Teach You to Love Me (Lindon U #4)

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Matt

T he first day back from spring break is the reason for the dull ache in my head that throbs as I gear up for another day of practice. Coach Pearce is out for vengeance after our growing losing streak, and it’s made our time on the field brutal. Spring break was a desperately needed week away from the man who was working our asses off to the point of pure exhaustion.

“You shouldn’t have convinced me to do that last shot of Jager,” I tell DJ, feeling queasy as I slide my helmet on and pray I don’t vomit in it. I happen to know what that smells like even after approximately ten washes.

It doesn’t smell good.

“Convinced you?” DJ snorts, grabbing his water bottle and taking a sip before opening the locker room door. “You reached for that shot all on your own, buddy. Then you tried telling me to do another one with you. I saved both of our livers by saying no.”

God, I feel like shit right now.

I’m pretty sure DJ and I crushed a twelve-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, finished what was left in the bottle of Jack Daniels we swiped from the kitchen, and did at least three shots of Jager during the party we had to celebrate our last break of the semester.

Based on how moody he’s been lately, I’m pretty sure he needed to let loose as much as I did. Especially since his shoulder injury took him out for the season. I feel for him. He wanted to end his senior year on top, and now he can’t. I’d be pissy too.

His shoulder isn’t his only issue though. He’s got beef with Wallace that’s left them at each other’s throats for weeks. DJ has been taking it out on our quarterback and copping attitude to Coach Pearce every chance he gets. I’ve never seen him like it before.

I haven’t pressed him for the details on whatever is souring his mood, but I know the reason isn’t good. Caleb knows more than I do because he’s the go-to guy for people to confide in. Whatever it is seems to be serious enough to kill DJ’s usually chipper personality, and I have a feeling it has to do with Skylar—the cute blonde he got involved with at the beginning of the semester.

But if I ask him what’s wrong, it would open doors for him to pry into my business. I don’t want that. Because then I’d have to tell him that I’m being a moody bastard about a woman I have no right being so hung up on.

“I don’t want another drop of alcohol anytime soon,” I groan, trying to push off the thought. I hold my stomach as it gurgles its threats.

DJ snickers at my pain. “You say that every year and then invite us all out to Fishtail like a week later. Drink some water and try not to puke on the field. You’ll be fine.”

He smacks my back, making me bite down on my tongue before the greasy lunch I forced down comes back up.

Shooting him a glare, he chuckles and nods toward the light on in the office we’re approaching. “Look who’s back,” he says, stopping by the door. “Hi, Rach. Long time no talk. Miss us?”

Rachel looks up from where she’s sitting behind her desk. She looks…different. Her glasses are gone, her hair is a little lighter and shorter, and she’s wearing minimal makeup, if any at all. She looks far more comfortable now than she did when I first met her last semester, with her ass bent over the desk in that tight outfit of hers that played a starring role in many cold showers.

“Hi, Daniel,” she greets before her eyes move over to me. Her smile doesn’t falter, but I can’t help but sense she loses a light in her eyes. “Hi, Matthew.”

Matthew. Not Matt. “Have a good break?” I ask, as if I didn’t stalk her a little online to see what she was up to in the whopping nine days we were away.

I know she looked beautiful in the dress she wore to her sister’s wedding. She was tagged by a few people in the bridal party the days leading up to the spring ceremony, including a man named Michael, who looked a little too chummy for my liking based on the picture he shared of them sitting together with his arm stretched out across the chair behind her. His profile is locked down tighter than Fort Knox when I tried looking into him, so I have no idea who he is.

And it’s probably for the better.

Rachel toys with the pen in her hand. “I did. How about you two?”

“Minus the killer hangover we’re sporting thanks to this one,” DJ nudges me in the ribs with his elbow, “it wasn’t bad. Could have been worse.”

He pulls his phone out of his back pocket when it buzzes, making him frown. “I gotta go. See you later, Rach.”

When it’s the two of us, we remain in a thick silence that has me sighing.

Then we both start talking at the same time. I ask, “How was the wedding?” at the same time she asks me, “Is Daniel okay?”

Scratching my neck, I glance to where DJ disappeared around the corner. I guess anyone who’s been around him knows he hasn’t been himself. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Something is going on with him.”

She nods, her eyes going to the doorway beyond me, deep in thought. “Maybe it has to do with his injury. I’ll see if he wants to have a meeting. I know he’s out for the rest of the season so he can have surgery, so it might be bothering him.”

He loves the game. When we were freshmen, he talked about going pro like Griffith did, except only one of them ever had a real shot. Mostly thanks to DJ’s fucked-up shoulder. But also because Coach Pearce spent more time conditioning Griff for the game than he ever spent on anybody else.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think there’s something happening between him and Wallace,” I tell her, taking off my helmet. “It goes beyond everybody being pissed at his arrogance, but I don’t know the full story.”

Rachel frowns. “I’ll look into it, especially if it’s affecting him and the team.”

I nod because that’s all I can do. Looking around the office as if I’ve never been in here before, I take my time to fill the silence I’m greeted with again. Then I say, “You might want to talk to Caleb too. He probably knows more than I do.”

Rachel’s soft smile curls her lips. “I will.”

We’re quiet again.

“So, how was the wedding?”

I don’t know why I want to torture myself by hearing about who she went with, but curiosity has nipped at my stomach since I saw the photo of her with the mystery guy. They were both smiling, and it hardly seemed fake. I know what her feigned smiles look like by now.

She drops the pen on her desk. “It was good. Brie is a happily married woman now, and I’m happy for her.”

Not sure if I should bring it up, I shift my weight and glance at the picture frame of her, her sister, and her mother that’s resting on the corner of her desk. “Did you ever find a date?”

Rachel only meets my eyes for a brief second before turning her chair to her computer. “No, I didn’t.”

I stare, fighting the flare in my nostrils when irritation takes over. She lied. Why would she lie?

Clearing her throat, she says, “I do have some work to catch up on, though. I’ll send out emails to everyone with their next meeting date to go over grad school applications and end-of-the-year reports. Let the boys know.”

She’s dismissing me.

Gripping my helmet, I turn toward the door.

“I’ll ask around about things with DJ and Wallace,” she promises, as if that’s the only thing I want from her.

Jaw ticking, I head to the field and get my ass kicked again, thanks to Pearce’s shitty mood that only makes mine worse.

*

Bea’s Bakery is bustling the next morning, with a line twice as long as normal since Ivy quit to go away with Griffith. It left Bea and her teenage granddaughter, Elena, in charge of everything and looking for help that never seemed to last more than a month or two at most.

The bubbly teen waves at me from behind the counter, not looking nearly as stressed as the last girl they hired to replace Ivy. I’m fairly certain the constant demands of various coffees and pastries made the poor girl cry on her second day. Bea had told her to go home, sending her with lavender tea to relax. I never saw the girl again after that.

For a while, the running joke the guys and I went with was that Bea poisoned her. When the older woman heard that, she smacked us upside the heads and told us to hush. She never denied it though.

When it’s finally my turn, I say, “You need to hire someone.”

Elena makes a sour face. “Tell my grandma that,” she grumbles. “She won’t listen to me. I’m pretty sure she’s broken, like, five child labor laws by now with the hours I’m working here. How am I supposed to have a life?”

I’m happy Bea’s place is always busy because that means she’s doing well, but I get it. If I were in Elena’s shoes, I’d probably be upset too if I was always here. “I can try talking to her if you want,” I offer.

She beams. “Really?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I warn knowingly. “We both know your grandma is a stubborn woman. If she’s set on something, she sticks to it. She might not listen.”

Bea walks out of the back, wiping her hands off on a dish towel. “Listen to what?”

Elena rubs her lips together.

I sigh. “I told her you guys need to hire somebody for extra help. You’ve been packed lately.”

“You don’t see me complaining,” Bea comments, eyeing the teenager rocking on her heels behind the register. “Weren’t you hoping to buy a car? I’m giving you the hours you want. It’s not going to be cheap.”

Elena frowns. “I know it won’t be, but…”

Bea’s brows arch in wait.

Her granddaughter groans. “I just get sick of this place sometimes. My friends are always asking if I want to go out with them but I’m usually busy here. What if I want to date? I could be missing out on my soulmate right now, Grandma. Do you want me to die a bitter old woman with fifty cats?”

Bea rolls her eyes. “You’re barely seventeen. You have a while before you need to start worrying about that. In fact, the only thing you should be concerning yourself with is asking him what he wants to drink.”

Elena blows out a long breath as Bea walks around the counter and checks on the different tables of people eating.

I cringe, giving her a told-you-so face before offering a sympathetic smile. “If it makes you feel any better, relationships early on in life hardly ever work anyway. You’re better off soulmate searching when you’re older and focusing on school and getting a car for now.”

She frowns. “You sound like my parents.”

I pull out a twenty after telling her what coffee I’d like. “I was your age once, not that long ago. I know where you’re at, but trust me on this.” When she passes me back the change, I tuck it all in the tip jar. “For your future investment,” I tell her with a smile.

Elena gawks at the seventeen dollars and change I put in there. As she prepares my drink, she asks, “Have you found her yet?”

My brows pinch. “Who?”

“Your soulmate,” she elaborates. “The infamous one. Whatever you want to call it. You said to wait until I’m older. Are you looking?”

I’d hardly say that’s on my to-do list, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what life after college looks like. And who it looks like with. “I’m not so sure I’ve been actively searching,” I tell the teen.

Interest piques on her face. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t found her.”

I accept the coffee cup she slides my way, watching the steam billow from the plastic opening on the top. “That doesn’t mean I have either,” I answer, picking up the drink and lifting it in goodbye. “Good luck with your grandma.”

“Good luck with soulmate searching,” she calls out loudly, gaining a few onlookers’ attention as I walk out the door.

Shaking my head, I push the door open and think more about what comes after I graduate in a short few months.

The problem is…I don’t know.