Thinking About You

by Monica Murphy

I never lied to her again. I never lied to any woman again.

  Until today. With Susanna.

  And I feel guilty as shit about it, too.

  Sighing, I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends, glaring at the black brace wrapped tightly around my knee. I definitely got hurt in practice yesterday, and they already told me I’m not allowed to play tomorrow. I’m stuck here in Arizona with a bum knee and a shitty attitude, and no one wants to be around me. Not even Jordan, who’s my best friend. I about bit his head off earlier, when they were escorting me off the field during practice and he asked what’s wrong.

  That’s it. All he did was ask me what was wrong, and I yelled at him like he just kicked my dog and stole my girlfriend.

  I am a complete jackass.

  Our coaches let me get away with it, because they knew I was in pain and frustrated and scared. Not that any of us big burly men like to admit that, but yeah. Fuck yeah. I was terrified. I’m still terrified.

  I’ve been to the doctor. They did an X-ray. I have a torn meniscus. I’m lucky I didn’t tear my ACL, but I did serious damage, and I’ve done this sort of thing before. Because of the previous injury, the team doctor had a firm suggestion.

  I’m out for the season.

  And fuck, that hurts so damn much, I don’t know how to deal with it. So I lash out.

  Oh, and I lie.

  Football is everything to me. It’s my life. It’s been my life for almost as long as I can remember, and I’ve let it consume me these last few years, since I became a professional. I have one shot at this, and I know it. The sport is rough, it will take you out in a split second, without warning, and right now, I feel like I’ve lost my dream.

  My entire career.

  It’s not a career-ending injury, the doctors and my coaches insist. Season-ending, yes. But you’ll play next year, they tell me. You might need surgery, you’ll do physical therapy, and you’ll be back at it in no time.

  Their words offer little reassurance, not with the constant doubt running through my head. They can’t one hundred percent guarantee I’ll be “back at it in no time.” They don’t know shit. This injury could be worse than they think. I might not recover fast enough. I’m not getting any younger, and there are hungry, young, strong-as-hell players coming up behind me, dying to take my place.

  I don’t know what I’d do if I had to give up my spot on the team. Where would I go? What would I do with my life? I have money, yeah, and I’m under contract, so they’d have to finish paying me even if I couldn’t play any longer.

  But I’m young. I don’t have a plan for after football. Well, I sort of do, but I’m not ready for it yet. I don’t want to go out like this, not now. I’ll be fine I tell myself when I’m trying to be positive. Maybe everyone’s right. This isn’t career-ending, only season-ending. And shit, the season was almost over anyway. We’re going to the playoffs, and we could possibly go all the way to the Super Bowl, but I don’t know.

  Honestly? I don’t want them to get to the Super Bowl because I can’t play in it. And that is the most selfish feeling I’ve ever had.

  So I lied to Susanna because I can’t admit to her that my chances at losing my career are staring me right in the face. And what if she loses interest in me once she finds out I can’t play football anymore? I don’t think she’s shallow like that, but I don’t know. Maybe I’d become too much trouble. A burden.

  I can barely stomach the thought.

  I’m trying to keep up the pretense that everything’s going to be fine, when I have no clue if it’s going to be fine or not. It looks to me like it could be over.

  But I don’t know.

  I do know that I miss Susanna. And I already miss football.

  I’m strong, but I’m scared.

  And that’s the hardest part to admit.

  The tension in the dining room is so thick, you can cut it with a knife.

  I always thought that saying was silly. Unbelievable. But I’ve never experienced such thick tension before, and now I understand how the saying came about.

  Because it’s true. The tension between everyone tonight is off the charts. My parents—Mother is angry at Father for essentially spending their anniversary with our neighbors instead of her. George is scared Evie is going to blow his cover about their secret affair so he won’t even look in her direction. Evie is dying to blurt out that she’s been fucking around with George in secret, yet she’s also chatting up Priscilla, and oh my God, I believe she actually likes the supermodel.

  Not that Priscilla is an actual supermodel. She’s gorgeous, and it turns out she’s one of those YouTube vlogger types who does makeup tutorials. This fascinates Evie, so she keeps engaging in conversation with her, trying to find out how she became popular on YouTube, and it’s killing George. He looks so tense, like he might shatter if anyone so much as looks at him wrong.

  Me? I’m feeling no tension. Not really. Well, my mother is upset with me for some reason. Perhaps she just hates the way I breathe, but I’m used to that, so no worries. Father is keeping up conversation with me, because I’m the only one who’ll talk to him. Mother’s too angry with his neglect, and the rest of them are too preoccupied with their own issues.

  I’m preoccupied as well, though I’m doing a good job faking it. I can’t stop thinking about Cannon and his knee injury. Is he really all right? Was he putting on a brave face for me, and is he dealing with a situation that is far more serious than he’s letting on?

  I’m starting to think that’s it. It’s worse than he wants to confess, and why he would keep something from me like that, I’m not sure, but he has to know that I’ll be there for him no matter what.

  Or maybe he doesn’t know. We don’t know each other that well. I haven’t had a chance to prove myself yet. Maybe he’s realizing our relationship would be so much easier if I were an American who lives in California. It’s so difficult for us to be there for each other when we live so far away.

  “Mother says you’re dating a professional football player,” George says, his inquisitive voice pulling me from my thoughts. “Is that true, Susanna?”

  I blink my brother into focus, see the fake smile on his face. I think he’s trying to change the subject, and using me in the process.

  Great.

  So I decide to go along with it, and help ease his pain.

  “It’s true. I met him a few weeks ago,” I say with a nod.

  “The giant young man we met the weekend of that exhibition game?” Father pipes up, surprise in his voice.

  “Yes, Father, you remember him?” I turn to smile at my father, ignoring the glare coming from my mother.

  “I do. Nice fellow. Rather large.” That’s all he can ever seem to say about Cannon, which I suppose is normal, considering Cannon is unusually huge.

  “Darling, you should’ve spoken to him longer, so you could’ve come home and given me a report,” Mother says, her voice shrill as she studies my father. “Now our daughter is dating someone we don’t even know. Someone who doesn’t even live in this country.”

  Evie sends me a helpless look, but doesn’t say anything. I’m sure she’s glad the attention is off her as well.

  “What team does he play for?” Priscilla asks, her soft voice startling me for a moment.

  “The San Francisco 49ers,” I tell her with a little smile.

  “Oh.” She tilts her head. “So he’s not an actual footballer.”

  “He’s an American footballer,” Evie adds.

  “Well, that’s exciting!” Priscilla claps her hands together. “And he’s from California. Oh, you must go visit him and watch one of his games sometime, don’t you think? How exciting would that be?”

  I like her enthusiasm. It’s refreshing.

  “She can’t just pick up and leave,” Mother says, sending me a knowing look.

  “Why not?” Evie asks, her tone innocent. Her question anything but.

  “She has responsibilities, and a life here. To put it in
complete upheaval for a man she hardly knows is…ridiculous. Besides, California is so far,” Mother says. “And Susanna has never traveled alone before. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself.”

  Ouch. Thanks for all your faith in me, Mother.

  “Maybe I could go with her,” Evie suggests, making Mother laugh.

  “I don’t think so,” Mother says with finality.

  “Over my dead body,” George adds, his enraged tone startling everyone.

  Especially Evie.

  “Why do you care?” Her tone is snippy.

  “You can’t travel all the way to California by yourself,” George says, all blustery and protective. “Something could happen to you.”

  “But I’d be with Susanna,” Evie starts, but he shakes his head, cutting her off.

  “The two of you traveling alone is dangerous. I forbid it,” George says.

  He forbids it? Oh dear, Evie is going to lose it.

  “Who do you think you are?” Evie grabs the cloth napkin from her lap and tosses it onto her still mostly full plate. She rises to her feet, glaring at my brother. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Like hell I can’t.” George stands, the two of them having a furious faceoff across the table from each other.

  My mouth hangs open as I watch the drama unfold. Father appears confused, as does poor, innocent Priscilla. Mother, though, she’s taking in this shit show before her with absolute disgust.

  “What in the world are you two doing?” she asks, her voice calm, the look in her eyes anything but. “Sit down. Now.”

  “No,” Evie and George say in unison.

  “Evie,” I whisper, suddenly worried for the fate of my older brother and only heir to the Harwood estate. Mother looks ready to wrench his head from his neck. No one ever tells her no. Evie might be banned from any family function for life. “You should probably sit down. Or maybe even…leave the room until you can cool off?”

  She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at me. She’s too busy glaring at my brother, and he’s glaring at her in return. They remain quiet for so long, everyone starts to squirm in their seat.

  Well, I’m squirming in my seat, at least. I don’t know about everyone else.

  Finally, finally George breaks the silence first.

  “I don’t want to cool off,” he says, his tone firm, his eyes blazing as he stares at Evie.

  Blazing with…passion?

  Oh my.

  Priscilla appears totally confused, and Evie keeps blinking, like she might be trying to stop herself from crying.

  “I should go,” she finally says, her voice cracking.

  But she doesn’t move.

  “Please don’t go,” George says quietly. “I have—I have something to confess.”

  No one says anything. Not even Mother, which is unlike her. Until…

  “What is it, George?” Evie asks.

  She knows his confession is for her.

  He turns to look at the woman he brought with him for the weekend, his expression contrite. “Priscilla, I’m terribly sorry for wasting your time, but I’m afraid I must tell you something,” he says, his voice soft, his gaze still locked on Evie. “I have—feelings for someone else.”

  Evie blinks yet again, surprise etched in her fine features. “You do?” she asks, her voice weak.

  George nods. “I’m an utter fool, Evie. Can you forgive me?”

  Wait a minute. Is my brother…

  “Yes.” Evie is full-on crying now. Again. “Oh, George.”

  “Please, Evie.” He’s actually begging.

  “I forgive you,” she sobs. “Of course I forgive you.”

  “I’m in love with you.” George laughs. Shakes his head. “I have a funny way of showing it, what with bringing another woman here to my parents’ home, but I think I was trying to convince myself to do the right thing, when the right thing—the only thing—was in front of me the entire time.”

  Aww. That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard my brother—or pretty much anyone—ever say.

  “George, what in the world are you doing?” Mother’s sharp voice nearly makes me jump out of my chair.

  George sends her a quick glance. “I’m saying that I’m in love with Evie and I want to be with her.”

  If I could’ve whipped my phone out and snapped a photo of the shocked expression on our mother’s face when George told her that, it would’ve been worth me getting yelled at. But alas, I’m too slow, and missed the opportunity. And Mother is extremely skilled at smoothing out her expression in a matter of seconds to make it seem like whatever she was just told doesn’t bother her.

  But this admission bothers her profusely. I know it does. She cannot stand Evie. My best friend.

  Now the love of my brother’s life.

  “You want to be with me?” Evie squeaks. “Oh my God.”

  She dashes around the table and grabs George, pulling him in for a hug. My brother embraces her, holding her close, then slips his fingers beneath her chin and kisses her for so long, I finally have to look away.

  Seeing them confess their love for each other makes me miss Cannon. Makes me miss his smile and his voice and his touch and his kisses. Long-distance relationships are the absolute worst.

  My gaze snags on Priscilla’s and she smiles at me, a little sadly. Everyone around the table seems to go wild at once. Mother’s yelling, Father’s asking Priscilla if she needs a ride home, Evie is beaming from ear to ear, and I go to Priscilla, take her hand and pull her out of the dining room, away from the chaos.

  “I am so sorry,” I start, but Priscilla cuts me off with a shake of her head, a serene smile curling her lips.

  “It’s fine. I had a feeling he was interested in someone else all along,” she says.

  I’m frowning. “How did you know?”

  “Call it womanly instinct.” Priscilla actually laughs. “We don’t really know each other that well. We’re work mates, and we have mutual friends.”

  “Wait.” I frown at her. “I thought you were a YouTuber.”

  “Oh, I do that too.” She waves a hand, smiling. “But I also work in finance. Anyway. One of our friends suggested George and I should go out on a date, and so we did.”

  “When?” I ask.

  “Last Friday.”

  “So you’ve only been dating him for a week?”

  “If you can call one date and a request to accompany him to his parents’ house for the weekend as dating, then yes,” Priscilla answers.

  Oh. My. God. My brother did all of this on purpose. He had to have! He used this poor woman to what…somehow get back at Evie? Make her jealous? I don’t know the full story here, and I’m not sure if I ever will, but I do know that I feel terribly sorry for Priscilla and her part in all of this.

  “You must hate my brother,” I say. “And you’re allowed to. He’s kind of a prick.” He’s a total prick.

  “No, I don’t hate him. Not at all. He was just confused.” She smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness. I wonder if she’s trying to put up a brave front. I mean, if I were her, I wouldn’t confess anything to me either. I’m his sister, after all.

  Father appears in the corridor, blinking rapidly when he finds us. “Priscilla, dear, I’ve arranged for a taxi to come pick you up. It should be here in twenty-five minutes.”

  Calling for a taxi in the country is never a quick process.

  “A taxi, Dad? Won’t that cost a fortune by the time she gets to London?”

  “I’m covering it,” he says with a wave of his hand. “And I’ll force George to pay me back later.”

  We all laugh at that one.

  “I can drive her back,” I suggest.

  “You absolutely cannot,” Priscilla says at the same time my father says, “Brilliant idea! I’ll cancel the taxi.”

  He’s gone in an instant, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he walks away.

  “You don’t need to drive me,” Priscilla says when he’s gone. “
I can take that taxi, and I’ll even pay for it.”

  “Please, I’ll drive you. I want out of here anyway,” I tell her. “Just let me go gather my things, and I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Are you sure?” Priscilla’s frowning. “You want to take a car ride with the woman your brother just rejected for your best friend?“

  “More like do you want to spend an entire car ride to London with the sister of the man who just rejected you for her best friend?” I return.

  Priscilla laughs. “I don’t have a problem with it if you don’t.”

  “I don’t,” I tell her with a smile.

  “I need to pack as well,” she says, and it’s decided for us.

  “Meet me in the foyer then, and off we’ll go.” I give her arm a reassuring pat and return to the dining room to let everyone know I’m leaving with Priscilla.

  Not that anyone is really paying attention. George and Evie are engrossed in an intimate conversation, constantly touching each other, while Dad is yelling into his phone at the taxi company, and Mother is watching the newly declared couple with undisguised disgust.

  “I’m definitely taking Priscilla home,” I tell my father once he’s finished with his call. “So I won’t be returning.”

  “Aw, my sweet, I didn’t get to see you much.” Dad smiles at me and I wrap him up in a big hug.

  “I’ll come back another time. Or maybe you can visit me in the city.” I lean in close to his ear to murmur, “Maybe you can leave Mother at home.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “That actually sounds quite nice.”

  I approach George and Evie next, slapping my brother hard on the arm and making him yelp. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Why?” he asks incredulously as he turns to face me.

  “Bringing Priscilla here when you’re not interested in her and torturing Evie. How dare you!”

  Evie slips her arm around his waist and snuggles up close to him. “Love makes people do stupid things.” She doesn’t seem the slightest bit angry with him. No, more like she appears blissfully in love with my sod of a brother.

  “I hope you two are very happy together,” I say sincerely. And I do wish that for the both of them, despite my reservation at them actually working out. They seem like such opposites.