Teach You to Love Me (Lindon U #4)

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Matt

W hen the first semester of grad school starts in the fall, it feels like I’ve been away for years instead of a few measly months. The campus doesn’t feel nearly as fun as it did as an undergrad student, like a perpetual cloud is hovering over me everywhere I go.

The classes are no-nonsense and filled with ten times the reading I’m used to. The attendance policy is stricter. And I don’t have football to let out any pent-up frustration.

I’m grateful that I still have a couple of friends who stuck around for grad school too—Caleb, despite all the reasons he probably should take a step back from school, and DJ. It’s definitely not the same now that we don’t share nearly as many classes together, or the football house since we’re only allowed to stay if we’re on the team. Walking the quad was a hell of a lot more fun when we had the swagger of saying we were a Dragon, and the apartment I share with DJ is lackluster and too small for parties.

Life now…sucks. There are no cheers from crowds watching Friday night football games to amp me up, or the buzzing of anticipation as the clock ticks down to the final seconds.

Walking into Bea’s Bakery, I search the crowded space until I spot DJ and his girlfriend Skylar in the corner. I nod my head in greeting when Skylar waves at me, nudging DJ, who has his head buried in a book. Probably another one that she convinced him to read. For the longest time, I didn’t even know the guy could read. I always pictured him as the picture book kind of guy.

It isn’t until I’m at the counter that I blink in surprise at the new hire working the register.

When Raine, Caleb’s ex-girlfriend, sees me, she offers a stiff, shy smile. “Hi, Matt.”

Had Caleb told me she worked at Bea’s last time I saw him? I don’t think so. Maybe he doesn’t know. Or maybe he does, and that’s why he told me and DJ in our group chat that he couldn’t make it.

“Hey. Didn’t know you worked here.”

Her thumb jabs toward the back, where I’m assuming Bea is. “Bea knew I needed some money, so she offered to hire me based on my school schedule. It’s been…interesting.”

Elena comes out from the back carrying a fresh tray of chocolate chip cookies to replenish the display case. “In all fairness, you only mixed up three orders so far. And dumped one. And dropped that bagel on the floor and splattered cream cheese everywhere.”

Raine winces. “Yeah. The last everything bagel that we had.”

Elena shrugs. “The little girl got over it.”

My best friend’s ex frowns. “That’s because Bea offered her two cookies to get her to stop crying.”

Sounds like she’s had a rough start. “If it makes you feel any better, I just want a black coffee.”

Elena perks up, nudging Raine. “See! That’s an order you can’t mess up.”

Her chipperness makes me chuckle as Raine sighs. “Is that all?”

After paying and getting my coffee, I head over to where my friends sit. “You could have warned me,” I tell them, sitting down.

DJ says, “We were as surprised as you.”

“Not that it matters,” Skylar pipes in.

One of my brows rises. “Shouldn’t it? We’re team Caleb. He was our friend first.”

Skylar frowns. “Nobody is taking sides. Neither of them would ever ask us to.”

All I can do is shrug, feeling loyalty toward the running back going through hell right now. He and Raine may have always been a package deal since high school, but I can’t help but feel for the dude.

DJ switches subjects, sliding a plate of muffins over toward me. “Did you see the new interim coach that took over Pearce’s job?”

I grab the one with blueberries in it, peeling back the cupcake wrapped from the bottom and splitting the muffin in two because I only eat the tops—aka the best part. DJ and I don’t see each other much at the apartment because he spends a lot of his time staying at Skylar’s dorm. “Yeah. I have no clue where they found him, but he looks like a dork.”

Skylar says, “Be nice.”

DJ looks at her. “Sorry, Blondie. But he’s right. I popped by the Sports Complex, and I swear the dude looked like he was going to piss himself when he saw some of the players.”

I snort at that, shoving half the muffin top into my mouth and chewing. With a mouth still full, I say, “I’ll give him this, a few of the fresh meat on the team look like they do ’roids.”

The other former wide receiver nods, a small smirk curling half his hips. “I heard they’re doing more drug tests after what happened last season with Wallace.”

After DJ called in a tip that Wallace was using, he’d gotten drug tested. Since Pearce wasn’t doing anything that took the egotistical quarterback off the field, DJ took it upon himself to get results. But it also put a lot of pressure on our former coach when allegations came out against Wallace that put Pearce in the hot seat for having ignored concerns about one of his players.

And now we have a new coaching staff, with a head coach that clearly has no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

Before I can say more, Bea shows up out of nowhere and swats me upside the head. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, boy. I know your mama taught you manners.”

Christ. I swear Bea has eyes on the back of her head. “How did you do that?” I ask after swallowing my food.

Bea grins, refilling DJ’s cup. “I know everything. I’m surprised you don’t know that by now, after all this time.”

DJ snickers, and even Skylar grins a little behind her drink.

Sighing, I lean back in my seat. “Have you seen the new football coach?”

The season has started, but I haven’t made it to a game yet. I’m not sure I ever will because I don’t want my memories ruined by the new team or the life after the Dragons. I tried walking in once to see Rachel, but her office had been locked and dark, so I turned around and went about my day.

I haven’t been back since, calling it a sign not to taint those memories I cherished now that my new life at Lindon hasn’t compared.

I haven’t even spoken to the brunette after telling her about Caleb. I know they talked, but I don’t know if she got anywhere with him. He’s still going to grad school and working at the store whenever he can. I see him around campus, but he’s paler and skinnier than I’m used to. I’m not sure he’s eating or sleeping the way he should, so I don’t know if their heart-to-heart worked.

Bea gives me a look. “Give the man a chance. He’s filling in for a person who left a lot of controversy behind.”

Her chiding tone makes me reconsider. She’s not wrong. Pearce was at Lindon for a long time. He left behind a legacy. A reputation. But he also left a lot of unsolved shit that the school had to investigate. Not ideal.

Bea lowers her voice to add, “But between us, I’m not optimistic we’re going to see a full season this year. A damn shame.”

Skylar frowns, and DJ and I share a look.

All I can hope is that this isn’t the end for the Lindon Dragons. It would suck to go out that way after years of us building a name for the school. Now we went from news coverage about championship advancements to scandal.

“Maybe they’ll find somebody better suited,” DJ offers optimistically.

“Hopefully soon,” Bea agrees before heading over to refill coffee at the next table.

*

The first thing I notice when I see Rachel is how much bigger and doe-like her eyes are without glasses. Did she get contacts? LASIK?

Almost immediately after that observation, my eyes are drawn down to her bare legs shown off in the dress she’s wearing. I never really considered myself a leg man before, but I could turn into one real quick.

Her head tips back as she laughs at something the tool in front of her says, and the sound is silky as it caresses my ears. But damn, do I hate that the new coach is able to make her sound that way.

Jealousy nips at my stomach, my nostrils flaring with irritation as I debate on turning around and going home or talking to her like I’ve been trying to do.

The new coach sees me before I can make up my mind, asking, “Can we help you?”

Rachel turns to see who he’s talking to, standing taller when she sees me at the end of the hall.

I look between them for a second. “I was hoping to speak to Rachel.” I don’t bother with formalities, even though I should. And based on the tiny disapproving frown that weighs down Rachel’s lips, she’s not pleased.

The new coach, whose name I haven’t even bothered to learn, dips his head and brushes Rachel’s arm. “I’ll talk to you later.”

With that, he walks into what used to be Pearce’s office and closes the door behind him.

As soon as it’s just us, Rachel says, “What are you doing here?”

There’s no “Hello” or “How are you?” from the girl whose frown settles onto her face.

Dumbly, I say, “You’re not wearing glasses.”

Her hands go to her face, brushing her cheekbones before dropping to the side. “I got contacts this summer.”

“You look good.” It’s not meant to be flirty, but it makes her cheeks tint pink regardless.

Clearing her throat, she gestures toward the office. “Come on in,” she says, her voice tight and professional.

It’s as if we don’t know each other—like I didn’t ask her for help with Caleb or know what it feels like to be inside her. That’s what she wants, though. To pretend.

Following her inside, I note that she leaves the door open. I don’t make an effort to close it or point it out as she rounds her desk.

The couch is still where the guys and I left it, but there are a few new photos hanging. A potted plant is on her desk where the picture of her, her sister, and her mother used to be, and a few books have been added to the floating shelf on the wall behind her.

“You’ve redecorated,” I note, scanning the pictures on the walls. There’s one of her and her sister at her wedding and the old one from her desk beside it. There’s another one further away, but the glare from the light makes it hard to tell who’s in it with her.

Rachel sits, peeking at the pictures for a moment before nodding. “I wanted a little change.” Before I can reply, she says, “You were rude to Coach Kelly.”

I tell myself not to let the green monster prod at me just because she knows his name. They work together. It’s not a shocking revelation. “I see you two are…friendly.”

A passive look pinches her face. “Coach Kelly is nice. He’s asked me to fill him in on the team. Stats. Past players. New ones. He’s trying to make sure Lindon gets back to where they were.”

I can appreciate that, but I don’t like how chummy he was with her. “Just seemed like he knew you or something.”

My fishing for information doesn’t go over her head. “We’ve had a couple of meetings. We’ve talked. He’s a good guy. Now, is there a reason you’re here?”

“We haven’t spoken,” I point out.

“We don’t have a reason to, Matt.”

I wish that didn’t tighten my chest as much as it does. “I just…” I look back at the pictures hanging on her walls before expelling a breath. “It’s weird. Being here on campus and not being here . Not playing. Not being in this office for check-ins. Everything is different.”

Her expression softens. “That’s natural. You’ll adjust. It’s only been a month. By the end of the term, you’ll be used to your new routine.”

Will I? “I don’t know what I expected,” I tell her, thinking about the homework I’m already buried in. “Classes suck way worse than they did before. There’s more work and no reward.”

She offers me a sympathetic smile. “You miss football,” she states in understanding.

Silently, I nod.

Rachel watches me fidget in my chair. “You could always come to games. I know it’s not the same, but you can still be part of the Dragon family.”

My lips twitch. Watching the game from the bleachers is as bad as watching it from the bench. It’s about the adrenaline, the rush when the crowd goes wild when we score. I’ll never get that back.

“It’s not the same,” I murmur defeatedly.

I’m not quite sure why I came here. There’s nothing Rachel can do—no way for her to make me feel better. Life moved on the way it always does. I graduated. Stopped playing football. And got tossed into the next phase of life.

And I…I hate it.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” I say, more to myself than her.

“What?”

I gesture around us. “This. Applying for grad school. Not trying harder to make football my career path the way Griffith did. It’s not like I suffered any bad injury like DJ. If I really trained, I could have at least given it my all to make it to the big league. I missed my opportunity.”

For a moment, Rachel is quiet. Contemplative. I can tell she feels bad, which isn’t what I want. I don’t need her pity. I just need…What the hell do I need?

“You never talked about that as a possibility during any of our meetings,” she notes.

What was the point? “You met me during my senior year. Maybe if I hadn’t fucked off for the three before that, I could have had a better chance at making something of myself.”

Rachel’s lips twitch downward. “You have the chance to make something of yourself every day, Matt. That didn’t end just because you chose not to work toward a pro football career.”

I lift a shoulder, not wanting to believe she’s right because I’m in too bitter of a mood to accept that she is.

“You’re going through a lot of changes,” she says gently. “I’m sure it’s bringing up a lot of what-ifs for you. But that’s no way to live your life. Trust me.”

I look at her. “Sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

She goes to answer, then stops herself. Her eyes glaze slightly, becoming distant and muting the color I’ve grown to like so much. Typically, she only looks that way when it’s about her mom.

“You can tell me,” I say.

Leaning back in her chair, she glances at the picture on the wall again of her with her sister and mother. “My mom…” Her voice is thick, forcing her to clear it. “My mom was an elementary school teacher for the longest time before switching to middle school. She loved the job—loved teaching and the kids. It made her happy. Ever since I was little, I told her I wanted to be one too. She’d even buy me school supplies to use so I could line up my dolls and stuffed animals to teach lessons to in my bedroom.”

A nostalgic smile tilts her lips. “Going into education was all I planned for myself because of her. And I know it meant ten times more to her when she got sick and had no choice but to leave the job she loved so much. Making her happy, making her proud, was what I cared about most when she had very little else to look forward to.”

That smile turns watery. “Do you regret studying to become a teacher?”

Rachel doesn’t answer right away. “There were other things I considered, but all within the realm of education. I’m here.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Becoming an adjunct professor or counselor would make me happier than teaching in a different setting, so I’m weighing some options. It’s the best of both worlds. One she and I could both be happy with.”

She’s still trying to make her mother happy.

“But are you happy?” I ask, seeing a dullness in her eyes that makes her face dim.

All she says is, “I have no reason not to be.”

That’s not an answer. Not an honest one, anyway. “My parents were afraid I’d get hurt if I tried going pro,” I admit, stretching my legs out in front of me. “Not only physically, but mentally. Probably emotionally. They’ve always supported me, but they knew it was a tough road to go down if I wanted to make it to the NFL someday. They were worried I’d overdo it.”

“Is that why you didn’t pursue it?”

I’ve never let myself think about it much. “I think it’s the biggest reason.”

Self-doubt definitely played a part too. I’ve never been the strongest player or the fastest one. For a while, I struggled in the team setting because I wanted my time to shine. That doesn’t work if you want to make it to the top.

“I had a little too many faults to get where I wanted to be,” I admit, shrugging again. “And I think I wanted to make my parents proud of me in other ways. By getting a stable job and doing well in life. But now that I’m here…”

She’s right. It’s an adjustment. I can’t spend hours goofing off with the boys and burning off energy at the same time. There are no more drills. No more film footage. Nothing I’m used to.

I guess it’s common to want to make people proud, but it’s hard not to beat yourself up over the things you wish you could have done differently.

“You want to know my biggest regret?” I ask her, unafraid to lock eyes. She doesn’t answer, so I tell her anyway. “If I hadn’t gone to grad school, I wouldn’t have had to sacrifice this .”

I see her throat bob with a swallow, her response simply to gape at my honesty.

But it’s true.

I wish she would have given me a night the day I graduated instead of leaving for Pennsylvania. I wish I never would have sent in my deposit for my spot in my master’s program.

Simply put, I wish things were different.

Eventually, her raspy voice says, “Don’t.”

Don’t. Don’t what? Be honest? Admit my feelings? Don’t like her? Don’t think about what could have been? If only it were that easy.

“I know, I know.” I stand, looking down at where she remains behind her desk. “I’m a student. You’re faculty.”

She draws her bottom lip into her mouth.

“But you know what, Rach?”

She still stares.

“We both deserve to be happy too.”