The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(72)

“Pretty much.”

“What did you do about it?”

I grinned and held up my knuckles for a fist bump. “I beat them at whatever I could.”

“Nice.”

“They won’t always be jerks. Well, some of them might.” Like Phoebe McAdams who’d been sneaking looks in my direction. “But some of them grow out of it.”

“I don’t really talk to them. I just do my own thing, you know?” Franklin nodded toward Cal’s table. “That’s Maria. She’s on scholarship too. She gets pretty good grades but she’s killer at lacrosse. We kind of hang out a lot.”

His cheeks flushed as he stared at her, a crush written all over his face.

We finished our meal discussing more about his favorite hobbies, and as the dessert was served Dean Hendrickson took the podium once more.

“I hope you enjoyed this lovely meal, and I hope you’ve had a chance to get to know the students at your tables.”

No one at ours but Pierce’s parents and me had spoken to Franklin. Maybe that was because we were seated closest to him. Or maybe because, like I’d told Frankie, some people would always be jerks.

“We’re so lucky to have a guest with us tonight who’s agreed to speak a few words,” Dean Hendrickson continued. “I don’t think he needs much of an introduction. Not only is he a Benton alum, but he’s one of the most successful and well-known quarterbacks to have played in the NFL. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Cal Stark.”

Cal stood from his chair, looking devilishly handsome. His face was clean-shaven and his hair combed. His jacket accentuated the width of his shoulders. The slacks couldn’t hide the strength in his thighs.

No man had ever looked so fine in a tux.

If all went well tonight, maybe I’d get to undo his tie with my teeth.

My gaze tracked his every step as he walked to the podium and shook Dean Hendrickson’s hand. Then he stood at the microphone, glancing out over the crowd.

My breath lodged in my throat, wondering if he’d spot me, but his gaze swept the opposite direction before it landed on his table.

“Thanks for having me tonight,” he said, tugging the microphone higher so he wouldn’t have to bend over. “I don’t give a lot of speeches. It’s not really my thing.”

The crowd stilled and the room went quiet at the obvious discomfort in his voice.

Part of me wanted to raise my hand, to wave so he knew he had at least one supporter in the room, but I sat like a statue while my heart raced.

“I was going to talk about football. Go figure.” That earned him a few laughs. “But then I sat next to this special young lady at dinner tonight. And while I appreciate the rest of you being here, I’m going to toss out the speech I’d planned, and just share some thoughts for her.”

Dean Hendrickson, who stood off to the side of the room, shared a worried look with Cal’s father.

“Maria.” Cal gave her a nod. “I knew a girl like you once, back when I was just a student at Benton. She’s a lot like you. Strong. Tenacious. Smart. Talented. And she hated me with a passion.”

Another laugh trickled through the hall.

The room began to blur at the edges. My vision tunneled to Cal, like it had whenever I’d watched him on the football field.

“I wish I had great advice for you tonight, Maria,” Cal said into the microphone. Every person here had to see the softness in his eyes as he spoke to the girl. If they didn’t, they were blind. “But I’m a dumb jock who made his fortune throwing a football. My experiences won’t help you much. But Nellie—that’s the girl who hated me—here’s what I think she would tell you if she were at this microphone in my place.”

At my name, Franklin nudged my elbow, but I didn’t dare take my eyes away from Cal. Why was he talking about me? Where was he going with this?

“Be honest,” Cal said. “Be kind. Nellie is both and it has always set her apart.”

The lump in my throat was beginning to choke me, so I reached for my water glass, the goblet shaking as I brought it to my lips.

“Work hard.” Cal’s deep voice filled the room, corner to corner. No one dared to whisper. “Hard work can often level an otherwise unequal playing field. See, here’s where I throw in the football metaphors.”

Once more, laughter trickled through the room.

“Never lose heart.” Cal gave the girl a sad smile. “When the world tries to steal your joy, steal it right back. Wealth will never determine your worth. And don’t give up on what you want. Fight for it. Every day. If what you want is a job or an award or a town to call your own, fight for it. There isn’t a person on earth who fights the way my Nellie fights. I see her spirit in you.”

My Nellie.

That had to be a slip. Did he know I was here? No. There was no way. He’d just said my Nellie to this room of strangers. His parents were in the audience, and he’d claimed me as his.

I dragged in a breath through my nose, willing myself not to cry as Pierce’s mom reached over and squeezed my hand.

“People come and go from our lives,” Cal said. “It’s not fair. It’s never easy. Hold the people you love close. Cherish their memory when they’re gone. Know that they are watching, so make them proud.”