Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love)
: Chapter 26

I stare at myself in the mirror. My lipstick is cherry red, but my eyes have shadows under them, and my face is pale. As I apply blush, I picture a BBHS without Ronan, and my hands set down the makeup and cling to the edge of the sink.

He’s going to choose, and I already know which one makes the most sense—

My throat prickles with emotion I’ve been holding at bay for hours since the reporters showed up.

Gathering my things, I tug my Bobcats shirt down over my skinny jeans and walk out of the stadium restrooms. Sabine and I watched the game from the top row of the stadium in the shadows of one of the overhangs.

My heels click on the tile as I enter the field house. With most of the players dressed and gone, it feels strange and quiet after such a huge win. Most of the team has headed to Randy’s Roadhouse for the party. Normally, I’d be gone, too, but I left my work satchel in Ronan’s office and need to grab it. I waited until I thought he’d be gone.

I frown when I see that his door is partly open. I hear voices.

“Back to the Pythons. Coach Dixon seemed all right, but I guess he’s worsened. He’s a fine man, and I know you admire him. It sucks that he has cancer, but it’s your chance . . .” The voice sounds familiar—I think it’s Tuck. I saw him on the field talking to Ronan.

I can’t hear Ronan’s reply but catch bits and pieces of Tuck’s words.

“The whole team is chanting your name. It will be great to have you back, man. You can stay with me or replace your own place, whatever.” Tuck pauses. “I imagine it’s gonna be hard. Those kids . . . you took them far. What about Nova? You said it was getting real with . . .”

My heart thuds painfully as I inch closer to the door.

“Leaving with no entanglements. That was the plan,” Ronan says with a ring of finality.

“You’ve got two victories, bro. Your win tonight and your win tomorrow in New York . . .” Tuck chuckles.

I need you . . .

I don’t know the future . . .

Both of those are his truths.

I close my eyes, my chest rising. He never made a commitment. I was the one who put my heart on a platter. I knew him leaving was a possibility—I did, but I jumped off the cliff straight into the volcano.

I lean against the wall, gathering myself.

Sabine and Toby appear at the end of the hall, and I straighten up and hurry toward them. They dashed off earlier to grab a few posters to keep.

“Your face is wet,” Sabine says. “Were you crying?”

I wipe at my face. I hadn’t realized.

Toby frowns. “You okay, Ms. Morgan?”

“Right as rain,” I reply to his earnest gaze.

“But were you crying?” Sabine insists.

“Just a little, but it’s fine now. The game really got to me. You played amazing, Toby. I took tons of video for Bonnie. Let’s go see her and show it to her,” I say, anxious to get away from Ronan. My satchel can wait until Monday.

We grab take-out food, then head to Toby’s house. We devour our food in the kitchen, then head to the den for Bonnie to watch Toby’s big plays. I chat with her while Toby and Sabine sit side by side on the floor, her head on his shoulder, his hand playing with her hair. He leans down and kisses her cheek, then murmurs he loves her, and she says the same, then snuggles into his chest.

Later, we pull up at the house, and Darth Vader is still in my window. I wince, pulling my gaze off him. Sabine heads to her room, and I sit on the couch, with something on TV that I’m not watching. My head feels blank. A little numb. My phone is next to me. It’s been blowing up with texts from Ronan since this afternoon. I never went to his office after the press conference. I stayed in my and Sonia’s closet, my head churning with thoughts. He sent more texts before the game. I can’t bring myself to reply.

Around eleven, I put Sparky’s leash on him and head outside. We turn right, away from Ronan’s house, and head to the front of the neighborhood. He prisses along but pauses to look at me a few times.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

He seems to narrow his gaze.

I blow out a breath. “I swear!”

He turns back, sees a small frog, pounces, and then eats it delicately.

Crickets resonate, still hanging on to the last bit of warm air in Texas. Next week is Thanksgiving, and I center my thoughts on which of Mama’s dishes I’ll make.

We walk past Caleb’s house, make the turn at the stone entrance, and then start back. I’m almost to my house when I see a tall, broad form ahead of me, leaning against an oak tree in my yard.

My stomach pitches, my steps slowing.

I can’t avoid him. Words need to be said.

I walk over to him, stopping a few feet away. Sparky rubs in between his legs, and I pull him back, then undo his leash and tell him to go to the porch. He licks his paw, gives me a sniff, and then prances up the steps and goes inside the cat door I put in.

Twisting the leash between my fingers, I take in Ronan. He’s changed into Nike shorts, an old shirt, and sneakers. There’s no hat, and his hair waves around in the light wind. His arms hang down his sides, an uncertain expression on his face.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “Sabine said you went for a walk.”

“Yes.”

He straightens up off the tree and walks to me. “I wanted to tell you about the new offer, but school wasn’t the right place—you were focused on the pep rally; then the reporters showed up . . .”

I nod. “I get it.”

“The Stanford thing . . . I called Hite and took myself off their list. It never felt right.”

“But New York does?”

His hand brushes at my hair, his fingers rubbing the strands between his fingers. “Their quarterback coach, Dixon, has terminal cancer. They kept how serious his diagnosis was under wraps. When I found out he was sick a while back, I assumed it was temporary, because that’s what they told everyone. I didn’t dream they’d come to me. I don’t have any experience on that level and . . .” He drops his hand and rubs the back of his neck. “You probably don’t want to hear all this.”

“They’ll need you right away.” I know how football works. I also realize that on the NFL level, he’ll have to devote his life to it, especially since he doesn’t have experience. He won’t have time for a relationship with a girl in Texas.

“I’m flying out tomorrow to meet them. Nova . . .” His fingers skim down my arm. “This isn’t easy for me—”

“You wanted no entanglements. That was the plan, right?”

He tenses. “That was the plan, yes, but that’s not what happened.”

“You told me exactly how this would end. With you leaving.”

He takes me in his arms, his movements slow, his eyes soft under the glow of the streetlights. “You have every right to be angry.”

The smell of him lulls me, and I press my face into his chest, my hands clenching his shirt. “Yes,” I say shakily. “I promised myself I wouldn’t be, that I knew this was coming eventually, but I just thought . . .” That a job he wanted wouldn’t come for a while? That he’d fall just as madly in love with me as I am with him?

My arms go around his waist, and we lean against each other.

I close my eyes and think about the good things, how he left me a rose on my first day at school, how he took care of me when I was sick. He’s a wonderful, kind man, and I’m losing him.

I place my cheek against his chest, and he rests his chin on my head. “I never planned on you. I never imagined this could be . . .” He stops, his voice unsteady.

“What?”

His hands tighten around me. “I’m terrified of so many things. Leaving you. Not leaving you. I’ve dragged you into this relationship, and I’m hurting you—the last thing I want to do.”

I nod.

“Nova, look at me.”

I lift my face to his, and our eyes cling.

“You said you were half in love with me that night in New York—but I was half in love with you too. The fierce way you wore that outfit, how you didn’t care what anyone else thought, the way we clung to each other . . . I was drunk—I was, okay, I know—but you had so much joy. Maybe, I don’t know, you gave me back some of mine or at least some hope that I could get my life back. In an indirect way, you’re the reason I ended up in Blue Belle. How’s that for fate?” Not waiting for a reply, he presses his forehead to mine. “I swore I wouldn’t ask, that I wouldn’t put you in this kind of situation, but would you consider coming with me? You and Sabine.”

My eyes fill with water. I’ve thought about this since the moment I found out. If he’d ask me—and what I’d say. “This is her home. I followed Andrew to UT. I almost followed him again the second time. Following a man? It’s not who I am anymore. I never planned on ending up here, but . . .” I pull away and clasp his hands, threading our fingers together. My eyes linger over Mama’s rosebushes, Lois’s apple trees, the home where I grew up. I think about Sabine, about singing songs with her in our kitchen, about Caleb and Toby and Bruno and Milo. I think about Sonia and Skeeter and Lois. They’ve become my family. The longer I stay, the deeper those threads will grow, bloom, and then flourish.

Mama gave me roots and wings to believe I could be anything, live anywhere, but Blue Belle is where my heart resides. With Sabine next to me. Her roots are here, and I want to give her those same wings. To watch her fly.

I found my glow. It’s Ronan. But it’s also home.

He closes his eyes. “Nova. I lov—”

I put my finger to his lips. “I don’t think I can take those words. Just kiss me, and say what you came to do.”

“Nova—” His face falls. “I—I can’t say goodbye.”

My throat thickens, and I squeeze his hands. “Listen. Find your glow. Discover all the possibilities. Reach for the stars. No one deserves this more. You’re a hell of a coach. You care about those kids and what happens to them. You have integrity. Loyalty. Perseverance. There was a reason you got the Heisman. You are the best quarterback I’ve ever seen. And this? This is your second chance to be close to what you had. I want the world for you. I want everything for you, Ronan: goodness and love and success and all the football achievements and accolades . . .” My voice breaks, and I tug it back. “You deserve your dream job. You do. Take it. Grab it and be happy.”

“God. Nova . . .” He closes his eyes. “Please. You’re killing me.”

I get on tiptoe and press my mouth to his. He parts his lips and clutches me tight, his arms picking me up. I hang on to his shirt, and the kiss hardens, desperation mingling as we yearn for more.

I pull away, gasping for air.

His chest heaves, his gaze bright with unshed emotion. “Nova . . .”

“Go get ’em, darling.” I push out a watery smile, tug myself out of his arms, and then go inside the house.