The Relationship Pact(77)

And you made her alone. You pushed her away.

Sweat dots my brows as I pace the room. I dig my phone out of my pocket and find her number. I don’t know how this will work out, or if she’ll even talk to me. Maybe she’ll say she’s had enough of me, but I have to try. She has to know that I love her.

My stomach drops.

The phone rings—once, twice, three times.

“Pick up,” I plead. “Pick up, Riss.”

The line clicks. “This is Larissa. I’m sorry I’m not availab—”

Her voice is a balm and buckshot.

I end the call.



Me: Riss, if you’re avoiding me, I get it. I understand. Please answer.



I wait for a response.

Nothing.

“Hollis,” the usher says, reappearing out of nowhere. “We’re just about ready.”

“I’m coming. Yeah. Sorry.” I walk toward the door.



Me: I’m so sorry. I was a dick.



“This way, please,” the usher tells me.



I don’t want to be here. I need to find her. I have to fix this.

I can’t walk away from her.

Judy is right. Larissa is everything.

I want her to be mine.

She is mine.

Damn it.



We approach the large black curtains that separate the back of the stage with the audience out front. Someone drones on about their experiences, and I tune them out.



I punch her number again.

My foot taps against the floor as I listen to the line ring.

Pick up, Riss. Pick up, baby.

My stomach churns.

I’m so sorry.

“Hollis Hudson!” Lincoln’s voice saying my name in the mic grabs my attention.

Shit.

The line picks up, and my heart jumps in my chest. “This is Larissa. I’m sorry I’m not available. Please leave a message after the tone, and I will return your call as soon as possible. Thanks!”

Beep.

The usher touches my elbow. “Go on,” he whispers.

I nod and turn back to the phone. “Riss, baby, it’s Hollis. I bet you fucking hate me, and I deserve it, but please, please talk to me. Let me explain or try to explain. Shit, I don’t know. I gotta go on stage now, but … I love you. Okay? Fuck. I’ll call you back.”

The curtains are parted for me, and I have no time to reflect on my message.

I walk up the steps to a round of applause.





Twenty-Seven





Hollis





I pass Lincoln on the way to the microphone. He smiles, giving me a knowing look.

Ignoring the way my stomach clenches as if it’s preparing me for a hard block on game day, I reach the podium.

My hand goes into my pocket, and I silence it, hoping like crazy that if Larissa calls, she’ll understand why I didn’t answer. But as I take the piece of paper with the notes for my speech out of my other pocket, I realize I can’t not see my phone screen. I’ll be distracted the whole time and wondering if she has texted me back. So, I put it on the podium next to the scratch paper that Judy left in the goodie box for me. I read again the words she wrote along the top of the paper.



To my chosen and newest grandson,

You are always welcome at my table.

Love, Grandma Judy



I take a deep breath.

No texts.

I adjust the microphone.

The lights above me are hot. The podium is a little low for my taste. The microphone is loud and screeches as it bounces on its stand, and I reach up and steady it.

I clear my throat.

“I’d like to first thank the Catching-A-Cares Foundation for the opportunity to be here. At first, I didn’t believe it and was …slightly uncooperative,” I say, getting a chuckle from the crowd. “But their patience and kindness have been unmatched. So, I’d like to thank them for that. And to Mr. and Mrs. Landry for personally welcoming me to Georgia. I appreciate you both so much.”

Applause helps drown out the voice in my head that reminds me that Larissa was with me that night.

No texts.

I clear my throat again. “Many of you might know me from my time spent on the football field. Although, if you could forget this past season, I’d be grateful.”

The crowd laughs at what they think is a joke. It’s not.

No texts.

My heart constricts.

Come on, Riss.

“What many of you don’t know is that I arrived in Georgia straight out of foster care. The system took me in when I didn’t have anyone and made sure I had a safe place to sleep at night. Because of the families who were willing to open their doors to a wild boy, I had enough stability in my life to find football.”

I suck in a deep breath.

“Football gave me the outlet I needed to stay out of trouble. It allowed me a safe place to spend my time and to release the aggression I had built up inside me. It gave me structure and coaches that pushed me to succeed when no one else did.”

I glance down.

No texts.

“Thanks to the commitment from the men and women in the foster care program as well as the Union High School Football Program, Coach Herbert made a promise to a guy who was as rough around the edges as you can get. He never gave up on me.”