64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Tripp

Willow is going on a huge world tour. The news hits me like a punch to the gut. The fact that I heard someone talking about it at practice, asking me about the details, because they thought I knew. While there's been speculation about our breakup, no one has confirmed anything. It's not something anyone asked me as soon as I made it back to practice.

I have so many questions. What about the other album she fought for? The small-scale tour she stood her ground for? Is this it? Am I only going to know her through shitty tabloids and hearsay?

Maybe I'll call her? Fuck. I don't know.

It's game day and I'm dressed in a jersey, joggers, and still have the sling. It feels bizarre to be here and not suited up, since I've never missed a game due to injury. For the last game, I stayed home instead of traveling. I don't like it, but I have realized something. I do want to be back out there.

It's the first time I felt good about trying to play this season. I think I tricked myself into thinking it was the right decision, but right now, on the sideline, I feel it.

I turn to see the suite. My mom sees me and waves. I told her she didn't need to come, and she was adamant about supporting me, even though I won't be doing anything.

My heart drops when I remember the last time I looked at the suite before the game. Lo and I had this ritual. The memory stings.

We're up 24-7 and the second quarter is running out. Coach comes over and puts his arm around me.

"Hey, need you to stay out here for half time. They're doing some PR shit and I thought you'd be perfect for it. They'll tell you what to do. Don't sweat it."

"You got it, Coach." I have no idea what it could be but I'm not one to argue. Especially when I'm trying to stay in the organization's good graces.

The quarter ends and the team goes into the locker room. I stay out, like I was asked, with a few members of the coaching staff and assistants.

The announcer's voice fills the stadium, "For today's halftime festivities, we have a special guest. Please direct your attention to the fifty-yard line."

I'm sitting on a bench near our end-zone. I look to the fifty to see someone walking out. Not someone. Willow. With a guitar.

The crowd goes absolutely wild. I can feel the screams to my bones.

Willow waves to everyone up until she hits her mark, where a microphone stands. She's wearing my jersey with a yellow peony pinned to it.

A lump forms in my throat. I'm trying to make sense of what's happening. I thought I'd be mad, seeing her next, but there's no anger to be found. It's almost like relief.

"Wondering if you'd mind if I play you a song? From my new album? One that I've never played live for anyone before. Would that be okay?"

I don't know if I've been anywhere louder. This game is sold-out, and people didn't anticipate a Willow half-time performance. My heart races, watching her start playing the guitar .

"I wrote this song after one of the best weekends of my life. The kind of weekend you wish you could re-live over and over again." The clapping is so loud I'm amazed we can hear Willow over it. "This song is called Our Secret Cove." Willow starts playing the guitar.

I'm mesmerized from the first note. The first word. The song is about our weekend getaway. I try to hold on to each line, each verse, but my mind is tripping over itself. Why is she here? How is she doing this? How did my coach know?

I close my eyes and try to take this in.

Our silhouettes on the sand

Under the moon

Beneath the skylight

Hearts intertwined

You feel the rush as we stand

Only truth, me and you

There's no better life

You look at me that way

Falling more in love with you

Uncovering something new

Nothing more that I want, than I need

So we'll dive right in

On shores, we'll rush in, pour ourselves holy

You're everything

She goes from the chorus to the next verse, and I'm in awe. Tears silently roll down my cheeks. I know they're going to show shots of this later and I don't care. The melody takes me back to that weekend. Us running through the freezing water on the beach. The moonlight sparkling in her eyes as I told her I loved her. Mountains of bubbles. The feeling of getting this thing right.

Willow finishes the song, her voice strong and clear. The crowd erupts into a deafening roar, and I stand to join them. I try to clap but having one arm in a sling makes this much harder. They show Willow on the Jumbotron, wiping tears from her eyes, wearing a smile that could light some of the darkest places.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm walking towards her. She sees me and walks in my direction. The second the crowd knows what's happening, the whole place goes feral. I truly couldn't hear myself think.

We finally meet and I wrap her up in a hug with my one arm. She puts her hands around my stomach and puts her head on my chest. She then reaches up to whisper in my ear.

"Tripp. I'm so sorry. I figured it out—"

And I kiss her because I can't help myself. I don't let her say another word.

"I can't believe you did this," I say.

"I had to find a way to say I was sorry. I played my hand knowing it may not work. I was terrified I would come out and you would go back to the locker-room."

The screams from the crowd rattle my bones, make my ears ring. I hold Willow's hand with my good one.

"Let's find somewhere we can talk," I say as I lead her back to the team tunnel.

Fritz stands right at the entrance and stops me.

"Equipment room is free. I grabbed everything they might need and set it outside the door. That's also where a decently angry security guard seems to be camping out."

It has to be Seth. I thank Fritz with a smile before heading towards the equipment area .

I close the door and Willow is already pacing. Her dark hair is in loose curls, pinned back with a Cosmos blue hair clip, including the team logo.

"Tripp, I am so sorry. It was Erik." Her words trample each other.

Erik. Huh? Now, that's someone I wouldn't have guessed. It's like the final missing piece to a puzzle, clicking into place.

"The slime-ball was hanging outside your hospital room and Seth got him to leave, but it was too late, and this whole thing is a mess, and—"

"Willow, breathe." I interrupt her and tap next to me, wanting her to sit. She takes a breath and sits next to me.

"You aren't the only one who needs to hand out an apology. I'm sorry. For all of it." My voice cracks with joy and relief. I'm thankful for the opportunity to tell her how I feel.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry I didn't call. I thought about it so many times. I'm sorry I made you leave your key." I catch my breath and place my hand on hers. "I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you, in my apartment. It plays over and over in my head and I'll never forgive myself." I can't even look at her right now.

"Yes. You will. Tripp." She tilts my chin up, speaking while holding my eyes with hers, her eyes golden with compassion.

"I just want more time," I say, my voice small.

"We'll figure it out. We have lots of time."

"But what about the tour with Asher Wilde?"

"Nope. That was an Erik special and I turned it down. I don't want to miss a whole season of you playing the game you love."

"What?" I don't know if I'm following.

"I'm sorry that someone in my corner did this to you, to us. You didn't deserve that," she says. I don't know what to say so she keeps going. "You and me. My life is better with you in it. I don't need a tour that keeps me from you for months at a time. I can tour on my, or our, timeline. I've earned that. "

"Our timeline?" I smirk at her because I love hearing her fucking say that.

"It's your play to call, but that's what I'd prefer." She's reserved and fidgety.

"Our timeline. Our call. I'm in."

And I kiss her for each I'm sorry, I missed you, and I love you that I haven't had a chance to say.