The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (94 page)

I reach up and grab hold of his pads, clenching my hand around the top rim that sits across his collar bone, and I yank him down to my level with all of my strength. Startled, he comes willingly, and when his lips are in reaching distance, I press mine to his. At first, he doesn
’
t kiss me back; but I refuse to claim defeat, so I reach up with my free hand and bury my fingers in his hair. His wavy mane is damp with sweat, but I don
’
t care. Not even a little bit.

Then, all at once, my one-sided kiss becomes so much more. When he opens his mouth to claim mine, my stomach goes
wild
. It does somersaults and backflips and cartwheels and it
’
s as if Sonny and I have never kissed before this moment. He crushes me against him and I gasp as I
’
m forced onto my tiptoes. I never, ever, want this kiss to end
—
but at the sound of a wolf whistle from one of his team mates, and his name being called by someone I assume is a coach
—
considering his impatient tone
—
Grayson pulls away from me.

“
I have to go.
”
I nod and, before I can say another word, he
’
s running out onto the field. For a few seconds, I can
’
t move my feet, too caught up in the memory of his lips against mine. Then I snap out of it, remembering I have a game to watch.

I run back down the corridor and, thankfully, locate the door that I came from. On the other side, I spot Claire pacing. She stops as soon as she sees me.
“
Did you find him? What happened?
”

I can
’
t contain the grin that spreads across my face; and as this is my first opportunity to embrace happiness in days, I realize that I don
’
t want to contain it.
“
I think we
’
re going to win,
”
I say, emboldened by my confidence in my man.

She returns my grin with one of her own before she grabs my hand and we sprint our way back to our seats. Luckily, we don
’
t miss any of Sonny
’
s playing time, as CU receives the ball after the half.

“
Where have you two been? You missed the halftime show,
”
says Hammy upon our arrival. He knows how much I usually enjoy that part, but he has no idea that he
’
s got it backwards
—
he
’
s
the one who missed the show.

“
I went to go see Sonny.
”

“
You
what?
”
he and Addie gasp in unison.

As I sit, I turn to answer them
—
but my gaze is focused intently on Logan.
“
I fixed him.
”

At least, for the moment
…
I hope.

Thirty game-time minutes later, I
’
m lost in a cacophony of cheers. After
four
CSU touchdowns, and not one more point scored by our opponents, we
’
ve won. 31-17. As I yell and scream with my fellow fans, my victory cry isn
’
t really for the football team. It
’
s for Grayson.

Unfortunately, my good mood starts to fade on our long car ride home. I know that
one
kiss and
one
good game doesn
’
t fix what
’
s broken between us. Just because he spoke to me at the game, that doesn
’
t mean that he
’
ll want to speak to me after. So, when we get back to Fort Collins, instead of heading to the pub with everyone else, I ask Hammy to drop me at home. I give him a hug as I congratulate him and apologize for not coming out to celebrate his big accomplishment of completing his first round of medical school applications. He assures me that he understands and offers a bit of comfort when he tells me he knows Grayson and I will work it out.

I cling to the hope that he
’
s right as I enter our apartment. I wash my cheeks, rubbing away my school pride and my battle paint, and try to convince myself that Sonny wouldn't have kissed me back if he hadn't forgiven me. Knowing that if I go into my room, my bed will invite me to come and mope, I decide to curl up on the couch instead. I hold my phone close to my heart and I wait.
Wait and pray
. It starts off as a prayer that Sonny will finally want to talk to me, but it soon shifts and evolves into a much more important plea to God. I ask that He would comfort Sonny and fill him with peace and understanding; that He would provide him with wisdom so that he might know how to move forward. Most of all, I ask for healing, because I know Sonny
’
s heart is broken in more ways than one.

Then, just as I feel sleep beginning to pull at my eyelids, I
’
m roused by a knock at the door. I gasp as I sit up instantly. I know right away that it
’
s Sonny, as most of the student population is probably out painting the town green and gold, and I can
’
t think of anyone else who would know or care that I
’
m here. I hurry to the door and open it without delay. My shoulders slump in relief at the sight of him.

He
’
s so devastatingly beautiful.

He
’
s showered since the game and his hair looks a wonderful mess. The simple white t-shirt he wears hugs him like I wish
I
was right now, and his fitted blue jeans accentuate his strong, long legs. Yet, despite his statuesque build, there
’
s only
one
thing I care about in this moment
—
his eyes. As I stare into the pools of green, I notice that they are no longer empty. They aren
’
t filled with the light that they usually hold, but I see a
flicker
or life and that
’
s enough for me.
And he
’
s here! He
’
s HERE!
I want to jump into his arms but I don
’
t, somehow knowing that I have to allow him to make the first move. So, I wait.

She slays me
.

She
’
s short and weighs no more than a sack of potatoes, but that face
—
God, thank You for her face
—
and the delicate curves that shape her petite body, and her long, thick, silky black hair
—
all the
details
that I
’
ve come to adore
—
they pillage my heart, leaving nothing behind but my selfish desire to make her mine so that she can
’
t ever leave me.

I knew the second I walked away from her and out onto that field that I would find myself here, in front of her, as soon as time would allow. I think I played the second half of the game in anticipation of
this
moment
—
although, it
’
s hard to say, since I
’
ve never been so focused on anything like I was in that stadium this afternoon. It was almost like an out of body experience, or like a dream; the cheers from the crowd were muted and the only thing I heard were the sounds coming from me and the guys. Every command, every whistle blown, every collision, every shuffled foot
—
I heard it loud and clear, over all the white noise that was a distraction. As soon as the game was over, I was snapped out of it and Avery was the only thing I could think about.

Standing here, right now, it
’
s not a choice
—
it
’
s a
need
. When she called for me in that stadium, it was as if I was being reawakened. The second I saw her, I realized that, no matter what, we can
’
t be apart. Going almost four whole days without seeing each other? Without speaking to each other? It can
’
t ever happen again. On top of everything else, knowing that the silence between us has been my fault makes me feel like an ass.

With the game behind me and Avery in front of me, the pain that I
’
ve been trying to ignore has now been released; the dam that was my stubbornness and my self-preservation has broken and I feel overwhelmed by all the things that have been in the back of my head this week
—
all the things that I just
couldn
’
t
deal with. As I look down at the woman that I love, I realize that I was never going to be able to deal with any of it
without
her.

She is my proof that God loves me. Not my past. Not the pain. Not the abuse. Not the neglect. Not the disappointment. None of those things come from the Father
—
but Avery,
my Avery,
she does.

She
’
s more beautiful now than I
’
ve ever seen her. In shorts and a t-shirt
—
a t-shirt that brands her as
mine
—
I can
’
t take my eyes off of her. I want to scoop her up and breathe her in; I want to bury my fingers in her hair and feel the warmth of her body against mine; I want to kiss the worried look off of her face and taste the inside of her mouth
—
but I can
’
t move. I can barely breathe as all that needs to be said seems to be pressing down on me like a ton of bricks.

“
Say something, my love, anything
…
except, don
’
t break up with me. Oh, gosh, please don
’
t break up with me,
”
Avery murmurs as she stares up at me.

Her filter is off. The fact that she thinks I could actually leave her pierces me to the core.
I did that. I made her think that. How in the hell did we get to this place?

“
I
’
m not here to break up with you,
”
I manage. The blush that fills her cheeks gives me the strength to keep talking.
“
I
’
m not mad at you. I just
—
I just
—
wish
—
I wish it hadn
’
t been you.
”