Teach You to Love Me (Lindon U #4)

Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Matt

I stare at the email for a little while longer before turning my phone screen off. Scrubbing my tired eyes, I force a smile when my mother walks into the kitchen, looking as tired as I feel.

Her hand flies to her chest when she sees me at the table, a startled noise escaping her when she flicks the light on. “What on earth—” She sucks in a deep breath, using the counter to keep herself up. “Matty. What are you doing here in the dark? Is everything all right?”

She can always tell when something isn’t right from a single look. Forgoing the coffee pot she was beelining to, she walks over and pulls out the chair across from me to sit.

Her hand stretches out to pat mine. “Talk to me, sweet boy.”

The email confirmation makes everything so cemented, even if the office of administration said I had the next five days to change my mind and reverse the paperwork. But…that’s not what I want.

Nerves bubble in the pit of my stomach because I don’t know how she’s going to react to the news. But she’s going to find out one way or another, so it might as well be from me.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask. He’s usually up before her with at least one or two cups of coffee in him by now.

She frowns. “He’s still sleeping. He was up late helping the neighbor fix his car. Matty, are you okay? You seem off.”

I nod, but it seems a little forced. “I’m fine, Ma. I promise. I was hoping to talk to you and Dad, that’s all.”

She blinks. “Okay…” My nerves must be rubbing off on her. “Should I wake him up? This seems serious if you show up at”—she checks her watch—“seven in the morning. You hate mornings.”

“No, I don’t,” I argue too quickly.

Mom eyes me. “Honey, you used to fight us getting up to go to school when you were younger. Remember when we wished you a happy sixteenth birthday after you woke up? You told us to shut up because it was too early.”

I cringe. I instantly felt bad saying that when the words slipped out of my mouth. Thankfully, they thought it was funny. But still.

“Really,” she presses, moving past that. “Do I need to go get him? You have that look about you like you’re about to say something you think will upset us.”

I shake my head to reassure her. “No. It’s not that serious.”

“Oh my God,” she whispers, sitting straighter. “You got a girl pregnant. It finally happened.”

Finally happened? What the hell? “I didn’t get anybody pregnant. Why did you think I was going to knock somebody up?”

She unabashedly lifts a shoulder. “Your dad and I both knew you weren’t exactly abstinent in high school, Matty. I’m sure that hasn’t changed any. All we could hope for is that you remembered all those health classes on condoms and safe sex.”

This is not where I thought this conversation was going at all. “Nobody is pregnant, Ma.”

I can see the relief in her eyes.

“I…” Just tell her. Sighing, my shoulders drop a fraction. “I’m dropping out of grad school.”

There. It’s out. Done.

I hold my breath and wait, watching her expression. But it doesn’t change. “Did you hear me?”

Mom nods, a small smile curling half of her lips up at the corners. “I heard you. I’m also not surprised by the news.”

What? “You’re not?”

She shakes her head, patting my hand again, and sits back in her chair. “You haven’t been happy since you started in the fall. I could tell your heart wasn’t in it.”

Huh. “You didn’t say anything,” I point out.

Now, her smile is full, soft, and warm. “It wasn’t my place to, baby boy. You have to make your own decisions. Whatever those may be. If you continued, I would have supported you. Same if you chose to leave. I just want you to be happy.”

Why did I think she’d be disappointed in me? I psyched myself up for days leading up to this conversation. I couldn’t sleep last night knowing I was coming here to tell them, which is why I showed up so early to rip off the Band-Aid.

“I thought you’d be upset,” I admit, feeling a little dickish for assuming the worst.

“I could never be upset about something that’s good for you,” she says easily. “Let me ask you this. Does your decision make you feel lighter?”

I think about it. “Yes.”

My shoulders aren’t as tense. The weight in my chest isn’t as heavy. I may not know exactly what’s next, but I know I’ll figure it out.

“Then this was the best choice you could have made for yourself,” she tells me. “Your father and I know how sad you were to leave your friends and football behind. We could tell you were putting far more pressure on yourself than you deserved. And school was never anything you enjoyed. We were a little surprised you decided to attend anything outside of undergrad. But, like I said, that was your decision to make.”

They’ve always been good to me. Sometimes too good. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do next, but I have some ideas.”

Her smile stretches. “Baby steps.”

I nod, fidgeting with my hands.

“Baby steps,” I repeat quietly. I stare at the scratched tabletop, tracing a face of the drawings I’d carved into it as a kid with my butter knife. “I may take a coaching position. Caleb brought it up. And…it may be good for me.”

When I peek up at her, her face lightens. “I think that’s a great idea. Football is in your blood. You’d be happier doing that than working in a bank passing out bills.”

She’s not wrong.

“I don’t know if it’s going to be here though,” I tell her hesitantly. I was scared of telling her about dropping out as soon as I saw the email confirmation from the administration office. But telling her I may be leaving Lindon—hell, New York—was another beast. We’ve never been that far away from each other since they took me in. “I’m looking into a couple of positions outside of Lindon.”

Interest arches her brows. “Where?”

I pause, glancing back down at the poorly drawn smiley face in the wood. “Pennsylvania,” I answer quietly.

There’s a long stretch of silence that has me lifting my gaze. Mom’s smile remains despite the news. “Well, we’re close enough to the border. And your father has always wanted to travel.”

They would be willing to visit me? “You’d come see me even if I moved to Philly?”

The woman who I called Mom my whole life rolls her eyes at me. “Of course we would. There is nowhere you could go that we wouldn’t be willing to travel the distance to in order to see you live your life. Like I said before, we want you to be happy. With your job. With your personal life. That’s all a parent could ever want for their child.”

I’ve always known that I lucked out getting them as parents, but now only solidifies it. “I love you guys,” I say, swallowing down the mushy feeling rising from my chest.

“We love you too,” she says, scraping her chair back. “Now I need coffee if I’m going to function the rest of the day. And while I make us some breakfast, you can tell me about the person who inspired you to go to Pennsylvania and pursue this dream. Because I have a feeling it wasn’t Caleb.”

I stare at her, blinking silently.

She grins knowingly over her shoulder as she grabs a pan for eggs. “A mother knows when her child is in love. And you’ve got it written all over that face of yours. I’ve been where you are before, Matty.”

Love.

I lick my lips.

“I…” Rachel is at the forefront of my mind.

Mom laughs lightly. “Oh, sweetheart. There can never be any secrets between us. Just don’t miss your chance if it’s somebody you truly care about. I can see those wheels turning in your head. Remember what your father and I have always told you. You miss one hundred percent of the opportunities you don’t take.”

*

My heart is in my ass as I knock on the door, trying to ignore the sounds of bellowing laughter followed by loud yelling from the apartment next door that sounds like girls watching a sports game based on the names they’re shouting in irritation. The last time I showed up at this building, a girl with bright pink hair told me she was moving in. She didn’t seem like the athletic type. Guess I was wrong. Based on the profanities at least one of them is saying to the screen, I can only assume they’re throwing popcorn at.

When the door finally opens in front of me, my chest deflates with relief. I lift my arms to showcase the various blankets draped over them and the large pizza box in my hands. “I’m leaving,” is the first thing I say. Cringing, I amend, “Lindon, I mean. The university. I’m done in May.”

Rachel slowly drops her eyes down to examine everything I’m holding before lifting them back up to study my face with pinched brows. “You decided to drop out?”

It’s not a judgmental question, but I still feel a twinge of embarrassment admitting it to her. Part of me feels like I should stick out my degree regardless of how I feel about school. If nothing else, to prove I can.

“It’s not what I wanted,” I tell her quietly.

There’s a moment where Rachel doesn’t answer but goes back to looking at the items I’m carrying like she’s trying to fathom a response. Then, she says, “You want to coach.”

I nod once. “I want a lot of things. Coaching is only one of them.”

We stare at one another.

Her throat bobs as she looks away, the eye contact too much for her. “Matt…”

“Do you trust me?” I gently ask her, getting those pretty hazel-green eyes to lift back up from the blanket that she’s transfixed on.

Her tongue slowly drags across her bottom lip as she releases a breath. “What is this about?”

“Do.” I take a step closer. “You.” My shoes touch the tips of her bare feet. “Trust.” She looks up, and we lock eyes. “Me?”

Her nostrils flare, and then a loud sound from next door has her turning her attention to the new neighbor. “Trust doesn’t matter right now, Matt. You shouldn’t be here.”

I don’t back down. “You mean a lot to me, Rachel. You always have. Maybe it wasn’t as intense back when we first met, but the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I grew to like you. You’re beautiful, and kind, and smart. And I get it. This is risky. Right now, it’s not the right time. But in less than two months, I won’t be a student at Lindon anymore.”

The fact has her swallowing and shifting on her feet.

“I haven’t pushed,” I continue. “I haven’t pressured you. I’ve simply been there. I watched you go on dates. Watched you grieve your mother. Watched you rebuild a relationship with your father. I’ve been there every step of the way because I’ve wanted to be.”

She knows I have. It’s nothing I need to point out, but she needs to understand that I don’t do that with just anybody. Only those I truly care about.

“Watching you date those jackasses…” My eye twitches thinking about them. “I hated every second of it. But sometimes you have to do things you don’t like for the people you…” My words fade because I can’t say the words I’ve never spoken to anybody outside of my close friends and family.

“For the people you what?” she asks in a tone nothing more than a whisper.

Her question is dumbfounding to me. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you? After all this time?” When she says nothing, I chuckle lightly. “There are people who would do anything for you simply because they want to. Not because they need to. It’s no different than my parents. They chose me because they wanted me in their lives.

“Like I said. You’re beautiful, Rachel, and I’ve always loved knowing that I got a reaction out of you—that you allowed me to be around you for as long as I have. You haven’t gotten sick of me. You always dished it back. If it were just about looks, I wouldn’t have been waiting all these years, getting to know you, letting you control this situation. I don’t know how else to show you how much I…”

God. That four-letter word gets stuck in my throat. Not because I don’t believe it’s how I feel, but because I don’t want to scare her.

But she knows.

She can see it on the tip of my tongue.

Maybe even sense it.

“Sex doesn’t equal love, Matt,” Rachel reasons. “You can’t just teach or expect somebody to feel that way, especially not when we can’t be honest with the rest of the world. Love is a feeling that overpowers everything else. Logic. Reason. Fear.”

Maybe she’s right. But that doesn’t mean what this is isn’t love or something close. “Can you honestly look me in the eye right now and say you don’t have that feeling at all? That you don’t feel something ? Because we left reason behind a long damn time ago, Rachel. We keep leaving it behind, and that’s got to mean something to you. It means something to me.”

She wets her lips, clearly struggling for the right words. “You’re a student,” is the only intelligent thing she can come up with.

“Not for much longer.”

Her eyes roam over my face, fear in her expression that I understand.

“Whether you like it or not, one thing is true. I don’t have to teach you to love me, Rachel,” I conclude. “Because you’ve been doing that for a long time already. You just need to admit it to yourself one day.”

Her chest rises and falls, a sharp breath releasing from her lips as she closes her eyes. And I feel it.

That little extra thickness in the air.

The crackle and spark that connects us like an invisible string.

That’s when I know.

She feels it too.

And when she opens her eyes, she doesn’t tell me she loves me. But she moves aside, inviting me into her space.

Telling me I’m right.

That I matter to her too.

There’s nothing but silence as I move some of her living room furniture aside and begin stacking the blankets on the floor and flattening them out, then moving her couch cushions and throw pillows down to create a makeshift bed in front of her TV.

All while she watches from the doorway where she locked us in, hugging her torso. “What is happening?” she finally asks.

I set the pizza box down in the middle of the blankets and pat the empty spot beside me. “Come here,” I coax.

She walks over and slowly kneels, staring at the pizza after I open the lid. “You hate veggie lovers,” she whispers.

I pick up a slice with extra olives I got specifically for her and set it on a napkin. “But you don’t.”

The girl beside me drops her gaze back down to the food with a slight curl to her lips and an even smaller laugh under her breath. “That,” she remarks, more to herself than me. “You’re always doing things like that. Being nice to me. Doing things for me. Knowing me better than most people do. Even when I tried opening up to the possibility of somebody else, nobody ever compared to…” You.

I don’t give her a flirty remark to ruin the moment, no matter the ego stroke I just got from her admission.

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip. “I’ve been on dates before with men who wouldn’t be able to get my coffee order right even if I ordered it three times in front of them.”

“Well, they’re clearly idiots for not figuring out what they had when they had it,” I reply easily. How many times have I stopped those guys right outside the restaurants they were supposed to meet at because I knew they weren’t good enough? Too many. And I have no regrets. If I thought they had a shot, I wouldn’t have stepped in. Probably. But I knew she wouldn’t look at them the same way she did me.

Her gaze flickers between the food and me, then down at the blankets I set up.

“Oh,” I murmur, remembering one last thing I brought over. I dig it out from my hoodie pocket that I left on the floor beside us and hold it up. “If I have nightmares tonight from those damn flying monkeys, don’t judge me.”

She gawks at the special edition DVD of her favorite movie in my hand. “You brought The Wizard of Oz ?”

“It’s your favorite,” I say with a shrug.

The way she watches me isn’t the only thing that tells me something has shifted between us. I can feel it in the air. Buzzing around us. A feeling that cocoons us in our own little world in this one heated moment.

Swallowing, I nod as she gets on her knees and swings one of her legs over my lap to sit on me. Instantly, my hands go to her hips. “I didn’t do this hoping for—”

She stops me with a kiss. It’s a light, quick press of our lips that jumpstarts my heart all the same. It’s impossible for her not to feel what else it awakens.

Internally groaning, I take a deep breath to try to calm down. “I don’t want you to regret this,” I tell her, hoping to give her time to rethink whatever is happening.

“I won’t.”

Fingers digging into her hips, I say, “I know you say that now, but—”

“Matt,” she cuts me off, pushing down on my erection with her hips until I’m groaning underneath her. “Please.”

How many times have I fantasized about her begging me to fuck her like she did last time? To make her writhe underneath me with my mouth, fingers, and cock? Too many. Way too many.

And hearing that singular word breaks any barrier I have that tells me to stop this.

Please.

Please.

Please.

The word nearly breaks me, but I realize that this isn’t something I can do tonight. Not because I’d regret the feeling of Rachel opening herself to me, but because I want the next time we experience each other to be without risk or regret.

“No,” I tell her, fingers digging into the fleshy part of her hips again despite the hard length begging to be let out. “The next time this happens, we’re going to do it right.”

Her eyes begin to glaze, so she looks away to hide the oncoming tears.

I turn her chin to meet my eyes again because seeing her vulnerability makes this that much more real. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been falling in love with you a little every day, Ruby Red. Have for a long time. Will only learn to love you for a long time to come if you’ll let me.”

I hook an arm around her waist and tug her into me for a tight hug. For a moment, she tenses in my hold. I don’t know what goes through her mind before she eventually winds her arms around me to return it.

I don’t know how long we stay like that or how we manage to change positions until we’re lying side by side. But we spend hours that way, one of my arms hooked around her neck, and combing through her hair while half her body rests on mine while the movie that I hate but she loves plays.

It’s a long time after when I hear her say, “I’m leaving too,” she whispers. “I’m going back to Pennsylvania, Matt.”

I’d been waiting for her to tell me that. I think I knew she’d made up her mind before she even did.

“Our story isn’t over yet, Rach,” I tell her, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “It’s barely beginning.”

She looks up at me. “I’ll be gone.”

I lift a shoulder, moving hair away from her face with a soft smile. “Maybe one day I’ll find myself in your neck of the woods.”

Rachel only stares.

I look to her lips, then back up at her eyes.

“Yeah,” I say, hugging her into me again and relishing in how warm she feels. “Our story definitely isn’t over yet.”