Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(34)

Football was what made him happy.

But I knew for my mom, it was always me.

She’d loved me so fiercely it almost suffocated me at times, but it was the purest, most special kind of love — the kind that’s truly unconditional.

She was the only one I ever broke down in front of after what happened in high school, the only one who knew I’d had my heart broken. I didn’t have to tell her who it was or what had happened — the fact that I was showing any emotion other than joy was enough for her to know I was hurting.

I still remember how she held me as I sobbed like a fucking baby, and then she made me dinner and ran a bath for me. We never spoke about it again, never really spoke about it in the first place.

But I knew from that moment on, no matter what I went through, she would always be there.

“We got the date for senior night,” I told her as I slipped into the driver seat and fired up the engine. “November nineteenth.”

“Did you tell your father?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I wanted to make sure you would come first.”

She sucked her teeth as if even insinuating that she wouldn’t was an insult. I waited until my phone connected to the car speakers before I set it aside and continued.

“I just mean… if he comes, too. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I still love your father, Leo. I always will. And I can put up with him for a few hours.” She clicked her tongue. “Now, whether or not he’ll be able to stand how guapa his ex is at forty-five years old is yet to be seen. Might have to restrain him and those jealous little cleat chasers who still follow him around.”

A smile split my face. “Alright, mamá, cálmate.”

It was slow traffic moving through the campus, some sort of holiday market going on. I was just about to turn and take the back roads to get off campus quicker and take the roundabout way home when I saw Mary.

There was no mistaking her, not even in a thick crowd of people.

She had on a pair of cut-off jean shorts, the ripped edges dripping over her thighs like webs and letting her tattoos peek through. Those shorts barely contained her ass, and the thin, red, spaghetti strap top she’d paired with them showed a sliver of her stomach. She was walking slowly, looking at all the booths before she paused at one, turning enough for me to see there was absolutely zero chance she had on a bra with that top. A navy-blue bandana with white stars framed her hairline, and the whole picture was nothing short of a patriotic fantasy come to life.

I bit my knuckle before my hands found the wheel and turned a hard left into the parking garage.

“I gotta go, Mom. I just remembered an errand I need to run before tonight. I’ll call you later this week?”

“Whenever you have time. Enjoy your summer, that’s what I want most for you.”

I smiled as I pulled into a parking spot. “Te quiero.”

“Te quiero mas, mijo.”

I hopped out of my car as soon as I parked it, all but jogging toward the booth I’d spotted Mary at. While most of Boston was flocking down to Harborfest already, the entire city was full of events on our nation’s birthday that meant you couldn’t find a street within miles that didn’t have something going on. How could we not make a big deal of our nation’s independence, with so much history weaved throughout each and every block?

I pushed through the crowd, muttering excuse me as I did. I could have just waited and saw Mary at home later. She knew we were having a party tonight — was looking forward to it, it seemed. But the truth was I hadn’t had the chance to be alone with her since that night I cooked for her.

And something had shifted between us that night.

I didn’t know exactly what it was, but she no longer seemed like she hated breathing the same air as me. Actually, it was worse — because she was avoiding me.

Any time I’d walk in on her doing yoga with Braden or gaming on the couch with Kyle, she’d maybe utter two words to me before making an excuse to leave the room altogether. She wouldn’t meet my eyes, wouldn’t take the bait when I teased her.

Maybe that’s why I picked up my speed when I spotted her red shirt again, her long hair swept up in a messy ponytail that swung as she walked.

She slowed at a vendor selling candles, picking one up and inhaling deeply. I slowed my gait as I approached the tent.

“Getting that to cover up the stench of The Pit?”

Mary didn’t seem surprised by my entrance. In fact, she smiled a little as if she’d known I was coming before setting the candle down and turning to face me.

She about knocked me on my ass when she did.

Her eyes were kohl-lined and smoky, her plump lips painted the same red as her tank top. It set the green of her eyes off even more, the way her dark lashes fanned above and below them, and she offered me an easy smile like we were friends.

“Figured the party tonight would undo all the pleasant scents I’ve managed to bring in over the last month.”

“You’re not wrong. There’s a very specific odor that hangs around the next day. We could bottle it as Bud Light & Debauchery.”

“So four candles, then,” she said, piling them into her arms. But she only held them long enough to make the joke before she was putting them back down.

I noted that the bag on her arm was large, but mostly empty — like she was being very careful with what she purchased. After our conversation about her family the other night, I understood why. I didn’t imagine she made much as a tattoo apprentice.