Page 28 of Resisting the Running Back

Her jaw slackens. “I swear to God, I don’t deserve you.”

“Go pack an overnight bag because we have to get to the airport,” I say instead of responding to that. Of course she deserves me. I just wish she coulddeserveme in an entirely different way.

We rush toward the airport with an overnight bag for each of us, and if she left anything large at the apartment she wants, I figure we can leave it at her parents’ house, or I can ship it home.

We get on the plane with plenty of time to spare, and I’m all set to listen to a podcast and think through this charity thing when she leans over onto my shoulder. I glance down at her.

“Thanks, Banks.”

“Anytime, Summers.”

She sits up and wraps her arms around one of mine, pulling it in close like she’s hugging it. “You’ve been so helpful to me. I wish there was something I could do to repay the favor.”

“Besides cooking for me?” I tease. We both laugh since we’ve been living at my place together for several days now, and she has yet to cook anything.

“Right. I’m going to learn, I promise. These things just take time.”

I laugh, but then I turn thoughtfully toward her. “You know, there actuallyissomething I need some help with.”

“What is it?”

“I met with my publicist today, and I told her I want to expand my community outreach and branding. I told her I want to do some sort of program where I work with high school students to help them with some of the real shit that comes with being a pro athlete—leadership training, player safety, figuring out if they even want this as a career. That sort of thing. She asked me about a billion questions, and I need to come up with answers before our meeting next week. Want to help me?”

Her eyes light up. “Help you? Dude, this sounds like a job I was born to do.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You think so?”

“I know so. Let’s back up. What were these billions of questions she asked?”

I start rapid-firing some of the things I need to make decisions on, and somehow…she’s absolutely right. She was born to do this. She knows a lot about high school kids and their interests since she worked with them for eight years, so planning a curriculum for this is like second nature to her.

It’s totally foreign to me, though. I know football. She knows curriculum design.

And together, we’re one hell of a team.

The short flight is enough to get several of my questions answered, and when I meet with Tara next week, I’ll be ready.

We hop into a rental SUV and pull in front of the apartment complex where Sophie lived until a week ago, and she sucks in a fortifying breath. I reach over and grab her hand. “You’ve got this, Soph.”

She nods. “I know. Because you’re here.”

I press my lips together. I wish she knew how much I’d drop everything to be there for her at any given moment. I think I’ve started to prove that to her this week, but she’s been hurt enough times that it might not be sinking in quite yet.

“Let’s do this,” I say.

“Let’s do this,” she echoes.

We get out of the car, and she grabs my arm and hugs it to her chest as we walk, just like we were sitting on the plane. She holds tightly to me, and then she lets go to let herself in. I walk in behind her.

“Tyler?” she calls.

No answer.

Good. I’m not sure exactly what I would do if I came face-to-face with that dickhead.

She sets the key on the kitchen counter, and then she heads off in search of the items she left behind.

“I’m going to use the restroom, and then I’ll help. Okay?” I ask, and she nods.

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