Adorkable(48)

Swallowing hard, I did the one thing I’d promised myself I would never do. Something I’d sworn off over a decade ago.

I asked my father for a favor.

“Please,” I said, voice shaking, from despair or disgust I wasn’t sure. “Let me in. I…I need to see him, Dad. To make sure he’s okay, to see if Becks needs me. I need to know he’s alright, so just…please.”

His eyes moved slowly over my face, his expression unreadable. I wasn’t sure what he saw, but I felt like I was going to dry heave right there on the concrete. I’d never asked him for anything after he’d cheated on Mom. Not once. There were no weekly visitations. There were no yearly birthday cards with cash in them. If I overlooked the fact that we lived in the same town, I could practically pretend he didn’t exist. I’d never cared that he wasn’t around, preferred it that way. But I needed to see Becks, needed it like air in my lungs.

If my father was the key to getting to him, I’d do whatever it took.

Dad met my eyes a moment later, and I knew even before he spoke what his answer would be.

“Sorry, Sally girl,” he said with a shrug. “It’s the policy. There’s nothing I can do.”

Hooker’s mouth hung open like she couldn’t believe it—but I could.

I’d given up on him a long time ago. Somehow, though, he still managed to disappoint me.

Hooker shook her head then said, “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

“You watch your mouth.” Dad frowned, tugging up his belt and holding a hand out to me. “She’s just overreacting like her mother always did. She’ll get over it.”

“No,” I said, and they turned to me. “It’s fine, Hooker, I’ll just wait.”

“But—”

I shook my head. “No,” I repeated. No, I wouldn’t get over it. And no, I wouldn’t ask again. “I’ll wait.”

I sent Hooker home with Will about an hour later when the game ended. I could tell my pacing was getting to her, but I couldn’t help myself. I pretended like my dad wasn’t there, and he did the same. We didn’t speak again. The fans ambled past, some throwing me pitying looks. One even told me Boulder had come back strong in the second half, but because of Becks we’d still outscored them by a goal, and wasn’t I happy my boyfriend had at least taken them to the first round of sectionals undefeated?

That person was lucky I was so focused on Becks. Otherwise, I’d have coldcocked him and directed my next round of paces over his stupid, too-happy face.

What was taking so long? Was Becks really that hurt? I didn’t know what I’d do if he was.

I watched as player after player exited the dressing room until the last one left.

Still no Becks. No Clayton either, I noticed.

God, what were they doing to him in there?

“Waiting on your boyfriend?” I stopped as Ash joined me. “He and his dad left about thirty minutes ago.”

“What?” I said, confused.

“Becks,” he said, hefting a large duffle bag onto his shoulder. “He left. Weren’t you waiting for him?”

That made absolutely no sense. “But I’ve been standing here the whole time,” I said. “I didn’t see him leave.”

“They went out the side door around back.” Ash pointed to my face. “There’s no need for that. It was just a sprain, wouldn’t have even happened if you hadn’t distracted him. He’ll be alright.”

“What?” I reached up. He was right; my cheeks were damp. I must’ve been crying the whole time, but I hadn’t felt a thing. “Did you say a sprain? That’s it?”

Ash nodded, and I sighed in relief. A sprain was nothing. Becks had had so many of those he’d probably be back on the field in a week. Then something else struck me.

“Wait, what do you mean I distracted him?” Becks was going to be fine. He was okay, so what was Ash talking about? “How could I do that? We were in the top row; he could barely even see me.”

“Trust me, he saw,” Ash said. “He saw you and that blond guy getting friendly, and it messed with his head. I was standing right there when a player from the other team blindsided him. He wasn’t even paying attention.”

“You mean, Austin?” I scoffed. “He’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, didn’t look that way.”

I stared but got distracted when Clayton stepped out of the dressing room. He didn’t look any better than I felt. Guess he’d been worried about his baby brother, too.

“Well, Sally,” he said, stopping in front of me. “I think our boy’s going to make it through just fine, but you think you could tone down the flirting? Becks’ll be useless to us if you distract him like that in the finals.”