Love, Ally (Brooks University #1) Read online

  My arm is my lifeline to making it to the NFL. Yet, the night she left, if someone had said I could lose my arm and never play ball again just to keep her, I would have told them to cut the fucking thing off right then and there. I might need my arm to throw, but I needed her to feel.

  The leaving for another family—I could have forgiven her for that. After all, it is ultimately up to a judge whether we go or stay. But to change her cell phone number, delete all social media, and literally disappear is unforgivable. Or it would be to anybody else, that is. I know I forgave her the second I laid eyes on her at the movie theater. The second I pushed her up against a building and felt her body come alive, well, that was when I knew I needed her back.

  But first, I need to find out where in the fuck she’s been all this time.

  Turning the shower off, I reach out and grab my towel. Wrapping it around my waist, I step out and gaze around the locker room, realizing over half of the team has already left.

  How long of a shower did I take?

  I must have gotten lost in my thoughts. It isn’t hard to do.

  Throwing my clothes on, I see Knox is sitting on the bench, looking at his phone, grinning.

  “The fuck you so happy about?” I toss at him.

  Glancing up at me, he leans back and smirks. “We’ve got us a party tonight—that’s what.”

  “Where?” I ask, pulling on my sneakers.

  “The baseball house. Nolan just texted.”

  “Dude, I swear you have the numbers of everyone on the entire campus,” Weston gripes.

  Standing up, Knox swings his arm around Weston’s neck and messes his hair up. “Don’t be jealous, big boy. You and Stormy are my BFFs fo’ liiife.”

  “Get off of me, you fucking weirdo,” Weston grumbles, but he can’t stop himself from laughing.

  Knox is just one of those guys. You can’t help but love him. He’s a funny motherfucker, even at his own expense.

  He comes over and tries to pull the same shit on me, but I shove him off of me and shake my head and laugh.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  Looking at his phone again, he nods. “Yep, I’ll agree with you there. But this idiot is headed to a party and to find some tail.”

  Slinging the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder, I cock my head up. “What, no more Blondie?”

  “Sloane? Nah, I’m all good there. Too much fucking work,” he says, but it sounds forced.

  I think Knox had some real interest in that chick. I hope I didn’t fuck it up for him with my disagreement with Ally. That would make me feel like a dick.

  “Knox, be straight with me. Did I fuck it up for you?”

  His eyebrows pull together slightly. “Fuck what up for me?”

  “Things with you and Blondie. Did my shit with Ally get in the way of you and her?”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “Nah, man. Nothing like that. It’s just too hard to keep up with a chick. Besides, we’ve got football to focus on. As freshmen, we all have a lot to prove. I’m not trying to show up here and tie myself down to dinner dates and Lifetime movie marathons with some girl. I’m here to play ball.”

  I don’t need a distraction either. But honestly, Ally’s never been that to me. She’s always helped to keep me focused. The time we were apart, football lost some of its shine to me. I missed knowing she was in the stands. I missed her watching me work out or seeing her doing her homework on the bleachers while I had practice. I missed all of that. I’d never had family in the stands under the Friday night lights. But after I met Ally, she was the one who always showed up and cheered me on. She was the one in high school who drew my last name and jersey number on her T-shirt.

  I fight back a grin at the memory of her voice screaming for me during the games. No matter how loud the stadium got, I always heard her above everyone else.

  As much as I want to see Ally, I probably should at least attempt to give her some space. So, even though I’m not in the mood to go to this party and be around a bunch of annoying-as-fuck college kids, who are no doubt going to invade my space and pop my bubble, I could use the distraction.

  Besides, I’m here at Brooks University. I might as well play the part. Even if the part isn’t who I really am. Because I’m a fucking fraud.

  fourteen

  Ally

  “Sweetie, you can head home. I’ve got it here. It’s Saturday night, and you’re a college kid, so get your ass out of here and act like it,” Carla tells me as she starts a new pot of coffee.

  “Nah, it’s okay. If anyone should leave, it should be you. You can go home and hang out with your boys.” Wrinkling my nose up, I frown. “Besides, I don’t have much interest in the college night life.”

  I’m not lying; I really don’t. Making money sounds much more appealing. The secondhand laptop I bought is on its last leg, so I’m saving to buy a new one, and that shit isn’t cheap.

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Look, love, I’m aware you don’t have teenage boys, much less three of them, but let me tell you, they are fucking exhausting. And sometimes plain ol’ gross.” She presses a hand to her forehead. “I’m good to stay here. This is my break. I can go out back and smoke a cigarette if I want to and drink coffee in between working. All is good.” When I don’t say anything back, she widens her eyes. “For real, weekend nights here have been slow. We all know everyone’s over at the pub down the road.”

  “I can hear you!” Lenny calls from the kitchen. “My food is way better than the crap they serve at that shithole!”

  Looking at me, she rolls her eyes. “I agree with you, sweet thing,” she calls back to him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still right. Miss Ally here needs to go be young and free. She’s been working five shifts a week and attending college.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I just don’t know how you do it, sweetheart. You’re going to burn yourself out.” She widens her eyes. “Or worse, give that pretty face of yours wrinkles,” her Southern accent drawls.

  Pushing through the swinging door, Lenny wipes his hands on his apron. “She’s right. Maybe you are working too much, Al. We can hire another waitress. That way, you’d have more da—”

  “Fuck no,” I cut him off mid-sentence. “I don’t need any more days off. I like to work. I need to work.”

  Eyeing me cautiously, he finally nods. “All right, you’ll keep your shifts. But not tonight. Tonight, you’re headed home for the evening. Or to party or whatever the hell you kids do these days. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow for the breakfast shift.”

  “I can stay,” I say, glancing between the pair of them. “I really don’t mind.”

  “Go have fun. Go to a party. Wear a tight dress and show off that sexy body.” She frowns. “I know I wish I could,” she whispers the last part under her breath.

  “Fiiine,” I huff out. “If you insist. But if it gets busy and—”

  “It won’t get busy. We’ll be lucky to have another customer the rest of the night. Everyone is at King’s Pub,” Carla says, examining her painted nails. “It’s the new place to be these days.”

  Lenny puffs out a breath and stalks back into the kitchen, pushing the swinging door rather aggressively.

  “Too much?” Carla says, looking up at me.

  Stifling a laugh, I nod. “Yes. Way too much. Lenny hates King’s Pub. You know this.”

  She does know this, but that’s just how she is. She’s like Becky in Waitress—aside from the fact that she is not sleeping with the cook. Because the cook is Lenny, and that would be gross.

  “Well, he can hate it all he wants, but they are still the ones who get every ounce of business on weekend nights,” she answers in a hushed tone.

  Gathering my things up, I nod. “Yeah, well, that might be true, but we still get the most for breakfast and lunch.”

  My apron pocket was full before eleven a.m. this morning. We were packed.

  “Yeah, yeah. Have a good night, girlie. See you tomorrow,” s
he says before blowing me a kiss.

  Once outside, I pull my phone out, opening multiple texts from Sloane.

  Sloane: I think I might go to a party at the baseball house with some girls from one of my classes.

  Sloane: These girls are acting crazy. I need my BFF!

  Sloane: They are also sort of bitchy and petty. Seriously, where is Allycat when I need her?

  That makes me smile. I have only known her a month, yet she’s calling me her best friend.

  Sloane: So, don’t kill me … Cole Storms asked where you were, and I said work. He freaked out, saying something about walking home in the dark. Now, he’s headed your way. Like I said, don’t kill me.

  Sloane: Are you mad?

  Sloane: OMG, you’re so mad, aren’t you? ☹

  Great. Just great.

  The last message was sent ten minutes ago, so if I’m lucky, I have five minutes to make it back to my dorm.

  Me: I’m not mad. Did he already leave?

  Sloane: Yep. Don’t hate me.

  Sliding my phone into my pocket, I start to haul ass toward campus.

  This isn’t a sketchy town. It’s clean, and everything is lit up at night. I know I’ll be fine, making it back to my dorm safely. Now if only I could convince Cole of that.

  I’m not even a quarter of the way home when I hear the roaring engine of a truck approaching. I already know it’s likely Cole. Once its headlights come into view and it begins to slow, I see that I’m right—it is him.

  Thank you, Sloane and your big fucking mouth.

  I don’t mean that. I know she didn’t intentionally throw me under the bus. How could she have known he’d go all caveman and shit? She doesn’t know how he is when it comes to me.

  “Get in the truck, Ally,” Cole’s voice booms as his truck comes to a stop.

  As always, he isn’t asking me; he’s telling me. Like I’m a goddamn child.

  “Why are you here?” I call back to him. “Isn’t there some big party tonight to celebrate your win?”

  Sloane texted earlier, letting me know they’d won.

  “Shouldn’t the campus king be there, entertaining all of his admirers? Not here, stalking me, the poor peasant.”

  “No interest in that, Cinderella,” his smooth voice purrs. “I told you I didn’t want you walking home alone, but once again, you have to be a pain in my fucking ass.”

  “I don’t have a car, dumbass!” I shout at him.

  “Quit being a bitch for five seconds of your life. You know you can always fucking call me. My number has never changed. Unlike some people’s.”

  I don’t answer, just continue to watch him. Weighing my options to take off running or bow out gracefully.

  “You going to get in or what?” He jerks his chin up.

  The more I consider running, the more I realize that it would suck.

  I’m tired, and I don’t have it in me. Besides, he’ll just act like a complete barbarian and chase after me. And he’s much faster than I could ever dream of being.

  Pulling my hood up, I cross the road and climb in the truck. Never sparing him a glance.

  On the short ride home, he doesn’t speak or even look at me. And I don’t say a peep either. He’s the one who wants to play Superman, always coming to my rescue, so he can do the talking.

  I don’t have a damn clue what he wants from me or if he wants anything at all. All I know is, it’s hard to live my life as me when he’s trying to control me and take away every ounce of independence that I have.

  I know he’s only doing it because he cares. Like he said, he doesn’t know any other way to be with me. I believe him when he says that. I don’t think he means to smother me. It’s just who he is.

  Amy Lee’s voice flows through the speakers, singing the words to “Broken” by Seether. Somehow, I don’t think it’s playing just by coincidence. The words, the way their voices are so tortured and shattered—it’s exactly how I know he and I both felt every single day that we spent apart.

  Without him is sort of like walking around in a world full of colors and only seeing black and white. Losing him numbed me to anything and everything good in this world.

  Unable to help myself, the lyrics pour out of my mouth, under my breath. I try to keep my voice as quiet as possible. Singing is my outlet. The same goes for songwriting. Getting the words out, good or bad, it’s healing in a way.

  Pulling in front of the dorm, he slams the truck in park.

  “Thanks for the ride.” I jump out before he can respond.

  I’m tired. And when I’m tired, I’m bitchy. I need to get to my room and be alone, by myself, where I can’t lash out and say rude things to anybody. Well, other than myself.

  It’s only crazy if you answer yourself too. Right?

  Cole doesn’t follow me, surprisingly enough. Maybe he’s learning about this thing called boundaries. Though I seriously doubt it. He probably just wants to get back to the party. Bitches to see, crowds to please.

  Gross.

  As I push the door open and step into my dorm, all I’m thinking about is how nice a can of cold Diet Coke and a huge-ass bag of Cheetos sound. Wild Saturday night. First things first though. I need to change into comfy pajamas.

  I smile at the thought of what Carla would say. She’d tell me I was wasting a perfectly good Saturday night. But I’m tired. Working and classes are starting to wear on me. I need a night to regroup.

  I’ve just changed into my pajamas when there’s a knock at the door. Knowing that Sloane is at a party and that Cole just dropped me off, I wonder who in the actual fuck is outside my door, my heartbeat speeding up slightly.

  “Open up, Ally,” Cole’s deep voice says, answering my thoughts for me.

  I contemplate not going to the door. Why should I let him in? He’ll probably get all up in my personal space, and I’ll momentarily want to dry-hump his leg like a dog in heat, all because he smells and looks so damn good. Then, I’ll be left feeling like an idiot, and he’ll probably still be wearing that cocky-ass grin on his hot-as-fuck face.

  “Ally! Open the fucking door!” he growls. No doubt causing a scene in the hallway.

  Such a prick.

  Walking over, I swing it open. “What do you want, Storm? I’m tired.”

  His eyes rake over my body, and suddenly, I remember, I’m wearing a white shirt and no bra. A tight white shirt.

  Perfect.

  Folding my arms over my chest, I scowl at him. “Seriously, why are you here? Did I walk from my mini fridge to my bed alone and you needed to come save the day?” I snort. “Save me from the big, bad wolf?”

  Intense eyes burn into mine. “I am the wolf, sweetheart,” his rough voice says slowly. “Who will save you from me?”

  His words make me shudder. Embarrassingly so too. Because he notices, and a devil-like smirk creeps onto his face.

  I gulp. “Okay, wolf. A-woooooo.” I pretend to howl. “Why the fuck are you here? At my dorm. Right now, interrupting Netflix and Cheetos.”

  “And Diet Coke?” he says, amused.

  “Well, duh.”

  Ignoring my previous question, he steps around me and comes inside. Uninvited.

  “Excuse me! What in the hell are you doing, dipshit?” I curse at him. “This is my dorm! Not yours!”

  Gazing around, he spins his ball cap backward, making himself even more annoyingly hot. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided something.”

  “You … thinking?” I widen my eyes. “Sounds dangerous. How did your brain not explode?”

  “I’ve decided, I’m done playing games, Ally,” he says, ignoring my banter.

  “Well, you’re a football player, so games are sort of part of the job.”

  “Okay, smart-ass, let me clarify. I’m done playing your games.”

  “Ooh, I’m so scared. I’m just shaking over here, ’bout to piss my pants.”

  Finally, he’s reached his limit for my need to beat around the bush. I can’t help it; that bush has mo
nsters living in it, and it’s untamable. Once you start to pick it apart, everything comes out. Leaving you wishing you’d left it the hell alone.

  Trust me, you don’t want to fuck with that bush.

  “Enough deflecting,” he growls. “I want to know why the fuck you left Charlotte’s Falls. I’m not leaving till I know the answer.”

  I know better than to think he’s bluffing. If Cole wants to know something, he’ll stop short of nothing to find his answer.

  “I’m tired of going round and round about this. The universe played some sick fucking trick by landing us both here, in Georgia. But this campus is huge. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine,” I yell at him. I don’t mean the ridiculous words. But I am not ready to talk about the past.

  In a split second, my ass is pushed up against the wall as Cole’s huge arms box me in at both sides. His eyes command me to look into them. Something I’ve tried to avoid since we reconnected.

  “Look. At. Me,” he demands through gritted teeth.

  I try, but the tears burn the backs of my eyes, threatening to come out. Tears I’ve worked so hard to keep inside. I’m not ready for them to spill out now. Then, he will win.

  “Cole, please stop. I’m …” My voice breaks slightly. “I’m begging you.”

  The tears fall—oh, do they fall. Tears that have been bottled up inside for far too long. But that’s what he can do to me—he has the ability to break me down, brick by brick.

  Taking his hand, he tilts my chin up. “Please, Ally. Please look at me. I don’t know what I did or what I didn’t do. But I need you to look at me. Look at me like you used to.” His voice is much softer now.

  I do as I was told. But it only makes the pain worse. “I am.”

  “You’re not.” He flinches. “Not really anyway. Not like you did before.”

  That’s because I was a different person then.

  “I can’t. Please, Cole. Stop,” I plead.

  His forehead leans against mine, and our hearts beat together as one. And I swear, it feels like the first time my heart has beat inside my chest since I left him.

  “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is, Ally,” he says, his voice filled with frustration. “Let me fucking fix it.”