us now.”

I shake my head, because that’s not at all true. But I have no idea why I fear an unknown future with Ryder. Why it’s so difficult to turn my back on a life that I don’t even want in order to choose him. “What do you want me to say, Ryder?” I tilt my head, tears brimming my eyes. I’m so angry. “That after a few intense weeks I’ve fallen helplessly in love with you, and I can’t imagine my life
ever
without you? That’s something from a romance novel. It can’t be real. Because if it is…” I feel a tear spill over, and I gasp on a sob. “If it’s real, then…”

His hands cup my face, lifting my gaze to his. “I swear to you, it’s real. Fight for us, Ari. I would wage the battle all on my own if I could. But it’s your choice that’s going to decide us.”

My eyes close. God, but I knew this couldn’t go on the way it was. And I’m not ready to give it up. I might never be ready.

“Take me to this dinner,” he says, and I open my eyes.

“What?”

He licks his lips. “Either don’t go this weekend, or take me with you to this dinner your stepmom’s been hounding you about. Stop letting your dad flaunt you around. Hell, stop letting him pimp you to eager, rich fuckers wanting to expand their net worth.” His eyes spear me.

All the air vacates my lungs. The thought of introducing Ryder to my father’s friends and colleagues as my boyfriend layers on a whole new level of fear. My father would explode. No, that’s too simple a prediction. I honestly have no idea how my father would react.

When I disappointed him by being expelled from Dartmouth, he sent me away for four months. To rehab. Quietly, without any discussion. I trusted then it was because he was so angry he needed a good amount of time to calm down. Tempting him so close to that catastrophe by bringing Ryder to a family function would trigger a side of him I’m not sure I want to see. Not that he’s violent; he’s never laid a hand on me. But there are other things to fear other than violence.

Complete isolation.

The shut down.

It’s my father's preferred method of dealing with not only me, but everyone. And it’s the worst kind of punishment. Especially for someone who’s spent her whole life seeking acceptance, approval. I’m self-aware enough to admit it—even if it makes me feel just that much more pathetic.

“Ryder, I’m sorry,” I say, finally finding my voice. “But the last thing I’m going to do is parade you around in front of my family and their friends. That’s the absolute worst way to take a stand with my father.”

Running his palms over his jean-clad thighs, he stares down at the sand. “What do I have to do to prove to you that you’re it for me.” His eyes flick up to my face. “I know I’m not the top choice; I don’t have the bank account, or the family status—and my past is littered with a bit too much shame.” My heart pinches, and I open my mouth to stop him, but he presses on. “But I’ve watched you light up with me. You’re…happy is too simple a word. God, I wish I could express just how I know that this is right. It just
is
. So what do I need to do to prove myself to you?”

My knees are going numb as the cold, wet sand creeps past my jeans. My palms ache as my nails dig into my skin. I focus on these physical pains because they’re sobering and easier to deal with than the roiling of my heartache. If I could reach inside my chest and rip the thing out, I would. It’s doing nothing, nothing for Ryder beating in my chest.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” I say, pushing each word past the thickness closing my throat. Then, because I’m so far lost to him, so irreversibly undone, I crawl onto his lap and wrap myself around him.

At first, the tension in his body radiates off him in bands. Tight, corded muscles refusing to relax. Then reluctantly, his arms embrace me, his hand cupping the back of my head and holding me to his chest. I listen to his ramped heartbeat. His heavy breaths.

“I’m yours,” I say, inhaling his scent deeply, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for however long he’ll allow me. “My father be damned. I’ll find a way to make him understand. We both will. Together.” They’re the words my soul has been yearning to scream. “I’ll fight for us.”

I’ve never taken a vow more seriously. This man, I love him. And whether tomorrow brings fights, uncertainty, sorrow, regret—there’s no one else I’d rather face down those challenges with. He’s completely and thoroughly upended my world. And I’m his.

“Trust me,” he whispers in my ear. “I’ll protect you. I’ll be the man you need.”

T
he man
that Ari needs is someone with a plan.

Someone who can take care of her in the way she’s been accustomed to her whole life. I know, I’m not a fool—I get that love trumps all, and it’s what’s on the inside that counts. And all the other shit that’s floating around on little social media images shared all over the world.

And I know we can make it work between us without worldly comforts and financial security—if it came to that. Ari once said she’s nothing like her parents, and I do trust that. She’s not superficial. She’s just
accustomed
. She doesn’t know anything different.

But I do.

I know just how much money issues can stress out a relationship. I watched my parents argue about how to pay bills and send my brother and me to school. The weathered expressions on their faces at Christmas after they worked an additional part-time job to buy a few extra presents. I worked, too. During high school and into my second year of college to put away enough to live off of so I could play ball fulltime. I have a little saved away from my father’s life insurance, but I refuse to touch it. It’s there for emergencies only.

Ari’s had her own struggles, but she’s never had to worry about not having enough money to eat. She’s the most brilliant and supportive person I’ve ever known, and I can’t think of a single thing that would break her spirit. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let anything try.

So that’s why I’ve just come from Coach Carson’s office. After half a year of scouts making offers, attempts to recruit me for teams, I’ve officially made my choice. And Mathis was the only name I needed to hear. It wasn’t that difficult of a decision.

Going pro for Ari feels right.

There’s no buried anger or resentment, like there would’ve been had I made myself accept an offer for my dad. The bitterness of living a life he’d planned out for me. Or rather, a life he’d planned out for my brother, and I got stuck with the hand-me-downs. Fulfilling his dreams where Jake dropped the ball.

With Ari, there’s no sacrifice. She’ll encourage me to write and do the things I love right alongside football. There’s no option, really. I can give her a life, and she can help me live mine.

Because I do have to prove that much to her. That even though her family will never accept me as good enough, I will at least show them I’ll take care of their daughter in the way that’s most important to them.

I’m firm in my convictions as I round the corner toward my dorm room. So confident, in fact, I’m not looking where I’m heading, lost in thought; it was so easy all along. I can’t believe I ever battled the idea of my future. My eyes have been cleared of the fog, everything falling into place.

“Hey, bro.”

My head snaps up and my feet skid to a stop a few feet from my door. Jake is leaning against the wall, a stuffed trash bag at his feet, his arms crossed over his chest. His clothes sag off his tall, lean frame. He used to be massive; a solid wall of muscles and talent. Now, the hard years and probably the most recent stint in jail has transformed him into a lanky version of his former, glorified self.

But I’m in too good of a mood even for Jake’s shit to bring me down. With a wayward nod of acceptance, I reach out and embrace my brother. He claps me on the back. “How’d you get here?” I ask.

Backing out of our awkward hug, he shrugs. “I caught a ride down with a buddy. He got released the same day.”

I nod my understanding. Really, I’m relieved. One less trip I had to make, but still, I’d rather have picked him up. So I could’ve dropped him off somewhere other than here. Which brings me to: “Where you staying?”

“Ryder, relax. I’m not going to cramp your style, man.” He nods to my door. “This still your room?”

“Yeah,” I say, taking out my key and opening the door. “Glad you remembered.” But I’m actually impressed. It’s been about two years since he was last here, and he was sober exactly two days out of that whole week.

As we enter, I’m again relieved; Gavin is out. I’ll have to thank Vee for keeping him so busy lately. I’m not sure how the guys will feel about having Jake around. He’s not the most welcome person around here. Although he went to a different college and played for another team, still, with how things went down with his career, no one wants his bad luck anywhere near.

As Jake sets his trash bag on the floor, he gives my room a once over. I can’t help the tension forming between my shoulder blades. Wondering if he’s already casing my room; scoping out what he can get the most for. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. But one that’s not at all unfounded.

“I’m staying at the Lodge just down the road.” He grabs the remote from my bed and settles on the one chair in the small room. “Figured I’d stick around for a game or two. Give you some pointers. Then maybe head Mom’s way.”

“All right, yeah. Sounds cool,” I say. Though a call, a head’s up, would’ve been appreciated. But that’s Jake. Making it seem like he’s doing you a favor when in fact he’s looking out for himself.

It took most of my life to figure this out. Years of looking up to my big brother, hero-worshiping him, made it painfully difficult to accept. I wanted to continue believing in him—believing the lie. Sometimes it’s easier than facing the truth.

“That bar still downtown?” he asks, pulling me out of my reverie.

And like that, my mood takes a dive. It didn’t take long. The last thing I want to do is bring Jake to a bar where I’ll be forced to babysit him. If he doesn’t wind up back in jail by the end of the night.

Frustration laces my next words. “I have an exam tomorrow, Jake. So, not really in the partying mood.” I shrug a shoulder. “Your showing up is kind of short notice.”

He tosses the remote down after finding nothing interesting on the flatscreen. Turns toward me. “What? Come on. I wanted to surprise you. We haven’t hung out in forever, man.”

“And that’s my fault?” I want to take it back as soon as it leaves my mouth. Fighting with Jake, trying to make a point, is a waste of breath. That’s what I’ve always told myself. I just need to ride this out until he leaves town.

But suddenly—I no longer care how riled he gets. I’ve always backed down from him, not wanting to stir all the bad shit up. Leave it where it settled, keep it buried. I’ve never once confronted him with the truth. And I’m now wondering if that was more for him or me.

With a mock smile, he nods slowly. “I see. Yeah, it’s not your fault I did a two month stretch that”—he cocks his head—“would’ve been spent in the playoff had I not had your back. Again.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and my chest constricts. “But I don’t blame you, bro. That’s the difference between us. I never would’ve let that little cunt come between blood, but I remember how whipped you were. It’s all right.”

I’m across the room and bent over in his face, my hands gripping the arms of the chair, before he gets out the last word. My breaths leave my nose in hard bursts. “This is the only time I’m going to explain it to you,” I grit out. And the lid flies off. I don’t want one more second to pass where I enable the lies between us.

I glare down at him. “So listen, Jake. Listen close. Don’t ever bring Alyssa up again. You built that shit up in your head. Nothing went down the way you want to remember it. Nothing. All right?” I widen my eyes, mirrored fury flashing in his. “I owe you nothing.”

It’s taken me nearly four years to believe those words—
I owe him nothing
. And truthfully, it wasn’t until Ari that the final piece of conviction nailed into place. I’m not my brother. I didn’t hurt Alyssa; would never have wished that abuse on her no matter what she did to me. And I didn’t sick my brother on her that night.

His eyes squint as he holds my gaze. Then a faint smile touches his lips. “God, you’re still such a pussy. I should’ve just let those guys continue beating the shit out of you. Maybe it would’ve manned you up some. Instead,” he adds, shaking his head, “you never fucking grew a pair. You’re still letting everyone boss you around.”

“Not everyone,” I say, backing away from him. I cross my arms over my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my system making me shake.

He laughs. “Bro! Jesus, take it down a notch. I’m just fucking with you.” He pushes out of the chair and snatches his bag up off the floor. As he roots around in it, he brings out a bottle of liquor. Turning to me, he says, “She really was a little cunt, though. Any girl that’d post a video of you getting your shit kicked in all over the Internet deserved to get a taste of how it felt.”

And I deflate. Too many emotions are at war within me, all rioting with a vengeance to dominate. Anger over Jake’s actions. Hurt and rejection stemming from emotional wounds never quite healed. Humiliation from years of being belittled, bullied. But the one cresting right this second—
fear
.

Fear that if I don’t face down these demons once and for all, I could become Jake. Hating the world and blaming it and everyone in it for my weaknesses. My shortcomings.

I shake my head, releasing a stilted breath. “It wasn’t Alyssa who posted that video, Jake. It was her friends. I found that out later. And it was some dumb high school shit at that.” I walk toward my closet to change my shirt, getting ready to ditch this room and get us both out of this confining space. “And even if she had been the one to post it, she didn’t deserve to get her face smashed in. You’re sick. I don’t care how fucked up you were that night, or your claims that you don’t remember—” I pull the shirt over my head, turn toward him “—or the fact that you believe you were defending me. You took it too far. You always do. The team…maybe the team had it coming. But Alyssa? I couldn’t even go to my own graduation. I couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing her. I couldn’t even attempt to apologize for what my crazy-ass brother did to her!”

He makes a disgusted noise. “All those bitches and fuckers at that school…” He trails off, his face contorting in hard creases. “They’re probably all out there now, living it up off their daddy’s money. Fuck them. Do you think they ever think of us? Or
you
? The hell they put us through?” He shakes his head. “Maybe that one night taught them something, Ryder. They can’t just stomp on people and treat them like shit beneath their feet.”

God, he’s so delusional. I realized it before, but it’s never been so clear as right now. “I know you wanted to protect me,” I say, grabbing my jacket from my bed and catching his gaze. “For what it’s worth, as your brother, as your blood…I know that you hated seeing me suffer. For that, I’ll always love you. But for dad…” I stalk toward him and stop when I’m inches from his face; we’re now the same height. “I can’t have anything to do with you. I don’t want you coming back here.”

He points his finger in my face. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Dad.”

“Yeah, you did. And for a long fucking time, I thought I did, too.” I swallow hard. “I thought if I’d just somehow sucked it up, kept my mouth shut, you never would’ve found out about the video shit, then I could’ve prevented it. Then he never would’ve suffered a heart attack.”

He chuckles bitterly. “You really are a fucking pussy, you know that? That man had a heart condition for years, Ryder. He smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, and worked too damn much.”

“Maybe so, but the scandal? All those reporters and Alyssa’s testimony, not to mention your suspension from the team? That’s what pulled the trigger. I’m not going to deny the truth anymore, Jake.” I back up a few steps, done. Just done. “And I won’t share in the blame anymore, either. One day, I hope for your sake, you’ll own up to it.”

He uncaps his liquor and takes a hard swig. Shoving the glass bottle back into his bag, he steps around me and heads for the door, saying, “I guess we were through years ago, then, brother.” He stops before the door, hand secured to the knob. Shakes his head. “My little, soft brother. Look me up when you’ve finally grown a pair.”

The guilt I’d normally feel from his anger and judgment glances right off. I’m sick of walking on eggshells around him, hoping to keep him calm and collected for Mom’s sake; he’s never going to change.

A knock at the door cuts through the suffocating tension of the room. We both turn our heads toward the sound, and I’m spurred into motion. But Jake’s already there. He turns the knob and opens the door wide.

“Holy shit,” he says around a brash laugh. “Oh, fuck. I thought it was her for a minute. No wonder your nuts are all in a vise.” He chuckles as Ari looks at me, a frown line creasing between her brows.

Blood roaring in my ears, I rush to slam the door, but Jake wraps an arm around my neck and pulls me to a halt. “And you call me a sick fuck,” he says. “Are you seriously banging a chick that looks like Alyssa?”

Ari’s gaze traps mine. I watch in helpless slow motion as her features fall, confusion and hurt washing over her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, tearing her gaze away from me and nailing Jake with a hard glare. “Who are you?”

He’s still laughing, the stench of alcohol rolling off him. “She even sounds like her! God, man, you have it bad for snotty-ass, rich bitches.”

I elbow my brother off me and hurry toward Ari. She takes a step back, raising her hand. “Who is this guy, Ryder? What the hell is he talking about?” But before she even has a chance to do a double take, glancing from me to Jake, recognition lights her eyes. “Your brother?”

The way she says it, so dejected, only adds more weight to my already heavy shoulders. “Yeah,” I answer. I watch her features shift as her quick brain works it out, putting all the pieces together. It’s one of the things I love about her; how smart she is.

Only this time, I wish I could outthink her. Have some kind of explanation at the ready. Because as she takes another step away from me, creating a painful distance between us, I can see she’s made the connection.

“Alyssa was the girl,” she says.

Jake slaps my back, and my spine stiffens, my hands ball into fists. “
The
girl,” Jake stresses. “No shit, when I first saw you, I thought you were her. That Ryder just up and lost his freaking mind. That chick was bad news.” He shakes my shoulder. “She really did a mind fuck on Ryde, here. I never saw him cry before until she slapped him.”