Page 31 of Falling for the Quarterback

Without another word, he leaves with a wave over his shoulder, and I watch as he walks toward the student center and then disappears from sight.

A million thoughts burst inside my mind like fireworks. Should I have asked him to come with me? Should I have restated the boundary I set the other night?

I still haven’t spoken to the dean yet because we aren’t currently doing anything unethical and haven’t crossed any lines, even if my thoughts of Joel are completely inappropriate.

The fact remains: Will I give Joel a chance after the semester is over?

As I walk back home, I contemplate that last question. Honestly, I don’t know yet.

* * *

Wildflowers of purple, white, and red paint the scenery from where I sit overlooking the valley below. It looks a lot different than it did last March. Although snow still covers the mountain peaks, nature is still harboring the last wisps of fall down here. The gold and yellow leaves of the cottonwoods and aspens are a beautiful contrast to the green of the pines. A gentle breeze blows across my face, and I breathe in the fresh air and lean back on the rock, staring up at the sky.

A restorative peace settles in my belly.

My life has never been simple, by any means. Privileged, maybe, but not easy when you grow up with a demanding father like mine. And right now, although I’m on my own, my life is a complex weave of uncertainty.

My classes are going well, and I’ve made a few faculty friends. I love the teaching aspect of my role but the amount of review and grading that has to be done is enormous. I’ve burnt the midnight oil prepping for my courses the next day or reading through outlines and student papers, not to mention the work I’ve put into my research paper. Making a good impression with my colleagues and seeing my students excel in the learning environment is rewarding and fulfilling.

Would I even have time for a relationship with Joel if the opportunity presented itself? I’d be heartbroken if I let him go and didn’t try to make something work, though, because he’s the kind of man I could see myself with forever.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and startles me out of my silent retreat. Of course it’s Poppy calling to check up on me.

“How’s the hike going, Lots? You haven’t fallen off a cliff, have you? Will I need to send medical aid?”

I lean my head over a bit to see the drop below and rear back. It’s definitely a long way down.

“Nope. No aid required,” I add confidently, drawing a circle with my finger over the boulder’s smooth surface.

“Not even the aid of your sexy student?” she asks devilishly.

I fight a smile, imagining Joel sitting next to me on this mountain top.

“Truthfully, I was just thinking about that…situation.”

“Great, then go do it—or him.”

“We’ve been over this, Pops. You know it’s complicated. Joel is great—not to mention young.” I groan. “It’s maybe the right man at the wrong time. Even if he weren’t my student, I don’t know if I’m ready to give a relationship a go.” And for reasons I can’t explain or maybe don’t want to admit, my eyes well with tears.

A loud peel of laughter howls through the phone line. So loud, in fact, I have to pull the phone from my ear, and I think I get an evil glare from a bird up in the tree above me.

“For the love of God, Lottie! The man is not Oliver. He won’t hurt you. Everything you’ve told me about this chap hasmewanting to marry the goddamn bloke!” she insists. “If you could hear what I hear in your voice when you talk about him, it’s very revealing. I know he’s perfect for you. You just won’t admit it.”

For once, she sounds exasperated.

I am, too.

“It’s scary,” I admit, and grab my water bottle to wet my parched throat.

“I know it is. But you’re brave, lovey. Hell, you’re the bravest woman I know. You moved halfway around the world to escape your shitty ex. You got yourself into one of the hardest academic programs for your field. And then you up and moved across that continent to start a career. You did all of that. On. Your. Own,” she emphasizes, and I grin.

“Bravery won’t help my ethical dilemma, though, will it?” I point out, grabbing my hiking gear and heading back down the trail.

“It will. You just have to work around it or fix it,” she suggests.

“How?”

She heaves a sigh. “I don’t know. You’re smart. Figure it out. Talk to him and make a plan to wait it out, then shag him after he turns in his final paper.”

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