I held up my hands. "I won't say a word to anyone."
Logan let out a heavy breath. "There's ... someone I'd like to get to know better. I like her even though I can't figure out why."
I grinned, reaching down to unlace my cleats. "Sounds like a solid start to any relationship."
He rolled his eyes.
"Is she interested too?" It felt asinine to say to this big dude in this mid-thirties, does she like you back?
Logan shifted uncomfortably, scratching the side of his face before he answered. "Well, it sounds like ... she's dating someone else. Don't know how serious it is, though."
"Ahh."
"Yeah."
I tapped my fingers on the side of my leg as I considered my next words carefully. "And she told you she was dating someone?"
He nodded.
"Did you ask her out?"
"Not exactly," he hedged. "This feels fucking weird talking about this. Never mind."
I shrugged. Logan pushed off the bench and paced around the large black L-shaped couch in the middle of the massive room.
I set my cleats down in the bottom of my locker and shook my head. He'd probably kick my ass for saying something, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut either.
"Look, Ward, I'll just say one thing, and then I'll shut up."
He sighed but didn't argue. "What is it?"
"I’m over it now, but I've been the guy who was cheated on, and it sucks, but if you want to get to know her better, at least respect her enough to be honest with her. Maybe the relationship isn't serious. Maybe she's only been on one date, but you won't know unless you ask. Don't dance around why you're doing it."
Even as I said the words, I heard my own hypocrisy in them. Ava had no clue how strong my feelings were for her. Sure, it was a risk to tell her that I was falling in love with her, but if I trusted her, truly trusted her with my feelings, then I owed it to her to be honest.
Risking a quick look at him, he had his hands propped on his hips, and he was staring me down with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw to match his defensive stance.
"Take the shot if I'm presented with one," he said. "That's what you're saying?"
I tilted my head to the side. It wasn't exactly what I'd meant, but clearly, it was what he wanted to hear.
"I- I'd never be the other guy," he clarified in my silence. "I'd never make a cheater out of her. Or anyone."
I held my hands up again. "Didn't think you would, man."
The locker room door burst open, and Logan lifted his chin, probably the closest thing I'd get to a thank you. And that was fine by me. Turning back to my locker as the room filled with chatter and big, booming laughter, I let out a deep, relieved breath. With the start of training camp and just that one odd, stilted conversation, I felt more at home in this locker room than I had since I showed up.
My phone buzzed on the top shelf of my cubby, and I grabbed it, grinning when I saw Ava's nickname.
Slim: Did you shower yet?
Me: Nope.
Slim: Good. I want my man dirty so I can clean him up.
I kept my expression even, but it was almost impossible to control the rest of my body. Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes and recited the Pledge of Allegiance in my head.
Me: You're a cruel, cruel woman, doing this to me while I'm a room full of half-naked dudes.
Her immediate response was a wink emoji followed by the shower emoji.
Me: Meet you at my place in an hour?
Slim: Did I mention I'm about to hop in your shower now? I'd hate to get started without you ...
Then that devil woman sent me a picture of just the naked curve of her shoulder where it met her neck and a glimpse of brown hair.
Me: Be there in 20.
I was there in fifteen.
Chapter Nineteen
Ava
Ashley's surprise visit a week earlier had ushered in something that I started thinking of as BAV relationship status and AAV relationship status.
Before Ashley's Visit relationship status was Matthew and me living in a happy bubble of denial that my family existed at all. If we didn't discuss them, we didn't have to deal with it.
After Ashley's Visit was a bit murkier. Probably because my head was a bit murkier.
I wasn't unclear about Matthew.
But I could no longer deny the problem looming on the horizon. Whether we talked about my family or his relationship with Ashley, we'd have to deal with them eventually. Sure, I could get through that one day. Ashley's vow renewal was only a week out, and since I'd successfully shelved Logan's offer of help, I could get through it with a relatively clear conscience.
I say relatively because there was the minor issue of me not telling Matthew that Logan had been even tangentially involved.
There was no reason to worry him, I told myself for the thousandth time. Nothing came of it; it was two little blips of time when he happened to show up. His presence hadn't been planned. Therefore, there was no reason to make a bigger deal of it than it was.
"You want to keep watching this?" he asked, chest rumbling under my head as we snuggled on the couch.
The giant flat screen mounted on the wall hadn't been holding my attention in the slightest, but I patted his stomach. "Whatever you want is fine."
I closed my eyes and snuggled closer to his side, my arm idly playing with the hem of his T-shirt above the waistband of his sweatpants. Mmm. They were dark gray and hung all nice and low on his narrow hips. They showed things when he walked. Good things.
Before I could follow that trail to another round of sexy times—Lord, we were insatiable—I took a deep breath and just enjoyed the feeling of a lazy Sunday with my guy. Pretty soon, preseason would start, and his weeks would undergo a complete transformation.
Every day of the week—even Tuesday, the 'official' day off—would be spent practicing, conditioning, reviewing film, restoring the balance to his body that would be wrecked on the field every Sunday. Days like this would be almost impossible until we reached our bye week, and that wasn't until the sixth week of the season.
"You know what's weird?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
Matthew kissed the top of my head. "I'll miss this when the season gets going."
I couldn't help but laugh, but I pinched his side hard. "And that's weird?"
He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his mouth so he could nibble on my fingers. "No, crazy, it's weird that I even have something in my life that makes me feel that way."
My body shifted to the side so I could prop my chin on his chest and stare up at his face. "What do you mean?"
He stared hard at my face for a few seconds. "Because I've never missed anything except football when I'm not playing it."
Well, holy shit. For some women, they'd think that sounded insane. To me? He might as well have proposed marriage.
"Seriously?" I whispered. "Matthew ..."
His smile was lazy and sexy, and I wanted to kiss the shit out of his handsome face. "Seriously."
"Never?"
It wasn’t like I was fishing for compliments, but when the guy was married before, and he was telling me that this was the first time he'd ever felt like this, it made a girl wonder, okay? So yes, I was completely fishing for compliments.
He shook his head, weaving his fingers through my hair until he cupped the back of my head. "Never. And that doesn't mean I'm ready to retire." He laughed under his breath. "Retire again, I suppose. I still love the game. I can still compete, and I can still be a valuable contribution to the team, but it's always come first. And now I'm lying here thinking, how can I shift my schedule around so I can have time to lie on the couch and watch reruns with my beautiful girl."
My throat was thick with emotion, and I leaned up to kiss him softly. Under my hand, I felt his heart throb steadily.
If someone told me that the muscle beneath the skin—the one that beat with precision and consistency, that kept his beautiful, strong body running—would be abl
e to power an entire city, I would've believed it.
When I pulled back, his face was sharp and intense, his eyes laser focused on mine.
"Ava," he said, "I know we haven't labeled anything, mainly because everything feels so ..."
"Effortless," I supplied.
He nodded. "Yeah. But I want to be able to say that you're mine. I don't want things to feel so easy that I stop making an effort for you every single day. I want to be able to say that I have a girlfriend, a partner who gets all the best parts of me because I get all the best parts of her. That we've committed to something together."
I smiled a little, only biting down on the edges of my lips so I didn't look like a loon. "I like that."
He smiled a little too. "You do?"
Slowly, I nodded. With the help of his hands, I crawled up higher on his chest so he could wrap his arms around me and I could burrow my head in the crook of his neck. It was a perfect moment.
All was happy and bright and rosy and good.
I absolutely refused to let anything ruin the moment. No questions or concerns or conversations that needed to be had.
That was when my phone rang.
I groaned, and Matthew chuckled, dropping a kiss on my temple. "It's okay if you need to get it."
"Who the eff would call during big relationship declarations," I grumbled, trying to sit up gracefully.
My mother. That was who.
It was impossible to hide the screen, and for a second, Matthew and I sat there, staring at her name on the display.
"I don't need to get it," I said. "It's probably not important."
But for the first time, I felt a minor twinge of guilt over sending her to voicemail. As if he sensed it, Matthew rubbed a hand on my back.
"They still hassling you about next weekend?"
While I set the phone back down, I chewed on my bottom lip. "The opposite, actually."
"What do you mean?"
"Yesterday, she called me while I was driving home from work. After she finished updating me on something for next weekend, she asked me something just ... out of the blue. And for about five or six minutes, we talked about stuff that wasn't even remotely related to Ashley."
Matthew was quiet. Watching me talk, he allowed me to sort through that cloudy mess in my head when it came to my family. But his forehead had a slight crinkle to it, just one line of concern etched into his skin.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Nothing, Slim." He kissed my lips. "Just listening. I'm glad to hear you talk about it."
"Liar."
His mouth lifted on one side in a wry smile. "I promise, I'm not. I can't imagine what it's like for you to see this different side of them. It's hard enough for me to, and I only knew them for a couple of years."
"Is it different? Or did I just not notice it?" I finally voiced my biggest fear. Had I spent years boxing my family up and painting them as the bad guys in my life when maybe I was the one creating space between us by throwing my guard up so high that they wouldn’t even have a chance to continue hurting me.
"Slim, I was there, remember? They didn't see anything beyond themselves or molding Ashley into exactly what they wanted."
"I know." I sighed. "But shouldn't I allow that people can change? That maybe they're trying to atone for that?"
Matthew turned his body, mirroring mine, to create a man-shaped wall between me and the rest of the room, the rest of the world. He leaned his head on his hand and stared down at me.
"Yeah, people can change, but I also think they have to want to. We have to look at our relationships and know that what they show us, that's the real person. Day in and day out, how they treat you, how they speak to you, and what they expect of you, they're showing you who they are. And you should believe them. When you try to make someone different than what they really are is when you get disappointed."
The words might not have sounded bitter. His face might not have looked it, his eyes weren't hard or cold, and his mouth wasn't set in a hard line. But my heart ached because, while he might act like he didn't still carry any wounds from his relationships, I heard bruises in those words.
I traced his lips, felt the catch of his stubble against the pad of my thumb while I tried to decide whether I was being naïve about my parents and Ashley. Whether I was projecting some familial fantasy onto their actions.
"Can I ask you something?" I said quietly.
He nodded and kissed the tip of my finger.
"Is that what you did with Lexi?"
I knew better than to ask about Ashley. My view of that relationship might not have been front row, just glimpses when they were at our house, but I knew Ashley had shown him who she was even if he hadn’t seen it.
Matthew swallowed heavily and exhaled through pursed lips.
"You really want to talk about my ex-wife?"
"No." I smiled. "But yes."
His answering smile mirrored mine. "A little bit, yeah. And she did the same to me. Neither of us lied about who we were, but ... I think we both assumed we could bend the other person to the mold we wanted them to be."
I nodded. "What mold did you want her in?"
While he pondered, I questioned my sanity for a moment. He had been married for five years, and I'd only been with him for a few weeks. Why was I asking these questions? To torture myself by thinking about the blond bombshell he'd legally bound himself to? I’d had one semi-serious relationship in college, and then a six-year drought of my own making. I was doing an excellent job of reminding him that I still—for all intents and purposes—had no freaking clue how to be in a healthy relationship.
"I thought she'd settle down a bit. She was a sweet girl. She wasn't after me for my money because she did well on her own, but she thought I'd join her in the party lifestyle, and I thought I'd ease her out of it because we were happy just being us. Marrying her or someone like her felt like the thing I was supposed to do back then." He shook his head. “And I ignored the signs that it wasn’t right because my pride was too big. I still felt like I had something to prove to the world about who I was.”
As he spoke, I wasn't sure exactly what to say, so I just kept my hands moving in slow, soothing circles on his back and sides. When I saw my mom's name on my phone, I definitely didn't think it would lead us here.
Matthew sighed heavily, and I marveled at his ability to lay this all out there for me. "There was no big bad in that relationship," he continued. "Just two people who weren't compatible. We weren't honest with ourselves or with each other."
I blinked a few times as I processed that, and he cupped my chin.
"What's going on in that brain of yours?" he asked.
My throat caught in a swallow, and I had to fight that tight feeling of discomfort that cloaked my body anytime my family came up. Like someone took a screw and wrenched my bones in a size, lacing up a corset over my ribs, I wanted to keep the words inside where I wouldn’t have anyone to judge my feelings or my thoughts even though rationally, I knew Matthew wouldn’t do that to me.
"Honestly, I just wish next week was over. I feel like I'd have more clarity about them. About how to move forward, or if we just stay the same, you know?"
Matthew wrapped his arms around me, and I tucked my legs through his.
"Slim, if they come out of next week and they act the same as they always have, it's their loss. You know that, right?"
"Hell yeah, I know that. I'm awesome."
His whole frame shook with laughter, and it set something at ease in me. This was the one thing in my life that was clear. That was right.
I hugged him tightly, afraid sometimes that I'd reach a point where I genuinely, physically could not allow him away from me. Matthew Hawkins—my personal form of crack, ladies and gentlemen.
When I inhaled his clean, soapy scent, I wanted to trap it in my lungs so I could smell it long after he was back at work. No, I wasn't necessarily looking forward to missing this either when the season started, but knowing he felt t
he same, knowing that he was as clear about us as I was, made it easy to close my eyes, press my lips against his seeking, searching ones, and forget about anything else for just a little while.
Chapter Twenty
Ava
"Whoa, he is so tall."
The reverent hush in the little girl's voice made me grin. I crouched down next to her on the sideline. Her red hair was braided in precise stripes going down either side of her head and tied at the ends with black ribbons. Her Wolves jersey was freshly pressed, and the black leggings she wore under it were glittery and amazing.
"He's six five," I whispered to her. Matthew was lined up with the defense, wearing the black practice jersey that he'd been assigned that day at training camp. Opposite of him, the offensive players were wearing red jerseys.
"That's like ... three feet taller than me." Her brown eyes were like saucers in her beautiful little freckled face. Standing behind us, her mom grinned at the excitement in her daughter's voice.
Every day at training camp, certain kids were allowed to meet their favorite players. Sometimes it was through charities like Make A Wish or St. Jude's, but today, little Charlotte was next to me on the sidelines because she won a contest through Matthew's foundation, which gave low-income and at-risk youths an opportunity to be involved in extracurricular activities like music, arts, and sports that their parents couldn't otherwise afford.
Charlotte, the go-getter, raised twice as much as her nearest competitor with her Gatorade stand that she set up outside the doors of a local gym. Her reward was a meet and greet with Matthew and a few of the other players at training camp. I stood but kept my hand on her shoulder while we watched them set up the next play.
Coach Klein blew the whistle, and the players lined up. The coordinators shouted out demands and things they wanted to see improved on this series. The fans lining the field quieted down as they'd been trained to do.
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