Chapter 13

Bella

The room is still dark when I open my eyes, but as I snuggle into the bed, I know exactly where I am. Drew’s scent covers the sheets and as the satin rubs against my skin, I sink deeper into the bedding, wanting to feel him everywhere. Just like yesterday when his lip set every inch of my body on fire.

My skin prickles at the mere thought of his touch, and my body yearns for more. One day of Drew isn’t enough, and finally being able to admit that is cathartic.

I roll to the side and reach my hand out, expecting to feel his warm body pulling me into his, but all I’m met with is a cold sheet. My hand moves across the bed, just to make sure I haven’t missed his wide frame. Nope. He’s not here.

Where did he go?

“Drew?” My voice is hoarse and when I lift myself into a sitting position I groan. My body aches, my head hurts. All because we focused on sex instead of food and nourishment.

When Drew doesn’t respond, I sigh, pushing the sheets off my body and swing my casted foot from the bed. I reach down a grab Drew’s shirt from the floor, throwing it on before hobbling out of the bedroom and making my way to the gym.

Smirking, I remember just how good he looked shirtless and sweaty the last time I interrupted him. Maybe this time, instead of watching from the sidelines, I can jump in and join him. Well, not jump. Hop more like.

I call out his name again, but the clattering pans drown me out. Pans? Is he making me breakfast? I squeal in excitement because Drew is making me feel things I’ve never felt before. He looks at me like I’m precious. Almost like I’m a princess, and I’m here for it.

Using the wall to steady myself, I carefully walk down the hallway, trying to remember where I left my crutches.

“Would you like another coffee, sir?”

Sir?

I stop. He’s not talking to me.

“Black coffee is fine.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This can’t be happening? I swallow a gasp as I stumble back. That voice. The only voice that can destroy me with his laidback disapproval.

My dad.

When the hell did he get here? How the hell did he get here? Weren’t the airports still closed?

Disappointment slithers through my veins. My father’s here, which means it’s over. The little snow globe of a world we built over the last few days is finished.

“Here you go, sir.” Nervousness drips from Drew’s voice as the china clinks together. He had to be as surprised as me, right?

Staggering back into Drew’s room, I crawl to my suitcase, find my oldest pair of track pants, and shove them on. Then I quickly look in the mirror and comb my hair with my fingers, only to drop my hands to my side. It’s useless. I’ve got sex hair, and the only way to hide it would be with a long, hot shower. Alone.

Instead, I grab the only scrunchie I have with me and pull it up into a messy bun. At least that makes me look less like I’ve been well and truly fucked for the last eight hours. There’s no way I’ll let my dad think I’m sleeping with his star quarterback, especially when I haven’t talked to said quarterback about what yesterday means for us. If anything.

Gah. What was I thinking? Had the snow made me lose my mind? I slept with Drew. More times than I can count.

I shake my head, knowing I need to go out there and pretend everything was fine. I slap my face, drawing some color across my cheeks and make my way to the kitchen as casually as I can. With a fake smile plastered across my face, I think I’ve got it all under control.

Unfortunately, it all blows out of the window when I stumble like a newborn deer into the room.

“Uh, hey, Dad,” I say through the pain after that awkward step. “What are you doing here?”

My dad spins on the barstool, and that wide grin he had for Drew drops as he takes me in. “Belly,” he says with no emotion.

As I look between my father and Drew, my stomach pits out.

What the fuck am I doing?

Drew is looking at me the same way an over-eager labrador looks at his lunch, and my dad… well, he’s looking at my giant green boot in disappointment.

My running career is just another thing I fucked up at this point.

What’s he going to think when he finds out I slept with the guy he considers a son?

“After your mother mentioned she gave you her lasagna recipe, I had to come and make sure you weren’t poisoning one of my best players.”

He came back for Drew?

I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I can break up a decade long bromance, for what? Sex? I don’t know what Drew wants from me, but if it’s a relationship, I don’t think I can do it.

“After checking him over, I can safely confirm you didn’t kill him. Although, I’m sure you’d like to from time to time.” There he goes again, making me the butt of all his jokes.

I give my dad a small, forced smile because I didn’t want to get into it in front of Drew, not that I would ever have the guts to say something to my dad. What was the point? He’d just say I was jealous and imagining things. It’s just it doesn’t feel like I’m imagining it when he told me a few days ago he’d be lucky to make it here for the New Year, but here we are, a day before Christmas and he’s here to check on Drew.

Heat rises in my cheeks; this time, it’s not because Drew is giving me that knowing, sexy smirk of his. It’s because I’m embarrassed at the reminder that even stuck in a snowstorm with a broken leg, football will always be my father’s priority.

“How did you get here?” Not that I care.

“I drove. It took me nearly two days with the snow.”

My brows crease. “Then why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

He sighed. “I did. I guess you didn’t bother to check your phone in the last twenty-four hours.” My gaze drifts to the couch, my makeshift bed for the last week, knowing that my phone is probably shoved somewhere in its cushions and that I still wouldn’t want to check it. Not having that phone around forced me to talk to Drew. “Luckily, I always know Drew will answer when I call.”

That flicker of annoyance burns hotter in my stomach because he can’t be serious, can he?

Of course, Drew would be there. Always answering his call like the faithful side kick he’d become.

An insidious thought comes to mind. Was Drew planning on letting my dad find me naked in his room? Was this his revenge for all those comments I made before?

No. That’s not Drew. It can’t be. All those things he said… He didn’t know. I felt his gaze on me, burning hottest where he whacked me with a football all those years ago, and I didn’t know what to feel.

“Glad to see he was a gentleman and slept out here.” My dad gestured to the makeshift bed.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. Those sheets weren’t crumpled because of Drew sleeping there. We’d screwed on that sofa at least three times.

No one speaks. What else is there to say? My dad claps his hands together and looks between the two of us.

“Now that I’m here, do you want to thank Drew and pack your bags?”

“My b-bags?”

Dad clears his throat. “Yes. I’m back for the semester, so you’ll come and stay at my house until that cast is off your foot.”

“The semester?” I ask confused. Before leaving London, he promised I’d have my own space. I wouldn’t have to live with him, and I wouldn’t get special treatment because I’m the coach’s daughter.

“Where else are you going to stay until you heal?”

“My dorm?”

“You can’t get up the stairs.”

The same reason I was here in the first place.

“Makes sense,” I drawl out, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice because I should be happy I can spend the holidays with a family member, but I’m not. I was happy here.

“But what about Drew?” I can’t look at him. The boy that spent most of his Christmases alone was about to suffer that fate again because of me. I really was a fuck up, wasn’t I?

My dad draws his attention to Drew, and then looks at me.

“What about him?”

“Well, he’ll be here all alone.”

“Actually.” Drew cleared his throat and I finally dare to look at him. His jaw is a little ticked, but besides that, there’s no visible emotion across his face. No sadness that I’m leaving. No glee that I nearly got caught sleeping with him. Nothing. He walks over to my crutches perched on the sofa and brings them to me like the gentleman he is.

“My roommate, Jacob, has decided to come back. He’ll be here tomorrow.” I try to keep it cool as he hands me the crutches, but I’m sure my face gives it away. “He had an incident with his ex, and he wants to get away from it all.”

“Well, that’s just fantastic news.” My sarcasm is lost on both of them. “I guess I’ll just go and get my bag ready.”

Without another word, I walk down the hallway, and head to Drew’s room. When I get in there, I quickly shut the door and lean against the wood.

Drew’s scent doesn’t calm me for long.

It’s over. My dad’s here. The realization that Drew and I can’t do this again settles in my bones because how could I ever date someone that my dad likes so much more than me?

“Bella?” Drew whisper-shouts as he knocks on the door. I move out of the way, and before he’s fully in the room, I’m on the attack.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” I hiss, poking him in the stomach with one of my crutches.

Drew grabs my crutch, gently pushing it away. “Don’t get angry at me. I only found out a couple of hours ago when he called me. You would have known yesterday if you had bothered to check your phone.” He shook his head, glaring at me. “What college student doesn’t check their phone every ten minutes? How did you go a full twenty-four hours?”

“You seem to be forgetting your dick was down my throat for a lot of that time,” I reply with a little bite as I look down his body. He’s in a raggedy, white shirt with navy sweatpants that look older than him, but I’d still do him. “Why didn’t you tell me when he called you? What if he found me in your bed naked?”

He scratches the back of his neck, and this sexy grin creeps over his features before he shrugs. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “You looked cute snoring in my bed.”

I throw my head back and grunt in annoyance. “You can’t be serious? This is my father we’re talking about here. You didn’t think a heads up would have been warranted? Now I’m going to have to go home with him.”

“Yeah, about that. I - “

Another knock cuts off Drew’s words, and my dad pokes his head through before being invited in. Oh, God. How loud were we? Could he hear us?

“You guys nearly done in here? Looks like a lot of places are opening back up. I thought we could go to that pizzeria you like for dinner, Belly.”

I shrug, laser-focused on my dad, because I know if I look at Drew, I’ll give the game away. “Sounds good.” But it doesn’t sound good at all. I want to talk with Drew, but that’s not going to happen. Not with my dad here.

The same issue again. My father has drained all of the water out of our little snow globe. There’s nothing left in there except fake snow and cracked glass.

Broken and artificial.

It’s rendered useless now, and should be thrown out, along with the memories.

“I’ve nearly finished packing.” I point to the suitcase I’ve hardly touched since I was practically living in Drew’s shorts the whole time.

My father’s eyes track the room, and prickles of sweat pepper my neck because I can tell he’s assessing the situation. I didn’t check the room for signs of sex before he came in.

My dad strolls to the bed and tosses the already unkempt bedsheet to the side. If he finds a condom wrapper, I will die. Literally, right here, on Drew’s floor. I will spontaneously combust with embarrassment. He raises a brow when he looks at me, and I swear I nearly pee my pants because this is it. He’s finally realized that I was doing more than just making Drew lasagna. How the hell am I supposed to explain what happened when I can’t even explain it to myself?

“Nice to see you’re just as messy at someone else’s place as home.”

I open my mouth to talk, but Drew clears his throat first. “Not entirely her fault. I told her she didn’t have to make the bed since she’s injured.”

My dad looks between us with pursed lips, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He looks at the floor and then back to me. “Alright. Do you need help packing the rest of your things, Belly?”

“I’ll help, Mr. Summers. You can go back and finish your coffee. You must be exhausted after the long drive.”

My dad holds his ground. “I’ll stay here, thanks. Belly hasn’t got much to finish.”

Okay. He definitely knows something’s up.

Drew grabs my hairbrush and bra from his desk, stuffing them in my suitcase. I assume because he wants to get this over with as much as me. Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize how awkward it looks.

I gulp, watching my dad’s reaction as Drew casually messes with my unmentionables. He gives me a raised brow, but doesn’t say anything. Fuck.

“I think that’s it,” Drew says as he zips up the suitcase. My dad takes the handle from him, rolling it away from Drew.

“Great. Thanks again for looking after my baby girl, Drew. I really do owe you one.” My dad high-fives Drew and pulls him in for a hug. I grumble because this bromance is getting old and more inconvenient by the day. “Do you want to come to lunch with us?”

I glare at Drew, hoping he can read my thoughts telepathically. We need to talk, but over food with my father is not when it’s going to happen. “I’d love to.” My heart rate spikes. “But I should probably stay here and clean up if Jacob’s coming back. Don’t want him coming home to an empty house.”

And just like that, it’s over. Drew’s drawn an invisible line in the sand. He’s not going to taunt me in front of my father, and I’m going to leave. There will be no excuse to meet Drew again. We’re done.

Before I have time to really take that thought in, my dad has me in his car with the heat on high. My forehead rests against the window as I stare inside the house at Drew’s shadowed form.

“Ready to go?” my dad asks.

“As I’ll ever be.” Too bad my heart is so willfully unprepared.

“How long are you expected to be in the cast for?” my father asks between bites of his pizza. He’s eating like a starved man. I, on the other hand, lost my appetite the minute we left Drew’s house, because leaving him without being able to talk has me in knots, and it’s only been a couple of hours. We couldn’t exactly hug or kiss in front of my father, so Drew saluted me. Let me just repeat that. The guy I slept with several times last night, who also jerked himself off between my butt cheeks while we were bathing, saluted me as a goodbye gesture. I was infuriated with myself and him for not carving out any time to get our story straight.

I sigh, taking a bite with sass. “Doctor said he wants to check it in six weeks but hopes that should be it.”

My father nods sternly, and I already know what that means. That’s his disappointed coach face because the only thing he’s thinking about is my future in running. “Any stabbing pain in your foot?”

“A little, but to be honest, I can’t move it much, so I won’t know how bad the injury is to my running career until the cast is off.”

“Which will still set you back at least a few weeks in training.”

“I know, Dad.” I hold back, rolling my eyes because I’m not annoyed at him. I’m annoyed at myself for hurting my foot in the first place. I’m also equally annoyed at Drew for just being Drew.

“You know, your leg might need some serious rehabilitation, and I’m not sure the running department will have the funding for you.” I look down at my pizza and don’t meet his eyes. He has a point. It’s not like I’m a star runner on the team. I’m middle of the pack at best, and they have limited funding, which is prioritized by how good you are. I’d be lucky if my placement got me a couple of ice packs, let alone one physio session.

My dad leans over the table, offering me a grin. “Don’t worry about it, Belly. Let me pull a few strings, and I will get you to use one of the football team’s personal trainers. We will get you better and back on that field.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I smile, but it’s fake because I don’t care if I can never run again. I never have. I just wanted to make him proud, and athletics seemed to be the quickest way to do it. In hindsight, I wonder if I should have leaned into football instead of bitching whenever I talked about anything related to it. I bet I could play. It’s not like kicking could be that hard, and I’m seeing a lot of girl kickers make waves in college now.

Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve.

I didn’t, and that’s that.

Pushing my tongue out, I discreetly check my phone under the table to see if Drew has messaged me, and I’m duly disappointed.

There’s nothing. Who knows, maybe Drew’s over it and doesn’t need to talk about it. Maybe it’s only my brain that’s foggy from this mess.

“They won’t know what hit them when you get back.” Dad hits my shoe against his, jolting me back into the room, and I offer him a small smile.

“I’m sure they won’t.”