Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)
Chapter 20

Rush walked out of his bedroom at the same moment I stepped out of mine. It took all of my willpower not to slink away.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.”

He had a duffel bag slung over a shoulder, and he was dressed in a pair of royal-blue warm-ups with the Wildcat logo stitched into both the jacket and pants.

“Away game?” I asked.

“Yeah. We’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

He nodded. “Lock the doors, okay?”

“Of course.”

He headed for the staircase, pausing at the top. “When I get back, we’re going to talk, since you’ve been avoiding me for four days.”

I didn’t try to deny it. I’d done everything in my power to hide from Rush since that kiss. I should have stayed in my room this morning, but I’d thought he’d already left for the fieldhouse with Maverick. My mistake.

He’d told me I was still holding that can of bear spray. I wanted to argue.

Except he was right.

He disappeared down the stairs without another word.

I didn’t move my feet until the front door opened and closed. Until the rumble of his Yukon’s engine faded down the street.

The air rushed from my lungs as the quiet of the house seeped into my bones.

Well, maybe a weekend alone would give me a chance to breathe. I hadn’t had much time alone lately. It was strange to always be around someone.

Maybe in this quiet house, I could think about anything other than that kiss. Though considering I caught hints of Rush’s spicy scent with every inhale, I doubted there’d be much escaping him, even if he was in another town.

“Ugh.” I unglued my feet and headed downstairs to make breakfast. Then I needed to get to campus for class.

My professors had been piling on the work over the last couple of weeks. They could keep that up for the rest of the semester as far as I was concerned. School was the only thing that kept my mind off Rush.

I wasn’t sure what I’d do over winter break without studying and projects to distract me from the dumpster fire of my personal life. But that was a problem I’d deal with in December.

Maybe by then, I’d have my own place. The listings were still few and far between, but I’d kept looking. I could spend my free time setting up a nursery. I’d get a jump start on nesting.

Not that I’d have much in that nest. My budget couldn’t swing an elaborate nursery. We’d be getting by with only the essentials for a while. A crib or bassinet. A few plastic drawers. Dusty was giving me a glider from her house that she didn’t need, and hopefully, I could get out the cigarette smell.

A few of my friends knew I was pregnant. Hannah and a couple girls from her bachelorette party. She’d mentioned throwing me a baby shower, but I’d been stalling on picking a date.

I wanted my sister at a baby shower. And I still hadn’t told her about the baby.

How much of a coward did that make me that I was terrified of a fifteen-year-old’s reaction?

Gloria had come to the diner last night to do homework, and I’d been seconds away from spilling the truth, but I’d chickened out. She would judge. She was at the age where she knew everything.

I wasn’t ready to suffer her disappointment. I had enough shit happening, I didn’t need a lecture from my little sister.

Soon. I’d tell her soon. I had to tell her soon. If I waited too long, then she’d be pissed that I’d kept a secret. Maybe tonight at the diner when she came to study.

My phone rang in my back jeans pocket as I walked through the living room. Gloria. She must have known she was on my mind. “Hey. I was just thinking about you.”

“I’m walking into school so I only have a minute.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, but can you call Mom?”

I stopped two feet short of the kitchen. “Um, what?”

“Mom. Our mother. Call her.”

Not happening. Wait. Why was Gloria talking to her? “Why should I call her? Are you talking to her?”

Six months ago, Gloria had vowed never to speak to our mother again. They’d had some fight.

I’d always expected that the silence between them wouldn’t last. Her relationship with Mom wasn’t awful like mine. It wasn’t great either, but they’d never gone longer than a few months without talking.

They’d fight. They’d forget. And the cycle would repeat on loop.

Me? I hadn’t spoken to my mother since the beginning of my sophomore year at Treasure State. Two years ago. When I’d gone to my childhood home to pick up a few things I’d left behind only to replace she’d thrown all of my belongings out.

My pictures from high school. The yearbooks I’d paid for with my own money. The silver necklace my father had given me when I was a little girl. It was a kid’s piece of jewelry and hadn’t fit, but I’d kept it in the heart-shaped pink velvet box.

What tiny pieces of my heart had remained, she’d shattered that day.

She’d thrown out my life because she’d wanted the bedroom as a place to keep her new puppy. A room where it couldn’t ruin her things.

Gloria told me that the dog ran away a year later. That, or Mom had decided she didn’t want a dog anymore.

My sister’s vow to cut off all communication with Mom was flimsy. Mine? Iron.

“Why should I call her?” If Gloria was asking, there had to be a good reason.

“I can’t get into it right now,” she said. “Just do me a favor and call her.”

Mom had my number. If she wanted to talk to me, she could call me herself. “No, thanks.”

“Faye, don’t be a brat about this.” There was an eye roll attached to that sentence. Strange, how my mother used to slap me when I rolled my eyes. I’d learned never to do it from a young age. Gloria didn’t roll her eyes around Mom. She’d learned that too. Instead, she saved them all for me.

“Just call her,” she said.

“Go to school. I’ll see you tonight at the diner.”

She huffed. “You’re not going to call her, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Please? For me?”

There was a lot I’d do for my sister. Work myself to the bone so she had nice jeans and Nike gym shoes. Spend hours reviewing homework so she’d get good grades. Shuttle her all around Mission so she didn’t have to walk or ride her bike across town.

But this? It was a betrayal. Shame on her for asking.

“I have to go,” I said, and before she could stop me, I ended the call.

It took a moment for the wave of pain to pass. For me to remember that Gloria was only fifteen, and our mother hadn’t left her with wounds quite so deep.

Not while I’d been there to act as Gloria’s shield.

Still, she knew better than to ask. If anyone knew how much hurt I’d endured from Brynn Gannon, it was Gloria.

My heart was beating too fast as I made my way to the fridge. It took a moment, standing with the door open and the cold on my face, to shake off the call.

I refused to call my mother. Absolutely not.

Gloria would have to give me more of an explanation if she wanted me to change my mind. She wasn’t guilting me into a conversation I didn’t want to have.

When Gloria learned about the baby, would she tell Mom? When Mom learned I was pregnant, would she reach out? I wasn’t sure what would be worse.

If she did.

Or didn’t.

Someday, I hoped I wouldn’t care. That the thought of talking to her wouldn’t make me feel twitchy and nervous. That my palms wouldn’t sweat.

But not today.

“Gah.” I shook out my arms, like I could shake off the thought of my mother. Then I splayed a hand over my belly. “What are we hungry for today, Squish?”

The nickname had randomly popped up last week. I’d never heard it used before and now I couldn’t stop saying it.

At least if I was home alone this weekend, I wouldn’t have to worry about being caught calling my baby bump Squish.

Next week was my ultrasound, and we could replace out if it was a boy or girl. Maybe the nickname would change at that point. Maybe not.

It all depended on if we learned the gender, and right now, I wasn’t sure. Normally, I wasn’t much for surprises, but part of me wanted to wait.

Dusty had asked me if I had a preference. The idea of a boy seemed exciting, if only for the reason that I’d been partially parenting Gloria for years. Maybe a boy wouldn’t throw around quite as much sass. Or call me a brat because I didn’t want to make a phone call.

“She’s the brat,” I muttered, hauling out a gallon of milk.

Did Rush want to replace out? Did he want a girl or boy? We should be talking about these things. We should be making a list of supplies to get and names to consider. Instead, he was kissing me and scrambling my brain and making me want to scream and cry and throw up.

Boys were dumb.

Never mind. I didn’t want a boy.

My generic bran flakes were entirely unappealing, but I snagged the box from the pantry and poured a bowl anyway. I opened the silverware drawer to grab a spoon just as a phone vibrated on the counter.

Not my phone. Mine was in my pocket.

It was Rush’s phone that he’d left on the bar.

“Oh no.”

He couldn’t go away without his phone.

I picked it up, and before I could talk myself out of it, I put the milk away, grabbed my backpack and coat, then bolted out the door.

It was early enough that I got a decent parking spot on campus. With his phone in my pocket, I hurried across the lot at the fieldhouse, the cold sinking into the tip of my nose and cheeks.

There were two buses parked outside. Both had their engines running, white wisps of exhaust streaming into the air.

Were they already leaving? I started to jog. But when I got closer, the buses were empty. The drivers were standing outside talking. The storage compartments under the vehicles were open and the bins bare.

I nodded to a driver when he waved, then hustled inside, not exactly sure where to look for Rush, but hoping I’d replace someone on the team who could give him his phone.

My tennis shoes tapped on the concrete floor as I speed walked along the hall.

I rounded a corner, scanning for a person to help, and came to a dead stop when I spotted Rush. He was talking to Millie, the assistant athletic director who’d broken up the fight I’d had with Rush in this very hallway last summer.

The fight when he’d asked me for that paternity test.

“Oh. Um, hi . . .” Ugh. I’d made a damn fool of myself that day, screaming at him in public. I hadn’t been to the fieldhouse since. Mostly because I didn’t have a reason to stop by. But also because I really didn’t feel like bumping into Coach Ellis. Or Millie.

Why was it that embarrassment only seemed to expand over time? It had been bad enough in the moment, but facing her was like reliving it a thousand times over again.

“Millie,” she said, like I could ever have forgotten her name.

“I remember.” I nodded, then glanced at Rush, pulling his phone from my pocket. “Here. You forgot this on the counter.”

“Shit.” He shifted his duffel bag around to pat its front pocket. “Thanks for bringing it.”

“Yeah.” I handed it over, careful not to let our fingers touch.

Not that I didn’t want to touch him. That was the problem.

I wanted Rush.

I liked Rush. I’d had a crush on him for longer than I wanted to admit.

He lifted a hand, reaching my way. It hung in midair for a moment.

My heart climbed into my throat, waiting to see what he’d do.

If he touched me, I’d cave. I’d probably collapse into his chest because fighting to keep these boundaries between us was so damn tiring.

God, I was tired.

Touch me. Please.

I needed him to make the move. Not that he hadn’t already made the first move and the second and even the third. I needed him to do it again.

He wanted me to drop my guard. He wanted me to drop the bear spray. How?

I shifted on my feet, the nervous energy making it impossible for me to stand still.

He must have taken it as a rejection because his arm fell to his side.

My gaze crashed to the floor.

How did I do this? How did we get past this awkward, awful phase? Was it impossible?

“Better get on the bus,” Rush muttered, before he walked away.

It wasn’t until his footsteps faded that I finally looked up.

Millie’s sad, pitying smile was waiting.

I hated pity. But today? I’d take it.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

I shrugged, looking over my shoulder to make sure we were alone. “Kind of . . . bad.”

Understatement of the year.

“Sorry.”

“We moved in together,” I blurted. “I was living with my ex-boyfriend, but when he found out about us, the baby, he kicked me out.”

“Oof. Jerkface.”

“Pretty much.”

“How is living with Rush?”

I shrugged again. “Awkward? We argue a lot.”

Why was I pouring my guts out to this woman? She didn’t need to hear my sob story.

“You both have a lot to navigate,” Millie said. “I’d say arguing is expected. Give it time.”

“Yeah.” Except it felt endless. It felt like if things didn’t change, and soon, he’d hate me.

I wasn’t sure I could live with Rush’s hate.

“He told me not to get a paternity test. That he didn’t need one.” I straightened. Maybe Maverick still didn’t believe me. But Rush did. And for some reason, I wanted Millie to believe me too. “I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

“I believe you.”

My frame deflated on an exhale. She had no idea how much I’d needed to hear that. To have someone impartial, someone on this campus, believe that I hadn’t tricked Rush into this pregnancy.

“It’s just temporary,” I said. “Us living together.”

“Does it have to be? Rush seems like a nice guy. I don’t know him very well, but I get the impression he’s trying to do the right thing.”

“He is.” Without a doubt. The one who was screwing it all up here was me. I wrapped my arms around my waist, my stomach knotting.

Yes, it would be easier to live with Rush. Logistically, it would be easier.

But what happened when he got tired of me too? What happened when we imploded? Wouldn’t it be better to have different addresses when it all fell apart?

Besides, I’d never had a place that was truly mine. Not my mother’s house. Not the college dorms. Not the apartment where I’d lived my sophomore and junior year with three messy roommates who’d liked having me in the fourth bedroom because I wasn’t afraid to clean. Not Justin’s trailer.

Now I was in Rush’s house.

“I don’t think . . . It will be better if we keep some boundaries between us. Easier, I think.”

“Okay.” Millie looked disappointed in me.

Maybe I was a little bit disappointed in myself.

I took a step away. “I’ve got class.”

“Bye, Faye.”

“Bye.”

I passed the first door I came to, following the hallway as it looped around to another exit. Two guys dressed in the same gear as Rush walked by on my way out, but I let the curtain of my hair hide my face until I was outside and hurrying toward my end of campus to start my day.

Concentration was futile. I was so lost in my own head I forgot to pin up the new, hot-pink flyers I’d made for Dolly’s. Even my classes weren’t enough of a distraction today.

Millie was right. Down to my bones, I knew she was right.

Rush was a good guy trying to do the right thing.

Why couldn’t I just let him?

Justin had told me once that the reason he loved hanging with Alexa was because she was emotionally available.

Meaning, I was not.

I hadn’t even been able to argue. He wasn’t the first person to tell me I was closed off.

During my sophomore year, I’d taken a school counseling course that had required each student to spend six months seeing a counselor. It was the first time in my life I’d ever had someone neutral to talk to. Someone to hear about the shit with Mom and school and Gloria and just . . . everything.

Those six months had been eye-opening. I’d learned a lot about myself and how I interacted with others. My counselor had warned me that showing my vulnerabilities would always be a challenge, a fear to overcome.

Was that why everything with Rush was so hard? Because I was scared?

Without a doubt. I was terrified of that man. Rush had the power to destroy me like no other person in my life. And this baby would keep us linked forever.

I couldn’t cut him out and refuse to speak to him for two years.

But I didn’t know how to move past this. I didn’t know how to let down my guard.

By the time I was finished with class for the day, my insides were twisted in a knot. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like going to work, but my shift started at three and I couldn’t afford to call in sick. So I walked through campus to my car and drove across town, replaceing Mike in the kitchen, slicing potatoes at the prep table.

I hadn’t seen Mike in weeks.

“Where’s Dusty?” I asked as I grabbed an apron.

“She’s taking the night off.”

My fingers froze on the apron’s ties. “Really?” Dusty only stayed home if she was sick. “Is she feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I guess she’s going out to dinner with her cousin.”

My jaw hit the floor. “Seriously?”

“That’s what she said.”

When had she started talking to her cousin? After her aunt had died? That had to be the catalyst.

For Dusty’s sake, I hoped the dinner went well.

“It’s just you and me tonight, kiddo,” Mike said.

I’d missed him lately. For however long it lasted, I was glad he’d come back. “Any customers?”

He shook his head. “Nah. It’s quiet.”

I glanced at the TV mounted in the corner. Dusty didn’t turn it on often, but when Mike was here, he usually had it playing in the background.

Tonight, he’d tuned it to a sports channel. To a football game. I had no idea how the rules worked. I didn’t know the teams playing.

There was an assignment due Monday in my capstone class that I wanted to get started on, but I left my backpack in Dusty’s office, and instead of going to the dining room, I pulled up a stool beside the prep table.

“Hey, Mike?”

“Hey, Faye.”

“Would you teach me about football?”