Chapter Forty-Four WILLOW

Sunday night and I’m holed up in my dorm suite alone, thinking about tomorrow. How I’m going to have to pretend I don’t care about Rhett. Anxious over how I’m supposed to reject him without hurting his feelings.

It’s going to be impossible.

Only hours ago we woke up together and messed around in the early morning light. Making each other come with our fingers and mouths. Kissing each other so much, my mouth still aches and my body is tender. I miss him.

He’s going to hate me.

And it feels like I don’t have a choice.

I’m a distraction. I’ll ruin him. I can see it now—it’s painfully clear. He’s completely gone over me. I sound awful, like my ego is ginormous and I’m thrilled by this turn of events, but I’m not. I almost wish I hadn’t seen that dazed look in his eyes earlier, when he walked me to my room and kissed me soundly. I begged off spending time with him tonight, claiming I had a paper to write for American Government, which is partially true.

I just couldn’t stand the thought of spending time with him in my room. The two of us alone. I know what would’ve happened. If he had condoms? We would’ve had actual sex. Intercourse. I would’ve given him my virginity freely with zero regrets.

But I couldn’t do that to myself. To have him here and then push him away tomorrow would’ve been terrible. Spending time in my room after? Like torture. It’s best that what we shared happened at the Lancaster estate. Not ideal, since I’ll be going there for the rest of my life and the ghost of him will linger in the hall. In the guest bedroom. In the hot tub. At least I don’t spend every single day there.

God, none of this is easy. Tears spring to my eyes and I close them tightly, fighting an internal battle. I will not cry.

I will not.

Eventually I unpack my bag and stow it away in my closet. I open my laptop and read over the rough draft of the paper that’s due at midnight, tweaking it here and there before I send it off. I take a shower and wash my hair, wincing when I touch myself between my legs. It hurts, but not in a bad way. More like it’s just a reminder that I had Rhett between my legs countless times and he made me come.

I want to feel him again. One last time because I just know that this is it. He’ll be angry with me, but I refuse to be his downfall. I thought Westscott was exaggerating when he said I would be the biggest distraction for Rhett and he wouldn’t be able to play well. At the time, his warning was almost ridiculous. I didn’t think I was important enough in Rhett’s life to actually be considered a distraction.

But it’s true. I can feel it. I shouldn’t have done what I did with him this weekend; I was being selfish. I wanted to know what it was like, to be the center of Rhett Bennett’s world. And it was exactly like I thought it would be.

Magical.

Around nine there’s a knock on my door and I go still, standing in the center of my suite. I was about to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and pretend to go to bed, already knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep. There’s too much on my mind. Too much to worry about.

Swallowing hard, I stare at the door, praying it’s not Rhett. Secretly hoping it is. I’d let him come in. I’d let him kiss me. I’d let him take off my clothes and touch me everywhere and I’d probably even let him have sex with me. And I’d be a willing participant every step of the way because I care about him that much. I want him that much.

When it comes to this boy, I’m weak.

“Willow! Open up!” Iris bangs on the door, her fists heavy and I rush toward it, turning the lock and letting her inside. She’s muttering as she strides in, wearing a long silk nightgown like she’s the heroine of some long-ago gothic love story.

She whips around to face me, the ivory silk skirt spreading outward, making her movements dramatic. So fitting. The moment she sees my face, she points at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Absolutely nothing.” I put on a bright face, but it feels so incredibly false. I let my smile fall almost immediately. “I’m just tired. What’s going on with you?”

She forgets about my troubles and I’m grateful. I’d rather she focuses on herself right now. I need the distraction. “I’ve had a revelation.”

Iris throws herself on my bed, gathering her legs underneath herself, her skirt swirling outward, covering most of the comforter.

“What’s your revelation?”

“I’m in love with Brooks Crosby.” It’s a declaration, said loudly. Like she needed to do that to prove a point. “I am. I’m totally in love with him and I want everyone to know it. Even my parents. Even my dad.”

The last sentence is the kicker for me that says she’s dead serious. “Even your father?”

Iris nods, her expression solemn. “I want them to know. They might already know after this weekend.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“A little.” She shrugs one shoulder, her gaze growing distant as she stares at the ceiling above me. “I told my mother that I liked Brooks. That we were somewhat … involved.”

“And what did Summer say?”

“She asked if I was using protection.” Iris rolls her eyes. “All she cares about is that I’m not going to have a baby. Heaven forbid she becomes a grandmother at her age.”

“I’m sure that’s not the whole reason she said that. Besides, you don’t want to be a mom.”

“You’re right. I can barely take care of myself.” Her sigh is overly dramatic and so very Iris. “But wouldn’t Brooks’s baby be adorable? All of that dark hair.”

Her dreamy voice and the equally dreamy look on her face has me shook. “You’re in love with him.”

She blinks, the dreaminess gone. “I already told you that.”

“I can see it.” Oh God, are those tears in my eyes? I try to blink them away but instead, they fall down my cheeks. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Why are you crying then?” Iris’s lower lip trembles. She too appears on the verge of tears.

“They’re happy tears. I promise.” More tears slide down my cheeks and then I’m crying even harder. She’s crying too. I go to her and wrap her in my arms, squeezing her close. “Your mom said that to you because she was distracted. She had an entire party going on at her house and you hit her with, ‘I like Brooks.’ What is she supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, but you’re probably right.” Iris sniffs, pressing her runny nose against my sweatshirt and I try not to be grossed out. “I miss him.”

“You rode back with him.” We all rode back together, me and Iris crammed into the back of Rhett’s Porsche, Brooks’s big body folded into the passenger seat. At least Rhett didn’t drive like a wild man, which I appreciated. I was nervous about it too because I remembered how he tore out of the driveway the first time I met him.

That moment feels so long ago. But so much has changed in such a short amount of time. Even with Iris.

“I know, and he said he had a paper to write for American Government. I don’t know if I believe him.” Iris pouts.

“I had to write the same paper. He’s telling you the truth. Don’t you have to write that paper too?”

“Maybe? I can’t remember. It doesn’t matter.” She rises to her feet and starts spinning around, her skirt swirling about her legs. “I feel free and in love and it’s the best feeling ever!”

“I’m happy for you.” I try to infuse joy in my voice but … it’s difficult when I’m feeling so melancholy.

Iris stops spinning, staring at me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look sad.”

I promptly burst into tears at her questioning and she wraps me up in her arms, consoling me with soft murmurs while running her fingers through my hair. When I’ve composed myself somewhat, she pulls away slightly, her hands gripping my upper arms while she studies my face. “What happened? Tell me everything. Did Rhett do something?”

“N-no.” I shake my head, a fresh set of tears flowing. “He’s pp-perfect.”

“Then, what is it? I don’t understand.” Her confusion is evident on her face and I want to tell her so badly what’s going on, but I can’t have her marching over to Westscott’s office to scream at him. I just can’t.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to do anything but listen.” I stare into her eyes. “Can you promise?”

Her expression turns wary. “I don’t know. Can I?”

“Probably not.” I sigh and shake my head. “Then I can’t tell you.”

“Come on, Willow. You need to get it off your chest. Something is clearly bothering you. Just tell me.”

I consider my options. Keep this secret inside of me until I burst and possibly tell the wrong person? Go to my parents? That won’t make me feel any better.

Grabbing Iris’s hands, I squeeze them in mine, putting on my most menacing face, which isn’t that menacing at all. “Swear on Brooks’s body that you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.

Iris seems alarmed by my demand. “Swear on his body?”

I nod. “You have to, or I’m keeping my mouth shut.”

“Oh, come on, Willow.”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Swear on it.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “I swear on it.”

“Say it.”

“I swear on Brooks’s sexy body, especially his massive penis.” Iris throws her hands into the air. “You happy now?”

“Yes.” Though I didn’t need to hear about his massive penis, my God.

I launch into the story, telling her every single thing Westscott said to me that morning. How I am a potential distraction and he can’t take the risk. How he threatened me to stay away or he’d make my life miserable. As if I’m not as important as the athletic program at the school. The more I say, the angrier Iris gets, and now she’s the one who looks like she’s going to burst when I’m finished with my tale.

“I cannot BELIEVE you’ve kept this from me.” Iris’s hands are curled into fists as she paces back and forth in my room, her face red, her mouth curled into a snarl. “Westscott is a fucking snake!”

“You’re shouting,” I tell her, my voice calm. “And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Iris comes to a stop, glaring at me in disbelief. “You’re kidding me. There is definitely something we can do about it. Does he know who he’s messing with? We’re Lancasters!”

“Right, and he’s the headmaster who’s trying to turn this school around. Do you know that before he started, it was on the verge of becoming a financial drain? They were losing money every year for the last five years.” I did a little research on my own and discovered that interesting tidbit. “They were even contemplating shutting down the school.”

Iris’s mouth drops open. “This place is legendary. An institution!”

“It had become a financial burden. Westscott turned it around, specifically by bringing Rhett into the football program. Other families are now lining up to have their children go to the school and be a part of the program. Admissions are up. Tuition is up. Westscott is the reason for that. He’s untouchable,” I stress.

“He is not,” Iris retorts. “Fuck that guy. I don’t care if he’s turned the school around and is making our family millions of dollars. He has no right to threaten you or tell you what to do.”

“I don’t want to hurt Rhett’s potential career.” I shake my head. “I could put it at risk. He needs to focus on football and nothing else.”

“After what happened between the two of you over the weekend, do you really believe he’s going to let you go so easily?” At the doubt that crosses my face, Iris snorts. “No, he’s not. He’s so gone for you, Willow. I saw the way he looked at you, especially today. Nothing is going to stop that boy from wanting to spend time with you. Not even you.”

She’s right. I know she is. “What am I supposed to do then? Push him away? Get Westscott in trouble and then Rhett will be mad I didn’t come to him in the first place? I can’t win in either scenario.”

Iris appears genuinely stumped and I know it’s because what I’m saying is true. I don’t know how to win at this, not that win is the right word. This isn’t a game, it’s my life. It’s Rhett’s life too.

“You need to tell your parents what happened with Westscott,” she finally says, her voice eerily serious. As serious as I’ve ever heard her. “They won’t stand for it. What he did, and how he spoke to you, isn’t appropriate.”

She’s right on that point. “Do you think he’ll get fired?”

“Maybe.” Iris shrugs. “He deserves to be.”

Does he really though? He’s a man in a panic, dealing with a teenaged girl whose family owns the entire school. He took a risk by threatening me, and it actually worked.

“I don’t know how to tell them,” I say, shaking my head. Now I’m the one pacing around the room.

“You pick up the phone and tell them everything, just like you told me. Or you FaceTime them.” We both grimace. “Yeah, call them. It’s easier if you don’t have to look them in the eyes.”

I check the time on my phone, looking for any excuse. “It’s late though. I’ll call them in the morning.”

“It’s barely eight o’clock. You know they’re still up.” Iris waves a hand at the phone I’m clutching. “Call them. I’ll stay if you want me to. Or I can go. It’s up to you.”

“I hate that you came over here for advice and I made it all about me instead,” I admit, feeling awful.

“Oh please. You didn’t make it all about you. You have a legitimate problem and I just want to help you fix it. Besides, I didn’t need advice. I just needed to tell someone that I’m in love with Brooks.”

Her face, her entire being, appears to go soft with the admission. Like she’s turned into a big flufly white angel cloud now that she’s in love.

“You really do love him, huh?”

She nods, her eyes wide and shining bright. “It’s terrible. He’s all I think about.”

“It actually sounds wonderful.” I think of Rhett. If I’ll ever have the chance to fall completely in love with him. I’m already on my way there. But have I ruined everything?

“It is wonderful,” Iris admits, glancing down at the floor for a moment before returning her gaze to mine. “Don’t sit on this any longer, Willow. Tell your parents. And then go to Rhett tomorrow and tell him everything. You’ll feel better telling the truth.”

I know she’s right and I nod my agreement, even though I’m still reluctant. And scared.

So scared.

***

“Darling, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Mom sounds incredulous and I can hear Dad’s deep yet ragged breathing. Like he’s trying to get his emotions under control. “How dare that man speak to you in such a manner!”

“I understand why he did it though.” I don’t know why I’m defending Westscott—what’s wrong with me?

“Do you? He has no business talking to my daughter like that.” My father’s voice is tight. I can feel his anger through the phone.

My parents are on speaker, taking my call together like I asked them to. And while it was terrifying to tell them everything, I also do feel better now that the truth is out.

“You’re right. He shouldn’t talk to any student like that, whether they’re a Lancaster or not,” I say.

“But you are a Lancaster. The school belongs to us. All of us. Our parents—your grandparents—have mostly retired, leaving the decision-making to us. Your uncle Grant is on the board of trustees. Once he hears about this, there will be hell to pay,” Dad explains.

I close my eyes, dreading the idea of Uncle Grant hearing this news. He’s extraordinarily grumpy, much like Whit, and he sees things as either black or white. No gray in between.

“Does it have to get to that point though?” Mom asks Dad.

“Of course.” His voice is gruff. “What else is supposed to happen?”

“Perhaps you can talk to him and set him straight. You have such a persuasive way with words. Better than Grant or Whit,” Mom tells him.

I hold my breath, waiting to hear my father’s reply.

“I can speak with him. Want me to do it first thing tomorrow?”

“Only if you promise not to fire him,” I say. “You can’t deny he’s been good for the school.”

“Willow, why in the world are you so set on him staying after the way he spoke to you? It makes no sense.” Mom sounds truly bewildered, and I suppose I can’t blame her.

I don’t know why I want to keep him here either. Maybe I don’t want that responsibility of him losing his job hanging over me. I would feel terrible—terribly guilty. He truly did seem to be watching out for Rhett’s best interests, though truly, they’re Westscott’s best interests as well.

“What he did was wrong, but I don’t think it’s worth losing his job over. I’m only eighteen, what do I know of these things? But it doesn’t feel right. He’s just trying to do what’s best for the school.”

“And for himself,” Dad says grumpily.

“Right. For himself too, and for Rhett.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Mom says.

I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “So much. I care about him a lot.”

My father actually growls. “He breaks your heart, I will break his wrists. I mean it.”

“Crew!” Mom chastises. “You can’t go around threatening the boy your daughter is dating.”

“I can and I will. That little punk won’t destroy my daughter’s dignity if I have anything to say about it. I was a teenaged boy once and a rightful asshole about it.”

Mom actually laughs. “Yes, you were, but you were terribly sweet. You didn’t break my heart.”

“Once I knew I had it, there was no way I would break it.”

Oh my God, they’re having a total moment right now.

“Guys, I love how romantic you two are, but we need to focus on the issue at hand,” I remind them. “And please, whatever you do, whatever Rhett does to me, don’t break his wrists. He needs them to play football.”

“That’s why they’re the first things I’m going for if he does anything to you,” Dad says vehemently.

“Crew …”

“Fine.” He blows out a harsh breath. “I’ll call Westscott first thing in the morning and let him know that I know. And that he needs to watch what he says and leave you alone.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

We talk for a few more minutes and then we finally end the call with plenty of “I love yous” and promises to talk later this week. I know Mom is curious about my relationship with Rhett and I’m sure she’ll reach out sooner versus later. I don’t mind talking about it with her, but I still feel so unsure. Things could change by tomorrow. I hope not, but they could.

Once I’m in bed and scrolling social media, I receive a text from Rhett.

Rhett: I miss you.

Smiling, I quickly respond.

Me: I miss you too.

Rhett: Want to meet in the dining hall tomorrow for breakfast?

Should I? Hopefully my father won’t forget to call Westscott. I’m sure he won’t—Mom won’t let him. Meaning, it shouldn’t matter if I spend time with Rhett or not. There’s nothing the headmaster can do about it.

Me: I’d love that.

He doesn’t respond for at least five minutes, making me nervous. And when he does finally reply, I’m surprised by his answer.

Rhett: Turns out I can’t. Forgot I have weight training and early morning practice tomorrow. But I’ll see you in class? Maybe right before school starts even?

Disappointment fills me, but I push past it. This is important to him. Football. Practice. Weight training. All of it. It’s making him a better player and I need to support him in his passions.

Me: I totally understand.

Rhett: Still miss you.

Me: I miss you too.

Rhett: You’ll have to sneak me into your room one day.

Me: I’m sure you’d love that.

Rhett: Actually I know you’ll love it more.

He then sends me the tongue sticking out emoji.

My face goes hot and I smile.

We’re going to be just fine.