Pepped Up and Ready (Pepper Jones #3) (14 page)

By the end of the night, Rollie and Jenny have disappeared together (after Wes caught them cuddling and whispered what I presume was directions to a nearby room) and Wes and Zoe weren’t far behind them. It’s just Omar and the two juniors I’m not especially close with.

Wes’s house is gigantic and it’s almost always empty. Except for him. His parents are rarely home. They have a second home in LA, which has become more like their first home as far as I can tell. Wes is lonely, there’s no doubt about it.

By the time the movie ends, the couples haven’t returned. The four of us hang out chatting about the movie, the race tomorrow, and finally, that we should probably head home and get some sleep. I don’t need it for the race, but I’m trying to get nine hours every night. Dr. Kennedy said the more rest, including sleep, the better.

This is my first night of the week not sleeping over in Jace’s dorm room. I haven’t wanted to be alone with my thoughts, and honestly, I sleep better with him beside me, which is saying something given the size of his dorm room bed. It’s starting to dawn on me though just how weird it is that we sleep together but aren’t sleeping together like
that
.

When we first got together, Jace was intent on taking things slow, and eventually I learned that was okay. But now it’s been nearly a year and it’s like neither of us wants to bring it up again. We’ve done everything
but
sex, and it’s sort of become this line that we mutually decided we wouldn’t cross for some reason. But we never really decided. It just became habit to not go there. With Jace’s history before me, I don’t know how he’s done it. Me, I’ve almost gotten used to it. Like this is just the way it is. But everyone assumes we’re having sex – even Zoe stopped prodding me about it. She thinks it happened and I just decided to keep it private.

My bed feels lonely without a warm body beside me. Correct that. A warm
human
body beside me. Dave is snoring happily, pressed up against the back of my legs, occasionally growling in his sleep. I miss Jace, and that simple thought makes me wonder why we’ve held back this part of ourselves. We’ve given everything else. What are we afraid of?

I knew that cheering for my teammates while I was sidelined would be tough, but I didn’t think it’d be this tough. As I watch on my crutches, three girls in the lead pass by, battling to be the first to the finish. Jenny isn’t far behind with a pack, which quickly spreads out as the finish line comes into view and some kick it up a notch while leaving others in the dust. Zoe is holding her own, finishing within the top twenty of at least a hundred runners. She attempted to rehash the night with Wes on our drive here this morning, but I shut her up. If it was another guy it wouldn’t be weird, but I know Wes too well for that.

The pain in my shins has dissipated over the past few days, but the pain in my chest and stomach is fully revived in this moment. It’s twisting and sharp, and makes it hard to breathe, but not in the way I want. I want to feel a burn in my chest from sprinting to the finish.

I’d rather go home and sulk by myself but I swing myself with my crutches to the finish line to talk to my teammates. And now I have to hang here alone while the girls warm down and the boys race. How many more of these races will I have to endure on the sidelines? It’s excruciating. I’d rather endure the shin pain if I could get away with it and keep running. But I know that’s impossible.

“Pepper, how are you?” The concerned voice of Mark Harding startles me. He’s standing in front of me, but I was clearly in my own world and didn’t notice his approach.

“Mr. Harding, hi. I’m okay,” I say, wondering what he thinks about seeing me on crutches. Does he know what happened? It seems like everyone else does.

“We are really looking forward to your official visit next weekend,” he tells me with a smile.

How in the world did I manage to forget about that?

“Me too!” I respond eagerly.

“Well, I better cheer on Kevin. You take care of yourself, all right?”

“Of course.”

When he walks away, I notice Ryan standing by the sidelines with his mom. He didn’t even come over to say hi. But it doesn’t bother me. Not when the head coach just told me he’s looking forward to my recruiting trip. I got the feeling he was trying to tell me more with that statement. That maybe it’s okay I’m injured. UC is still interested. And with that, my mood isn’t so sour.

My spirit continues to lift when I finally get in my swimsuit and pool run for the thirty minutes pre-approved by Coach Tom and Doctor Kennedy. My shins are still a little tender when I put any weight on them, but pool running helps loosen them up.

Zoe texted me about a party tonight while I was in the pool, but as usual, I’m not in the mood. Tonight I want to keep resting, get to bed early, and maybe get my homework done. Jace returns from Utah tomorrow, and I want to have my day free for him. I’m not sure how to tell him I’m ready –
more
than ready – to finally be together in the one way we haven’t yet.

As I leave the locker room and glance up from texting Zoe back, I see a group of athletic guys standing by the water fountains. And one blonde head catches my attention. Wes. I quickly scan the rest of the group, and I recognize one of the others as the guy at the concert with Clayton the other night.

Instinct tells me to walk on by (or swing by, since I’m still on crutches), but it’s too late. I’ve been spotted. Someone says something to Wes, who turns around to find me. Instead of the easy smile he usually greets me with, his expression is tight. He is not happy to see me.

“Hey, Pepper,” he says. “Pool workout?”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m cross training for now.”

“You got a ride home?” he asks.

“Gran should be here,” I tell him, though she’ll probably be another few minutes. She ran to the grocery store while I was swimming.

“Okay, cool, see you later then.” And with that, he turns around.

Typically Wes would offer to walk me out, say hi to Gran, and generally just be friendlier. But if Jace’s suspicions are right about Wes’s activities, it’s probably for the best he’s keeping me at a distance. I want nothing to do with it.

Gran’s car isn’t in the parking lot, so I settle myself onto a bench and start checking email on my phone. When I sense a looming presence in front of me a moment later, I glance up. Gage Fitzgerald.

He’s not dressed to work out and isn’t carrying a bag or anything, and I vaguely wonder why he’s at the gym. But my main thought is why he’s stopped in front of me, eyeing me with interest.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“No company this time?”

“No,” I respond tightly.

“Take it easy, Pepper Jones, I’m only joking.” He flashes a grin. “And tell your boyfriend to chill out too. You know I was only messing around the other night, and I was drunk.”

I stay quiet. Is he trying to apologize? If so, it’s a lame apology. I’m not even sure which night he’s talking about. He acted like an asshole on two occasions.

“Wilder shouldn’t take himself so seriously. He’s only a freshman. Get him to come out sometimes. He’s always welcome. You too,” he adds with a wink.

When I still don’t respond, and just raise my eyebrows at him, Gage shrugs and walks to the entrance of the gym. The guy really doesn’t get it. I don’t control Jace, and even if I did have some influence over how he spent his time, there’s no reason I’d encourage him to go to a Sig Beta party, especially not after Gage insulted me in front of a crowd. Twice. The dude must be delusional.

Ten minutes later, and still no Gran. She must have started reading cards in the stationery aisle at the store. She does that sometimes and ends up losing track of time. I’ve caught her there giggling to herself at the card jokes.

People come and go without noticing me; I’m about to call Zoe to see if she can come get me, when Wes walks by with Gage at his side. Wes nods and flashes that tense smile he gave me earlier, but he doesn’t stop to chat. I watch him get into the passenger side of Gage’s SUV, and I know I’m witnessing something I’m not supposed to. Before I can contemplate what it all means, Gran has pulled up in front of me and is calling out the window, apologizing for being late. Something about a man named Harold who needed a ride back to the nursing home.

“He’s quite the looker for a guy in his eighties,” she’s telling me as she pulls out of the parking lot. I glance at the back of the SUV as we pass. Something is going down. It doesn’t involve me, but in some ways, it feels like it does. Wes might not be my brother, best friend, or boyfriend. He doesn’t have a label for who he is to me, but he matters. Gran, Zoe, Wes, Jace – they are my family. But I’m not sure how I can help him.

When Jace was going down a bad path last year, Wes told me that just being
there
for Jace made a difference. I was his rock. Still am, I guess. But that’s not how I am for Wes, and I don’t know if Wes has anyone in his life whose presence alone can bring him back. Because he’s drifting away. Somehow, underneath his friendliness at the diner, his invitation to my friends last night, his typical ladies-man habits, I get a strange feeling we’re losing him. Even though he stayed in Brockton, he feels farther away than ever.

Gran and I have a quiet dinner at home and she invites me to join her and Lulu to see a movie, but I opt for a phone call with Jace instead. I miss him. They won the game against Utah, and their record is off to a better start than it has been in years. The news stations are saying that’s thanks to Jace, and I’m tremendously proud of him. His own success helps ease the pain of my failures.

A moment after hanging up with Jace, there’s a knock at our front door. It’s usually unlocked when one of us is home but sometimes on weekends we lock it at night. We share the building with college kids and their visitors frequently go to the wrong apartment on the weekends. I’m anticipating an encounter with a confused college student when I open the door, but instead it’s Wes.

He’s still wearing the workout clothes he was in earlier. I gesture for him to come inside.

“No crutches?” he asks.

“Not around the apartment. My legs are feeling better anyway.” Our apartment is tiny, so as soon as walking became mostly pain-free, I stopped trying to clamber around the place with crutches. It’s my only cheating so far, but I think Coach would understand.

I plop down in the living room armchair, and he follows suit on the couch. I know he came here to say something, so I wait for him to break the silence. Wes puts his hands on his knees.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says with genuine regret in his voice.

“What exactly are you apologizing for?” I knew he was being stand-offish to protect me, so I don’t need an apology.

“For making you worry about me. For being stupid enough to start dealing again. But today I fixed it. I hope.”

“Yeah?” Now I’m curious.

“Gage Fitzgerald is the new ‘roid dealer on campus,” Wes announces.

“You’re out?” I’m relieved. Wes’s relapse to drug dealing (if it can even be called that) was short-lived before he saw the error of his ways.

“Not only that, but one of the conditions of Gage getting my supplier’s contact was that he has yours and Jace’s backs.”

My eyes narrow. “What exactly does that mean?”

“He’ll stop bugging Jace to be a Sig Beta social symbol or whatever the hell he thinks Jace can do for him, and he’ll stop being an asshole when he doesn’t get what he wants.” So he won’t use me to get to Jace. That’s one less person, at least.

“You must have told him this after you left the gym,” I say dryly.

Wes’s jaw clenches the same way Jace’s does when he’s angry. “Why? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” I say on a sigh. “Some attempt at an apology for being a jerk and then telling me I should get Jace to stop taking himself so seriously and come out and have fun.”

Wes relaxes a little and then shakes his head. “He can be a real idiot when he’s fucked up, which I’ve noticed is frequently. But yeah, I talked to him about the terms after we left the gym. Him saying stupid shit to you isn’t the most important term, though.”

“What’s that?”

“He’ll keep Clayton Dennison in check.”

“Gage Fitzgerald will keep Clayton Dennison in check? Gage is mister fraternity hot shot on campus and Clayton is mister athlete hot shot. How is one supposed to keep the other in check?”

“Clayton’s not the hot shot he used to be. Some guy named Jace Wilder is now the hottest athlete on campus.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I’m getting at.”

“Gage will be dealing to Clayton and his team. He can use that in a lot of ways. For starters, he can stop dealing to them. Or he can out the team. Gage has the connections to really fuck up Clayton’s MLB chances.”

“What’s Clayton’s problem anyway? Jace doesn’t even go out. He’s all football. And me,” I add with a sweet smile.

“And you,” Wes agrees with a laugh before getting serious again. “Jace’s lack of partying is only working to give him a sense of allure and mystery.”

That makes me laugh. Hard. Because I have to say, it really doesn’t surprise me. My boyfriend does nothing but go to class, train, sleep, and hang out with me and his parents. Yet this only makes the guys admire him more and the girls want him more.

Wes laughs with me. “He’s always had that though, hasn’t he?”

My laughter fades. It’s true. Before he started seeing me romantically, Jace’s mysteriousness was dark. It wasn’t so much a mystery to me – I knew that underneath his coolness, his leadership, there was sadness and pain from his mom’s abandonment. That’s not something that goes away. I don’t know if it was his mom returning or me getting closer to him, but the sadness and pain seems to have disappeared. Sometimes I fear they are just hiding, but my hope is those feelings will continue healing with time.

“Anyway,” Wes continues, “even if the campus wasn’t fascinated by Jace Wilder, the media attention has crowned him UC’s savior – in football at least, after the last couple games. Dennison’s a really competitive dude. He doesn’t like another guy taking the spotlight. Not when he’s had it for a couple years now.”

I nod, beginning to understand. “It’s like a repeat of his junior year at Brockton,” I reflect. “He was expecting to be the king of the school, but Jace came along as a freshman and tainted it for him.”

“Dennison’s been carrying a giant two by four on his shoulder about Jace Wilder ever since,” Wes agrees.

We head into the kitchen to make hot chocolate, Wes checking a text while I get out the mugs. My phone buzzes a minute later.