The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football #1) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,113
he must have asked me something.
“Um, what floor?” he inquires.
“Oh, sixth.”
He pushes it. And he’s not him, not him, not him.
I’m in a daze when I walk into the classroom, the same one from last semester. It makes me gasp. I didn’t even notice it on my schedule.
Benji waves at me, and I head his way and sit next to him.
“I can’t believe you talked me into adding this at the last minute,” he grumbles. “At this rate, I could be an English major.”
I push out a laugh. He’s been in and out of my apartment for the past couple of days—with Lila. I’m happy for them, I am, but…
I miss River so much.
The professor starts the lecture, and I try to focus as she runs through the syllabus.
I’m not listening. I’ve racked my brain for a way to fit me into his life, and I can’t see it.
If I knew where he was going to end up, I might take a stab at finding a law school there, but most universities have already closed their admissions for the fall.
Benji leans in. “Hey, he told me to give you this, said he wanted you to have something the first day. He dictated and I wrote it. Dude is a poet if you ask me. Never knew that about him.” He slides a note over, and I take it with trembling fingers.
* * *
Anastasia,
I wake up every day and my first thought is, I wonder what skirt you’re wearing. Then, I go to sleep and dream of you. Happy times we’ll have. They’ll come true someday.
My three things for you today: live with no regrets; breathe, baby, just breathe; and like your mom said, a jug fills drop by drop, and soon ours will be full.
It just takes time. Don’t give up on us.
I feel you. Even from here, I feel you, and I love you.
* * *
I stand up at my desk, my chest rising. He’s killing me with this.
He left and I get it, I do, but what am I doing? I don’t want to be this lost without him. I don’t!
What if…what if I…
“Ana?”
I blink rapidly and look at Benji. “I can’t do this.”
His eyes flare. “What do you mean? Ana, wait! You need to help me in this class!”
But I’m gone, running out the door, past the professor, past the students. I’m in the elevator, my hands shaking as I run from the only place I’ve called home, because it isn’t anymore, it just isn’t.
He told me to live without regrets, to breathe, and to let the jug fill up, but…
I want the jug to be full. Now.
After meeting with my advisor for an hour, then going to the admissions office and filling out forms, I get in my car and drive the two hours to Atlanta. Once I’m at the airport, my adrenaline has spiked, and I barley recall using my credit card to buy a direct flight to Albany. The flight is a blur.
My mind races as we land. I rush past luggage and get a rental car. Charge it. Who cares?
It’s three hours later when I pull up to the two-story white colonial. The address is in my phone; it’s where I sent gifts for River and his family for Christmas. A fur blanket for his mom, a unicorn for Callie, a scarf for his sister, a photo of me and River skiing for him.
My phone is dead, and I haven’t been able to call him, which is okay, maybe it’s for the best. He might have talked me out of it.
His truck is here. Good. His meeting with the scout is over.
Nerves fly at me and I push down my anxiety.
I knock on the door then fidget as I adjust my skirt and purple sweater. The wind blows and I pull his varsity jacket around me, the one he left for me.
A little girl opens it. Callie. She’s adorable in person!
She blinks. And blinks. Then smiles. “Wow! It’s so pretty!”
She’s looking at my hair.
I laugh, then bite my lip. “You are too. It’s good to see you, Callie.”
“Who’s there?” comes a woman’s voice, one I recognize from FaceTime.
She comes to the door using a cane to walk. She’s wearing leggings with a baggy Pythons sweatshirt, and her hair is soft stubble on top. Her eyes are blue, startling me with the fierceness.
She lets out a surprised gasp, then reaches out and pulls me inside. She doesn’t speak, not a word, for an entire