The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(75)

A glass case cramped with trophies sat outside the double doors to the gym. I’d helped win Benton a handful of those awards. We passed the library and a row of classrooms, places where I hadn’t treated Nellie the way she’d deserved to be treated.

“I don’t like being here,” I said.

“Neither do I.”

Reading her diary had been hard enough. Being here was like having every mistake, every wrong, thrown in my face. Like she’d teased . . . we’d returned to the scene of a crime.

Nellie matched my pace as I strode for the exit, hoping like hell there wasn’t an alarm that would sound.

“Did you drive?” I asked.

“No, I came with Pierce’s parents. After dinner, I told them they could leave, and I’d get a ride to the hotel.”

“Which hotel? You know what, never mind.” It didn’t matter. Either she’d be staying in mine or I’d be moving into hers.

“Where are we going?” she asked as I pushed open the door, letting her step outside first.

“Somewhere that isn’t tainted.”

A place where I hadn’t acted like a shithead to Nellie. Or where she hadn’t overheard me acting like a shithead.

We passed a tall, chain-link fence that bordered the football field. Once upon a time, there’d been a side entrance that looked like it was chained shut but the staff had never actually closed the padlock. With any luck, that habit hadn’t changed.

I stopped at the gate.

“This dress isn’t made for climbing, Cal.”

“Want me to help you take it off?” I smirked and tested the lock. It popped open, so I loosened the chain enough to create a gap where we could slip through.

Nellie and I both gathered up the skirt of her gown, careful to keep it from ripping as she ducked beneath the chain.

When she was through, I followed, then took her hand once more and pulled her across the grass.

“Ah. Hold on.” Her spiked heels dug into the ground, so she kicked off her shoes, carrying them as we walked toward the fifty-yard line.

The light from the school building cast a glow onto the field, highlighting the white yard lines and numbers. The chalk was fresh. It was the end of July and the kids would be starting practice soon, if they hadn’t already.

I slowed my steps, my heart still racing, but now that we were outside, I felt like I could breathe. Now that I was on the field, a place where I’d spent countless hours, maybe I’d be able to do this. To be real with her. To be honest.

“I used to see you out here with your friends,” she said, dropping her shoes before spinning around. Her hair whirled like the skirt of her dress. “I always wondered what it would be like to be one of you.”

“You would have hated us even more. The girls especially.”

“Probably.” She laughed. “I saw Phoebe McAdams tonight. We crossed paths in the ladies’ room. She didn’t recognize me at first.”

“She came up to me and said hello.” She’d also thrust her wedding ring in my face like she’d expected me to be jealous. Phoebe had been self-absorbed in high school, and clearly, she hadn’t grown out of it.

I stopped in the center of the field, watching Nellie as she looked around the field. Besides a new scoreboard, not much had changed since I’d played here as a kid. No doubt Dad would insist his million went to the athletics program. He could have his name on the field for all I cared.

I breathed in the fresh air and tilted my head to the sky.

With the city lights, there were no stars. Not like there was in Calamity.

“Why did you steal my diary?” Nellie came closer, then picked up her skirt to sit on the ground, leaning back on her arms.

I dropped to a seat, stretching out my legs beside hers. “An impulse.”

“Let me rephrase. Why did you keep my diary?”

“Because it was yours.” I lifted a hand and traced the line of her pretty nose. “Because I wanted that connection to you.”

She hummed, turning to the sky. The waves of her hair draped behind her, the tips brushing the lawn.

“I love your hair.” That seemed safe enough to admit. “I don’t have a thing for blondes, but I really love your hair.”

“Is that why you call me Blondie?”

“Yes. And I call you sugar because you’re sweet to everyone but me.”

She sat straight, drawing her knees to her chest. “Two compliments in a row. How much champagne have you had to drink tonight?”

“Not enough.” I chuckled. “You’re so smart, Nell. The smartest person I’ve ever met. I tease you about being a secretary, but you know it’s only a joke, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I didn’t at first. But I do now.”

“I’m . . .” Christ, this was hard. Baring your truths to another person—the person—was more intimidating than facing any opponent on any field. More terrifying than any loss. “I’m better at having people hate me than love me.”

“I know.”

Harry had told me that life was about finding the right people. The ones who’d take you at your worst, so you could give them your best. That was my Nellie.

I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to hate me.”