Page 70 of The Riley Effect

That’s tonight, but first, I have one of my last scheduled shifts at the shelter. I don’t think I’ll stop coming to this place, though. My uncle was right. I needed some grounding, some responsibility. More importantly, it gave me Ivy.

It’s hard to believe I went three years without noticing her, and now I can’t imagine my life without her. Before Ivy, I thought random hookups and crazy parties were what the college experience was supposed to be. People that settled down were missing out on the true college experience. I don’t think that anymore.

It’s a mild January day, so I decide to get some of the dogs ready for a walk around campus. By the time Ivy arrives at the shelter, I have Riley, along with a few others, ready to go.

I’m giving Riley some belly scratches, his feet are dancing through the air, when I hear the bell hanging over the door ring.

“Oh, I think Ivy is here,” I coo, “Want to go show her what we have planned for today.”

And he’s off, the twenty minutes I just spent loving on him, meaning absolutely nothing.

I grab the leashes of the dogs that will be joining us and stuff a couple of tennis balls in my coat pocket, knowing that snow and a game of fetch will be something these dogs love.

When I get to the front door—four dogs in hand—I find Ivy giving Riley the same attention I was, but his tail is wagging a little bit more. I can’t blame him. She makes my tail wag, too.

We make it to the football field and let the dogs roam. I hand her the second tennis ball. We hurl them down the field at the same time.

“Ha, mine went farther,” I gloat.

“Best three out of five,” she demands hastily.

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

“Are you excited about the formal?” I ask as we wait for the dogs to dig the balls out of the snow that covers the campus.

“Indy told me these things get kind of crazy. I’m not sure I want to get too crazy so close to the postseason.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun. All you have this week is practice. Your next game is…”

“Saturday,” She reminds me.

“You’ll be fine. That’s a week away. I’m not saying you need to get hammered but have fun.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing all year,” she snaps.

Her eyes grow big, we’re both shocked by her anger. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that this season is my last. I’ve been playing since I was eight.”

I wrap my hand around the zipper of Ivy’s coat and pull her to me. She rests her cheek on my chest.

“Are you okay, Vee?”

I stroke her hair, giving her all the time she needs to process whatever emotions she needs to.

“It’s just that,” her brown eyes are sad when they peer up and meet mine. “I’ve never been good with change, and everything is about to be different. The end of basketball, moving out of Westvale and leaving my family behind.” She uses the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away her rogue tears. “And let’s not fool ourselves, Jalen. The probability of us being in the same city next season is minuscule.”

“Baby,” I take her face between my hands, “Ivy, it’s all but certain that the Rangers are going to take me, and you’re going to get into your dream school. We will be in the same city next season.”

“There is no guarantee of that,” she murmurs.

“No, there is no guarantee of anything in this life, Ivy. And if for some reason we aren’t in the same city next year, we will make it work because I love you, Ivy Rhodes, and I’ll do anything I can to make you happy.”

The wind picks up, and her hair flies forward, covering her face. I tuck the rogue hair behind her ears.

“You’re my family now, Ivy, and I am yours. I’ll be here for you on the good and the bad days. It doesn’t matter how far apart we are. You can count on me.”

A shy smile tugs on her lips. I think she believes me. I hope she believes because even though I truly believe Ivy loves me, I don’t know if she trusts me.

34

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