Book III of UNC Series
While it's known that there are five stages of grief, did you know that there are also five stages of love?
Bailey Nicholson dreamed of finishing her Master's degree and settling in Boston while working alongside her boyfriend...
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flashback | present
My back groans from the strenuous barre Pilates workout. My thighs burn, and I'm eager to slide into my bed at my new place, keen for my aching limbs to sink into the plush mattress. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I slide my thumb across the screen to see a message from Chase.
It's not hard to describe my feelings for him. After only dating for a year, he reads me like an open book, always having my back, and he sends butterflies fluttering in the pit of my stomach. I grin, despite him not being physically next to me.
Before I can reply, I hear someone calling my name. I turn over my shoulder and recognize my brother jogging towards me. He had a game earlier this afternoon against my school. Though he's on the rival team, I can't help hoping that he wins. He is my brother, after all, even if he's been acting stranger these past couple of years. But he's also been riding the bench since he's a freshman rookie.
As he steps closer, I finally get a good look at the new shiner he's sporting. A purplish bruise also colours his clean-shaven jaw. A gasp slips past my lips, and I reach up to thumb under his eye.
"What the fuck, Sam? What happened?" This couldn't have been from his game. There's no way; instead, it looks like he got punched in the face in a violent brawl.
"Don't worry about it," he waves me off, dodging his head as he grabs my wrist. The bruises are getting worse. I noticed them more last year, but he hasn't said anything about that. At first, I thought it was from football practice, but the more prominent they become, the less I think it's because of football.
Dad, who is very eager about Sam's football career, hasn't mentioned anything about them, which further allowed me to believe it resulted from aggressive plays. But now I wonder if he's been getting into fights.
"Sam." Concern laces into my voice. Could this be why he's been acting out more and more? He wasn't like this when we attended the same high school. "Did someone hit you?"
He gulps, confirming what I already suspected. "Who did this?" I straighten my spine, ignoring the flare of pain that strikes my lower back.
"Don't worry about it," he exasperates.
"Sam," I firmly prod.
He sighs, "You remember me telling you about that new kid from last year, Parker?"
"He did this?" My lips part. I remember him telling me about the new kid with an accent that transferred last year. I hadn't met him since I had already graduated, but apparently, he wasn't happy with Sam because they both played the same position. It caused a lot of tension. Last I heard, he got into UNC while Sam got into Weston. I thought the rivalry ended with them being on different teams, but apparently, it didn't.
He nods, staring past my head into the night sky.
"He's done this before? Was he responsible for all the bruises?" Sam flits his eyes to me. The dark green irises flicker. Something akin to relieved shock crosses behind them before it's gone.
