“Okay.” Leo swung his leg over a bench and sat down. “I agree that no one works harder than our guys do. You’re right that as a team, we’re smart, we’re talented and we don’t do stupid shit. And we have better leadership on the Rebels than any other city does.”
I snorted. “Thanks. I think.”
“But there’s still a sense that maybe we’re not just totally gelling.” He smiled at me a little. “Remember the San Francisco game? After, when you and I talked?”
“Ah . . .” I cast my mind back. All I really remembered from that afternoon was that I’d been hell-bent on finding out if he intended to see Sarah while he was in town. “Refresh my memory.”
He nodded. “We said that we played better than we had all season, and when we talked about why, we said it was that we were playing with heart.”
“Oh, yeah.” I rubbed my jaw. “I remember now.”
“I think if we could play every game like we did that one, no one could stop us from making it to the post-season. Hell, they couldn’t stop us from making to the championship game and blowing away the competition, whoever they are.”
“Well, that’s great.” Corey nodded. “But like my granny used to say, if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. How does that help us?”
Leo glanced at me, and I had a feeling I knew what was coming. “Like Iverson said before, no wrong answers here. And speak your mind. I’m not going to hold anything against you.”
He braced both hands on the bench in front of him. “The thing is, Gideon, it’s not anything you are or aren’t doing. But it’s who you are. You’re . . . this football god. Not just with your talent and your intensity, but with your family, how long all your people have been part of the game in one way or another. Every player on the team respects you, yes, but more than that, they’re all in awe of you. That sounds great, but it means that it sets you apart. It makes it hard for us all to connect the way we need to in order to be a championship level team.”
I wanted to disagree, to protest what Leo was saying, but something in his words rang true. What was more, the sentiment reminded me of what my mother had said last summer, when she’d urged me to find a woman to date, to make myself more likable on the team. I hadn’t wanted to hear it then, and a second confirming opinion didn’t necessarily make me any happier than the first one had.
But in the absence of other answers . . . maybe it was time to start listening.
I shifted to look over at Corey. “What are your thoughts on this, Iverson? Am I the elitist egomaniac who’s keeping us from making it to the big time?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t put it that way. No one thinks you’re arrogant, Maynard. None of us feels anything but admiration for you. We all know that you’d do anything for the Rebels, and your work and intensity are an inspiration.”
I dropped my head into my hands. “God, Iverson. You might as well tell me that it’s not my fault I’m so special. Or that it’s not me, it’s you.”
Corey punched my arm. “It’s definitely not me, dude. The whole team fucking loves me.”
“Yeah, we all love you, because your wife is amazing, and she makes you look damn good,” Leo shot back.
“You’re not wrong.” Corey flipped over his hands. “But who was the brilliant guy who married that amazing woman? Me, that’s who.” His smile faded, replaced by an expression I could only describe as intrigued curiosity as he focused on me again. “Maybe that’s what you need, Gideon. A wife. A really spectacular, friendly wife who will make you seem more of a human.”
I groaned. “Oh, for the love of Pete. I’m not going to get married just to be a team player.”
“Eh.” Corey exchanged a glance with Leo. “That wouldn’t be the only reason.”
“Whatever.” I waved one hand. “It’s not an option.”
“Are you sure?” pressed Leo. “Are you . . . dating anyone? Is there a woman in the picture at all?”
Immediately, Sarah’s laughing face flashed across my mind. I scowled, shutting that shit down right away. “No. Of course not. I don’t have time for that.”
“That’s a big part of the problem,” Corey muttered. “That attitude.”
Leo ignored him. “Well, you don’t need a wife, or even a girlfriend, I guess, to make a couple of changes.”
I sighed, running a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. “What would you suggest?”
“I’d start with some parties.” Corey nodded. “The next time Ellie or one of the guys invites you to a get-together, you say yes and you damn well show up.”
“Hey, I don’t always say no,” I protested. “I was at your engagement party, Taylor, and at your wedding.”
“That’s different.” Corey shook his head. “Those are big events. I’m talking about more casual stuff. Pizza nights on Fridays during off-season. Getting together to play touch football when we do pick up games. Picnics on Sunday afternoons.”
“Jesus Christ. Friday night pizza? Do they really do that?” I grunted.
“Yeah, we do.” Leo stood up. “Next one’s at my house.” He cocked his head, giving me a lopsided grin. “Hey, you like Quinn. And believe it or not, she always has something good to say about you.”
“Why wouldn’t she? I’m a football god,” I mocked him, but there was no real heat in it. “Okay, listen, guys. I hear you what you’re saying. I understand it to some extent, and you’ve definitely given me something to think about.” I paused. “I can’t be someone I’m not. I’m not going to suddenly be the life of the party, and I’m not going to be everyone’s best friend.”
“No one’s asking you to do that,” Corey assured me. “They’d all have you checked for traumatic brain injury if that happened.”
I pretended I didn’t hear him. “But I’ll take your thoughts under consideration, and I’ll even–” I sighed deeply. “I’ll plan to be at pizza Friday this week. But I’m not staying late.”
“That’s terrific, Gideon.” Leo offered me his hand. “And if you ever change your mind about wanting to date, Quinn’s got some nice friends.”
I pointed at him. “No. Thanks, but no.” Glaring at both of them, I picked up my towel and stalked out of the training room. Behind me, both of my teammates were hooting with laughter, and even though I knew at least some of it was at my expense, I was smiling as I headed for the showers.
Gideon: Kill me now. I just committed to going to pizza Friday at Leo Taylor’s house.
Sarah: WTH!! Gideon, I’m so proud of you! What made you decide to do that?
Gideon: Temporary insanity, I’m pretty sure.
Sarah: Aww, you’re going to have a good time. Leo and Quinn are fun.
Gideon: Yeah, well, I’m not making a habit of this, but I had a long talk with Iverson and Taylor this afternoon. They think if I’m more accessible, more of a real person, the team will play better.
Sarah: And what do you think of this, QB?
Gideon: Don’t give me that therapist bullshit, Sarah. You know damn well what I think of it. I hate the idea. I like who I am and how I play the game. But fuck if I’m not going to turn over every goddamn stone to get us to the post-season next year. Even if I have to smile more.
Sarah: Perish the thought.
Gideon: Right?
Sarah: Gideon, I think you’re awfully cute when you smile, so I’m definitely on team Happy QB. But you need to be true to who you are.
Gideon: Thanks. I’m trying to balance it.
Sarah: You’ll figure it out.
Gideon: Maybe. But enough about me. What’s going on with you?
Sarah: Not much. Busy with work. Oh, and I might drive down to LA with a couple of friends this weekend.
Gideon: Sounds like fun. You’re making more friends, then? That’s good.
Sarah: Yeah, I guess. They’re nice, but I don’t know them well yet. I’m hoping getting away for a few days might help get me out of this funk I’ve been in.
Gideon: You okay, princess? W
hat’s going on?
Sarah: I don’t know. I’ve been a little blue since I came back after Christmas.
Gideon: Here’s something to make you feel better.
Sarah: OMG! You took a selfie with our tree. Oh, he looks so good. Is he happy where you planted him?
Gideon: Uh, I guess so, I mean, his needles are still green. He smells good.
Sarah: I’m so glad. Hug him for me.
Gideon: No way, princess. That’s where I draw the line. Come back here and hug your own damn tree.
Sarah: Is that an invitation, QB? Watch out, I might take you up on it.
Gideon: You have an open invitation any time, Sarah, and I’m serious about that. You know I don’t say those things without meaning it.
Sarah: I’d love to see Peaceful Meadows in the spring some time.
Gideon: Let’s make it happen. Pick a date. Better yet, I’ll send you my schedule for mini-camp and all that, and then you decide when to come. I might not be able to provide snow and roaring fires then, but how about flowers on the hills and baby bunnies playing in the grass?
Sarah: I’m sold. But you know none of that matters. The biggest draw to your house is inside, not out.
Gideon: Yeah, I know. It’s my record collection.
Sarah: Ha! That’s definitely a factor, but it’s actually the guy who put all those records together I miss the most.
Gideon: Yeah, I miss you too. The house still feels empty.
Sarah: Hey, Gideon? Can I ask you something?
Gideon: Anything.
Sarah: That kiss. What was it about?
Gideon: Hell if I know. Should I apologize? Was I out of line?
Sarah: No. A kiss like that never needs an apology.
Gideon: That good or that bad?
Sarah: You don’t have to ask that. You’re not a stupid man. Surely you know that was a toe-curling, panty-melting, world-altering kiss. The kind of kiss that keeps me up at night remembering.
Gideon: Oh, thank Christ. When you didn’t bring it up, I thought either you were pissed at me for doing it or it didn’t mean anything. I didn’t think it was a bad kiss. But then again, I haven’t had much practice lately.
Sarah: When you didn’t say anything, I thought you regretted it.
Gideon: The only thing I regretted was waiting to do it right before you got in the car to leave. And maybe a little bit at night when I wake up from dreaming about it.
Sarah: You dream about kissing me?
Gideon: I said maybe.
Sarah: What does this all mean?
Gideon: Does it have to mean something? Can’t we just—I don’t know. Enjoy it.
Sarah: I did enjoy it. Will I get to enjoy it again?
Gideon: I don’t know. How good is your memory?
Sarah: You’re real funny. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.
Gideon: Sarah, wait. I’m sorry. I don’t have answers. I did it—I kissed you because in that moment, I wanted to do it more than I wanted my next breath. I couldn’t not kiss you.
Sarah: But?
Gideon: Why does it have to be a but? Why can’t it be an and? I couldn’t not kiss you then, and the next time I reserve the right to not be able to not kiss you again.
Sarah: Hmm. Okay. I think I can live with that.
Gideon: Good. Listen, I need to go. My dad’s in town, and I’m having dinner with him.
Sarah: Oh, have fun and tell him I said hey. Chat soon?
Gideon: Yeah, definitely. Have fun this weekend. Let me know when you’re back, okay?
Sarah: Will do. xxx
“Dad. Sorry I’m late.” I shook my father’s hand and then leaned in for a quick bro-hug before we both sat down at the table where he’d been waiting.
“Nah, no problem, Gideon. I’ve just been chatting with your mother while I was waiting.” He held up his phone to display the open text app, smiling sheepishly. “You know, son, I’m well aware that I’ve said this to you before, but you couldn’t do any better than to find yourself a woman like your mom.” He lowered his head, dropping the level of his voice as well. “Thirty-plus years married, and we still can’t stand to be away from each other overnight. She was just on here wishing she’d decided to come down here with me.”
“I was kind of surprised she didn’t,” I remarked, unfolding my napkin and draping it over my lap. “She rarely misses a chance to come to Richmond and check up on me. Make sure I’m eating my veggies and behaving myself.”
“Ah, well, you know, she and your aunt Poppy had planned a women’s weekend with your sister, and I’m not going to be back before they’d have to leave for the spa. She asked me to send her love and a reminder to plan a visit home soon.”
I chuckled. “I’ll do that.”
For the first fifteen minutes or so, Dad and I caught up, talking casually about the people we both knew and what was going on in the league. I always enjoyed this kind of interaction with my father; he was a smart man, knowledgeable about the game we loved and about the organizations that made the whole thing hum. More than that, I knew that the advice he gave was almost always spot-on.
Still, I was more than a little apprehensive about seeing him tonight. We hadn’t had an in-person conversation since Richmond hadn’t made it past the regular season for the second year running. I knew Dad wouldn’t bust my balls for that, but I also suspected he had some input for me.
So when he sat back and folded his arms over his chest, I braced myself for what was coming next.
“Gideon, I was hoping maybe I could talk to you a little tonight about Lilly.”
My mouth dropped open slightly. That mention of my ex-girlfriend had come out of nowhere. Dad hadn’t brought up her name to me since shortly after we’d parted ways, and I’d never sensed anything but sympathy and compassion from him.
“Why?” It was the first thing that I could think to ask, blurting it out baldly. “I mean, Dad . . . that’s water under the bridge. Why do you want to talk about her now?”
He regarded me steadily. “I had lunch with Emmett Berkshire this week. That’s nothing unusual—you probably know we see each other at least once a month or so. But during all that time, neither of us has brought up either you or Lilly. We understood from the get-go that our friendship had to be independent of whatever was happening between you two kids, and we’ve stuck to that. But this week, Emmett if he could talk to me about Lilly.”
“Okay.” Under the table, my hands were clenched into fists. “Again, I have to ask, why?”
“I guess Lilly’s been seeing a therapist ever since she came back to New York. Emmett says she’s been doing really well.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Dad.” I nodded. “I wish her—I’ve always wished her nothing but the best. But beyond that, I don’t know what I can do for her.”
Dad fiddled with his menu, lining up the leather-bound folder with the edges of the table. “She wants to see you, Gideon. Emmett says her therapist has recommended it, because there are aspects of her trauma that can’t be dealt with if she doesn’t straighten out some of the aftermath with you.”
A lump rose in my throat, and I felt the familiar panic that had held me in its grip for so long after Lilly’s attack. Along with that came unexpected anger. Hadn’t I done everything I could? I’d tried to help her afterward. I’d have done anything in my power to make things better. But dammit to hell, I’d just gotten my own life back in the past year. Moving to the farm, leaving behind the condo with all of its painful memories . . . those had all been positive steps for me. Seeing Lilly now would be like moving backward.
“Dad.” I gripped the table, unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t know if I . . . shit, Dad, I’ve only stopped having nightmares myself since I moved. I know that Lilly was the victim here. I know it was my fault, that I wasn’t there to protect her, to take care of her . . . but Jesus Christ, what the hell can I do about that now?”
“Gideon. Son.” My father’s large hand covered my fist. “No one blames you.
No one ever has. What happened to Lilly was tragic, and it was a fucking nightmare. Not one of us would deny that. You did your best in a shitty situation, and Mom and I both knew you were struggling afterward. But nightmares? I had no idea.”
I grimaced. “My nightmares were about hers. About Lilly waking up screaming, where I couldn’t help her or even touch her. Where she looked at me with the same eyes that only saw the man who’d hurt her.” I pulled up both hands and dropped my head into them. “I wasn’t there for her, Dad. I’m never going to forgive myself for that. Isn’t it enough penance?”
“No one thinks you deserve to pay a penance, Gideon.” Dad clamped his hand around my shoulder. “No one. Not the Berkshires, who are only worried about their daughter. Not Mom or me, you can sure as hell believe that. And from what Emmett said to me, not Lilly either. She doesn’t want to meet with you to make you feel bad about yourself, son. She wants you both to move on—but in a better way.”
I wanted this conversation to be over before I broke down and wept like a child, embarrassing both my father and me. Drawing a deep breath, I straightened up. “Fine. I’ll try to see her the next time I’m in New York.”
Dad shook his head. “You don’t have to wait that long. Lilly’s going to be in Richmond on Monday for some kind of conference. She’d like to see you while she’s here.”
“Here?” I wanted to refuse. I wanted to flat out tell him no way in hell. But what kind of jerk would do that, would say no to helping the woman he had loved once upon a time?
“Here’s her number.” My father slid a small card across the table. “Text her and set up a time and place. I don’t imagine you’ll want to have her to the farm—”
“God, no.”
Dad ignored my expletive. “But maybe you could meet in her hotel room. Somewhere private, I’d think, because you have some sensitive topics to discuss. You probably don’t want to do that at a public restaurant.”
I nodded. “Okay. Got it.” Picking up the card, I tucked it into my pocket. “And here I thought we were going to be talking tonight about what I can do to make next season a better one for the Rebels. You’re just full of surprises, Dad.”
Sway (Keeping Score Book 6) Page 24
