Getting Schooled (Getting Some #1)(72)

I touch her cheek, stroking down her jaw, as we rock together to the music.

“I’ve thought about it, turned it around in my head, trying to figure out a way that this will work. This is how. I don’t want to live across the country from you, Callie. And there’s no fucking way I’m letting you go . . .”

Slowly, she shakes her head, tears rising in her voice and her beautiful green eyes.

“You love this town.”

I nod softly. “Yeah, I do.”

“You love coaching this football team.”

“That’s true.”

One lone tear slips down her cheek.

“You love this school, these kids . . .”

“Also true.” I catch her tear with my thumb, wiping it away. “But you know what else is true?”

A hiccup shudders in her chest.

“What?”

“I love you more than all those things. That’s what I’ve realized this year, Callie—I can live in another town, teach at another school . . . I can live without coaching football if I have to.” I dip my head, leaning in closer. “I can’t live without you. Not anymore . . . not ever again.”

Callie’s face crumples, because my girl’s a crier. But I know, this time, they’re happy tears. She presses her forehead to mine.

“I didn’t want you to have to give up anything for me.”

“I’m not, baby. It doesn’t feel like I’m giving up a damn thing. I’m getting you . . . I’m getting the chance to build a life with you . . . and that’s all I really want.”

I kiss her lips, tasting the warm salt of her tears. My arms squeeze tighter and her hands grasp my shoulders, clasping us together.

“The way I see it, I've been living my dream job for the last thirteen years. But you’re just getting your shot at yours. And I want you to take it, Callie. I want to watch you and love you and be there, while all your dreams come true.”

Big, diamond tears spill from her eyes, and she smiles so big at me. Like I’m the only thing she sees, the only thing that matters. And, Christ, that’s a rush. I feel drunk . . . dizzy on her happiness.

“I want that, Garrett. I want you to come with me. I want to live with you, love you, every day until forever. I want that more than I have ever wanted anything in my whole life.”

I brush her cheeks again, wiping away all her tears, and I kiss her lips.

“Then you got it, Callie.”





Chapter Twenty-Two


Garrett





“I can’t believe you’re not going to be teaching here next year. My whole graduation aesthetic is totally destroyed,” Nancy whines, tapping on her phone.

In the weeks after opening night, word gets around town pretty fast about my and Callie’s moving plans. It doesn’t go over well with the kids.

“This blows. Who’s gonna keep us in line?” Reefer asks.

I point at him from my desk chair. “You’re going to keep yourselves in line.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs, “like that’ll happen.”

“I don’t have to worry about that.” David Burke smirks. “Miss McCarthy’s so far up my ass it’s a wonder I can stand up straight.”

And I can tell by the way he says it that he really doesn’t mind at all. Kids are complicated little bastards. They may revolt and push back against it, but deep down, even if they don’t realize it, they want to be watched over.

“Who’s gonna give a shit about us?” Dugan asks.

“Every teacher in this building cares about you guys.”

“Not like you.”

“Yeah, you’re right—I’m pretty awesome.” I smile. “But just remember what I told you—don’t be idiots. You remember that, and you’ll be okay.”

“You’re gonna forget about us. Go off to California and coach some other kids.” DJ frowns. “Dicks.”

They all pout and give me the sad puppy dog eyes.

And I admit it—they get to me.

“I’m gonna come home to visit. DJ—I’m gonna still be checking out the games, and if you guys aren’t kicking ass and taking names, you’re gonna hear about it.”

Still not good enough.

So I cave, and offer to do something I swore I never would.

“All right . . . I’ll join Facebook. You guys can all friend me.”

Nancy bites her lip and laughs.

“Coach Daniels . . . no one’s on Facebook anymore, except our parents.” She shakes her head. “Old people are so cute.”



~




Callie



“Hey, Cal!”

I stand in the bedroom near the open window with the warm, June breeze wafting in from the lake—watching a flock of geese land on the sun-scattered jewels of the water. The last few weeks have been busy—there’s been so much to do. I turn and look around Garrett’s bedroom. It’s almost completely packed up. The top of the dresser is empty and the walls are bare, a tree-high pile of boxes stacked neatly in the corner.

And it makes me . . . sad.

I don’t understand it. There was so much joy the night Garrett told me he was moving to San Diego with me. But the next day, and every day since, it feels like I’m walking around with a heavy gray blanket covering me. Every movement feels weighted and hard.