by Violet Paige
“Sure thing.”
He stood as the bus came to a stop in front of the hotel.
I hung back while everyone filed off and searched the luggage stack for their bags.
Finally, I joined them on the sidewalk and heaved my travel bag over my shoulder.
“Want to get a jog in?” Jones asked me.
“Nah. I think I’m going to review some Sharks film before practice.”
“Come on. It feels awesome out here. We can run and not even break a sweat in this weather.”
I shook him off. “Maybe later. I think I’m going to change a few of the plays. I’ve got to get that ready before practice.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. I’m running. Don’t let the Shark fans hear this, but I love DC.”
“Yeah, I won’t say anything.”
I headed to my room and locked the hotel door behind me.
The anger was there. It had been there ever since the wedding. Only I couldn’t think about it. I wouldn’t let myself dwell on it. I couldn’t give into it. But Coach had seen it and sensed it. Apparently the whole damn team had. And it was like a dam getting ready to break.
I wanted to unleash the resentment. I needed a place to bury the rage. So far that place had been on the field. I had run the team into the ground. I had barked and yelled. I had cursed in their faces and threatened them. I had come close to knocking a few to the ground.
And why? Because I let Sierra back in? Because for a few weeks out of the summer I stopped being the man I was and let myself be the man I used to be. An island guy with nothing but time on his hands. A guy who loved with his heart and soul. And it blew up in my face.
The instant I let my guard down she did what she had always done. She destroyed me. She ripped through my soul. It wasn’t one thing. It was lash after lash of layers of lies. The baby. My father’s role in our breakup. The inevitable way things were going to end a second time.
I stood at the window. I saw Jones take off on his run.
Coach was right even if I couldn’t say it at the time. Things had to change. I couldn’t carry this anger around. It was killing me and wrecking the team.
I wasn’t a man who lived with regrets. I had forgotten that.
The leaves across the street drifted to the ground. They held deep colors of auburn and scarlet. It was time to let go. Move on. Push forward. The summer was in my past.
32
Sierra
I sat on my couch, crunching ice chips and digging into a bag of chocolate chip cookies. The game was on. I had avoided watching the Thrashers until tonight. They were in DC to play the Sharks. All the commentators said there wasn’t much of a chance they would win. The season had been dismal for the Orlando team.
I was afraid if I saw Blake on that field, I’d melt. Or cry. Maybe both. I didn’t scroll online for his name anymore. I didn’t watch Sports Now. I did everything in my power to avoid the topic of football for over a month. That wasn’t an easy feat living in Texas. I had actually been proud of myself.
Until now.
I had no idea his season had gone so wrong. There was a pit of guilt in my stomach for not finding out until now. He couldn’t be happy about that. He was a champion. He only lost a handful of games when we were in high school. And I remember how hard he took those. It was as if the light in his eyes went out when the scoreboard showed the final score. He didn’t like to lose. He never had.
I held my breath when he jogged toward the line of scrimmage. My heart seized as soon as I saw him. He was tall. Domineering. Powerful in front of all those men. He held himself with a kind of confidence that was undeniably sexy.
I leaned forward involuntarily as if that somehow put me at the game instead of half a country away from him.
The whistle blew and then everything was a blur. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I didn’t hear what the announcers said. All my senses were focused on one thing—Blake.
Somehow four hours passed like that. With my eyes glued to the screen and my heart desperate to cling to any glimpse of him I could. When he took his helmet off on the sideline, I sighed. Sighed loudly enough to shake me out of my stupor.
What was I doing? Drooling after him like some kind of Thrashers groupie?
When I saw him I didn’t feel like a groupie. He wasn’t some unattainable man on the cover of a magazine or in a movie. Blake was my reality. He was always going to be the first boy I’d ever loved. I looked down at the empty bag of cookies. I had stress eaten the entire bag. I would have moved on to a second if I had one.
Blake was no longer that boy I crushed on from high school. I needed to realize he was now the man I loved. And that love had grown over the summer in a way I didn’t know was possible. He had moved into a new place of my heart. A place that had been filled with years of precious memories.
Once again I was responsible for where we were. If I had only said yes to him, I’d be the one greeting him on the field. I’d be the one in his arms. I’d be the one sharing his bed tonight.
I buried my face in my hands as the sobs wracked my body. What had I done? I’d never felt more alone in my life than I did at this moment.
I was homesick for the island. I missed Aunt Lindy and the comforts of the house I grew up in. I missed the smell of salt hitting my nose in the mornings. I missed the cruises to the Dock House and the music Blake liked to play.
It all felt so overwhelming. How did I leave that behind for a second time?
One of the sideline reporters rushed toward Blake and shoved a microphone in his face. The camera caught the steam from his sweaty forehead and the frost in the air when he spoke.
“Blake, congratulations on your win,” she shouted.
“Thanks, Mindy. Pretty happy about the team right now.” He grinned. I felt my core seize. God, I missed that smile.
“What did it take to bring your guys back from a first half deficit? You were down by two touchdowns coming back in the third quarter. What did you say to them in the locker room?”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck. I sighed just at the sound of his voice. “I looked around and saw a lot of long faces. But I believe in this team and that’s what I told them. We just needed to believe in each other and get the hard work done on the field.”
Mindy touched the side of Blake’s arm and I felt a ripple of jealous surface. “The Sharks brought their defense tonight. How are you feeling? You took a few big hits out there.”
He nodded. “Nothing a little rest won’t work out. Thanks so much, Mindy.”
He stepped around her before she could draw him back in for another question. I watched him disappear into another throng of reporters and my heart sank. I wanted another glimpse of him. I wanted to hear his voice again.
I reached for my phone. I wanted to call him and tell him I saw his big win. I wanted him to know I watched every second of it and I was rooting for him. Did that matter to him? Would it count? Did he even care?
I hesitated. I held the phone in my palm before I lowered it to the coffee table. I had ruined our chance. It didn’t matter that I would walk out of the station tomorrow and never look back if only he would ask me again.
Again wasn’t ever going to happen. I curled on the couch and cried myself to sleep.
33
Blake
I stared into the pint of beer on the bar. Jones slapped me on the back.
“We fucking won, man. We actually won in DC.”
I nodded, chugging in the process. “We did.”
“You should have gone on that run with me. I think it did something. There’s something in the air here.”
I laughed. Jones was drunk. He sounded poetic.
“It was a hell of a game.” One of the lineman plopped down next to me.
“Thanks for covering my ass.” I tipped my stein toward him.
It looked like most of the team had poured in here after the game. The bar was across the street from the hotel. There were bound to be Sharks fans in the area. DC
was crawling with them. The fans were loyal and diehard. They weren’t a new franchise like the Thrashers. I bet some had watched the game from this very barstool, but they had most likely gone home to lick their wounds by now.
“Anytime.” He grinned a big goofy smile. “Feels like it was different team tonight.”
“Yeah it was.” A lot had registered with me tonight. The way we had come together in the second half. The victory meant more than just a W to these guys. It felt like a turning point.
I felt a soft hand glide over my shoulder and rest on my bicep.
“Hi.”
Fuck.
I looked toward her. She had full lips and a set of tits no man could ignore. She was wearing a Thrashers jersey she had altered to show off her best assets.
“Hey, there sweetheart.”
Jones and the lineman chuckled to each other. “I think I see Haynes over there. Be back.” Jones hit the other guy on the back to take a hint. They moved from my left, opening up a couple of bar stools.
She slid in next to me. Shit. Her skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. I could smell her perfume as she leaned in closer.
“Is it ok if I sit here?” she purred.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I’d played this game a million times. It always ended the same way, with the girl under me, while I fucked the lights out for both of us.
She dropped her eyes, crossing her legs. I followed the path her leg made over top of the other one. My cock throbbed for a quick second. And I realized it had been way too long since I’d gotten laid. Since the night on the beach with Sierra. That was the last time I had held a woman in my hands. The last time I had felt the rush of sex. The thrill of skin against skin.
And why was that? What was I waiting for? Why had I been holding out like some virgin rookie afraid fucking would ruin my season? Was that my excuse? No sex this season?
I turned toward her. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
“Jessica.” She smiled.
“Blake.” I winked.
She blushed shamelessly. We both knew what was getting ready to happen. Women like her didn’t drop into the seat next to me for a romantic night on the town. I’d never be a wine and roses man. My reputation wasn’t decorated with romantic gestures and sweet overtures. Women knew what they were getting into. Jessica knew exactly what she wanted.
“Congratulations on your big win,” she commented. “It was a great game.”
“Thanks. We needed it.”
And what I needed was to stop cock blocking myself. In the past month every time I got to this point I made an excuse for why I had to get home or back to my hotel room. Sometimes I led the girl outside just so the guys didn’t see me back out at the last minute. They didn’t know I hadn’t fucked anyone this season. It wasn’t any of their damn business.
Did I think something was going to change? That somehow Sierra was going to be someone she wasn’t? That if I held off on other women for a little longer that it meant something? Because it fucking didn’t. It didn’t mean anything to her. And I wasn’t eighteen any longer. I had let her punch me in the heart back then—I was too old for that kind of game now. Jessica was my kind of game.
The kind where the only thing that mattered was sex and football. No emotions. No feelings. No way to get hurt.
I looked at the brunette. “Want to get out of here?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I was worried you weren’t going to ask.”
That had been her intention from the moment she touched me. I scooped my hand around her waist and headed toward the door. Tonight I was going to put the summer behind me. I would finally get Sierra out of my system.
I had managed to turn things around on the field. This was my last obstacle to getting complete control.
I shoved the door open and Jessica walked ahead of me. Her ass was round and tight. I groaned to myself, knowing what I should want to do to it. How six months ago, I would have kissed her and stroked her in the parking lot until she begged for more.
“My hotel is this way.” I pointed, staying a step or two behind her so I could take in her legs. I followed her thighs, watching them slice back and forth. Nothing.
She fumbled with her purse and I heard something drop to the pavement. “Shit,” she whispered. She bent over, the jersey hung loosely from her chest, and I caught a full glimpse of her heaving tits. Fuck. My cock should be hard as steel by now.
I shook my head.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Darlin’, I think I’m just going to make sure you get home. I’ll hail a cab for you.”
“What? Why? Did I do something?” Her face fell with disappointment.
I stood on the sidewalk, waving down any yellow taxi I could. One pulled up to the cubr and I opened the passenger door for her.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing at all. Not a damn thing.”
And that was the truth. This woman dripped of sex. And it didn’t do anything for me. I didn’t want her.
“But maybe breakfast?” she pleaded.
I shook my head. “Not this trip. Have a good night.”
“But—”
I closed the door and tapped the top of the cab to send her back into traffic. I watched the taillights fade as the taxi rounded the corner.
Maybe tonight I had been ready to let go of the anger, but I crossed the street knowing I wasn’t ready to let go of everything else. Not yet.
34
Sierra
I managed to make it through another week before I knew exactly what I had to face.
At our round table production meeting I had rushed out of the conference room, feigning a stomach virus. I had ended up in the women’s room throwing up into the first trash can I could find.
There was also my sudden aversion to poultry. Just the thought of a turkey sandwich or a drumstick made me gag. It was the weirdest thing. It came out of nowhere. And I was late. I never kept track of my period, but I was beyond late. It all added up to one explanation. One impossible, hard-to-believe, unreal explanation.
I walked into the drugstore. At the end of the family planning aisle was a shelf with box after box of kits and tests. There were so many options with purple and pink labels they made my head spin. I grabbed the first three I spotted and rushed to the counter. I didn’t read the percentages or the response rates.
The clerk took his time ringing me up and even asked if I wanted to join the rewards club.
“No,” I shuffled impatiently on my feet. I had finally gotten up the courage to walk in here and I had to pee something fiercely. “I’m good.”
He handed the plastic bag to me and I hurried to the car. I was only a few blocks from home.
At some point I knew the ice cravings and sudden hot flashes weren’t because I was in Texas. We weren’t going through a heat wave. October wasn’t that cruel.
And then there was the constant peeing and my boobs were killing me. They were prickly and almost hot to the touch. Something was going on with my body. It might have been eight years ago, but there was a sensation that came over me that I distinctly remembered. My tongue felt dry and I couldn’t believe how dizzy I was. I had to face the possibility that the impossible had happened.
I knew my IUD wasn’t one hundred percent effective, but given my past history, I used it as an emergency backup. Pregnancy wasn’t something I thought I’d face again without serious medical intervention. And my doctor seemed to dole out IUDs to all her patients in their twenties. She said it was the most popular birth control, so I went with it.
I took the elevator to my floor, clutching the bag between my sweaty palms.
I dropped my keys at the door and was hit with a wave of vertigo went I bent to pick them up.
“Oh God.” I clutched the wall for support, trying to stand up without falling over.
As soon as I opened the door I sprinted to the bathroom, tore open the first box in the bag without reading the instructions, and held
it under me.
I swore after the last time I’d never take another pregnancy test like that again. The next time I was going to be married. It was all going to be planned. Down to the birth month. And my husband and I would sit on the edge of the bed waiting for the results. We’d make jokes and be nervous. Giggling together and worried together. Maybe even daring the other one to look at it first.
But hell no, that wasn’t how this was playing out. I was alone. Completely alone. I looked at my phone for the hundredth time, waiting for the minutes to tick by.
What was I going to do when I read the results? How was I going to tell Blake? Or what if it was negative? Maybe I wasn’t pregnant and instead I had some horrible incurable illness. Maybe I was alone and sick. My fingers began to shake. I had to know what was happening. I needed the truth.
I picked up the stick on the counter and sank to my knees.
I knew the answer before the flashing words told me what my body had been screaming for weeks.
I was pregnant.
35
Blake
The wind whipped hard across the sound. It cut to the bone it was so damn cold. I couldn’t stay long, but a few days here was what I needed. A place to figure out why this season had been harder than any other. Why no matter what I did, I couldn’t keep the team together.
While the rest of the team was in Cabo for the weekend mending bruised egos, I was back on the island, looking for the answers I only found in this place.
A place I could be quiet. A place I could think away from the noise and the speculation. Orlando had given up on us. The fans were disgusted. The commentators saw the writing on the wall. The Thrashers were wasting talent every Sunday.
I still had to make it through the rest of the season knowing everyone had given up.
