“I’ll text you the address in a few minutes,” he says, leaning in to express the supreme nature of confidentiality he’s about to break.
“Thanks,” I tell him, and I turn away toward my car. “Anything else I can do to help, with the college I mean...” I trail off.
As long as it’s not tonight.
Maybe not for the next few nights, if I have my wish granted.
“Are you sure you won’t just say a few words, Trent? It would mean a lot. To me and to the college,” the Dean echoes, but it’s no good asking me anything now.
I’ve made up my mind, what I want, and I’d trade every dime I have for another chance at tonight with Brooke Wheatley.
I couldn’t care less if her dad was the devil himself. She’s mine.
If she’ll have me of course.
My old football injuries are beyond aching by the time I reach the car, and after I strip to my boxers, I change into a spare set of clothes I always have in the trunk. An emergency suitcase of stuff in case I get called away or have to stay somewhere on business.
I’m changed and refreshed by the time I get the Dean’s text, followed by his call.
“I’m just wanting to make sure she gets home safe,” is all he needs to know. “If there’s time or even a chance of it, I’ll see if I can stop by before the nights over,” I tell him too.
The least I can offer in way of thanks for him doing me the solid by giving me her address.
Pulling away from the college with a little too much speed, I hear my tires screech at the first corner as I speak the address into my GPS.
I feel a similar thrill from her touch, knowing where she might be, racing to find her.
And what exactly are you gonna tell her?
Hopefully, too many words won’t be required.
Like I told the Dean, I just want to make sure she got home safe.
If she went home, that is.
If she didn’t then I guess it’s plan B.
Which I don’t exactly have figured out yet, but it would probably run along the lines of going back to the reunion and having her dad call her to make sure she’s okay. Followed by me going to her wherever she is.
But I sense she’s just gone home.
It’s turning into a terrible night, with the rain coming back with a vengeance.
It’s too wet and windy to be out doing much of anything except staying warm and inside in weather like this.
Just be home, Brooke.
Just be home.
Chapter Seven
Brooke
If I had somewhere else to go, I would.
The idea of being home when dad may be bringing home a ‘date’ from his reunion is enough to make me feel worse than I already do.
We’ve never spoken about having visitors or god forbid sleepover friends, dad, and me.
It’s kind of always been the unspoken understanding that neither of us would have to worry about that ever happening.
Stupid dress.
I practically peel it off me and step out of everything else once the front door is closed and locked behind me.
I’m soaked through and only want a hot shower, something in my belly, and then sleep.
But I have this nagging feeling that tonight isn’t over yet somehow, and I’m dreading my dad coming home now more than anything.
I just want to put all this stupid Trent Latham stuff behind me and move on with my life.
Oh god.
The thought of my whole life ahead of me is equally depressing, maybe more so.
I groan, almost painfully once I do hit the shower. As nice as it feels, the thought of not seeing Trent again causes a lump in my throat that won’t go away.
I’m not gonna cry over it. I’m not gonna cry over anyone anymore.
I’m no stranger to being hurt, and it’s not as if Trent said or did anything nasty on purpose. He was nothing but a complete gentleman.
Probably just not into younger, thick girls and that’s okay too.
I tell myself all this and more as I gradually relax a little and feel warm enough to decide I’ll have a microwave meal, some ice cream, and an early night.
I hope my dad does have better luck than I did, he deserves some happiness after all.
Ah, crap.
I should’ve texted him, called him even. Now it’s been so long since I left the damned reunion it’ll be awkward, so I decide to just leave it.
Checking my phone I can see he hasn’t called either, so maybe he’s having too good a time for me to interrupt him anyway.
With dad out, I can crank up the thermostat without him getting on my case and I slip into my comfy jammies.
The ones with all the holes in all the wrong places, but they’re so damned cozy on a night like this and they just don’t make them like this anymore.