Spring Tide (Coastal University Book 1)

Since entering high school, I can count the number of times I’ve cried on one hand.

The first time, I was fourteen years old, a freshman who had barely made it onto the varsity football team. I was trying to be impressive in the weight room, but I ended up dropping an eighty-five-pound dumbbell on my foot. I think three whole tears leaked out.

The second time was the spring of my senior year. I had just been accepted at Dayton University, but then I lost out on a full-ride scholarship. I tried so fucking hard, but in the end, I couldn’t come up with enough money for the deposit in time. Back then, I let one solid tear roll all the way down my cheek.

The third and final time was this morning, about thirty seconds after I made the biggest fucking mistake of my life.

Watching Harper walk away obliterated me. The only thing that made it worse is that I pushed her to do it myself. It’s my own fucking fault for getting so wrapped up inside my head, for treating her like garbage, and for telling her I needed space.

Space. God, I fucking hate that word.

I should’ve never said the things I said, spoken to her the way I did. It hit me like a freight train the second after she left. I called for her, but she didn’t turn back. She kept on walking straight out of my house, out of my life, and I can’t blame her for that.

I panicked, and I fucked up. Majorly.

It’s not a valid excuse, but in that moment, the only thing I could think about was my future blowing up in my face. The detonation of everything I’ve worked for my entire life. What I should’ve kept in mind is that Harper could’ve been my future, too. Now, I’m not so sure I have enough words to earn her forgiveness.

Since then—after six hours of wallowing in my own pit of despair—I’ve managed to inject my brain with a sense of rationality. Harper’s tears were like a brutal wake-up call for me. It’s near torture, but I’ve been replaying her words on a never-ending loop inside my head. And the conclusion I’ve finally come to is that she was right about everything.

Of course she fucking was.

I don’t know what I was thinking trying to hide this at the end of our season. It’s become more than evident that I need to speak to my coach and figure out a plan moving forward—sooner rather than later.

But first, I need to try and beg for my girlfriend’s forgiveness. Even if she never takes me back, I won’t be able to get my head on straight until I apologize.

If I ever have to relive the pain of breaking her heart—of shattering her spirit into pieces like that—I might as well never play football again. Nothing could hurt me worse, which is why I had Taylor drop me off in front of her apartment just now.

I can’t let myself go another minute without trying to make amends.

Leaning on my crutches for support, I raise one weary hand to knock on her front door. After railing on me for ten straight minutes, Taylor made me practice what I planned to say on the ride over. Now, I’m afraid I’m too fucking nervous to remember a single word of it.

When Stella opens the door and first catches sight of me, her expression slips into a nasty frown, arms folded tightly across her chest. She taps one foot, impatient as she asks, “What do you want?”

I choke back the lump in my throat. “Is Harper home?”

“She’s here,” Stella murmurs, fire in her eyes. “But I’m not so sure she’s gonna want to see you. You know I had to pick her up outside of your house earlier, right?”

“Fuck, I know. I just want to tell her how fucking sorry I am.” I stare past her, blowing out a shaky breath as I hope for a glimpse of my girl. “That’s all.”

“Let me go check with her first.” She jabs a finger right in the center of my chest, lips pressed into a flat line. “Do not step inside this apartment until I come back, okay?”

I nod, a spark of hope blooming inside of me. “Okay, you got it.”

By the time Harper finally walks toward me, it feels like I’ve been waiting in this open doorway for hours. She looks so fucking beautiful, even with her eyes all puffy and red-rimmed from crying. The sight of her like this, heartbroken because of my actions, has me regretting the day I was born.

As she steps closer, her expression is guarded, both hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie. Stella doesn’t bother to return with her, but I can see that she’s left the door cracked open just down the hallway.

“Did you need something?” Harper asks, blinking up at me.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Other than you, no.” I fight to keep my voice from cracking. “God, Harper, I’m so fucking sorry for all the careless shit I said to you earlier. I didn’t mean it. Not a fucking word.”

She wrinkles her cute little nose, sniffling just once. “Sorry, but it’s pretty hard for me to believe you right now.”

“I was hurting, and I took it out on you, the one person who really didn’t deserve it.” I grip my crutches to keep myself from stepping toward her, fingers blanching. “If I could take it back, I would in an instant.”

She angles her head. “Which part?”

“All of it. Everything.”

Her eyes pinch closed, and she gives me a sad, watery smile, one that immediately sends a pang of discomfort through my body. “So you changed your mind, then?”

“There was nothing to change my mind about.” I’m pleading with her now, willing her to believe me despite my earlier cruelty. “All that shit I said was so far from how I really feel about you, about us. I swear.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She blows out an impatient breath. “I mean, you changed your mind about talking to your coach. And what, now you feel bad that you broke up with me over it?”

“I did change my mind.” I balance on my right crutch, running a ragged hand through my hair. “I realized you were right all along, but it’s not just that. I never should’ve asked you for space when you were just trying to help.”

“Okay.”

My throat constricts. “Okay?”

“I get that you regret it, but I still don’t think you understand the extent of how your words affected me. You wouldn’t even let me tell you that I love you, Luca. You said that I fall in love like it’s a hobby, like my feelings and emotions aren’t just as fucking real as yours are?”

She steps back, gaze locked on mine, and I can feel the full magnitude of her sorrow. “And maybe I haven’t gone through what you’ve gone through, but that doesn’t mean I don’t face real problems, too.”

“I know that.” I wince, a bone-deep ache settling in my chest. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I think you’re perfect. Everything else I said today was a lie. And I do, I do believe that you . . . love me.” My voice drops to a tortured whisper. “Or that you did before I fucked everything up. I just wasn’t ready to hear it at the time.”

She frowns. “So what are you saying exactly?”

“I’m saying that I want you back.” My next inhale burns right through me, scorching me from the inside out. “And that I’m sorry. And that I was wrong, about all of it. If I ever have the privilege of hearing you say those words to me again, I’d never fucking take them for granted.”

I watch, heart bottoming out as a range of emotions flicker behind her eyes—anger, frustration, helplessness, finally settling on an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

“I don’t know, Luca. You really, really hurt me.” A single tear stains her flushed cheeks. “I thought I could trust you. I thought I could count on you, but you broke my heart.”

“I know, baby. I know.” I balance on my crutches, shoulders drooping. “I panicked, and I let you down. I understand if you can’t find it in yourself to forgive me for that.”

“Maybe you were right, anyway.” Something soft and broken washes over her expression. “Maybe we’re just too different.”

“No, I wasn’t right about anything.” My heart squeezes. “And I love our differences.”

“I thought I did, too. I think . . . I think I just need more time to think. Why don’t you take care of yourself first, figure out your future, and then maybe we can revisit us?”

Raw, unfiltered emotion croaks out of me as I say, “And what if I want you to be my future?”

“Then I guess you shouldn’t have spoken to me the way you did this morning. How about you take that space you asked for, and I’ll do the same? At least for now.”

While I’m proud of her for standing her ground—for not allowing anyone to mistreat her and get away with it—my stomach curls at the thought of spending the rest of my life without her.

“I’ll give you your space.” I swallow back the pain and regret. “I’ll give you anything you ask for, but just know that’s not what I really want. It never was.”

“Okay, well, it’s all I have to offer right now.”

“I understand.” I release a defeated sigh, yearning to reach out and touch her. Just one more time. “But Harper, I-I’ll miss you. So fucking much.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” She perches a hand on the doorframe, signaling for me to leave. “But you should really go.”

I manage a nod, holding back the three words I so badly want to say to her. It’s not the right fucking time. Of course it isn’t, because I fucked it all away. But God, I wish she knew just how deeply I care for her.

Instead, I respect her wishes, hobbling away without so much as another word. At the sound of the door closing behind me, shutting me out once and for all, I have to physically restrain myself to keep from dropping to my knees.

By the time I make it back down to the car, I’m fairly certain Taylor’s gone through LÉON’s entire debut album. She gives me a hopeful look and a thumbs-up through the front window, but I shake my head, letting my shoulders drop. Once I’m awkwardly tucked back inside the passenger seat, she pats me on the arm.

“Sorry, buddy,” she says. “I was really rooting for you and Happy.”

I lean my head against the side window, puffing out a regretful sigh. “Me too.”

She shifts the car into drive, glancing at me out of her peripherals, gaze filled with sympathy. “You still want me to take you over to the athletic training center?”

I scrub a hand across my forehead. “Yes, unfortunately. I have an appointment with Coach in a little less than an hour.”

“And what are you gonna tell him?”

She slowly pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road, headed toward campus. As I watch Harper’s apartment building fade into the background, I pinch my eyes shut, drowning out all sense of desperate longing. If I want to have any hope of making it through the rest of this day, this week, this year, I can’t be solely focused on what I’ve lost.

The only way to move forward is to move through.

“For once,” I say, “I’m gonna tell him the fucking truth.”