41. Fallon

Kelly stops at the passenger seat of Corey’s truck, reminding me this night is going to hell in a handbasket.

I slide into the seat behind Corey as Palmer slips into the seat behind Kelly. He bestows me with a wide smile that I think is meant to be encouraging.

I don’t know how to respond. This night—this entire day—feels doomed.

I turn as my door opens. Brent flashes me a hesitant grin. “Hey. Mind if I catch a ride?”

“Sure!” Kelly replies before I can muster a polite response.

I scoot over, sandwiched between Brent and Palmer.

Forget a handbasket. We’re riding on a lit rocket.

“Are you sure you want to ride with us, Palmer?” Kelly asks. “I don’t want you to feel like a third wheel.”

I glance at Palmer in the dim light of the truck, praying he hears my silent pleas to stay.

Don’t leave.

Don’t leave.

Don’t leave.

Palmer leans back and fastens his seat belt. “Third wheel? Corey’s my plus one.”

Amusement tickles my lips as I lean back and steal a final glance at the house that confirms Corey shares yet another similarity with Tobias. This house has to be worth a million dollars or more. Not only is it three stories, but it’s beachfront.

When we reach the bar, memories are my shadow. It’s been nearly two months, but it feels like mere hours ago that I stepped in here with Lexie at my side. Only tonight, Corey’s beside me, his cologne occupying most of my thoughts as flashbacks of that night take what’s left.

One glance at him, and I know he’s thinking of the past, too. We kissed here, maybe in this exact spot where we’re standing.

I swallow and try to tame my racing heart.

“Want something to drink?” Kelly asks.

I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Her expression falls. “Oh, shit. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that I can’t. I just don’t.” It’s another one of the million gray lines for type one diabetics. Most are comfortable drinking alcohol, but it makes it harder for me to detect any changes in my blood sugar, something I’m eternally uncomfortable with.

“Corey?” Kelly turns to him.

“I’m good, too.” He peers in the direction of where he’d sat that night. “I’m challenging Fallon to a game of darts.”

Kelly glances between us, silent questions visible as her eyes stop on me.

“He thinks he can win favors for our class project.” It’s a blatant lie, one of a million for the day.

A grin spreads across Kelly’s face. “Okay. We’ll be over that way soon.” She threads her arm through Brent’s and steers them toward the bar.

“I’m going to…” Palmer doesn’t finish the sentence before peeling off in the opposite direction.

Corey nods toward the back, and I follow him, still replaying too much of our first time here. We walk up a short flight of stairs to reach the tables. The bar goes back further than I expected, with an entirely different vibe from the dance floor on the main level. This section has two pool tables and a dart board, and the music doesn’t pound nearly as loudly in my ears. Aside from a couple of guys playing pool, it’s desolate. I wonder if it always is. If so, does he know? Was that his intention, or do I just want it to be?

Corey gathers the six darts and extends the lot to me. “Green or red?”

I take the red ones. They’re heavy in my hand.

“Eight rounds,” he says.

“What are we playing for?”

“What we always play for. Answers. Each round, the winner gets to ask one question. Nothing is off limits—the opposite of our last time here.”

Heat floods my cheeks. I want to ask him why he chose here, but I don’t know that I can accept his honest answer.

“You can go first,” he says.

A consequence of playing sports at a high level is the time commitment spent on that single activity. Outside of soccer, my experience with other sports is limited, but Gunnar has a dart board, and we used to play every morning to settle who got to shower first. I rely on muscle memory and my competitive nature as I throw the first dart. It hits the sixteen.

Barely.

Corey waits until I take a step back, then he sinks a dart into the inner red and green checkered ring, inches away from my dart, tripling his score.

I glance at him through narrowed eyes, silently accusing him of being a shark.

“Lucky shot,” he says, stepping back so I can move forward.

My next dart hits the five, nearly ensuring my loss.

Corey’s dart hits so close to mine that I don’t know how it doesn’t knock mine loose.

I hit the greet outer circle with my final dart.

Corey hits the bullseye.

“You forgot to mention hustling when we shared our hobbies,” I accuse.

He chuckles, flashing that perfect smile that makes my insides feel melted and off-balance. “There was a dartboard at the hospital Anna would get admitted to. I played whenever I’d get locked out during nurse shifts or when my parents would sit with her.”

My heart takes a nosedive as the shadows of his past flit across his features. “I’m sorry.”

His gaze slips from mine as he nods. “It was hell sometimes.” He swallows, and I wonder if it’s words he’s shoving down or more memories. “Why didn’t you tell me about being diabetic?” he asks.

“Does it bother you?”

His eyes shift to mine. “That you didn’t tell me?”

“No. That I have it.”

He shakes his head. “No. Fallon. God.” He shakes his head again. “I just wish I’d known and that you’d felt comfortable telling me.”

“Sometimes it feels like revealing my kryptonite,” I admit. “People treat me differently when they find out. They look at me like I’m fragile or sick—sometimes contagious—and always with pity.”

Corey stares at me for a long second, two of our greatest vulnerabilities laid bare for each other to see. Slowly, he nods. “If anything, it only proves how fucking strong you are.” His stare is filled with sincerity and something that makes me feel seen in a way I never have.

It makes me wish I could turn back time to be here two months ago with him again because channeling my alter ego and being on the receiving end of this stare, I’d be leaning in and kissing him.

His gaze dances between mine, and then he steps back and turns around. I saw him shirtless nearly all day, and still, I drink in the way his shoulders stretch under his dark green tee and how his biceps flex as he removes the darts.

I miss my first shot.

He hits a one.

I hit a twenty.

He sinks a dart into the one again, putting it right beside the first dart.

“Are you taunting me?”

He grins. “I’m debating if I want the second question.”

“What do you want to know?” I ask, my voice teasing.

“Everything,” he says. “I want to know every damn thing about you.”

Confessing that he knows more than nearly anyone is at the tip of my tongue. “What if we tie?”

Corey glances at the board and then at me. “We each get to ask a question?”

“Deal.”

I throw my remaining dart, hitting the colorful ring behind the two. It wasn’t intentional. The space is so narrow I don’t know if he’ll be able to hit the same marker.

Focus has his jaw flexing. I want to trace my fingers over the planes and ease the tension. His dart hits right beside mine.

“Why did you choose to come back here tonight?” I ask before we clarify the details of our agreement.

“It’s the best bar on this stretch of the beach.”

My ego, confidence, and nerves take a long walk off a short pier.

Corey takes a step closer to me. “And because the memory of the last time we were here together lives rent-free in my head, and I wanted to see if it does in yours, too.” He takes another step, the caramel color of his eyes thinning as his pupils expand with lust and promises that have my breasts growing heavy and every inch of my skin feeling too tight, desperate for his touch.

Lexie’s suggestion that we act on our attraction and how no one else has to—needs to know—fills my thoughts. We’re two consenting adults who want each other more than air. Why am I not pursuing this?

“Who’s winning?” Kelly’s voice pierces my thoughts and blows them away like dust in a tornado as she heads our way.

Corey leans his head down near my ear. “Next time we play, it will be for clothes.” He winks at me, then turns. “It was a tie. I’m going to check on Palmer.”

Disappointment hollows my stomach.

“Did he say anything about me?” Kelly asks, sidling up beside me and turning to look in the direction he left.

“We only played two rounds.”

“Have you asked him about me?”

Guilt feels like a vise around my stomach. “I didn’t realize you wanted me to.”

“Just drop some hints about how awesome I am and how cute we’d be together.” Her pleading gaze punches that knife back into my chest.

“Are you kidding?” Aiko asks, coming into view, one hand on her hip. “There’s a dance floor! Why are you two up here?”

“Come on.” Kelly grabs my hand and tugs me back toward the bar, back to where memories of the last time I was here become so much more potent. Nearly half of our team is dancing, and we join them.

Kelly squeezes my hand as though ensuring I’m paying attention as some of the girls shift, encouraging us to join them.

The music, laughter, and fun invite me into their embrace just as they had the last time I was here, but that constant pull to find Corey is just as strong. And just like then, I work to silence it, only this time, I don’t have a list or a competition vying for my attention; I have ten new teammates.

As one song bleeds into a dozen, I find myself laughing, dancing with Aiko on my right and Liza on my left. Kelly’s ahead of me, dancing with Rafael.

Aiko slows. “I need to use the restroom. Have you guys seen where it is?”

I nod. “It’s kind of dark. I’ll show you.”

“That’s okay. Just point.” Aiko was buzzed when we arrived. Now she’s drunk.

“I need to go, too,” It’s another lie I stack on my pyre, but girl-code refuses me to allow her to go alone.

We head through the crowds of people to the narrow and darkened hallway where this all began. I half expect the men’s door to swing open, but it doesn’t. Inside the small restroom that smells like urine and peppermints, Aiko disappears into a stall. Her happy humming stops as she struggles to get the door to remain closed.

“I’ve got it.” I grab the top of the door, holding it shut.

When Aiko is finished, she pulls the door open and stares at me with narrowed eyes. “Why are you being nice to me?” Her eyes are glassy, not with tears, but with that unmistakable proof that she’s had too much to drink.

“I was just holding the door.”

“I’ve been a bitch to you.”

I don’t dispute the fact.

“Why’d you come to Camden? What are you going to do when we play Westfield? God, they must really hate you.” Aiko stabs a finger to her breastbone. “I’d hate you.” She teeters as she steps toward the sinks, nearly losing a sandal. She breaks into giggles.

The water from the faucet is loud in my ears but not loud enough to stop the thoughts her words evoke.

“Pops wants to get married next year.” She hiccups. “I don’t know if I want to get married.” Hiccup. “But I love him.” A belch that would make my brothers applaud leaves her lips. She doesn’t even blink as she dries her hands.

Aiko continues speaking every thought in her conscious and subconscious mind as we head back into the darkened hall and toward the dance floor.

As she’s mid-sentence, telling me about how much she loves and wants some fried pickles, a guy with short brown hair steps in front of us. Aiko collides with his chest.

He grins, undeterred. “Hey. You want to dance?” He keeps a hand on her shoulder as he peers over at me with a smile that makes my skin crawl.

She takes a step back as she looks at him. “You’re hot,” she tells him. “But I have a boyfriend.”

He chuckles and leans closer. “I won’t say anything if you don’t.”

She grins like the Cheshire cat. “My ego likes you, but no.” She hiccups again as she shakes her head, and I swear his gaze heats.

He sets a hand on her waist. “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink first.”

“She said no.” I take a deliberate step closer so I’m next to her.

His dark eyes shift to mine and slowly lower down the front of me and then back to my face. “Jealous? Don’t worry, I know how to share. What do you want to drink?”

Aiko laughs. I’m sure it’s the alcohol. “My boyfriend’s here. And I like him—I love him. He’s really cute, and he’d hang you on a wall by your dick if you touched me…” She looks down at where their hands are now joined. “You shouldn’t be touching me.”

He laughs. “One drink and one dance. Or…” He glances at the restrooms behind us. “The three of us could go back there.”

“Gross,” Aiko says, her face scrunching. “Bathroom sex is so trashy. I’m not. No.” She shakes her head. “Not even with Pops.” She belches again and turns to look at me.

“Absolutely not.” I shake my head and grab Aiko’s opposite hand to guide her away, but the guy moves with us, proving to be the predator I assumed he was.

“We’re not interested.” My voice is even and hard as steel.

I move to step around him, but he matches me, closing the distance between us and embodying the leading role in every woman’s nightmare.

“Don’t be an asshole,” I say, taking a step back.

He takes a wide step into my space, so close I smell beer on his breath. “Asshole? You want to see me act like an asshole?”

“We’re just trying to get back to our friends,” I tell him as I lower my shoulder and turn to keep myself between him and Aiko.

He grabs my arm, holding me in place. “You don’t get to accuse me of being an asshole and walk away. Why am I the asshole? You’re the ones with your noses stuck so damn far in the air you can’t see where you’re walking.”

Warmth slides around my middle, and a familiar cologne has my nerves settling as Corey shoves the guy forward so he can step between us without moving me. He’s a wall of muscle.

“Is there a problem?” Corey asks the stranger.

The guy cranes his neck to look at me, but Corey moves with him, blocking his line of sight. “You’re not going to talk to or even look at her. You’re sure as fuck not going to touch her.” Corey’s voice is the definition of control and dominance.

“What happened?” Pops asks, scouring every inch of Aiko’s frame. “Did he touch you?” His voice has a frantic edge as he rakes his eyes over her, searching for any sign of harm. “What did he do?”

“He asked us to have sex in the bathroom,” Aiko says. “She told him no.” She points at me as she hiccups. Again.

“She said no, too,” I quickly add.

Pops’s face transforms into rage. I’m relieved when Lenny and Nolan step beside him, encouraging him to keep his cool.

Several guys appear behind the asshole who caused this drama, bolstering his confidence.

“She was flirting with me. I didn’t know she was in a relationship,” the liar says, raising both hands like he’s the victim.

Pops growls and shoves forward, like he wants to test pushing the asshole through the floor.

Nolan and Lenny move with him, but Corey remains still, unfazed by the commotion.

The guy scoffs. “She’s not that hot.” He turns, but Aiko slips around Corey and punches the jerk in the face before he can take a step.

Shock radiates through me as the stranger’s face morphs with indignation and anger.

I grab Aiko at the same time he tries to shove her. Thankfully, I’m faster, but his movement is a struck match, and the crowd around us is dry grass. Absolute chaos ensues. Jostling and pushing escalate into threats—mostly being yelled by Aiko, whose mood went from happy and chatty to angry and belligerent with the insult.

The men’s soccer team and ours joins the throng. Alcohol splatters across the front of me as I try to keep track of where everyone is. Corey yells for Palmer, and I hear my name in the string of words, but they don’t connect because I’m still trying to hold onto Aiko when a girl I don’t know comes at us, screeching a battle cry.

“Not today, Xena,” Palmer says, grabbing her around the middle before she can connect with us.

The girl thrashes, screaming a threat about hurting us, as Palmer hauls her away.

“What in the hell happened?” Kelly asks with round, frantic eyes as she joins us.

Aiko screams over her, cheering Palmer on.

The lights flip on as the music turns off. I’m pretty sure these are warnings that we need to get the hell out of here, but self-preservation is low on my list as I search for Corey’s dark hair and forest green shirt.

“Let’s go. Out. Out. Out!” Hudson appears, pushing people from Camden away from the fight. “Go!” He yells, pointing toward the exit.

“Kelly, take Aiko,” I tell her.

“Where are you going?” she objects.

“To help break this up before anyone gets arrested.”

A glimmer of reluctance shines in Kelly’s eyes, but it dulls as Aiko grapples to move closer to the fight. “Let’s go.”

A couple of bouncers join the crowds, shoving people apart and warning about consequences and the police being on their way. Nolan and Callum work to restrain Lenny. Palmer is a few feet away, discouraging strangers from joining the fight as the adrenaline spreads like a virus, tempting them.

A warm hand lands between my shoulder blades, and I turn to find Brent. Disappointment rattles my chest as I glance around him, still searching for Corey.

“What are you doing? We need to go,” he tells me.

“We need to get the others,” I say.

He glances around, likely noting what I already have, that it’s only the football team remaining. “They’ll figure it out,” he says. “The cops are on their way.”

“I’m not leaving.”

He hesitates. “I’ll carry you out of here if I have to.”

I glare at him. “Don’t you dare.”

Brent sighs and then shakes his head. “Don’t say I didn’t try to help.” He spins and heads for the exit.

I duck around someone and finally spot Corey beside Pops with a small crowd facing them.

Someone grabs my arm, and I spin to find Hadley. “Are you okay?”

I nod. “Are you?”

She nods, too. “Have you seen Mila or Evelyn?”

I shake my head and turn to see if I can spot the two blondes.

Shuffling and shoving start at my side, and a second fight breaks out without warning or reason. The bouncer near me groans out a curse and moves so he doesn’t get sucked into the chaos.

I pull Hadley toward the middle of the bar as the crowd shifts and moves around us like a tide.

Blonde hair catches my attention, and I spot Mila pointing at someone in the crowd, but before I can see what she’s looking at, a man yells as he barrels toward us, like he’s ready to tackle someone—us—if we don’t move. I shift so Hadley is away from the contact and lower my shoulder just in time for him to collide with me and roll across my back.

I lose my breath as he careens to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Hadley asks me.

My adrenaline spike ensures I feel nothing as I nod.

Palmer appears, swearing as he looks between Hadley and me. “Mila and Evelyn aren’t with you?”

I point at where the two are standing.

Palmer sighs with visible relief. “Let’s get them and go.”

It takes effort to move through the crowds and reach them.

A whistle that would be piercing without all the commotion has me turning and spotting Corey again. He points toward the exit and yells something. Then his gaze catches mine, tangling me in a web of relief.

He turns to Lenny and says something before shoving him lightly, and then he’s stalking straight toward me.