Page 41 of Topping the Jock
“Why am I so special?” I muttered.
His laugh was raspy, and when his gaze lifted to mine, my breath caught in my throat at the gentleness in his eyes. How was it possible for him to be the same guy who used to shove me against lockers and call me names?
“You just are, Specks. Deal with it.”
“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Does it really bother you?”
I rested my head on the pillow and sighed. “No. Not anymore.”
Monty grinned and snuggled against my chest. I slid my hand along his bicep and refrained from burying my face in his hair. I refrained from doing a lot of things. Not just with Monty, but with everyone. I guarded my heart like a dragon hoarded its gold.
“Why did you stay in Blue Harbor after graduation?” he asked. “Why not move away? Start over somewhere new?”
“I considered it. But this place is my home. I’m happy here. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Monty was quiet a moment, and then he shifted, propping his head up on his arm. “I think I get that.”
“Why did you come back?” Last time I’d asked him, he had dodged the question. “And don’t say for the weather. That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Honestly?” Monty sharply exhaled. “I haven’t been happy for a very long time. I had a good job down in Texas, and I liked the football team I coached. But at the end of the day, I went home and just felt so… empty. It’s been like that for years, Quinn. I lost interest in things I used to enjoy, and as each day passed, that emptiness inside me spread.” He turned to his back and stared up at the ceiling, tucking an arm behind his head. “I wanted to go back to a place where I last felt happy. Like truly happy.” Brown eyes focused on me. “And that was here.”
I fought the urge to pull him back into my arms. That vacant look in his eyes when he’d talked about his life in Texas had tugged at my heartstrings.
“Aren’t you a little young to be having a midlife crisis?” I asked, teasing him to keep from letting my real feelings show.
He cracked a smile, albeit small. “I thought of you, you know.”
“You did?” Damn him. Why did that make my heart beat faster?
“Yeah, I wondered where you were. What you were doing with your life. If you stuck with history or if you went into something else.”
“Wait, how did you know I was pursuing a history degree?”
“I heard you and Mr. Fulton talkin’ about it one day before class,” he responded. “Whatever happened to him anyway?”
A pang went through my chest at the memory. “He passed away five or so years ago. Cancer. I didn’t even know he was sick until he was in the hospital.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
Monty grabbed my hand, sliding his fingers through mine. “You were close to him. It sucks losing a friend.”
I stared at our joined hands. I should’ve pulled mine away, but his touch comforted me. And I liked the feel of his slightly calloused palm against mine. Rough, yet soft, just like him. So, I returned his hold. I could chide myself later for it once I was home. But for now, I let myself enjoy his company. Damn everything else.
“Are you still friends with that guy who played the tuba?” he asked.
“His name’s Reed,” I responded, surprised yet again that Monty had not only paid attention to me while we were in school, but that he remembered it ten years later. “Yeah, we’re still friends. That’s actually where I was earlier today when I said I had plans. He invited me to a charity event luncheon. The agency he works for did PR for it or something. Reed was invited to go and could bring a plus-one.”
“Sounds fancy.”
“Reed almost fell asleep,” I said, snorting at the memory of me having to kick his leg under the table. “He’s kind of a party animal on the weekends and stayed up way too late last night.”
“Are you a party animal too, Specks?”
“What do you think?” I asked, turning to face him.
