by Eden Butler
“I’d settle for once,” she told him, arms crossed as she watched the defensive line jog out onto the field. “This is a disaster.”
“It’s one game, Noble.” Baker nudged her with his elbow, and she looked up, neck aching a little. He was a giant, but apparently a gentle one. “One game in what’s gonna be a long career.”
“Ha. I don’t know so much about that.” She sounded pathetic, whiny to her own ears, and hurried to right her tone. “But thanks, Baker. I appreciate you saying that.”
“It’s what I do, right?” The guard tilted his head, that wide smile lowering into a smirk. “Got your back. Always.”
That smile, and the sentiment, squashed much of Reese’s bad mood. She didn’t mind so much the booing and cursing her name that went on around the stadium or the shifting gazes thrown her way when she looked at her teammates. Miles Baker had her back. Wilkens did. That was something at least, right? Then Reese glanced at Ryder, doing a double-take when she realized the man watched her, glaring. He moved his attention from Reese to Baker, who got narrowed eyes and a curled lip he quickly moved from his face when Reese shook her head at him. He was still mad, that much she could make out, but Reese wasn’t sure if it was the leaked pics or the loud mouth DJs or missing the field goal that had the quarterback hacked off. A big part of her didn’t really care what sin in particular she’d committed that made him mad.
“Stay mad. Don’t. I couldn’t care less,” she muttered, attention back on the field and the interception Pérez landed.
“We talking to ourselves now?” Reese heard, exhaling when she looked over at Gia. The woman had taken off her shades, but her mouth was still stony.
“I’m always talking to myself.”
“It’s okay, you know,” she said, ignoring Reese’s comment. The kicker watched the woman as she shifted her attention to the crowd, eyes rolling. They’d already forgotten her missed field goal and were back to manic screaming and laughing over Pérez’s interception.
“What is?” she asked, nodding when Wilson jogged in front of her, giving her a light jab on the shoulder.
“That blocked kick. No one expects you to be…”
“Perfect?” she said, staring right at Gia. There was a lot she could remind the woman of. There were a lot of promises Gia had made to Reese when she got the call from the general manager encouraging her to try out for the Steamers.
“It’ll be hard, and you’ll have to be better than everyone else,” Gia had told her.
“Perfect?” she’d asked.
“Just be you, and I swear, we’ll make history.”
“I was mad about you lying to me,” Gia said, joining Reese as she watched the offense trying like hell to beat the clock and land another touchdown.
“Couldn’t tell from the cold shoulder happening.”
“It was shitty of you to lie to me.” She stood with her back to the field and her mouth away from the cameras zooming overhead. “I told you, we’re making history here. You can’t let anything get in the way of that.”
“I didn’t,” she told Gia, head in a tilt. “I kept everything to myself. Some asshole went digging, and you had me making out with Lennox Murry while paparazzi went camera happy. How is any of this my fault?”
“That was you subverting the cliché. They wanted to paint you as some she-man and you’re not.”
“And the past coming back to haunt me?”
Gia bit her top lip, gaze working around Reese’s face as she considered her question. Then the crowd erupted as Wilson scored, landing a final score on the board before the clock ran out and the game ended.
They lost by one lousy point.
A point that Reese could have managed if she’d only blocked out the bullshit.
When the woman didn’t answer, Reese shook her head, waving her general manager off. “I gotta go meet my folks for dinner. See you later.”
She didn’t respond when Gia called back to her. Reese deflected the laughs issued in her direction and the taunts that came her way from the fans as she headed toward the locker room. They wouldn’t relent, she knew that. She’d disappointed them, and no matter what positive things some of the fans had to say about her and Lennox, now they were disgusted that she’d lost them the game.
“Reese! Hey, Reese, over here!” She heard, the voice young, high-pitched, and female.
She hazarded a look, a little self-conscious, a lot unsure, and Reese wondered what she was opening herself up to by looking up at the crowd. But as she got closer to the field exit, a small congregation of young girls waved at her, smiles wide and welcoming.
Despite her foul mood, she jogged toward them, slipping off her helmet as she stopped at the bottom section of seats. “Hey,” she said, smiling when they jumped up and down.
“You were awesome,” one girl said, sporting a “Noble for President” t-shirt. Reese’s eyes widened then went huge as she noticed all of these girls, from eight all the way up to maybe seventeen, had a shirt with Reese’s name or number or face plastered across the front.
“My field goal got blocked,” she explained, shrugging, as she took a Sharpie from one girl and signed her team picture.
“Yeah, so what? You got a ball blocked in an NFL game! That’s badass for anyone,” another girl said, her teeth caged in braces. “That’s especially badass for a woman.”
“We started a fan club for you,” a younger girl said, giggling when Reese’s mouth dropped open. “I’m serious. Is that…are you good with that?”
“Well…yeah, sure,” she said, the ache in her stomach shifting to something warm, something that didn’t burn at all. “I mean, I guess if you want…”
“Of course we do. Hey, can we get a pic with you? We follow you on Instagram.”
“Um, sure,” she said, smiling wide, leaning toward the girls, shifting her stance as they took several different poses. She shot up peace signs and rock ‘n’ roll fingers and smiled until Gia came for her, nodding her to the locker room. By the time Reese said goodbye to her fans, her cheeks ached from smiling, and she’d completely forgotten what a bad, rainy game day this had been.
16
Reese
Her ribs ached. Her back was stretched sore, and Reese found it impossible to do anything more than lift the remote at her TV, hoping that the next channel would offer her something that didn’t annoy her. She reached Bravo, got to the show with all the rich athletes’ wives, and turned the channel.
“Why aren’t smart houses a thing?” she asked herself, glancing at her laptop five feet away from her. “I’m literally unable to…” The energy for complaining left her when the bell rang, and Reese had to roll herself off the sofa to answer the door. The hallway seemed to go on forever, and she dragged her feet along the floor as she lumbered to the door, already cursing whoever it was bothering her on a Monday night.
“It’s my day off, asshole,” she called through the door, wincing when her calves rebuked her stretching onto the balls of her feet to see who was there. She sighed, spotting Cat through the peephole, and reached for the dead bolt but kept the chain lock engaged. Her friend smiled at Reese when she eyeballed her through the crack in the door. “If you don’t have wine, I’m not…”
“Duh,” Cat said, lifting a bottle from the Spade bag on her shoulder. “It’s like you think I’m new here or something. Open the door.”
Reese grunted, her body on fire, but she still closed the door to unlock it and usher her friend inside. Cat took two steps then stopped when Reese jerked the bottle from her hand.
“Hi, Cat. How are you? Oh, me? I’m a grumpy bitch, but thanks for asking,” Cat said, mimicking an exaggerated version of Reese’s voice.
“Not grumpy,” she said, grabbing two clean glasses out of the dishwasher. “Sore as hell.”
“It could not have been that bad.”
Reese rubbed the bridge of her nose, then passed Cat a full glass. “They had me running a five-mile trail after a boot camp drill that lasted ov
er an hour. I mean, seriously, this cannot be what high school girls do for fun.” She took a sip of wine, falling into the stool across from Cat. “Don’t teenagers drink or smoke weed or sleep with people that are not right for them?”
“You got me,” Cat said, shrugging. “I haven’t been around teenagers since I was a teenager, and based on your question, I’m gonna guess we had very different high school experiences.”
“That’s a story you don’t wanna know.” She leaned on her arm and even the small pressure on her bicep felt sore. “I didn’t work this hard at the combine or tryouts. Hell, Mills hates me and makes me do laps, but he has nothing on this boot camp guy.”
“They were trying to impress you.” Cat took a long sip of wine, waving her hand as though her assumption was correct. “You’re the first girl swimming in an all-boys pool. They wanna know what you do because they idolize you. You’re the bar they have to meet.”
Reese laughed, drinking again because the tenderness in her entire body needed numbing. The teenagers who’d contacted her on Instagram had all tagged themselves in the pictures Reese took with them at the game the week before. Since the Steamers were on a bye week, and since her parents had gone back to Durham and Cat was busy helping Gia organize a fundraiser with the boosters, Reese had taken up the fan club girls’ offer to work out with them at City Park. She had no idea who’d show or what they’d want to do. Reese had even waited a full ten minutes, watching the group of five or so girls from her car. She didn’t want to be ambushed by photographers or assholes looking to mess with her.
“I am so not the bar,” she told Cat, leading her friend into the living room. “If I’m the bar, then those girls leap frogged over it about two years ago. Coño, I was never that buena. Not at that age, no way.” She sat down, legs over the arm of her chair. “I didn’t get that good til college.” Her thoughts shifted, and Reese remembered those early days, watching Ryder practice, seeing how he interacted with his younger teammates. They’d looked up to him. He’d always been a born leader, and Reese had taken advantage of that. He’d trained her almost as much as her father had.
“Hey,” Cat said, nudging her foot. “Who’s got you all starry-eyed? Can’t be the Mini Reeses.”
“No,” she admitted, sinking lower into her chair. Cat was her friend, but she’d never told her about the past, and the woman had never pushed. Gia wanted details. Cat just seemed ready to listen. “No,” she said again, pouring back more wine. She didn’t watch Cat when she spoke, but it was only because she knew how soft, how vulnerable it would make her sound and she didn’t want Cat to be disappointed by it.
“Ryder. He…he taught me a lot.” Cat didn’t react. She held her glass, nodding once when Reese finally glanced at her. “My papa, he always knew what was good for me. He taught me form and how to improve my endurance, but Ryder…he taught me about the love of the game. Papa, he takes a very analytical approach to coaching. Even if it’s not any of his kids out there playing, he can’t just sit and watch without critiquing. But Ryder, he loves it. He told me once that on the field, throwing that ball, seeing where it lands, that’s the freest he’s ever felt.” One last sip and Reese finished the glass. She loved the warmth that seeped into her veins as the wine moved through her body.
“He made it sound like love. He…he always made me want to be that passionate about something, and eventually, I was. About the game.” Unexpectedly, Reese felt a thick knot curling in her throat and unnecessary, irritating tears burned against her lashes. “Then, later I got passionate about other things. About…”
“Him?” Cat asked, her voice soft. She leaned forward, placing her glass on the coffee table when Reese nodded. “You’re still in love with him?”
Until she said it, Reese would have never realized the truth. Eyes widening, she jerked a look at Cat, mouth bobbing like a fish from a busted bowl. “I…I…”
“He was your first love, Reese.” Cat exhaled, rubbing her neck. “We never really get over our first loves no matter how hard we try.”
Reese tilted her head, spinning around to place her feet on the floor. “Who was your first love?”
Cat smiled, and a rush of color moved over her cheeks. “It wasn’t love. I was a kid, but I wanted…Kenya. Man, I wanted him so much.”
“Wilson?” Reese sat up straight, trying not to laugh. “You’re serious?”
“I followed him around like a puppy.” She sat back, resting against the recliner as Reese watched her. “Went to every pee-wee tournament and junior high game. My cousin Marcus played in the same leagues, and, man, was Kenya something else.”
“Why didn’t he remember you? That night in the garage, I got the impression he had no idea who you were.”
Cat laughed, the sound loud, sweet, and self-deprecating. “Because I wore glasses and braces and giggled every time he got near me.”
Reese didn’t mention what Wilson had asked her that night at the garage, how he wondered if she’d ever had one that got away; how he’d looked after Cat as though she’d been his one. This didn’t line up with what Cat was talking about, but Reese had been on the receiving end of people drudging up the past. She wasn’t going to do that to her friends, either of them.
“So you never told him?”
“I didn’t have to. Marcus did, and I was humiliated. I cried for a week straight when Marcus told the entire eighth grade team that I was in love with Kenya. They laughed, all of them and I stopped going to the games. I put myself as far away from him as I could.”
The woman shook her head, and a weird, melancholy expression smoothed out her features. “Then that end of summer dance. I’d gotten contacts and I’d slimmed down. Marcus took me to the dance as a way to apologize for being a bad cousin.”
“That doesn’t sound like anything good at all. I smell a plan.” Cat laughed at Reese’s assessment, walking into the living room to fetch the wine. She returned, refilling Reese’s glass and then her own before she took her seat again.
“You’d be right, though it wasn’t anything nasty.” She drank, mouth against the rim of her glass. “They devised a plan that ended with me and Kenya in the janitor’s closet. Marcus gave him very strict instructions to kiss me. Kenya had other ideas.”
“He didn’t do it?” Reese asked, sitting on her feet.
“Worse. He told me he’d do whatever I wanted, and when I couldn’t get the words out right and started crying, he lifted my chin and kissed my forehead.”
“Wow,” Reese said, unable to keep from smiling. “Coño, that’s sweet. And so unlike the Wilson I know.”
“Yes, that’s the point.” Cat stretched her legs, slipping her feet under a throw pillow on the floor before she tugged her glass from the table. “Kenya the boy was a sweetheart. He made me feel…I dunno, precious somehow? I guess that sounds stupid…but he did.”
“And Kenya the man?” Reese asked, ignoring the emotion she felt at Cat’s confession. She knew exactly what she meant about being precious to someone.
“Is a pro player with a new girlfriend every season. Great player. Life of the party, or so I’ve heard, but is he anything more than that?”
“He’s loyal,” Reese told her, meaning it. “He’s had my back from day one.”
“Loyal to his friends, not women,” Cat clarified, frowning when Reese shook her head.
“Loyal to the team. There’s a difference. Wilson started in on me early on after that fight Ryder and I had at Decadence. My guess is he asked Ryder outright if anything had gone down with us. If I know Ryder, then he denied everything.”
“Why?” Cat pushed her eyebrows together and the faintest hint of a line formed between them.
“Because he blamed me…for his sister’s death.” Cat covered her mouth, and Reese shook her head, that one gesture telling her friend that wasn’t up for discussion. “It wasn’t my fault and he knows that now but when I first got here, he’d been hating me a long damn time. I guess he got comfortable hating me, and because he wa
s, he didn’t want anyone bringing up the past. It would remind him that there had been someone he loved buried behind the memory of the girl he convinced himself had ruined his life.”
“Shit, Reese.” Cat abandoned the chair, slipping to the floor to move closer to her friend.
“Anyway, Wilson asked me what our fight was about, and I gave him the same bullshit about Ryder being my papa’s pet athlete and us being jealous of each other, blah, blah, blah. I knew Wilson hadn’t bought it, but he left it alone. Didn’t ask anything at all until that damn DJ told everyone our business.”
“And what did Kenya say about that?”
Reese dropped her shoulders, setting her glass down to wrap her arms around her knees. “He said he was disappointed in me.” She shook her head, trying to drive out the look of Wilson’s face when he complained about Reese and Ryder lying to him. “Ay dios, that was almost as bad as hearing that merida from my parents.”
“He loves this team,” Cat said, nodding to herself.
“He does.” Reese lowered her chin to her knee, eyes going out of focus. “We all do.” Then a thought came to her, something that was a small worry she wasn’t sure should be a consideration at all. She lifted her head, watching Cat close, wondering who she was loyal to most.
“Listen, you’re not gonna tell Gia about…”
“You and Ryder? Sorry, honey, everyone knows that.”
“She doesn’t know that I still…”
“Oh,” Cat said, looking worried, as though she only just realized Reese hadn’t answered her before. “So you do…”
“I’m working on it. It’s hard, and he’s mad at me right now, actually kind of being a brat, but yeah. Still. Probably always will.”
Cat reached for Reese, squeezing her hand when she held it then sat back, resting against the recliner with her hand around a glass. “Don’t worry about Gia. She knows about the unrequited.” Reese moved her eyebrows up, her shocked expression giving Cat a laugh. “She’s a strong woman. She’s smart, probably the smartest person I know, but she’s not dead inside.”
