Stupidly, I’d traveled home to New Jersey the day before, licking my wounds and under the guise of wanting to check on my dad—when I only wanted a hug from him—before heading to my new school. I should have gone straight there as soon as the trimester ended but I didn’t, making all kinds of stupid excuses.
I could lie to myself all I wanted, but the truth was I still liked Blane. I wanted to see him happy and successful. It couldn’t be with me, but maybe I’d catch him making out with a ball baby. Perhaps seeing him move on with my own eyes would finally shut my fucking head up.
Earlier this morning, fully ashamed with myself for making excuses, I boarded the train to New York City. As I’d walked to the subway and then the thirteen blocks to the Garden, anticipation had begun to pump through my veins.
My guys were going to do this.
Filing into the arena, deep in thought as usual, I’d bumped into the guy in front of me and prayed he didn’t turn around. Muttering, “Sorry,” I pushed forward with my head down.
I tried not to catch anyone’s eye as thousands of us filed in, opened our bags for inspection, and showed our tickets. I hoped my few moments of fame in the Midwest were sandwiched between more salacious news back east. Just in case, I had a baseball cap pulled low over my forehead, my eyes painted a smoky gray, sheer pink lipstick glossing my lips, and a nondescript dark green shirt covering my tattoo.
Like I expected, my team had done it. Now they were celebrating down below, and I was a lone bystander in the distance. They weren’t my guys anymore. I’d done a bang-up job of making sure of that.
It had been all on me, a phrase I’d become all too familiar with.
But I’d owed Sarina, and I still did. She and the other girls had put their lives on hold for me, shared their secrets with me knowing I was using them for my own personal redemption, and had my back when shit went down. While my personal life crumbled and I lost any chance with the first guy who called us a thing, those ladies held my hand and rubbed my back. Shelby and Tess too.
I would miss them . . . a lot. Despite their pleas for me to stay in Hafton, I was leaving. I’d been asked to join two other women’s studies programs. One offer was from a school with a strong communications department where I could double major.
My dream career was right there, swimming in front of my eyes like a mirage in the desert. I had to take it and leave the women I’d started to call family. They were part of the reason I so quickly accepted; they needed to be rid of me.
Fuck, I need to be rid of me.
Now—just like that—all the waiting was over. Blane had led the team to a national championship and was on his way to the league; I was sure of it. Agents would be waiting for him outside the locker room and calling his phone nonstop. Coach Conley had kept slapping him on the back after the game and whispering in his ear—at least from what I could make out through squinty eyes.
I was certain they were off to party, and I was ready to go home.
Alone.
I couldn’t bring myself to leave the stadium until I saw every last person file off the court. I watched the maintenance staff run a wide soft-cloth broom over the glossy pine, scraping off confetti and streamers. One bent to pick up a few sweaty towels and folded up the chairs along the bench. I envisioned Blane, Mo, and Alex hooting in the locker room, celebrating, showering . . .
Wait, not showering. That was a definite no-no—thinking about Blane in the shower.
When silence finally fell on the arena, I walked slowly down the stairs to the exit, running my hand along the handrail, taking in the last few minutes and trying to soak in the win. I followed the narrow tunnel leading out to the concession area and found the escalator to the exit. The halls were mostly empty, other than a couple of stragglers sucking down the last of their beer.
At the bottom, I looked left and then right, wondering which way led out toward the subway. I chose right, winding my way through the desolate concrete jungle until I hit a dead end. Realizing I should have chosen left, I turned back the way I came.
“Catie?”
Someone called my name from behind me, but I ignored it. I knew the voice.
“Catie, stop!”
I picked up the pace, forcing my legs to work overtime.
“I’m faster than you,” Alex called out, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. And he was.
He caught me, his arm coming around my body, stilling me.
“If it isn’t the big bad wolf,” I sputtered into his face.
“What are you doing here, Goldilocks?”
“None of your business.”
His eyes narrowed, boring down into me, searching my soul, and I gave in.
“I wanted to see you win, all right? All of you, Alex.”
“Why didn’t you let him know you were coming?”
There was no point in pretending I didn’t know who him was.
“He doesn’t need to know I was here,” I said, bringing my hand to my hip.
“He’s not mad about what you did. When word got out you were defending your stance against some professor, he was happy. Proud or some shit. It’s nothing like how you’re making it out to be.”