15

Cleo

Fine

The last practice with KYU passed too quickly. People from my team kept trying to engage me and expected my concentration, but I gave vague answers, rolling the necklace in my pocket.

I can't leave him.

But I can't stay .

Miles deserved better than something long-distance. It'd just prevent him from ever being happy with where he was.

But I needed him.

Mind whirling, I pulled down the Marrs banners from the office space we'd taken over in the short time at KYU. Our bus had pulled into the parking lot, everyone started loading their bags, and I loitered in the KYU training facilities, trying to buy a little more time. I wasn't ready. I couldn't be ready. With a sigh, I reached into my pocket to touch the necklace again.

Nothing but the fabric met me.

My heart dropped, and I plunged into my other blazer pocket. There was no way. I just had it.

" Shit ," I whispered, searching the ground.

"Wow."

The voice at the door made me jerk up from the ground. Thomas Sullender, the football player we'd told in basic PR lingo that he was welcome to try again next semester. And dangling from his fingers was white gold.

My throat ran dry.

I stood up. "Mr. Sullender thank you for finding…my necklace."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I—the necklace is—um—very important to me and I'd appreciate—"

"Getting on KYU meant sleeping with you?" He took another look at the necklace while my cheeks burned. "Damn. I would've changed my strategy."

He dropped it to the ground, and I waited precious seconds while he strode down the hall. The moment his footsteps disappeared, I all but dove to the floor.

It was fine. The necklace was fine. But my heart wasn't.

I spun around and backed up to the wall. The whole thing wasn't damn fair , but most of all, it wasn't fair to Miles. I stared at the necklace and closed my hand. Miles wasn't just a hookup. He wasn't just a fun time on a work trip. I cared about him a lot more than I'd ever been willing to admit to myself.

I knew what I had to do.

Walking back to the hotel, sitting back at my bed, and typing out the note was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. The note hurt to type, but it was necessary.

I told Miles how much I appreciated our time together. How he'd been so gracious with extending a hand during my time at KYU. And…that was it.

Taking a deep breath, I stared up at the ceiling. The whole thing hurt, deep and raw and painful.

But it was necessary.

Five pages of a PR thank you. I knew he'd see right through it. And I knew I couldn't let him.

While the athletes were having lunch with their coaches, I slipped the note in his locker. If I thought leaving the note would've made me feel better - it didn't. It just made me quieter for the bus ride. Everyone was ready to go back to Marrs and get back into summer training with our boys.

But I couldn't forget the man I'd left behind.

Hours passed on the road. Miles and I were supposed to have an actual goodbye together, and I'd typed that away. With my headphones in, I gazed around my team, trying not to let my melancholy show. They were all pressed up against the bus's windows, probably taking a look at another farm passing by. I smoothed down my skirt and held up a book I couldn't concentrate enough to read.

It hurt. It hurt more than anything I'd ever known.

"Bennight?"

The muffled word made me glance up from my headphones. Coach Lawson stood over me, a concerned look on his face.

Oh, damn. I hadn't hidden it well.

I pulled out my headphones. "Yes, sir?"

"Can we talk for a minute, kid?"

It wasn't a good sign. I motioned him towards my space, sitting in front of a small table with my laptop and notes thrown around, opposite to the neat, tidy order that I usually kept everything.

Coach Lawson thumped to the seat next to me and pulled off his Romans cap, leaving it on the table.

He scratched his beard. "You know, if you got a problem with somebody, you tell me."

"A problem?" I blinked. "Yes, of course."

"If there was some knucklehead bothering you, I hope we got an understanding between us. You can't let any of these airheads boss you around. If they do, they answer to me. I was under the impression that was crystal clear."

"No, of course."

"I thought you knew well enough about that, but I wanted to make it understood."

"Of course. No, of course."

I knew what line of work we were in. We worked with some of the most entitled, arrogant people every day, and I always held my ground with them, because I knew Coach Lawson would be right behind me, backing me up.

"Sir." I nodded to him. "If I had a problem, I'd let you know. But there isn't a problem. There's nothing to tell."

"And you're sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, what the hell is Miles Locke doing, driving alongside our fucking bus?"