“Heads, Lincoln-Wood gets it,” the ref booms, and our quarterback decides to defer the kickoff, setting us up to receive the ball during the second half. Then, the game begins.
I watch the game but keep a steady eye on Emma, hoping for a moment to strike. We’re halfway through quarter one, and neither team has any points on the board. EU has the ball and is third and one at the sixty-yard line.
The ball is snapped, and before their quarterback can get in position to see who’s open, our defensive tackle is on him, and as Eastland University’s quarterback falls to the ground, the ball pops out. Both teams scramble for it. EU-hoping to recover it, and LWU-hoping to capitalize off the fumble.
Rowan scoops up the ball and shoots up the field, dodging offensive players. He’s nearly clipped at EU’s ten-yard line, but Rowan spins, hopping over the player who is diving for his legs before running it in.
Cheers erupt across the stadium, but I barely hear them. My focus is lasered in on my angel. She’s out of her seat, whooping and shouting, and I make a mental note to tell Rowan. The dick needs some cheering up-we all do. But Rowan is taking the brunt of it. He agreed to be the one who was cold while we got to act indifferent. And while we all will owe her recompense, Rowan will have to prove none of what he’s said was true.
Emma leans over, whispering something in one of the marked-for-death bodyguard’s ears. I think that’s Fernando or Nando, whatever the fuck he’s called. He nods and follows her out of their box.
Peering over to the cheer squad, I notice Samantha’s eyes glued on Rowan’s ass. She’s practically foaming at the mouth. My guess is she’s picturing the “sex” they had at the party. I’m almost giddy, picturing the horror that will mar her face when she discovers the truth. Her shock might even elicit an actual reaction from her usually frozen features. I use her distraction to sneak out of the stadium.
I’m halfway up the third flight of stairs when Thomas comes into view. “What are you doing up here?” he asks, arching a jet-black brow in my direction. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the field?”
“Still on the injury list,” I reply.
His chin dips in understanding. “So, you’re not playing. That doesn’t explain why you’re on this floor.”
I swallow my retort. If I have any hope of getting past Thomas to Emma, I’ll have to play nice. “I just need to see her, T. I’ve been trying for weeks to get her alone, just once,” I plead.
“You know you’re treading on dangerous grounds, right? You have a device in your arm that could be set off at any given time,” he explains.
My nostrils flare at the reminder, but my determination is renewed when I remember it’s homecoming. “If Samantha did anything here, her existence would be wiped from history. Today is the perfect day to push the envelope.”
Thomas glares down at me for another second before turning to speak into his earpiece. “You’ve got ten minutes. By halftime, you need to be back on the field like you never left, and if she refuses to speak to you, you’re out.”
“Got it,” I readily agree, darting past him up the final set of stairs.
The best part of how this stadium is constructed is that each family suite has complete privacy-no shared hallways or bathrooms. So the only person I see is Fernando, and he shoulder-checks me. “What’s your problem?” I snap.
“Rich, asshole pricks like you,” he retorts.
“Says the rich prick to the other rich prick. I think you’re projecting, but none of that currently matters. Move out of my way, or I’ll slice you a new airway.”
Chuckling, he says, “You think you scare me, Pretty Boy?
“You’ve underestimated me if I don’t, and that’s an error on your part. One I’ll happily rectify after I see my girl. Now move the fuck out of my way.” I spit through clenched teeth. My hand is already wrapped around Lizzie.
“Escucha, cabr?n, no me asustas,” he shoots off in rapid Spanish, thinking I won’t understand. “I’m letting you through because it’s an order, but if you hurt her, your little knives won’t save you from me, comprende?”
My lip curls. “Yeah, I got you,
Asshole.
“
Fernando steps out of my way, but he mumbles, “Pinche malditos idiotas ni?os ricos y sus estuoidos pendejos cuchillos.” Then, I pull open the door to the bathroom.
I slide Lizzie back into her holster and run my thumb along Lola’s handle.
“Nando, I’ll be out in a minute.”
Closing my eyes, I bask in the melodic sound of her voice, and for the first time in months, I truly breathe.
The stall door opens, but she remains frozen in place until I hear her gasp. “Karl.”
Emma’s mouth hangs open, but the words are stuck in my throat. I can’t believe she’s here, and I’m in touching distance with nothing and no one keeping us apart.
I let my feet move since my mouth won’t work. I don’t stop walking until I’m standing toe-to-toe with her. Watery silver eyes peer up at me, and I lift my hand to cup her cheek, finally finding my voice.
“Angel.”
EMMA
Ilean into his touch, one I thought I’d never feel again. I refuse to make any sudden movements in case this is all in my head. I want to live here forever.
A tear escapes at the sound of him saying my name, the one only he calls me. . .
Angel. It plays on repeat, a skipping soundtrack I never intend to fix.
“Don’t cry, Angel,” he murmurs, wiping the rivulets of tears now flowing freely down my face. “Don’t cry,” Karl repeats.
I suck in a lungful of air at the brush of his lips against my skin. Karl clasps my neck, bringing his forehead to mine. “You’re. . . you’re really here,” I stutter, lifting my head.
“Home,” he growls, pressing his mouth against mine, and I’m lost. All thought and reason vanish as our tongues dance.
I allow myself to bask in the feel of him a moment longer before I push him away. “What are you doing here?” I demand, praying my voice doesn’t betray me. “Shouldn’t you be down on the field watching your friends play and your fianc?e cheer?”
Karl winces, hurt and anger burning in his hazel eyes. “She’s not my anything,” he snaps, running his fingers through his unkempt hair.
“What the hell do you mean?”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t explain??”
I snort, interrupting him. “Oh, let me guess. You can’t tell me, and I have to trust you?” I cross my arms and continue. “Well, that ‘I can’t tell you, but you have to trust me’ bullshit line is getting old. It should be the town slogan. ‘Welcome to Calloway, where lies run rampant and promises are never followed through.’”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.