Page 112 of Game On
And the more that I think about it, the less I can believe we were together for as long as we were. On paper, the two of us might have looked like a good pair. But in reality, I was holding onto a ghost of a connection that was barely there. Just two people who had known each other for a long time, perhaps mistaking familiarity for love.
Jamie breaking up with me has turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. He could never understand my passion for sport, my thirst for more, my need to control and master and perfect—it was foreign to him. Hudson, on the other hand …
“It’s not that,” Hudson clarifies. “It’s just, fuck, he sounds a lot like me, doesn’t he?”
My brow shoots up. “Trust me, you two are nothing alike.”
He tries to smile, but his eyes give away his doubts. A knot tightens in my stomach and I turn to face him, cupping his cheek with my hand. “You are different. You’re not cautious to a fault. You take risks, you push boundaries despite your past. You’re the bravest person I know.”
He lets out a sigh, his eyes softening as he looks at me but says nothing.
“I mean it.” I lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Now let’s get some sleep, okay?”
He nods but I can tell he’s still uneasy. He kisses my forehead before slipping out of bed. “I’ll be right back. Just need to double-check the house.”
I watch him go, used to his nightly routine now. A way to ensure everything is in order, to calm his mind before we go to sleep.
In the silence of the room, I sigh and pull the blankets up to my chin. Hudson’s soft footsteps echo through the hushed house. I hear the faint creak of the back door as he verifies it’s locked, followed by the soft click of the kitchen-stove knobs being checked and rechecked.
He may be safe and cautious, but he’s not Jamie. Not even close. Hudson is thoughtful where Jamie put himself first. Hudson is strong where Jamie crumbled under pressure. Hudson is … everything that you could ever want in a man. No comparison this time.
When he returns, he slides back into bed, wrapping his arms around me. I nestle against his chest, savoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Sourdough shifts slightly, but settles back down, purring in that rhythmic way he does.
“Goodnight,” I whisper, my eyes already growing heavy.
“‘Night, darlin’,” he says, “sweet dreams.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Hudson
Twenty days until Daytona, but the countdown isn’t the only thing on my mind.
This damn letter from Oxford stares back at me from my desk, a silent accusation. The rich, cream-colored parchment with the golden embossed logo—it reeks of prestige and opportunity. But all I feel is dread.
Five schools have gotten back to me already. Five acceptances to five of the top Classics programs in the world. It should feel good, but instead I just feel torn.
It would be incredible to keep things going with Ella. To be with her at Oxford, and to say goodbye to our self-imposed expiration date. But the cost of living there is ridiculous. My tuition would be covered by a fellowship—great—but what about everything else? Rent, groceries, books for a full year?
I shove the Oxford letter into a drawer, trying to pretend it doesn’t exist. I don’t want Ella to leave here without me. And I don’t want to miss out on what could be the best year of my life. But what other option do I have?
I need time to think before I drop the bomb on her that Iwon’t be going. That despite their acceptance of me, I’m too broke to afford a life there with her.
With a quick pat on Sourdough’s head, I leave the house, hoping a jog might clear my head. It’s a few days still until spring officially hits, but Nashville’s already shedding its winter coat. The air is crisp but with a hint of warmth, promising better days ahead.
As my feet pound against the sidewalk, I try to drown out the noise in my head, but it’s no use.
We’ve been so focused on the immediate future that I’ve pushed next year aside. Ella will be going back to Oxford in just a few months, and I need to be practical. The other schools I’ve applied to—those in California, Illinois, Michigan—are more reasonable in terms of housing and day-to-day costs. Not to mention the paid TA position I was offered at U Mich.
That offer keeps circling back in my mind—University of Michigan. It’s not Oxford, but it’s still a great school. I could get the same degree and even save up some money along the way. I imagine myself there, less pressure, more time to breathe. But then I see Ella’s face—those wild hazel eyes—and it’s torture to picture life without her.
As I round the corner onto the quieter, tree-lined street near campus, I spot Ash jogging toward me from the opposite direction. His blond hair bobs with each stride, and his athletic frame is powered by the same determination that makes him such a rock on the mat.
After completing a month of physical therapy for his wrist, he’s finally been allowed to return to full activity levels.There’s not nearly enough time left for him to train with us for Daytona, but his spirits seem high as he waves me down with a broad smile.
“Hey!” he calls, slightly winded. I slow my pace and come to a stop, allowing him to catch up. “Where’s my girl?”
I raise an eyebrow. “If you’re referring to Ella, I’d suggest you find something else to call her.”
