For Emery (For You Book 4) Read online

“That line’s never gonna get old for you, huh?”

  “Not likely.”

  We ended up back at my dorm a few minutes later. “Let me walk you upstairs,” Jordan said, outside the front door.

  “I’m fine.” I patted his chest gently as I pulled the strap of my bag over his head. “Now, hurry up. You don’t want to be late for your class.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  I scanned my ID card beside the door. It buzzed and the door unlocked. I pulled it open. “Have fun,” I said.

  “Yeah.” Jordan laughed before turning and jogging away. He was definitely going to be late.

  I closed the front door behind me and climbed the steps to my floor. I walked down my hallway and stopped outside my room. I typed in the passcode on my door. I must’ve missed a number because it didn’t unlock. I tried again, this time making sure to press each number slowly and accurately. The door unlocked. I reached for the handle.

  “Emery?”

  I spun around with my pulse ricocheting off my chest.

  Flip stood there.

  “How long have you been standing there?” I asked, almost unable to speak.

  Flip shrugged. “How’s it going?”

  I stared at him with anger flaring inside me. Not only had he scared me half to death, but he also set up Jordan. And that was not okay. “That’s what you want to say to me?”

  His brows dipped. “What?”

  “The fight with Jordan. I heard his side.”

  A harsh, humorless laughed escaped him as he crossed his arms. “So, let me guess? You believe him?”

  “Yup. Because he’s never lied to me.”

  “He’s in love with you, Emery. He hasn’t been lying about that?”

  “Denial and lying are two different things. What you did was lie. You skewed it so the story worked in your favor. And the sucky thing about it? I believed you. I didn’t want to even hear his side.”

  He looked down.

  “I was wrong to believe you. And I told Jordan that.”

  He glanced up at me, like he wanted to say something, but I wasn’t finished yet.

  “You know, it really sucks because you were my first friend here. I thought you’d be in my life for the next four years. But you messed that up. For no reason.”

  He still said nothing.

  “I’m not here to lecture you, but just so you don’t mess it up with the next girl you befriend you need to know something. A real friend wants you to be happy. They don’t try to sabotage your happiness.” I twisted the knob on my door and left Flip in the hallway as I walked into my room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Grady

  The home crowd filled the stadium with a roar you didn’t get in any other college football stadium. Our fans were crazy about their football. And we loved it. We thrived on their cheers and we worked our asses off when we knew we’d disappointed them.

  For the first time in four years, Em stood in the front row beside my dad with my number painted in white on her cheeks. I loved knowing Em was there for me and only me.

  I hadn’t spoken to my dick of a QB since I’d clocked his ass. Sure, he tried to celebrate my touchdown the previous week, but tapping his fist was only for show. Those potential teams—and everyone else watching at home—needed to know I was a team player. They needed to see nothing but greatness from me. Unfortunately, after last week’s amazing display, I wasn’t sure I could top it. So, I went into this game ready to give it one-hundred-and-ten percent effort. No one could fault me for that.

  From the first snap, I was on fire. Block after block felt effortless for me. The guys and I were in sync on the field. The receivers were always right where they needed to be to catch passes. Even Flip could do no wrong when it came to his passes. By the half we were winning by twenty-one.

  The team and I ran back out to the sideline after half time. I glanced to my dad and Em, expecting them to be cheering with the rest of the fans, but they weren’t. They were engrossed in a conversation with a man who stood in the aisle. I tried to discern who he was, but I didn’t recognize him. Having no time to figure it out, I grabbed my helmet and got my ass back out on the field.

  We scored again on third and fifteen, this time due to a nice hand-off to Hayes, our sophomore running back. It was good to see the younger guys getting some play and making names for themselves. As I ran off the field after the touchdown, I glanced to the stands. My dad and Em were cheering us on, and the man they’d been speaking to had disappeared.

  We won again by a landslide and Flip got all the attention after the game. I jogged over to my dad and Em before heading to the locker room.

  “Hey.”

  “Great game,” Em gushed.

  “Nice work out there, Jordan,” my dad said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Want to get some dinner?” my dad asked.

  “Sure. I’ll meet you and Em by the locker room in about twenty minutes.”

  He nodded and Em smiled, like she was bursting to say more.

  I cocked my head in question and she just smiled.

  What could I say? The crazy girl loved me.

  * * *

  “You guys better spill it,” I said, my eyes moving between Em beside me and my dad across the table. “You’ve been acting weird since we left the stadium.”

  “Your dad has some news,” Em said.

  I looked to my dad for an explanation.

  He sipped his drink as I waited anxiously. “An agent approached me at the game,” he said.

  “An agent?”

  My dad nodded. “He wanted to know if you were going to the pro combine this year. I didn’t know what to say to him. You never mentioned it.”

  My gut clenched. I had only told Em that Coach thought I might have a shot at the pros.

  “Emery told me what your coach told you,” my dad said. “She said you’ve been considering it.”

  “I seriously didn’t think it would really happen. So why get my hopes up? But I’ve been having a hell of a season. And I’m starting to think I could actually make it.”

  “He said he’s had his eye on you for a while,” Em added excitedly.

  “He has?”

  My dad nodded. “It seems so. He’s pretty interested in getting you ready for the combine and then representing you when you show what you can really do.”

  “Isn’t that awesome?” Em asked, noticing the shock on my face.

  “He said on the surface you may not necessarily be a first-round pick,” my dad added. “But he believes you could be a sleeper pick for some of these teams.”

  “You know I can’t take anything from him. Or commit, verbal or written,” I said.

  “All he wanted to know was if you wanted to play professional football,” he said.

  “And if I do?”

  “He’ll be in touch after the season,” my dad said.

  Holy shit.

  * * *

  I stood at the bar waiting for the beers and sodas I’d ordered. It was quieter than normal since it was Sunday night. I glanced over my shoulder to the high-top table where Em laughed with Sabrina and her boyfriend Crosby. I dropped my cash on the bar as the bartender placed my drinks down. I grabbed two in each hand and maneuvered through the scattered people milling around.

  “What’d I miss?” I asked, sitting in the stool beside Em as I slid the beers onto the table in front of Sabrina and Crosby and the sodas in front of Em and me.

  “Just telling Emery horror stories about you,” Sabrina admitted.

  “Are you serious?” I asked Sabrina, but looked to Crosby for confirmation.

  The traitor shrugged.

  I reached over and cupped Em’s ears. “Earmuffs.”

  She laughed and shook off my hands. “She’s not saying anything that’s gonna scare me off.”

  “Damn straight she’s not,” I said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Em smiled, and it was lame to admit, but that smile did weird thi
ngs to me.

  I looked away before I did something crazy like make out with her right there in front of everyone. Sabrina stared at me, her eyes narrowing in that who-the-hell-are-you and what-have-you-done-with-Grady way.

  “So, how’s your team look?” I asked Crosby, ignoring Sabrina’s unspoken questions.

  “I think we’ve got potential,” he said, never being one to say much.

  I could tell he was kinda pissed Sabrina dragged him out with us. They barely got to see each other. I’m sure he had other plans in mind for them. But Sabrina had insisted we go out because she wanted to get to know Em.

  “You guys are doing well,” he added.

  “Yeah. We’ve got a douchebag for a QB, but the rest of the team is okay.”

  “Yeah,” Crosby scoffed. “I saw my fair share of douchebags last year.”

  I nodded, knowing he had a rough time once he transferred to Alabama. The hockey team made his time on the team hell. But he turned the tables on them, flipping them the proverbial bird by getting drafted to the pros.

  “You thinking of going pro next year?” he asked.

  I shrugged, knowing better than to talk about the agent with anyone—other than Em and my dad.

  “Any team would be lucky to have him,” Em said.

  Sabrina laughed. “I’m not sure they’ll think that until they get to know him.”

  “Am I that difficult?” I asked.

  The girls answered at the same time. “Yes.”

  We laughed, and for once in a long time it felt nice to have friends.

  “I’ll be right back,” Em said to me.

  I leaned over and dropped a peck on her lips. “If any guys try to talk to you, tell them you’re taken. Got it?”

  She laughed.

  “I’m serious.” I flexed my right arm and eyed my muscle. “Show them the guns.”

  “Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes and hurried off to the bathroom.

  “Just when I thought you changed,” Sabrina said.

  I turned back to her.

  Her eyes riveted between mine. “Actually…lame comments aside…you have changed.”

  “Em brings out the best in me.”

  “And Sabrina brings out the horny side in me,” Crosby said, wrapping his tattoo-sleeved arm around her and pulling her into his side.

  She giggled. “Stop. You said you could wait.”

  “I lied.” Crosby slid off his stool and said, “Dude, I need to get my girl alone before I head back. You understand, right?”

  Sabrina looked just as eager to be alone with him.

  “Yeah. Go. It was nice hanging with you guys.”

  He bumped my fist. “Later.”

  Sabrina unexpectedly wrapped her arms around me and leaned into my ear. “She’s a keeper.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I said as she stepped back from me.

  Crosby wrapped his arm around Sabrina and led her out of the bar.

  Em returned a couple minutes later. She looked at the empty table. “Where’d they go?”

  “I think she got what she came for.”

  Her nose scrunched. “What’s that mean?”

  “I think she just wanted to see me happy.”

  Her bottom lip jutted out. “So, she was looking out for you?”

  “I guess she was.”

  She walked in between my knees and slipped her arms around my neck. “So, did she approve of me?”

  “Yup.”

  “And if she didn’t?”

  I leaned in and kissed her. “Wouldn’t matter.”

  She smiled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Emery

  I’d finished getting dressed in black skinny jeans and a fuchsia scoop-neck shirt, going for a more casual look. I had no idea where Jordan planned to take me. It had been a week since our first real date, and I wondered if he’d try to top such a special night.

  I’d run to the restroom and was heading back to my room to fix my makeup. My heartbeat sped—a normal occurrence when I knew we’d be alone together. And after the amazing first week we’d had, I didn’t think things could go any better.

  Bass from a radio down the hall made it impossible to hear my own thoughts as I tapped the passcode into the keypad on my door and pushed it open.

  The moment I stepped into my room, a cold shiver rushed up my spine and the door closed behind me.

  Wayne stood in my room.

  I spun back around and grabbed the door knob, but he was too fast, knocking me out of the way as he blocked the door with his body. “I just want to talk,” he said.

  “Not a good idea, Wayne,” I said, my voice cracking and my hands shaking as I backed up into my room, locking my eyes on him.

  “I’d say letting your mother drain our bank accounts and not calling to tell me where you’d gone warrants a conversation,” he said, his face pale and cheeks gaunt.

  Visions of what he’d done to my mother stung my eyes with tears. “The police are looking for you.”

  “Haven’t found me yet,” he said moving toward me.

  “How did you find me?” I asked, back-stepping until I hit my bed.

  “Wasn’t too hard to figure out where you both went when you left the hospital together.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What I’m owed.”

  My stomach lurched as I bolted toward the door, knowing if I didn’t act quickly, he’d catch me. But he was at the door as fast as me, caging me in.

  A cold gut-wrenching fear grasped hold of me.

  My mother said she knew her time had come. Now I understood what she meant. Hiding for four years always made it a possibility. But this was the reality.

  “Help!” I screamed, hoping someone would hear me.

  Wayne covered my mouth, stealing away my breath. “Your mother fought me well.” The smell of alcohol on his breath terrified me. He was rational when he was sober. He was a monster when he was drunk.

  My eyes shifted to my phone on the desk. If I could just get to it. If I could just call for help.

  “Scream again and I will hurt you,” he warned.

  The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me I wasn’t getting out of this unscathed.

  He slowly removed his hand from my mouth, gauging my next move.

  “She loved you, Wayne,” I said, unable to hide the quaking in my voice. “You just never loved her back.”

  His hand came out of nowhere, slapping me across the face.

  The sting elicited a pool of tears in my eyes.

  “I loved her,” he snarled. “I loved both of you.”

  Tears trailed down my throbbing cheek. “You don’t hurt the people you love. And you hurt her repeatedly.”

  “She left me with nothing. I’ve got nothing left.”

  “What do you want? Money? Is that why you hurt her?”

  He said nothing.

  “If you could stay sober, you’d be able to hold down a job. You could make your own money.”

  Still he said nothing.

  So, I kept talking. Talking so he wouldn’t hurt me. Talking so he would sober up. Talking so help could show up. “But what I really think you need is help, Wayne. Get help.”

  My words sparked a rage in his eyes. A rage I’d never seen directed at me before. “I need help?” His hands dropped to my shoulders and he slammed me against the door, my head bouncing off it.

  I gasped as the wind was sucked out of me and I slipped down to the floor with a thud.

  Wayne stared down at me.

  Had something I said resonated with him?

  Was he having a change of heart?

  Did he feel regret?

  The glazed look in his eyes told me he was too far gone for any of that. I was transported to my youth. But now I was in my mother’s place.

  Oh, hell no.

  I jumped to my feet, frantically grabbing for the first thing I could get my hand on to fight him off. I grasped the back of the wooden desk chair, pu
lling it in front of me to protect me from him.

  He grabbed the chair and yanked it free from my hands.

  I had nothing to protect me but my bare hands. And for the first time in my life, I was ready to use them. Ready to inflict pain on the man who tried to rid this world of the woman I loved most.

  The click of the door opening sent Wayne’s head twisting over his shoulder.

  Jordan stepped into the room with a huge smile on his face. Everything in his face changed as his eyes jumped between Wayne grasping the chair and me looking terrified. Jordan flew forward, his fists connecting with Wayne’s face until he brought him to the ground. Jordan wailed on him. First a right hook, then a left. They came fast and furious and difficult to discern. Wayne tried to fight back, but Jordan was too strong. Too angry. Too lethal.

  I ran to my phone. My hands shook as I dialed 9-1-1. I lifted the phone to my ear while watching Jordan’s relentless pursuit to exact revenge. Wayne wasn’t fighting back; he was covering his face. Blood had splattered. Wayne’s blood. I didn’t want Jordan to go easy on the man who’d hurt my mother, but I hated the rage in his eyes that Wayne brought out of him. This was the culmination of years of hatred. This was retribution for what Wayne had done to us.

  “We need help,” I explained to the operator, rattling off our location and what was happening in more of a scream than a composed response. She wanted me to stay on the line, but I needed to make Jordan stop. Wayne no longer covered his face. He lay unmoving.

  Had he passed out?

  Been knocked out?

  “Jordan, stop!” I yelled.

  He didn’t. His fists had minds of their own.

  “Jordan, stop! He’s unconscious.”

  Jordan finally stopped, his head shaking slightly as if fighting off the rage jockeying for control of his brain. He straightened up, his eyes never wavering from Wayne on the floor.

  “Is he breathing?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately,” Jordan said as he moved to me, wrapping his arms around me but never taking his eyes off Wayne. “When I walked in here…” he began.

  “I know.”

  “I was so fucking scared.”

  “I know.”

  He looked to me. Blood stained his face and shirt. “Did he touch you?”

  “He slapped and shoved me. But that was it.”