The Wrong Quarterback (The Wrong Player #1)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

CASEY

T he sky was gray and heavy, like it was about to downpour. I walked up the small hill, my boots crunching against the dead leaves and dried grass. Mama had picked this place because it overlooked a lake, and Ben had always spent most of his summers out in the water.

At first I’d come here every day after we’d buried him. I’d sit by his grave and talk. About nothing. About everything. The words would just come out.

After a while, though, the visits turned weekly…and then monthly. And then finally, I hadn’t come here at all.

Maybe it was because I’d stopped having anything to say, since every day at home felt like I was trapped in a mausoleum.

Today I needed to see him, though. I needed to remember. I’d driven here as soon as I’d gotten out of class.

I finally reached his plot. The headstone was simple and straightforward, not nearly enough to capture the spark of light that Ben had been in real life. I stood there, swallowing that knot in my throat, feeling that familiar ache creep up.

“Hey, Ben,” I murmured, my voice rough and miserable. “It’s been a while. I’m sorry about that.” The words hung in the air, swallowing the quiet around me. I hated that it felt so awkward.

But I also hated that I had to be here to talk to him at all.

I slid to the ground, my arms wrapping around my knees as the wind stirred the leaves around me. “I wonder when this will get easier. People always say that time heals all wounds, but I’m pretty sure they’re full of shit.”

I laid my head on my legs as a fresh beat of pain arched through me—because he would always laugh at how goofy I sounded when I tried to curse.

“Gray said something to me, you know,” I said, kicking at the grass with the toe of my shoe. “He said…he thinks you’d want us to be together. Me and him. But I’m not so sure that’s true.” A tear rolled down my face. “I don’t know what you’d want. I just know that I miss you.”

Another tear fell down my skin. And then another.

“I feel like I’m forgetting you,” I whispered. “I can’t hear your laugh anymore. The way that you smiled is fading from my memories unless I look at a photograph.” A hiccuped sob lurched from my mouth. “And I’m so afraid of the day that it’s all gone, you know? Because you deserve to be remembered, Ben. I wish the whole world could have known you, how special you were. It feels like I’m letting you down every day that goes by.” I picked at a piece of the grass in front of his headstone. “I’m angry that grass has grown here. I’m angry that so much time has passed that when I left home, there was even dust covering your bed. What happens one day when I wake up and I can’t remember you anymore? What’s going to happen then?”

The wind sighed past my cheek, and I leaned into it, wanting it to be a sign from him.

But it was just wind.

It’s always just wind.

“And it kind of feels like I’m trying to live your life…and I’m messing it all up. You would have done all of this so much better than me. You would have already had a million friends. You would have been making the most of every opportunity that came your way. You would have lived so much better than what I’m doing…”

It was hard saying those words out loud. I was ashamed of them. I’d promised myself I’d try and live this big life in honor of Ben…and here I was, failing at it miserably.

It hurt to admit that he would have done it better.

I traced the letters on the stone, lingering on his name as I tried to summon up some of the sunny memories I had with him, the ones laced with so much light that they could actually drown out the dark. Like when he taught me to swim or how he ate his Oreos so painfully slow because he considered them to be a superior food group.

Or how his hugs felt.

A smile sprung to my lips. “There you are,” I murmured as I soaked in the warm feeling I could still get from those memories.

I tapped the headstone as I stood up, the smile still on my lips. “Bye, Ben.”

The first raindrop landed on my cheek, cold and stinging. I swiped it away, but more followed, dotting the stone, turning the gray even darker. It felt like the sky was crying with me, like it understood that today was a day of mourning.

I walked away, and despite the good memories I’d been able to conjure up, it still felt like I was leaving him all alone.

And that maybe…I should be in the ground with him.

Rain soaked through my hair, dripping cold down the back of my neck and plastering my clothes to my skin as I stood shivering on the stone steps of Gray’s frat house. The thud of bass-heavy music leaked through the walls, muffled shouts and laughter hinting at the chaos inside. I clenched my phone tighter in my hand, the screen dark. He hadn’t answered any of my calls, and for some reason it had seemed like a great idea for me to come here to try and talk to him.

I was pretty sure I was a fool.

I raised my fist and knocked, the sound barely cutting through the noise. It was freezing out here. Way colder than Tennessee falls were supposed to be. My breath came out in shaky bursts, steam rising into the night air as the cold gnawed at my skin.

The door finally swung open, and a shirtless guy with a nametag with the word “Pledge” slapped across his hairy chest stumbled forward, bleary-eyed and reeking of beer. “Hey, there,” he slurred, swaying on his feet. The smirk on his face sent a shiver of disgust crawling up my spine, and I felt the urge to go take a shower and wash that smile off of me.

“Can you get Gray, please? Gray Andrews. I’m his girlfriend,” I quickly added. My voice was somehow steady, which was good. I didn’t want to cry in front of this idiot.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile growing as if what I’d said was funny. “Yeah, sure thing,” he said, turning and weaving his way back inside. The door hung open for a second, letting out a blast of humid, alcohol-saturated air before it creaked shut, leaving me alone again in the storm.

Water pooled around my feet, and I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, teeth chattering. It was literally a downpour out here tonight.

And with each minute that passed it felt more and more like I’d made a mistake.

I finally turned to go, but the door opened, and Gray stumbled out. His hair was mussed, eyes glassy, but they softened when he saw me. The concern that flared up in them made my chest constrict.

“Case?” His voice was hoarse, tinged with confusion and the edges of a night spent drinking. He took a step closer, brows drawing together as he took in my drenched state. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“I went to Ben’s grave today,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together. It felt like the rain and cold had seeped all the way through to my bones. “I—I’m feeling weak. I just need to be around someone who loved him the way I did, you know? Sometimes…sometimes it just feels like too much.”

His face fell, and he reached for me, fingertips brushing my arm like he wasn’t sure if touching me would hold me together or break me apart.

“Case, I’m—” His words tangled on his tongue, the sadness in his eyes cutting through me. Before he could say more, another voice called out from the doorway.

“Gray! We need you in here, man!” A guy, just as drunk and oblivious as the first one that had opened the door, poked his head out, looking annoyed before noticing me and raising an eyebrow.

Gray’s jaw tightened. “Come inside,” he told me. “We can go to my room, and you can get dried off in there while I finish up.”

I hesitated, pulling away from him. “It’s okay, I can just go?—”

“Just come inside, Case. Everything’s going to be alright.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe in him.

Gray took my hand, his fingers warm against my frozen ones, and led me inside. The heat of the house was immediate, pressing against my wet skin and making my clothes stick uncomfortably.

It also smelled really bad.

There was nothing like the smell that came from a large group of drunk people confined in a small space.

I barely registered the chaos of the room we passed through—shirtless guys with pledge name tags standing in a line, a kiddie pool set up in front of them. One of them was guzzling something while the others cheered, but Gray didn’t pause long enough for me to make sense of it. He tugged me up a set of creaking stairs, the noise from below fading into a muffled roar as we turned the corner and entered his room.

The door clicked shut behind us, and the quiet was almost startling. I glanced around, Gray’s room was cluttered, but some of it reminded me of his room growing up. There was still the scent of old cologne and the faint musk of laundry that needed washing. Posters of football and basketball legends covered the walls, faded and tacked up. A bookshelf in the corner leaned under the weight of scattered notebooks. His bed was unmade, navy sheets twisted and rumpled, one pillow teetering on the edge like it might fall at any second. A Tennessee Tigers flag hung crooked above the headboard, and a small lamp glowed dimly, casting soft shadows.

Gray disappeared into the small bathroom connected to his room and returned with a towel. He handed it to me, his eyes lingering, searching my face like he could read all the words I hadn’t said. “Here,” he said, his voice still gentle and everything that I needed at the moment. I was so wet that I was literally leaving a puddle on his wooden floor. I quickly wrapped the towel around my hair and squeezed, trying to stop it from dripping anymore.

He laughed softly and turned to his dresser, rummaging through it before pulling out a pair of sweats and a faded gray t-shirt. “These are going to drown you, but at least they’re dry,” he said, holding them out. “I need to give you a drawer if you’re going to make this a habit, though,” he tried to tease.

“Thanks,” I whispered, my voice wavering. The warmth of the room was starting to seep into my skin, but it didn’t touch the chill that sat heavy inside me. The silence stretched between us, almost awkward but laced with something deeper—grief and unspoken words…and the past.

“You should have told me you were going to the cemetery. I would have come with you,” he finally said, sliding his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the door. “That’s what, a two-hour drive just to get back there?”

“Yeah,” I answered, staring at the blue tinge of my fingertips. “It was a long afternoon.” I glanced up at him. “When was the last time you went?”

He looked torn at my question…and ashamed. “Not since the funeral,” he finally muttered.

I nodded, wishing I hadn’t asked at all. Gray stared at the floor for a long moment before he walked over to his desk and picked up a photo frame that I hadn’t noticed before.

It was us. Gray, Ben, and me. We were standing on the dock, and Ben and Gray were both holding up big fish that they’d caught, both of them looking so proud. Meanwhile, I had my arms crossed and a scowl on my face because I hadn’t caught anything yet.

I smiled, remembering that day.

Both boys had finally gotten sick of my bitching and spent the rest of the afternoon helping me to catch my first fish. And when I’d finally gotten a bite on my line…it had been a fish about the size of my hand.

I’d still been so proud of myself. Even though Ben was the one who’d actually put the worm on the hook, and Gray had been the one to pull the fish in.

“The Three Musketeers,” he said quietly as he stared at the picture.

I had the strong urge to burst into hysterics again, but I held it in.

A knock pounded on the door and we both jumped, the frame falling from Gray’s hands and landing with a thump on the floor. “Gray, get the hell downstairs. You’re supposed to be managing this,” a drunken voice called.

“Shit,” Gray cursed, crouching down and picking up the frame. It was cracked, and this time, I couldn’t stop the tear that slid down my face.

Why did that crack feel so symbolic?

Gray looked just as devastated when he finally straightened and set the cracked picture back on his desk.

“I’ve got to get back down there. Just get changed and crawl into my bed.” He winced, looking at his unmade covers. “I promise they’ve been cleaned…recently.”

I nodded, biting down on my lip as I stared at him, wishing he would stay…

“I’ll just handle this and then we’ll talk. I promise.” He crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, giving me a soft kiss that for some reason felt…heartbreaking.

“Love you, Case,” he whispered, and I blinked up at him, in disbelief that the words had come out of his mouth.

I opened my mouth to say it back to him, but another knock on the door cut the words from my tongue.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be right back,” he promised, pressing a hasty kiss to my mouth and then walking to the door. “Right back,” he repeated…like he was trying to convince himself.

I stood in the room awkwardly for a minute before deciding to get dry.

A shower later, I slipped into his sweats and used his brush to get the snarls out of my hair.

And then I sat on his bed to wait.

I looked at that picture again, trying to ignore the crack across the glass, trying to remember how the sun had felt as it had roasted our skin that day. I tried to remember the sound of Ben’s jokes and the water licking against the wooden dock, and the way Mama had brought out lemonade, a fond smile on her lips as she’d looked at the three of us.

It was another memory that was fading, just like all the others. It didn’t help that my thoughts were constantly disturbed by yells and cheers from downstairs as the fraternity members did…whatever they were doing.

Gray had said he’d be right back.

I waited.

And waited.

Finally falling asleep when it was close to two o’clock, the feeling that I was pathetic floating through my soul.

Dawn broke through the thin slats of the blinds, streaks of pale light filtering into the room and casting it in a tired glow. Gray’s arm was heavy around my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck, the unmistakable stench of alcohol clinging to him.

I sighed, careful not to wake him as I shifted and untangled myself from the sheets. He stirred, murmuring my name in a slurred, half-conscious voice that made my chest tighten and ache all at once. I pulled the covers up over his shoulders, pausing for a moment as I stared down at him. His face was peaceful in sleep, the tension gone, leaving only the boy I used to know.

The floor creaked as I moved, and I winced, holding my breath until he settled again, snoring lightly. I slipped my shoes on and stepped into the hall. The house was eerily quiet now, the wild energy from before completely snuffed out.

When I reached the large room I’d passed last night, I hesitated. Guys were sprawled out on the floor, limbs tangled and twisted in awkward angles, the sour smell of vomit heavy in the air. I would never get why Gray loved this place so much.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I slipped through the front door, the morning air biting against my skin and waking me up. The first rays of sunlight cut across the sky, no sign of the storm that had pelted the campus last night. I sighed, because I was exhausted, and the sky felt too happy for what I was feeling.

I stood there for a moment, eyes closed, breathing in the cool, damp air, trying to muster the energy for another day of classes, of pretending everything was fine. But as I walked away from the house, the fatigue pressing down on me, a strange thought surfaced, uninvited and sharp.

For the first time, I hoped I wouldn’t see Gray that day.