The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(92)

“I do care about you, Hazel.”

“You have a weird way of showing it.”

Growing agitated, I say, “What do you want me to do? Waltz into the house with you and start making out with you in front of my family? Would that make you feel better?”

“Don’t be a prick, Crew.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want. I’m trying here. I have a shit ton of things on my mind, and then this was just dropped on top of it all. I’m sorry if I’m not the perfect boyfriend at the moment.”

“You were never my boyfriend,” she says, looking away.

“What? Yes, I am. You’re my girl, Hazel.”

“I’m your vacation fling, Crew.”

“The fuck you are. I told you, you’re my girl. That I need—”

“If you needed me—truly needed me—then you’d be leaning on me right now rather than pushing me away. There’s more to a relationship than just sticking your dick in someone, Crew.” Her words ring sharp, branded with malice. “Relationships are about give and take, the good and the bad, and working out problems together, not pushing them further and further away and trying to do it on your own.” She folds her arms.

“I don’t know.” I grip the back of my neck. My body is boiling with uncertainty, anger, irritation. Why did Pops have to make that stipulation? Why can’t Hazel just run the farm on her own? “I thought . . . maybe we do long-distance for a bit, and then if I get drafted, we can figure out a visiting schedule or something, and when I’m not in season anymore, I can be with you.”

“So, I would only see you a few months out of the year?”

“The football season isn’t that long.”

“It’s long enough,” she counters. “You’re not going to want a part-time girlfriend. You’re going to get tired of waiting around, and it’s not as though I can just pick up—”

“You can,” I say, hope blooming inside of me. “When the farm is sold, you can go wherever. You can come with me.”

“So, I’m just supposed to follow you around?”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Crew, don’t you think I should have a career too? Since I was twelve, I’ve worked. I’ve built up a work ethic that I’m proud of. Am I just supposed to throw that away and follow you around?”

“Stop saying follow me around. You make it sound like a bad thing. You can still be your own person; you just refuse to be.”

“Excuse me?” She rears back.

“Come on, Hazel. You’ve attached yourself to this farm—you’ve identified yourself as this farm. You don’t even know who you are at this point.”

“I have loyalty to this farm. There’s a difference.”

“We have loyalty, as well, but we also know who we are. We have separate lives. You’ve dabbled in woodworking, but why aren’t you doing more with that? You’re clearly talented.”

“Because I don’t have fucking time, Crew. You might not understand what it’s like to work hard for a dollar because your parents have an endless amount of money, but I know what it’s like to work. I know what it takes to keep my head above water. I don’t have the opportunity to just dabble in woodwork for fun, because I’m working sixteen-hour days sometimes, and I’m too exhausted to even make myself dinner at night. I don’t have options.” She points to the farm. “That’s my option, end of story.”

“You have other options, Hazel,” I say, my voice lowering. “You have me.”

“You aren’t reliable,” she shoots back.

“Is that how you really feel, or are you saying that in anger? Because you’ve said some pretty shitty things tonight.”

She tilts her chin up and she looks me in the eyes. “It’s how I really feel.”

“I see,” I say. My voice sounds weak, even to my own ears.

“Tell me how I’m wrong. You went years without messaging me, and then as things start to get tough, you pull away.”

“You’re the one pulling away,” I yell, flinging my arms out wide. “You’re the one who’s trying to push me away right now. You have no fucking clue how much I’m dealing with.”

“I’ve a pretty good idea.”

“Do you?” I ask her, taking a step forward. “Do you really? Because I could guarantee you, you don’t.” I push both my hands through my hair and take a few steps back in frustration. “Do you know that while we were in Germany, I realized that I’ve been so fucking in love with you for as long as I can remember that it shook me to my core?” Her reaction remains stoic, unfazed. “And I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out how to make this happen. How to make us happen.” I step forward and brush my hand over her face. “When I said I needed you, I fucking meant it. If I seemed as though I was pulling away, it’s because I was trying my hardest to find a way to keep you in my life. You aren’t in this world alone, Hazel, so stop acting as if you are. You have me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

I reach for her but she steps away.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You are going. You’re leaving.”