32. Fern

Chapter 32

Fern

I can't believe I let Thora talk me into working concessions at the Black and Gold game. The stadium is packed with rowdy students and alumni, all here to cheer on our football team one last time before graduation. The air is electric with school spirit, but I'm just not feeling it.

"Come on, Fern,". Thora nudges me as we fill up cups with ice. "This is our last hurrah! We've got to make the most of it."

I force a smile, but my heart's not in it. "What does it say about us that our hurrah is working while other students party?"

She laughs. "Totally on brand for us."

I should be over the moon right now - I've secured my fellowship in London, I'm on track to ace all my classes, and I'm about to graduate with honors. But all I can think about is Wyatt.

Thora must sense my mood because she gives me a knowing look. "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"

I bite my lip, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "I can't help it, Thor. What we had ... it was intense. I've never felt that way before." This is the first I've felt up to discussing it out loud. I've spent the weeks since spring break in a sort of waking coma despite Thora's efforts to drag me out of my own funk.

She sighs, handing a customer their change. "I get it, babe. But you said it yourself - it's for the best. You're both heading in different directions."

"I know, I know. It's just ... he gave up so much for me. He left school, Thora. To protect me." My throat tightens at the memory. I don't know what to make of his gesture and subsequent disappearance. I did tell him not to contact me. I squirm, wondering if I should reach out to him.

Thora's eyes soften. "That just shows how much he cares about you, Fern. But you can't let that hold you back. You've worked too damn hard to get where you are."

She's right; I know she is. But that doesn't stop my mind from wandering to stolen moments with Wyatt - the way his hands felt on my skin, the intensity in his eyes when he looked at me, the depth of the connection between us. Was that love? Do I love him? I don't even know how to recognize that emotion.

Thora must read my thoughts because she bumps my hip with hers. "Hey, no more moping. There will be plenty of hot, smart, non-student men in England. Trust me."

I can't help but laugh. "Speaking of England, did you sort out your paperwork for the Rhodes fellowship?" Thora was accepted into the program because she's a badass but hit some hiccups with her visa and passport.

Her face splits into a huge grin. "Nothing will keep me from Oxford, baby!" She takes a breath. "But I'm still working on the identity verification. Turns out when your parents are drunk when you're born, they spell shit wrong on the paperwork."

"Thora!" I throw my arms around her. "That's a nightmare. I hate that for you."

We ignore the line of customers for a moment. She grips my hands. "I'm on it. I'm not above asking everyone I know for help. We're going to tear up London together," she vows, eyes sparkling. "Different schools, not too far apart. We've got this."

I feel a rush of affection for my best friend. She's been my rock through all the drama with Wyatt, never judging, always supporting. Knowing she'll be with me in London makes the whole thing seem less daunting. "Please let me know if I can help."

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our favorite bartenders." A familiar voice breaks through our conversation. I look up to see Wyatt's cousins grinning at us from the other side of the counter. I pinch my lips together and wave nervously.

"What can we get for you boys?" Thora asks all business. I don't think she recognizes them.

As they place their order, I can't help but study their faces, looking for traces of Wyatt. The family resemblance is strong, but none of them have his particular brand of intensity. Which makes sense, since he's not biologically related. But they all definitely have a similar swagger.

"Are you here to see Odin play?" I ask, trying to keep my tone casual. Thora turns at that, brow furrowed.

Stellen nods. "Yeah, it's his last home game. He's hoping to make a big impression before the draft."

Thora groans audibly. "Odin fucking Stag. I should have put it together." She smacks her forehead. Stellen, Gunnar, and I stare at her. "He's in my arguments class. He's the one driving me crazy, refusing to do anything on the final project."

I glance at her. "I thought you wanted to take over and do everything?"

She waves a hand. "I'm going to handle it. What do you other Stag assholes want to eat?"

They laugh and order a bunch of food, which I start to prepare as Thora takes their money.

Just then, a collective gasp rises from the crowd. I whip around to the TV screen just in time to see Odin crumple to the field, clutching his leg. The announcer's voice blares over the speakers. "Odin Stag is down. It looks like a serious injury, folks."

The Stags go pale, abandoning their food and rushing off to find their family. I turn to Thora, expecting to see relief that she won't have to deal with their antics anymore. But her face is stricken.

"Oh god, Fern. What if I cursed him? What if this is my fault for complaining about him?" Her voice shakes.

I pull her into a tight hug. "Hey, no. This is not on you. Injuries happen in sports all the time. It's a risk they all take."

She nods against my shoulder, but I can tell she's not convinced. The weight of the moment hits me - in the blink of an eye, everything can change. All those dreams, all that potential, can disappear in an instant. My heart aches for Odin and his family. But I can also see how the weight of Thora's and my own dreams has impacted us. We both have a hair trigger when it comes to catastrophe. What's that line from Dirty Dancing about balancing on shit?

Odin will come out of this just fine, but Thora and I don't really have people to pull us out if we start sinking. "Come on," I tell her. "Let's focus on this shift, and then we'll take a look at your paperwork drama."

We both finish our shift robotically, and I don't even think twice about splurging for a ride share home rather than fighting the crowds on the train from the stadium. Mom is waiting for me with grilled cheese sandwiches, but her face falls when she sees me walking in the door.

I sink onto the couch with a groan and Mom walks over, handing me a plate. She perches next to me on the couch, waiting for me to spill my guts.

The scent of melted cheese and buttered bread wafts toward me, and my stomach grumbles in response. I take a bite, savoring the perfect blend of crispy, golden-brown bread and gooey, comforting cheese. I swallow, then tell her someone I know got hurt in the game today. Mom frowns. "That's awful, dear. But you seem more upset than I'd expect for … something like that."

I take another bite. She always gets the bread toasted perfectly. Crispy and brown, crackling with flavor. I swallow again. "It's Wyatt."

Mom raises her brow. "The person who took you on your getaway?" She nudges me with her shoulder, and I nod.

"He's not just a person, though, Mom. I think he's my person. And he left." I don't add because I told him to leave. She tilts her head to the side, listening. I set the plate down on my lap. "He left school, and I think he left the whole country. He was trying to get a job in Mexico … I haven't looked." I blow a raspberry with my lips. "I know it's crazy, but I miss him, and I can't imagine my life without him now."

Mom puts an arm around my shoulders. "I didn't realize you felt so intensely about someone. Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrug. As I sit on the couch, the weight of Wyatt's absence settles heavily on my chest. It's like a piece of me is missing, and I can't shake the feeling that I've lost something precious. "It's all very new. Or … it was. It's all over now. And I guess I'm sad about it."

Mom's brow furrows with worry as she listens to me, her hand gently rubbing my back in soothing circles. I can see the love and concern in her eyes, and it's a comfort to know that she's always here for me, no matter what. She's my constant. But I still ache. Mom rests her head on my shoulder. "Oh, honey. Love is never easy, is it?" I shake my head, and she squeezes a bit tighter. "I think you just need to give it time. If you two are meant to be, you'll find a way to make it work."

As I lean into my mother's embrace, her words echo in my mind. Maybe she's right. Maybe Wyatt and I just need time to figure things out. But the pinch in my heart reminds me that waiting is easier said than done and that I'm not in a position to go where he is. Not for the next five years.

The next morning, I wake up feeling a bit more settled, but the weight of Wyatt's absence still lingers. I know I need to keep moving forward, so I text Thora and suggest we visit the Stags to check on Odin.

At least it will give me something to focus on besides my own heartache. Thora and I head for the Stags' apartment, a tin of cookies in hand. "I just want to check on him," Thora says, shifting nervously. "And apologize for any bad juju I might have sent his way."

I rub her back soothingly. "It's going to be okay, Thor. He'll appreciate the gesture."

"I'm still not doing his portion of the project," she mutters.

I nod, knocking on the door. "That's fine, babe." I knock again.

When the door swings open, it's not Stellen or Gunnar standing there. It's Wyatt.

I feel the air leave my lungs in a rush. He looks just as shocked to see me, his eyes widening. But then a slow, warm smile spreads across his face, and my knees go weak.

"Fern. Hi." His voice is soft, almost reverent.

"Hi," I manage, my heart pounding.

Thora groans beside me. "You two are so obvious." She grabs the cookies from my hand. "Is Odin here? We brought snacks."

Stellen appears behind Wyatt. "Snacks?"

Thora peers past him. "Yeah. For Odin. Is he here?"

Stellen winces and looks at Wyatt, who starts scratching at the back of his neck. Wyatt says, "He tore his Achilles."

I frown. "That doesn't sound good."

Stellen shudders. "He had surgery last night. Gonna be months of rehab. He's still in the hospital for observation. Are those cookies?"

Thora clutches them tighter, and my stomach twists at the thought of Odin's injury. He's always so playful, but I know he must be serious about his sport to play at this level.

"I'm heading to the hospital to see him," Stellen says. "Want to come?"

Thora nods, casting me a significant look as she follows him out the door, Gunnar trailing behind. And then it's just me and Wyatt, alone in the apartment.

"I missed you," he says without preamble. "So much. But I was trying to respect your boundaries, give you space ..."

"I missed you, too," I admit, my voice catching. "I can't stop thinking about you, about us."

His eyes search mine, full of longing and hope. "Come sit?"

I nod, letting him lead me to the couch. The apartment is a mess, with half-packed boxes scattered everywhere. "Is someone moving out?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I didn't take much with me to Mexico, so I need to get the rest of my stuff." He looks at me. "Did you know I went to Mexico?"

I shake my head, then I nod. My mouth is dry, and when I try to talk, no words come out.

Wyatt gestures around the room. "I signed with Guadalajara after the combine. The same day as all that press drama. Hey, Fern, I'm so sorry for any stress I caused you. You shouldn't have to feel unsafe just knowing me, coming to a sporting event."

My heart races. I can feel the pulse of it thumping in my ears, which are hot and sweaty all of a sudden. "I …" What am I going to tell him? That I didn't feel unsafe? That's not true. But I felt more unsettled when he disappeared, even though I flipping told him to leave me alone.

Wyatt fills the silence. "I, um, have some shit to sort out." He taps his head. "I'm a little fucked up from what happened with my … with Nick." My face softens at his admission, and I reach for his hand, squeezing it, relishing the feel of him.

Wyatt swallows. "I actually have a trade in motion. I was going to have my stuff sent to me from the apartment … but I flew home last night when I heard about Odin." He trails off, the weight of his cousin's shattered dreams hanging in the air.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, squeezing his hand again.

He grips my fingers, drawing strength. "It's the risk we all take, you know? Every moment on that field is a gift. We never know when it might be our last."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Life is so fragile, so precious. And I know that so why don't I ever translate that to things that bring me joy? Why are we wasting time apart when we could be together?

As if reading my mind, Wyatt takes a deep breath. "Fern, I need to tell you something. I'm transferring to West Ham United. For at least a year."

"In London? But I thought ..." My head spins, trying to process this new information.

"The language barrier was too much in Mexico on top of everything else I'm dealing with, and West Ham has an amazing psychology team I'll be able to work with." He smiles and turns so he's facing me directly. "But also, I want to be close to you," he says, his eyes boring into mine. "While you chase your dreams, I want to be there to support you in whatever way you'll let me. Because I lo-"

I cut him off with a fierce kiss, pouring all my pent-up emotion into it. He responds instantly, his arms coming around me, holding me tight. In that moment, everything falls into place. This is where I'm meant to be. He's not a roadblock. This relationship feels necessary, a vital part of me moving forward.

None of the challenges that happened this year have been his fault or my fault alone. We made these choices together, and every step of the way, we've overcome obstacles. This reality sinks in as I press my lips to his, clinging to his shirt, and moaning into his mouth. With Wyatt by my side, I feel like I can conquer anything.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathless and giddy. "I love you, too," I whisper against his lips. "I think I always have."

His answering smile is blinding. Wyatt is my home, my heart, my forever. As he lowers me back onto the couch, our bodies tangling together, I know that whatever the future holds, we'll face it together.