Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me
Chapter 131
APRIL’S POV
“You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“This is trespassing.”
“Does that count if we’re alumni?”
(45)
“Yes. We’ll be tried as adults. We’ll go to jail, April.”
I lean up, pressing my thumb to Nathan’s forehead to smooth the creases between his brows. “Who knew you were such a worrywart?”
He exhales, leaning into my touch. “Who knew you were such a daredevil?”
“Come on,” I say, grabbing his hand. “You wanted an unforgettable first date, right?”
He turns, glancing at the Adler High football field that stretches out beyond the gate.
I bite my lip. “Is it the trespassing, or is it being back here?”
He shakes his head. “I used to come here all the time after I got injured.” His voice takes on a wistful quality. “I’d watch the tear ice and run through all the myriad things that could have happened differently.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. We should go.”
I start to tug him away, but he holds fast, pulling me back. “No. Let’s do it.”
“You don’t have to do it just for me.”
He caresses my cheek. “I would do anything for you.”
It amazes me how Nathan can say the simplest things with so much fierce promise that leaves absolutely no room for doubt.
“Even risk jail?”
He exhales a laugh. “If it comes down to it.”
I grin. “No backsies.”
He snorts. “Sure, no backsies.” He turns to the gate. “But how do you intend to get in?” he asks, jiggling the padlock.
I reach into my updo and pull out a hairpin, causing my hair to cascade down my shoulders.
Nathan raises a brow. “You’re not-”
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I grab the padlock, pull apart the haltpin, and slip it into the keyway.
“How do you know how to do that?” he asks incredulously.
45
I shrug. “When I started taking care of June, I was paranoid about my abilities. I found a site called “Twenty Random Skills Every Mother Should Have. I also know how to give the Heimlich, change a bad tire, and-
Nathan kisses the side of my head, stalling my words, and whispers against my skin. “You’re amazing.”
This–being able to talk about the hard parts of my life like we’re discussing the weather–is amazing.
The padlock clicks open. “Done.”
Nathan leans down and picks up the picnic basket filled with the items we bought at our first stop. The gate creaks as he pushes it open, bowing slightly. “Instigators first.”
I snort, walking in.
The field lies ahead, bathed in the cool glow of overhead lights–harsh and white. Gravel crunches under our feet as we walk further, and nostalgia wraps around me like a warm, fuzzy blanket.
I glance at Nathan, who turns in a slow arc, drinking in the place that was once his whole world. Our shadows stretch long across the empty field beneath the lights.
“It feels… small,” he mumbles, almost to himself.
I know what he means. Back then, it felt like I could get swallowed up in the sheer overwhelmingness. The raucous melody of accompanied by deafening cheers from hundreds of students. Now it’s quiet, empty, echoing with the ghosts of our youth.
“This was my favorite place in school,” I whisper. “Do you know why?”
Nathan smirks. “Because you got to watch me play?”
I snort. “Well, yes. But…” I glance at the bleachers. “Here, it felt like I didn’t matter. I didn’t stand out. For forty–eight minutes, I was exactly the same as every student. We all wanted the same thing; we were all the same people.”
Nathan wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind. “If I could go back in time, do you know one thing I would change?”
“You’d get out of Owen Maverick’s way?”
`d,
He snorts. “You know his name?”
“The linebacker who ended your career?‘ I shrug. I briefly considered slashing his tires and egging his house.”
Nathan’s whole body vibrates against me as he chuckles. “Just how much do I have to worry about the possibility of you ending up in jail?”
I shrug. “Lucky for you, I’m too chicken to actually do any bad thing.”
“Says the girl who just picked a lock to sneak into her high school football field.”
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My hands come up and clutch his arm around my neck. “You make me brave,” I say, “which is ironic because you once made me a nervous
wreck.”
Nathan nuzzles his head into my neck, and my breath hitches. “Are you saying I no longer make you nervous?”
“I-” Can no longer breathe.
He chuckles, pressing a hot kiss to the base of my throat. “I still got it.”
I close my eyes, reveling in this moment. The cool night breeze sweeps over us, bringing with it memories–the smell of concession popcorn and hot dogs, the roar of the crowd after a touchdown, the rhythmic pounding of cleats on the turf, the sight of Nathan running across the field in his number 10 jersey.
“If I could go back in time to change one thing,” Nathan murmurs, “I would look out for you in the crowd.”
“You never would have noticed me,” I whisper.
“I should have,” he says. “I should never have let you fade into the background. And not just at football games.” He straightens and turns me to face him, cupping my cheeks, his fingers slipping into my hair.
The lights cut shadows on his face, making him look ethereal. “I should have sought you out in the hallways, sat next to you in classes, partnered with you on that UN trip. And…” he exhales. “I should have kissed you that night at Ryan’s party.”
“You can kiss me now,” I whisper.
He does.
Long and sweet and deep, careful and aching, filled with everything unsaid over the years.
And then, on a blanket spread over the fifty–yard line, we share sandwiches and popcorn and sodas, just like they sold at the concession stand. We talk about our favorite games–the ones Nathan loved playing and the ones I loved watching.
We lay back on the blanket, staring up at the stars, barely visible thanks to the blaring lights, and we talk.
In the far distance, dogs bark, a car horn echoes and fades. But here, in this little pocket of nostalgia, it’s just us, wrapped in our memories, our regrets–and each other.
If Nathan had noticed me five years ago, if he had indeed kissed me at that party, would we be here now? Or would we have fizzled out like most high school romances do?
While I don’t have the answer to that question, I do find myself feeling…grateful. Maybe that wasn’t our time. Maybe everything worked that way so we could find each other in the future, now.
Because now is perfect.
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Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me
Chapter 132
