Wide Open

by Tracey Ward

“Don’t be, Harper. You don’t have to be. I don’t want you to be.” He sits forward in his seat. “But something’s obviously wrong and I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

  “We broke up.”

  “You and Sam?”

  I frown, lost.

  He grins faintly. “I’m messing with you. I know it’s been Matthews.”

  I chuckle, relieved at the feeling. It puts a stopper on my tears and I’m finally able to wipe them from my cheeks without a fresh fall drenching them again. “I hate you.”

  “I know.”

  “Why did you let me lie to you? If you knew what I was doing why didn’t you call me out on it?”

  “Because you were happy. And I liked seeing you happy.” He pauses, his grin fading. “Why’d you break up?”

  I sniff, shrugging shakily. “I can’t tell anyone about him and he won’t tell me about anything. We both made demands and we shut each other down.”

  “I’m not surprised. You’re both too stubborn to live.”

  “Yeah, but we’re both right. It’s not fair to him that I won’t tell anyone about us.”

  “You’re afraid people will judge you. You think people will stop respecting your work.”

  “I’ll look like a slut,” I tell him bluntly. “You know it’s true.”

  “Hey, I’m not arguing. I agree. But not about how it will look. I’m thinking about how it will actually turn out. You can’t be impartial while you’re dating a player and filming his team. Especially with Derrick working on the other side. The Patriots are tainted to you already, just by association with him. Add that to the fact that you’re falling for a Kodiak, and the Patriots are worthless to you.” He levels me in his gaze. “Be real with me. Between these two teams, who do you think is going to win the Super Bowl?”

  I bite the inside of my lip, debating. I surprise neither of us when I answer, “The Kodiaks.”

  “Even with the disappointment they’re seeing with Josh Ramsey?” he challenges.

  “They have a better record.”

  “Four games in. That can change faster than you think.”

  “I would still pick the Kodiaks.”

  “Odds makers in Vegas are favoring the Patriots.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Why do you care?”

  I snap my mouth shut. I understand immediately what he’s saying. “It shouldn’t matter to me who wins. That’s not the point of the documentary.”

  “It’s the journey these men are taking,” he agrees gently. “It’s not the end game. You’ve gotten too caught up in it. You lost sight of that.”

  “I started competing with Derrick and rooting for Kurtis.” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “What the hell is wrong with me?!”

  “I would think the answer to that is obvious. You’re in love.”

  I don’t argue with him, but I don’t look at him either. I can’t admit that he’s right and I also can’t tell him that he’s wrong, not without lying to him again.

  I take a deep breath, lowering my hands. “What am I going to do?”

  “You’re gonna get through it. All of it. The project, the mess with Derrick, the break up. You’re gonna do your job and move on to the next. That’s what you chose to protect; your work. So that’s what you focus on.”

  “Was I wrong?” I ask him quietly, knowing he can’t answer it for me. But still I ask. “Should I have come clean about Kurtis? Should I have sacrificed everything for him?”

  Travis stands up to offer me his hand. I take it, letting him pull me onto my feet. He takes my shoulders in his hands and squeezes them tightly. “Harper, I have no goddamn clue. But I’m here for you either way. Always.”

  I smile plaintively, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “Ditto.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “You better.”

  He kisses my cheek before untangling himself from my arms. “You go home and get some sleep, okay? We need you bright eyed for the game tomorrow. No more Carmen running the show, you got that? Les and Alec won’t have it.”

  “I got it,” reply with a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  “Goodnight, Travis.”

  “’Night, Harper. And happy birthday.”

  My eyes go wide. “Oh! Don’t I get a wish?”

  “I’m not a genie. You got cake from me. That’s it.”

  “No, a birthday wish, you dick. One from the universe. I get one, don’t I?”

  “Sure,” he laughs. “What do you want?”

  “I can’t tell you. It won’t come true if I tell you.”

  “Then what are you hassling me about it for?!”

  “You’re my friend! You have to sanction it or something.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “I’m deliriously tired. Give me a second.” I close my eyes tight, trying to think of a wish.

  “Do I have to be here for this part or can I go to the bathroom? I really have to pee.”

  “Shhh!”

  “You shhh!”

  I let my mind go blank, grabbing the first thought that pops into my brain. My first desire. I take hold of it, wrapping my heart around it and sending it into the sky.

  I open my eyes, smiling at Travis. “I did it. I made it.”

  “Woohoo,” he cheers flatly. “May I pee now?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  “Thanks a lot. Goodnight again.”

  “Goodnight!” I call happily, heading for the door.

  The place is deserted. Janitorial staff are making their way down the hall of offices to pick up trash and dust the keyboards. I wave to them as I leave, heading for the elevator. I debate waiting for it, but opt for the stairs instead. There’s no real good option for me here to avoid thoughts of Kurtis. I’ve kissed him everywhere. In supply closets, locker rooms, offices, elevators, stairwells. He’s everywhere and I need to accept that instead of run from it.

  The night is balmy when I step outside. The parking lot is almost entirely empty. Travis’s car is obviously still here, along with a bright green sports car and a big gray truck. A white van with a cleaning company logo on it. My little blue Honda with a bouquet of flowers on the hood.

  I pick them up gingerly, turning them over in my hand. They’re a gorgeous bouquet of wild flowers in every color. They smell like summer even now in the end of fall. There’s a card that simply says HAPPY BIRTHDAY; printed, not hand written. There are no other words, but with Kurtis there wouldn’t be. Especially not now. And that’s okay, because I don’t need them. The bouquet says everything I wanted to hear. It gives me hope that maybe my birthday wish will come true.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  KURTIS

  October 14th

  Charles Windt Stadium

  Los Angeles, CA

  The steering wheel is cold under my hands, the air conditioning in the Challenger blowing hard and fast against my knuckles. The windows are tinted well past the legal limit, darkening the all black interior, keeping it icy inside. In the dim light the dials glow red and angry in front of me. I smash the gears at the light, cutting in front of the car next to me. I slide into the parking lot of the stadium in a perfectly timed drift that leaves licorice straps on the pavement. If they’re honking at me, and they probably are, I can’t hear it. The speakers are full of bass and drum and chaos that clouds around me, cocooning me in my seat where the outside world can’t touch me. Where it’s kept carefully distant.

  Where it can go fuck itself.

  I slide into a parking spot on the far corner of the lot, away from the rest of the team. The quiet is deafening when I cut the engine and the music. It’s consuming and claustrophobic. I’m quick to grab my bag, swing my door open, and hoist myself out onto the pavement. Cars pull into the lot around me. They park far away, close to the entrance, and I make sure to walk slowly to avoid getting caught up in the herd. I don’t want to be roped into talking to anyone. I
want to play this game, get this itch out of my system, and go home. I’ll drink a beer, watch crap TV, and fall asleep. Alone.

  It’s what I know. It’s what I’m good at.

  Colt Avery’s bright red Nissan GTR sits on the farthest edge of the group. His ass is leaning against the trunk, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s eating something idly. Chilling. Waiting.

  I groan audibly when I realize he’s waiting for me.

  “’Sup, dude?” he calls with a nod in my direction. He hops down off the back of his car to meet me, blocking my path to the stadium.

  I hoist my bag higher on my shoulder impatiently. “Avery.”

  “You finally brought the Hellcat out, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Damnit, that car is off its head. I can’t believe you left it in storage this long. I wouldn’t have been able to help myself.”

  “I’ve been trying to learn restraint.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve got it, man. More than anyone I know. I’ve got a little bit of a boner just looking at it.”

  “Please don’t fuck my car, Avery.”

  He laughs. “I promise nothing.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward his Nissan. “We should race sometime. Friendly quarter mile. Meager wager.”

  “I don’t gamble.”

  “You used to. From the way Lefao tells it that used to be almost all you did.”

  “Restraint, remember?”

  “Right. Right. Sorry. We could run it just for fun. Bragging rights.”

  “You don’t want to do that,” I warn him.

  “You’re that good, huh?”

  “Ask anyone on the underground circuit.”

  “I don’t know anyone on the circuit.”

  “It should be a red flag to you that I do.”

  Colt smiles crookedly, dimples in his cheeks. Amusement in his large blue eyes. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Did you need something?”

  His smile fades, his eyes searching the parking lot. We’re alone. Everyone else has made their way inside. Still, Colt takes a step closer to me, lowering his voice confidentially. “Yeah, I wanted to say thanks.”

  I feel immediately uncomfortable, my shoulders tightening. “For what?”

  “Talking Tyus into getting real with me. He told me everything about the concussions and the memory shit. To be honest, I’d noticed it. I was worried but I didn’t know how to ask him about it without sending him off the deep end.”

  I feel awkward talking about Tyus’ life with Colt. They’re close but I’m not, not with either of them. Talking about Tyus feels oddly like I’m eavesdropping. Like I’m a third wheel to a brotherhood I have no business in.

  “No problem,” I mumble, moving to step around Colt. To end this moment as quickly as possible.

  The asshole follows me.

  “He doesn’t talk to people about anything,” Colt continues. “Kinda like you. Actually, a lot like you. I guess I’m not surprised he ended up talking to you about it first.”

  “I just happened to be there. If Trey had been in the locker room, he would have talked to him.”

  “I doubt it. He thinks Trey is a little too… man, how do I say this? Pure, I guess.”

  “Trey can be a little too perfect sometimes.”

  “Too clean.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “Me too. He’s a good guy, though.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But, no, I don’t think Tyus would have talked to just anyone. He had plenty of chances to talk to me and he never did. Not until you told him to. You don’t know it, but you’re like a big brother to a lot of us. I don’t know a single one of the younger guys on the O line that doesn’t have a Kurtis Matthews Words of Wisdom story.”

  I nod again, not sure what to say. Not sure what he wants to hear. If I knew I’d give it to him so this could stop. I’m not in the mood. It’s rare that I feel particularly talkative to begin with, but right now I want nothing to do with anyone. Or, if I’m honest with myself, I want everything to do with someone, but I can’t have her. I lost her. And that’s a thorn in my side that I can’t get out. It’s a pain I can’t escape no matter how fast my car is or how loud my stereo.

  “How are you doing?” Colt asks conversationally.

  I glance at him, my brow low. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean how are you doing, dude? Are you good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  I stop walking, forcing him to turn and face me. “What?”

  He feigns confusion. “What what? What are we talking about? I’m just making conversation.”

  “I don’t ‘make conversation’. You know that. So what is it? What are you digging for?”

  Colt smiles, admitting defeat. “You’re right. I’m digging.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know if you’re alright. You’ve been weird the last few months. Good weird. Like happy weird. And now you’re you again. Distant, quiet. Kinda bitchy. Whatever was making you happy went away and I want to know if you’re okay. It’s a thing friends do. I can understand why you’re confused by it, you haven’t seen it in a while.”

  “We’re not friends.”

  “Sure we are,” he disagrees amiably. “We’re brothers, Matthews. All of us are. We’re family. You might not sit at the table for dinner every night, but you show up to Christmas sometimes. Sure, it’s to fuck my fiancés friends and never call them again, but—”

  “Do you have a point?”

  “The point is, I’m worried about you.”

  My stomach drops painfully, and I don’t know why. It’s like he’s hit me. Like the fact that he’s noticed my pain makes it that much more real. Visceral and snarling in my ears. “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

  “Okay. I hear you,” he backs off. “But if you want to talk or get a drink or race that green monster of yours, give me a call, alright?”

  “Yeah, alright.”

  “Cool.”

  Colt turns to head into the building, leaving me alone in the parking lot with his words and this hurt and this weird sense of relief.

  A feeling like I’m not alone.

  “Hey, Colt,” I call after him.

  He pauses, his hand on the door. “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “If you go to Coach Allen about me the way you and Domata did over Andreas, I’ll beat your ass.”

  Colt laughs. “I won’t say anything to him, I promise. But he’s a sharp dude. He knows you better than anybody.” He points to the gleaming hood of my Hellcat. “Do you really think he hasn’t noticed?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  HARPER

  “Don’t worry about the end zone today,” I tell Les, shouting over the noise on the sidelines. The stadium is packed to bursting, band music blaring and fans shouting, chatting, cheering over nothing. The game hasn’t started yet, but we’re only about an hour out. The guys are warming up on the field. Some are in the locker room listening to music to get focused. Others are in the weight room lifting. Revving up.

  Kurtis is nowhere to be seen.

  I gesture to the ESPN camera crew under the goal post. “The NFL Network has rights to their footage. We’ll borrow from it to fill any gaps in the game highlights. I want you to get as much player reaction as you can. Stay off the field, don’t get trampled, but get their faces. Go on the other side and get to higher ground if you need to zoom in from across the field, but get. Their. Faces.”

  “I’m on it,” he promises.

  Les and Alec take off across the field to look for the best angle. They’ve filmed four games so far but every time it’s a different angle. A different mood. This game promises to be higher drama than the others because the Kodiaks are finally facing an opponent that poses a real threat to them and their perfect record. I want their reactions to every play, every heartbreak. I want to catch every emotion.

  Today’s filming is not about action. It’s all about
heart.

  “Now is when it gets interesting,” Coach Allen says, appearing at my side. He’s looking at the field, watching his players prepare. His face is stoic. Perfectly unruffled. He’s been doing this for decades. I imagine he’s either learned to mask his nerves or he’s overcome them entirely. It’s a hell of a feat, one I wish he could teach me.

  “Travis tells me Kansas City is a strong opponent.”

  Coach Allen nods slowly. “They are that. I wish we had a loss under our belts to ease the tension.”

  “Really?” I ask dubiously. “You wish you had a loss on your record?”

  “Defending a perfect season is an impossible task. No one goes undefeated. It’s unheard of. We’re bound to lose, but to lose today will shake their confidence.”

  “But you said the Chiefs are a tough team. Isn’t it better to lose to a strong opponent than a weaker one?”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But, no. It isn’t. Losing to a lesser team is a surprise. It lights a fire in you to redeem yourself. Losing to someone well matched to you, that feels like a real loss. Like you deserved it. They didn’t get lucky, they were better than you. Plain and simple. Your ego is taken down a peg, and in this game ego is everything.”

  “Do you think they’ll win today?”

  He grins, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “I always think we’ll win. Ego, remember?”

  I smile. “Right. Of course.”

  “Kurtis!”

  I jump at the sound of his name. Coach Allen has spotted him across the field and is waving him over to us. I look for somewhere to go, anywhere else to be, but there’s nowhere. Or, more accurately, there’s too much empty space around me. There are too many places to go. If I move, it’ll be obvious I’m avoiding him. That I’m running. I’ll look and feel like a coward, and my pride can’t take it.

  So I stand with my feet planted, my clipboard clenched in my sweating hands, and I remember to breathe. My blood is humming in my ears. Pulsing and pounding until my head aches and my eyes squint against the pressure building inside me with every step he takes. I avoid looking at the beauty that is Kurtis in his uniform, his body made bigger by his pads under the tight uniform that tapers at his waist. His dark hair, his tan skin. His hesitant eyes holding mine.