a shake of his head, as his fingers brush along her back, soothing her.
Ella backs up out of the room, and I slowly close the door, not to disturb them. We both go to my room and sit on the bed, dumbfounded from what we saw.
“Do you think…” she starts to ask me.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Friendship?”
“They’ve hated each other since I introduced them our freshman year, Cros.” Ella’s baffled face puzzles me more.
Either Brax has changed a hell of a lot over the last two years, or he’s hiding something.
“Well, at least someone’s taking care of her.” Ella scoots closer to me, and I lay us down on the bed.
The music thumps the floorboards, and I pull her closer.
“Watching you fight got me hot,” I say.
A wicked smile crosses her face.
“Really?” She circles out of my hold and climbs on my lap.
“You were all protective of me. My dick needs some reassuring that you’ll never let another woman touch it again.”
“Oh, does it?” Her hand snakes down my chest and unbuckles my jeans. “Well then, let me make sure I remind it who it belongs to.” She slides down the length of my body and rests between my legs.
“Damn, baby,” I mumble when she pulls my cock out of my jeans and deep-throats me.
I jot down a note about study group for Ella and climb into my truck. She won’t miss me today since she has her own study group this afternoon.
The drive down to Beltline still grips my heart as much as the first time I passed that sign. It’s nothing special, just a simple sign with Welcome to Beltline and a population number staked into the ground.
This time, when I pull into the Fords’ driveway, Mrs. Ford is outside with a family. If I had not been daydreaming about Ella and instead been paying attention to where I was going, I’d have driven by, but now, I have no choice but to park and talk to him.
Two boys and a girl run around the yard as a woman chases them. All eyes turn toward me, and my heart grips for them. It’s Coach Weathers and his family.
Shutting the engine off, I sit for a second. I could be polite and wait for them to leave before getting out of my truck. Surely, they don’t want to see me. I ruined their lives.
Coach Weathers, being the Good Samaritan and all-around awesome guy, stopped that night of the crash. He helped me attempt to get Noah out, but then a tree branch fell onto the coach’s back, paralyzing him from the neck down.
I sit in my truck, staring ahead, pulling my phone out so as not to interrupt their conversation.
“Lynch, get your ass out here!” Coach Weathers’s booming voice continues to incite a rapid pulse in me to do whatever he demands.
I toss my phone in the cup holder and walk out. His wheelchair is a few steps away, and his wife and kids all walk over. My heart constricts, and my mouth dries. I wish I were a superhero and possessed some power to form into liquid, so I could slide under my car like the oil leak I believe I am.
“No hug?” Coach Weather says.
I step forward, about to place my hand out for him.
“Get off me,” he adds before I get too close.
“Don’t mind him, Crosby. Crankier than ever.” Mrs. Weathers approaches and lovingly puts her arms around my shoulders.
I stiffen.
“It’s good to see you,” she whispers.
“Put your arms around my wife,” Coach Weathers dictates.
I lightly pat her back.
“Better.”
“Stop it, Dean.” Mrs. Weathers shoos him with her hand and then bends down to kiss his forehead.
Coach Weathers’s eyes close briefly, showing how much that woman could bring him to his knees—if only he could get to his knees. With that thought, the guilt racks up another layer.
“Do you mind if I take Crosby on a little walk?” he asks Mrs. Ford, who is currently handing out cookies and lemonade to the kids.
“Please do before he hurts that arm while sanding my floors.” She smiles over at us.
“I’ll leave you two,” Mrs. Weathers says. But then she approaches me again. “Come around more often.” She pats my forearm and walks away.
“Come on then. Give the man who taught you everything a push.”
I unclench my fist and put my keys in the pocket of my track pants, steadily walking to the back of his chair.