Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)

The Treasure State University campus was lonely in the summers. It was strange to sit on my favorite bench outside Williams Hall and be the only person in sight.

Though considering I looked like death, being alone was a good thing for a change. When I’d gone to Dollar Discount this morning, two people had stopped me in the aisles to ask if I was okay.

Nope.

I’d nodded and forced smiles even though I was definitely not okay.

But at least I’d stopped puking.

At this point, I was reveling in the little wins. The vomiting had stopped last night, either because there was nothing left in my body to retch or because the numbness had finally sunk into my internal organs.

My brain was as eerily quiet as this campus.

A gentle breeze blew hot summer air across my cheek and lifted a tendril of hair that had escaped my ponytail, dragging it across my mouth. It stuck to my lip balm. I hated having hair in my mouth, but I didn’t hate it enough to tug it free. That would require moving.

I was too tired to move.

Was this rock bottom?

Everything felt so . . . heavy.

It had been two days since Rush had called me. He’d asked to meet sooner, but yesterday, I’d had a double shift at the diner. He’d offered to come to Dolly’s, but I’d lied and told him we were so busy that I wouldn’t be able to talk.

We were never busy.

But Dolly’s was my safe place. It was bad enough having Justin pop in at random. I didn’t need Rush intruding on my sanctuary either, especially if—when—this conversation went sideways.

So we’d decided to meet on campus today, on neutral ground, between his football practices and before my shift started at three.

The mid-August sunshine was sweltering this afternoon, and even though I’d found a bench in the shade, sweat beaded at my temples. How did Rush play football in this heat? Wasn’t it dangerous? It was forecast to be in the nineties.

I dug the bottle of ice water from my purse, taking a sip as a tall, broad figure rounded the corner of a brick building. His long legs ate up the concrete sidewalk as he walked my way, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black athletic shorts.

Rush’s baseball hat was turned backward. His white shirt was sleeveless, his muscled arms on display. The fabric stretched across his chest and hugged his washboard stomach. His shorts were normal athletic shorts that probably would have been baggy on most guys, but they molded to his bulky thighs, barely swishing with each of his long strides.

I hated the way my heart trilled as he came closer.

That stupid fucking trill was the reason I was sitting on this bench in the first place.

Rush’s expression was blank, guarded, as he stepped off the sidewalk and onto the freshly cut lawn. His brown eyes flickered to the building at my back before he sat on the bench, leaning forward with his elbows to his knees as he stared forward. “Hey.”

The edge to his voice was as sharp as the corners of his jaw.

How long until he asked me to get an abortion? One minute? Two? Three?

The sting of tears pricked my nose as the same burning lump I’d been fighting for days swelled in my throat. It made speaking nearly impossible. Or maybe I just didn’t have a clue what to say.

I sat close to one end of the bench while he did the same at the other. The space between us was only a couple of feet but it might as well have been miles for the tension that stretched tighter and tighter and tighter.

The T-shirt I’d worn felt damp with sweat and clung to my spine.

Why was it so hot? Meeting outside had seemed like a good option, giving us air to breathe and space to walk away if things turned sour. But with every passing second, the heat spiked, making me dizzy.

“I don’t come on this side of campus very often.” Rush broke the silence, still not looking at me as he spoke. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” I muttered.

“So . . .” Rush blew out a long breath, his shoulders sagging away from his ears as he spun his hat forward to shade his eyes. He sounded tired. He sounded heavy too.

It should have made it easier knowing I wasn’t alone in this. Except it was actually harder.

Why? No clue. That was something I’d figure out after I figured out how to stop crying.

I swiped at my cheeks, the dark circles beneath my eyes raw from being rubbed so much. “So.”

“I don’t know what to do here, Faye.”

“I’m sorry.”

He hung his head. “I’m sorry too.”

The mutual apologies should have made it easier too. They should have defused the tension.

They didn’t.

Maybe nothing about this would ever be easy, and the sooner I made peace with that, the sooner I’d get my emotions under control.

I sniffled, wiping my eyes again and forcing air into my lungs. Then I took another drink, letting the cold water ease the pain in my throat.

“Have you decided what you want to do?” The question was too flat, too practiced, for me to tell if he had an opinion one way or the other.

I dragged in a ragged breath, my heart beginning to race as I clasped my hands in my lap.

Rush deserved to know why I was going to stand firm in this choice. But this explanation wasn’t exactly something I liked to broadcast. It wasn’t a story that was fun to share, which was probably why Gloria was the only person who knew.

And the only reason my sister had a clue was because she’d lived it too.

“My mother is not a nice woman,” I said.

“What do you mean?” For the first time, Rush’s gaze met mine. There was a furrow between his eyebrows and a hint of worry.

It seemed like genuine concern. Rush seemed like a good guy.

I guess I’d find out soon enough how deep that goodness went.

“Before she had me, Mom was . . . pregnant.” Days had passed and it was still nearly impossible to choke out that word. “Three times. She had three abortions.”

Rush stiffened but stayed quiet, probably because that could be taken either way. Or only one way, once he learned the rest.

“She’s told me more times than I can remember she wishes she had aborted me too.”

“What the fuck?” Rush’s nostrils flared as his hands fisted.

“Like I said, she’s not a nice woman.”

If I spilled a glass of water, she’d remind me of how hard her life had become after she’d become a mother. If I made a mess, she’d curse and yell and say how much she hated living with me. When I was in high school, I’d dropped a plate on accident once. While I’d been sweeping up the broken pieces, she’d come into the kitchen and told me her biggest mistake was bringing me into this world.

Mom hated being a mother, and yet she’d had Gloria too. I’d never understood why she’d had another child when she’d loathed my existence. My sister hadn’t escaped Mom’s cruelty either, but at least Gloria had been able to count on me as her shield and her father’s home as a safe haven. I’d taken the brunt of Mom’s insults to spare my sister the pain.

For a long, long time I’d tried to prove myself. To make her love me. To show her I was worth her struggles. Worthy of life.

I’d tried so hard to be a good daughter.

And I had been a good daughter. Except nothing would ever be enough, not for Brynn Gannon. When I’d finally stopped letting her break my heart, I’d set myself free. But the wounds had been cut deep for too long. Some were knitting together, closing up and becoming old scars. And others would likely bleed for the rest of my life.

“I realize that abortion is the right choice for some women,” I said. “I’m glad to have that choice. But I can’t be like her. I can’t. I won’t.”

Rush’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, staring out across the lawn.

My heart hammered as I waited, and with every passing second, the reality of this, my suspicions, came crashing down.

I was alone in this. I was always alone.

He’d come here hoping for a very different outcome, and I was as much of a disappointment to him as I was my mother.

It was fine. I’d be fine, right? I’d keep telling myself it was okay until I was okay.

I did not need Rush Ramsey.

I didn’t need anyone.

He smacked his hands on his knees, nodding once as he shot to his feet. “Do you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled?”

“Uh.” I blinked. “Not yet.”

“I’ll go.”

Huh? “To my doctor’s appointment?”

“Yeah.” He nodded once, then spun on a heel and walked away, disappearing long before I could figure out what that meant.