I Promise You: Stand-Alone College Sports Romance(44)

“We’ll be at LSU soon,” I say. “Little Rock isn’t that far away.” It’s several hours, but still…

“I wish I could, darling.”

I think about Sinclair’s mom, wearing his jersey and dancing in the stands. I squash those feelings down. This is Mom’s usual. Why am I even asking?

I exhale. “Maybe Thanksgiving? Might be easier if you came here since I’ll have a game that weekend. We could hit a restaurant if you want, somewhere nice, maybe spend the night in Memphis—”

She speaks to the guy in the room, her words muffled, then comes back. “Wait. Dillon, I’m on the yacht to the Virgin Islands for Thanksgiving. Theo reminded me. I should have checked with you first, but, well, it came up and we invited some friends. Can you make it?”

No, Mom. I can’t jump on a plane to get on a yacht. I have a game. “Theo?”

A long sigh comes from her, more rustling, as if she’s walking. “I wanted to tell you in person, but there doesn’t seem to be a good time. I’m engaged!”

What?

I sit down on my bed. She goes through men like shoes. Last Christmas, it was a Major League Baseball player. The year before that, it was a Greek millionaire.

“To this Theo?”

“You haven’t met him.”

“No shit.”

“Don’t be like that. Theo’s wonderful. Age-appropriate.” She laughs. “We’re planning the wedding, no date yet, but soon. We’ll come see you, um, let’s see, Christmas? I like the hotel idea. I’ll call the Peabody in Memphis today and reserve two suites.”

The holidays with my mom and her new fiancé? I sigh. “I haven’t even met this guy and we’re gonna sing Christmas carols?”

She sighs heavily. “You’ll like him. Don’t be mad. I just…fell in love fast. You know how it is.”

Yeah.

“How’s your father?”

“He texted last week. He’s going to New York with Brianna’s family for Christmas. He asked me to come…” My voice trails off. Brianna is dad’s new wife, ten years younger than him and his former personal assistant. I passed on his invite. I’d be a stranger to Brianna’s family, and deep down, my dad doesn’t want me around.

“Maybe next time, you can come on the yacht with us…” She details the particulars of her planned trip, the islands they’ll be stopping at, and I respond in the right places, saying what she needs to hear. When we hang up, I lie back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, wanting to erase the ache in my chest.

I’m an afterthought to my mom and my dad has a new family. Loneliness creeps in, snaking over me, and I exhale. Being alone is a feeling I’m accustomed to since Myles died. He was always my little buddy, needing me. I miss him. I scrub my face, my head tumbling. People think I have it all. What a joke.

Sawyer pops his head in and says they’re ready to go. I get up and grab my keys. I may not have a real family, but I have Sawyer. I have my team.





She walks into Cadillac’s at eight on the nose and my body buzzes, a long breath coming from me. I feel her pull, that little something about her that makes my skin hum. This, this is how I know she never came within my vicinity in the past three years, because if she had, I would have known.

She is so damn hot. Devastating.

Every male in the place looks at her.

Some of the girls, too, with sweeping gazes of envy.

I groan. She’s wearing a pair of tiny black dressy shorts that hug her ass and a filmy red shirt with spaghetti straps. It has a split around the midriff, and her belly button piercing flashes. Red heels are on her feet, showcasing her tanned legs.

She tosses her head and her hair is sleek and straight tonight, the color of honey and mahogany as it tumbles around her shoulders. Her eyes are thickly lashed, her full lips a deep red, currently curved up in one of her cute smirks as she takes the place in.

My breathing increases as she glides through the crowd then stops at the bar to order a drink. The bartender stares at her with hungry eyes and rushes over.

“Whoa,” Sawyer murmurs from his seat next to me. “Damn, she cleans up good. I can see her with a rock star…” He laughs. “She is so out of your league, man. Hot, feisty, doesn’t care who you are—”

“I get it,” I grunt as we sit at a table near the back next to a row of several pool tables. Yeah, how do I compete with a rock star? One she married.

Sawyer takes a swig of his beer. “Does she have any clue?”

I pause mid-sip of my water. “About?”

“How long you looked for her? Or the fact that you didn’t screw anyone for months?”

“No.” My eyes watch her at the bar. “Why isn’t she coming over here?”

“She hates the contest, man. Maybe she’s going to ignore us.”

“This Theta thing is driving me crazy,” I grind out. Ashley showed up this afternoon to “check on me” and bring us donuts. First, I don’t eat a lot of sugar during the season, but I accepted them politely. Then, she plopped down at the kitchen table and rambled for an hour about her audition for a local musical. I was in the middle of studying and wanted her gone. Finally, Bambi texted her and they left for a sorority meeting.