by Violet Paige
Why was I dreaming about Maddie? Ever since she called when I was at Natalia’s apartment I had done everything to forget the conversation. She said she needed money. Todd had kicked her out and she didn’t know where to go. Fuck that. I wasn’t giving her a dime of what I earned.
She didn’t deserve to be in dreams. She didn’t deserve to speak to me or see me. I didn’t think about her anymore. I didn’t have a single picture of her in my apartment. When we graduated, I got rid of everything that was hers. She had put me through the emotional wringer. I took another deep breath. This wasn’t how I wanted to start my Sunday.
I put on a pair of shorts and shuffled to the kitchen. I couldn’t let something stupid like a dream interfere with the game-day routine. I had a big breakfast to cook.
I arrived at the stadium earlier than usual. I was off all day. I had been since that nightmare forced me awake. I couldn’t shake it. I thought about calling Natalia, but what was I going to say? Yeah, I’m fucking freaked out about a dream I had where my ex replaced you. That wouldn’t go over well in any scenario. She was understanding, but that would be pushing it. I had already made the decision not to tell her she had called me when I was in Austin. I wasn’t going to bring it up now.
I threw my bag on top of my cubby and sat on the bench. As usual, the equipment guys had laid everything out for me and the rest of the team. All I had to do was suit up for the game. But sitting here, staring at my name, I wasn’t sure if my head was in the game. I pressed my palms to my forehead.
I needed a few minutes to get my shit together, because once I took the field everyone in the stadium counted on me. Wes counted on me. Coach counted on me. But right now, I wasn’t sure I could count on myself.
26
Natalia
I walked through the door and threw my bag on the floor. My body ached all over. Four hours of dancing and I was ready to crawl into a hot, steamy shower. I was headed to the bathroom when I saw Sam’s number pop up on the screen.
“Hey, how was the game?” I asked. I turned on the hot water and added a bit of cold.
“Natalia…” He sounded upset.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” I turned off the water so I could give him my full attention.
“We lost.” His voice was low and deep.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry, Sam. You’re having such a great season.”
“Were having a great season,” he corrected me.
“It’s only one game.” I paced in my bathroom. I was out of my element. I didn’t know how to console him. I thought everyone took the sport too seriously, anyway.
“You don’t understand.”
“Did something else happen?” I was confused. His voice didn’t sound fun and flirty like usual.
“I dropped the game-winning pass.” He sounded anguished, and I suddenly understood why.
“Oh, God. That’s terrible.”
“It was a disaster. It was a perfect pass. Right at me. And I couldn’t hold on to it.”
I grasped at something to say. “There will be other games. Other chances. It’s okay, Sam. It’s okay.”
“There’s nothing okay about it.”
The silence fell between us. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you can see me tonight.”
“What?” I was exhausted. He had to be exhausted from the game.
“That place you mentioned. Canyon Lake. I’ll get a cabin and we can meet. It’s only forty-five minutes for both of us. Meet me.”
“Sam, I don’t know.” There wasn’t anything keeping me here. My Monday was free. “Okay, yeah, I can pack and be there in an hour, I guess.”
He sounded relieved. “I’ll text you the cabin. See you there.”
He hung up and I wondered what he had planned.
I parked under a scrub oak and looked at the little cabin Sam had rented for us. It was only a few yards from the lake. His car was already here.
I stepped from the car as he opened the front door to Cottage 11.
“You made it.” He jogged down the stairs and picked me up in his arms.
“It’s beautiful here.” The moon was bright on the lake. It didn’t look as if any of the other cabins were being rented.
“I’ll get your bags.” He was already pulling them from the backseat and taking them inside. “Take a look at the cabin.”
I followed him up the stairs. It was small, but romantic. Exactly what I pictured. Only, I didn’t expect to speed here like I did, but none of that mattered. We were together and Sam seemed more relaxed than when we spoke on the phone.
The door opened and I inhaled. “Oh my God.” It was filled with candles and flowers. There was a bottle of wine on the table and a small fire in the fireplace.
“You like it?”
“I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted.”
He came up behind me and deadbolted the door closed. His hands circled my waist and he kissed my neck.
“You’re exactly what I want too.”
He pushed my cover up off my shoulders, dropping it at my feet. I spun around in his arms, remembering the last time we were together we danced in my studio.
His lips brushed over mine and I tipped forward to kiss him.
“Are you okay?” My fingers played with his hair. “You sounded upset on the phone. I was worried.”
“With you I am.” He lifted me from the floor and carried me across the room. I expected him to lower me on the couch in front of the fire, but he kept walking.
“Where are we going?”
He kicked open another door. There was a huge tub filled with bubbles.
“Don’t you like to relax after a game?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “How did you know?” He placed my feet on the tile.
“Because I know what it feels like when you work your body like that for four hours. Ever muscle is sore. Every part hurts.”
I nodded, rubbing my neck. “Everything.”
“How’s your leg?” He lowered to the floor, dragging my shorts to my ankles. He stopped to kiss the back of my leg.
“Better when you do that.” I smiled. I liked the pampering. I liked the candles and the flowers and the huge tub with bubbles.
He rose from the floor and lifted my shirt overhead.
“Fuck, I love that your tits are so perfect,” he growled.
They hardened under his stare. I stepped toward him, pressing my hands to his chest.
“Are we both going to fit in that tub?” I looked over my shoulder.
He laughed. “No, it’s for you. Enjoy it and I’ll be waiting for you out there when you’re done.”
I looked at him strangely. “Really?”
“Really.” He kissed my forehead. “Enjoy it.”
He walked out of the bathroom and closed the door. I pivoted toward the bubbles. I was turned on from his kisses and his touch, but the bath was calling. I knew where he’d be when I got out.
I dipped one toe in, feeling the soothing relief of the hot water, then slid all the way in until I was submerged up to my shoulders. I rested my head on the back of the tub. I didn’t know Sam had a romantic side. I took in the moment and let my body relax. I didn’t worry about being a Goddess or trying out for the ballet. I didn’t worry that he wanted things to move faster than I did. I tried to block all of that out and realize that an insanely hot and sexy man had planned a spontaneous romantic overnight trip for me. That was all that mattered.
I wrapped the towel around my chest and cracked the bathroom door.
“You still here?” I asked.
“I have two glasses of cold wine.”
I padded across the floor and joined Sam on the couch. The gas logs crackled as if they were real. They were pretty to watch.
I took the glass from him. “Thank you.”
“How was the bath?”
“Everything I needed. Even my leg feels better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed me.
> “How are you feeling? About the game.”
He shifted back on the cushions. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s over. We lost. I can’t get that second back.”
“I understand.” I stared in the fire. “I feel the same way about my accident.”
“Then I guess I shouldn’t ask.”
I shook my head. “No, I think I can talk about it now. I’ve wanted to tell you. It’s a big part of me, Sam, and I think you should know what happened.” I took another sip of wine. “It was during a performance. And not just any performance. It was opening night. My parents were there. Do you know how huge it is that both of them were in the same room to see me perform?” I spoke the words slowly.
“I was prima ballerina. My father flew in from Paris. This was what all of us had been waiting for. Finally, after years of practice and fighting for that position—I had it. And they were so proud of me. Proud that all the work had finally paid off. The hours and the years of practice and pain had meant something.” The flames danced over the fake logs.
I paused, remembering what it felt like to see my family’s faces in the audience. How the pride poured through me like a white light when I stepped on the stage.
Sam took a sip of wine. “I think I can relate to that part, at least. My parents pushed me pretty hard to be a football player. At first it was all about being the quarterback, but after talking with a few scouts when I was ten, they decided I was going to be a tight end.”
I stared at him, realizing each moment we were together we had more in common.
“But tell me what happened. I want to hear.” He rested his hand on my knee.
“I’ve gone over it a hundred times. A thousand times. Questioning myself. Questioning my partner. Did I mis-step? Did I drop his hand at the wrong time? Did my foot miss his palm? What did I do to cause it? I’ve asked myself every question possible.”
I took another sip of wine and turned to face Sam. “And you know what I figured out?”
“What’s that?”
“That it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. If Charles had turned or I had turned. Or if the lights were in our eyes. Or the music was too loud. Or I was so nervous to see my mother and father sitting together. It doesn’t matter. Because I can’t undo the fact that I fell on stage from six feet in the air and that I tore my hamstring in so many places the ballet couldn’t keep me on.
“I can’t make it not be true. It’s my story. It’s my history, Sam. The ballet let me go, and I did just enough rehab to join the Goddesses until auditions for the troupe next year. I hated myself for months for wearing those gold boots and slutty top, but I realized something about that too. Those boots are as important as my pointe shoes. That’s my story. I was a ballerina and now I’m a Goddess. And I have to be okay with it. I fell and destroyed my career.” I touched the side of his jaw, outlining the strong bones that made up the face I had fallen for. “So, what’s going to be your story? Are you going to let one night define who you are, or are you going to keep going?”
“It’s not the same.” He leaned into my hand. I could feel the roughness of his stubble against my soft palm.
“It is the same. Injury. Embarrassment. Letting other people down on the team. Having a theater full of people see your failure. Thinking you’ve lost something you can’t get back. Thinking the one thing you love more than anything is over. I know exactly what you’re feeling right now.”
He traced my collarbone and my skin prickled. “When I’m with you, I’m not worried about all that noise, Natalia. I don’t care right now that I dropped the pass and let the team down. I don’t care that Wes is mad as a fucking hornet. That the only replay they’re showing on Sports Now is the end of our game. You know why?”
I shook my head.
“Because this is what I want. You are what I want. This is the story I want.”
He loosened the tuck I had on the towel and it fell open. I gasped.
“It is a good story,” I whispered. “I think we have the same story, Sam.”
He nodded, sliding down the couch and pushing my knees wide. I forgot what we were talking about or that the night was slipping through our fingers. As soon as I felt his tongue press between my legs, all thoughts were gone. We were in our own world, in our own cabin where Sam was right. This was a fucking incredible story.
27
Sam
Each cottage had its own pier. I laced Natalia’s fingers through mine as we stepped onto the splintered wood for pier 11. The sun was low on the horizon.
“We almost made sunrise.” She giggled.
“Almost.” I took a sip of coffee and helped her drape a blanket we grabbed from the cabin as we settled onto the bench nailed to the end of the walkway twenty yards from shore.
She snuggled against my chest and I felt the calm the nearness of her brought to my life. The world felt right. It felt quiet. I kissed the side of her temple.
The only place to get coffee around here was from the cabin the owners had converted into an office. It was sort of a welcome center for the guests. I filled up two large cups for Natalia and me while she was in the shower.
“It’s really beautiful here. I don’t want to drive back to Austin.”
“I don’t want to drive back to San Antonio.”
As long as we were keeping our relationship a secret, this was the way it had to be. I fucking hated it.
“Maybe this could be our special spot, though. The place no one else knows about. Our hideaway?”
I took a sip of coffee and nodded. “For now it can be.”
As much as I was tired of sneaking around, I started to think about what it would be like once we were free to be seen together. I didn’t know if I wanted to share Natalia. I sure as hell didn’t want to share this place. It was getting harder and harder for me to go out in San Antonio without people asking for autographs. Kids wanted to take pictures with me. Dads asked me for advice for their sons. The newness of the attention had started to wear off. I wanted my own life. There was a cost for fame I hadn’t thought through when I signed with the Wranglers.
I was tired of reading speculation about my love life. People weren’t satisfied with a single bachelor on the team. They wanted there to be a woman in my life. I couldn’t count how many times I was asked in interviews who I spent my free time with.
I wrapped a protective arm around Natalia.
“This kind of reminds me of a place I used to go fishing with my dad,” I told her.
“Really? You fish too?”
I laughed. “Of course. My dad and I fish, hunt, football—all that stuff.”
“You’ve never really mentioned your family.” Her hand slid to my thigh and I felt relaxed. We fit together so well.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“Where are your parents now? Are they still together?”
“Oh yeah. They’ve been married thirty years. Still going strong.”
“Basically, the opposite of mine.” She looked up at me.
“I think all marriages have their problems. The key is to find the person who can change with you. My parents seemed to have figured that out. Sometimes I don’t know how.”
“And mine didn’t. I think my mom kept expecting my dad to move us back here eventually. And he never tried. She was homesick. She missed her family, and when my grandmother became ill, it was the last straw. She wanted to be home and he refused to leave France. He’s not a very flexible person.”
“And that’s why you moved to Dallas? That’s shitty. I’m sorry.”
“I was asking about your family. Not talking about mine. Tell me more about these parents.” She changed the subject.
The sun rose higher and I looked across the lake. There was an early morning boater headed in our direction.
“There’s not much to tell. My dad played football and he and my mom met in college. She was along for the ride since the beginning. Football was her life too. I don’t know what discussion they h
ad about me playing, but it was always understood that I was going to be a football player. She was all in. Still is.”
“What if you wanted to be a doctor or an engineer? Or an artist?” She smiled slyly.
I chuckled. “I don’t think my dad would have gone for that.” I stretched one leg out over the pier boards. “I never asked. I never thought about doing something else.”
“I guess that’s like ballet and me. I started dancing when I was three and it was in my soul.” She squeezed my hand. “I can’t imagine being anything else either.”
“Do you like Texas now that you’ve been here?” I wondered if she felt the same homesickness her mother did.
“It’s not Paris, that’s for sure.” She giggled. “And when we moved, I was a senior in high school. There’s no worse time to have to change schools. Everyone already knew each other and they were applying for colleges. I didn’t even know what the SAT was. It was a miserable year. I missed my friends. I missed Madame Collette. I missed my studio. I missed my dad, even though he was a complete asshole.” She stopped to drink her coffee.
“What was so different when you moved?”
“I don’t know if it was all the big trucks. Or the hats. Or maybe it was how everyone said hey and y’all. It took a long time to adjust. Everyone was welcoming, much warmer than my friends in France, but it didn’t mean I understood it right away. Texans are unique. And my mom always seemed French to me. I never saw her in her home element until we moved to take care of my grandmother. Now I know she’s really a southerner at heart. She either changed a lot for my dad or changed when we moved back. I don’t know. But there’s a huge difference between living in Paris and Dallas.”
“I can see that. But I’ve never been to Paris. Hard to compare.”
“You should go.” Her eyes lit up.
“Maybe some day.” I wondered what it would be like to walk through the streets with Natalia. She could show me where she lived and went to school. Maybe I’d pick up some of that dirty French she always whispered in my ear. I shook my head. I was getting ahead of myself.
