The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(96)

“No, it wasn’t supposed to be that kind of party. We were supposed to have fun, and my husband wasn’t supposed to pass out at ten-thirty.”

I chuckle and rest my arms on my knees, which are pulled in tight. “At least you have him, despite his light snoring.”

Mia looks over at her husband affectionately. “He’s a good man. But so is Crew.”

I groan. “I don’t want to talk about that . . . anymore.”

“The night is already a flop and we have a few minutes before the New Year. Might as well get anything you need off your chest right now.”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“Have you heard from him?”

I shake my head. “No. And I hate that I’m waiting on it, too. I wish Marley never said what she did, because every hour that goes by that I don’t hear from him, I feel my heart breaking more and more.”

“Not to be a dick or anything, but weren’t you the one who turned him down? He told you he loved you, and you turned him away. I mean, I wouldn’t be ripe and ready to contact you if I were him.”

“Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t even know what to say at this point if he did contact me.”

The TV lights up even brighter, catching my attention, revealing thirty seconds until the New Year. When I was in Germany, I thought about New Year’s Eve and how Crew and I would be together. I thought about how it would be the first time I’d kiss someone on New Year’s. I thought about how I’d wake up the next morning, the new year, in the arms of Crew, holding me tightly. I never considered the alternate reality of being three thousand miles apart again and not talking.

I never thought I’d be fighting with my emotions every day about losing the farm.

I never thought love would be this hard.

I always considered it to be easy. Once you fall in love, things fall in place—but that’s not the case here.

Everything fell out of place, actually.

“Ten, nine, eight. Johnny, wake up,” Mia says, shoving her husband’s arm.

“Huh, what?”

“The ball is dropping. Three, two, one.” Mia raises her arms toward the ceiling. “Happy New Year’s, you fools.”

“Ah, Happy New Year, babe,” Johnny says, getting up from his chair and placing a sweet kiss on Mia’s lips. He then looks over at me and says, “Happy New Year, Hazel.”

I smile, my eyes stinging. “Happy New Year, Johnny.”

“I’m going to head to bed, babe. Come with me?” He holds his hand out to Mia.

She glances at me and I wave her on. “I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “Yes, it wouldn’t be the first time I sleep here. Go ahead. Have a good night, you guys, and Happy New Year.”

Mia gives me a brief hug and then takes off with Johnny to their room. I put our glasses in the sink and then head to the half bath, where I get ready for bed. I have my own toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, because I stay here from time to time, and it’s easier just to keep some items on hand.

After that, I take some sheets, a blanket, and a pillow out of the hall closet and head to the couch, where I set up my bed. Once situated, I lie on the couch and stare up at the ceiling, tears once again streaming down the sides of my face.

“I’m so lost,” I whisper, as if Pops is sitting right next to me, listening.

Just then, my phone beeps with a text message. I wipe my tears and lift my phone to see a message from Crew.

My breath escapes me as my pulse picks up, thumping so loud that I can barely hear the dull hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

He texted me.

He actually texted me.

Marley’s words ring through my head, reminding me that I need to talk to him, even if it hurts.

With a deep breath, I open the text message.

Crew: Happy New Year, Twigs. I know I’m three hours behind, but figured I’d say it anyway.

More tears. After everything we said to each other, after what I didn’t say, he still messaged me. Maybe he was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t going anywhere.

Then again, a text message is just that—a text message. It could mean nothing.

It could also be a stepping stone.

I need to text him back, even if my mind isn’t quite where it needs to be. I can’t leave him hanging.

Hazel: Thank you. Happy New Year (early).

There, simple and to the point.

But then the little dots indicating he’s writing back appear on the screen and I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

Crew: I thought about New Year’s while in Germany, thought we’d be spending it together. What happened, Hazel?

I pick up the collar of my shirt and attempt to dry my eyes before texting back. I’m a complete mess.

Hazel: We’re both going down different paths in our lives.

I press send and hiccup. The phone rings.

Shit. Why is he calling?

Do I answer? What kind of question is that? Of course I need to answer. If I don’t, he’ll know I’m blatantly ignoring him.

Trying to sound casual, I press the green button. “Hello?”

He’s silent for a second and then says, “Thank you for answering.” The rawness of his voice breaks any last wall I might have had erected.