by Eden Butler
“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.”
“I never thought she was, but Gia and…what? Someone serious?” Cat nodded, her face serious. “I don’t believe it.”
She sat up straight, gaze on the wine in her glass as she spoke. “You ever hear of Luka Hale?”
Reese frowned, knowing that name had crossed in her awareness once or twice, but she couldn’t place it. “Sounds familiar.”
“Kona Hale?”
“Oh!” Reese said, her eyes wide, attention caught. “Of course. He gave up a spot on the Steamers for his woman…”
“And his kid,” Cat said. “And the way Gia tells it, Ricks was ready to offer him a massive contract. He walked away.” She waved her glass at Reese, swallowing. “But you know that story.”
“I do. Keira and Kona. Their kid. College sweethearts…”
“And Luka Hale. Kona’s twin.”
“Where’s he?” Reese remembered reading an article a few years back about the Hale brothers, but nothing sparked about Luka. It was only Kona who’d become an NFL superstar.
“Gone. Since ’97, I think. Shot by a gangster. Left his woman’s bed to go rescue his twin.”
“That’s messed up,” Reese said, watching Cat’s expressions close. She knew the woman was about to deliver a bombshell.
“The girl? His woman? She never got over Luka. Spent years focusing on her career.” Cat took a sip of wine, this one longer than the others. “She was good at marketing and PR. Turns out, she was even better at management. She’d volunteered to be a water girl for the Blue Devils in college. Same team Kona and Luka played for. She had an in with the coaching staff, cousin or uncle or something, and she fell in love with the game…and with Luka.”
“Wait…”
“Then, Luka died, and part of that girl died with him.” Cat’s voice was low, a little awed, and something twisted in Reese’s chest, something she knew wouldn’t go away for a long while. “But she wasn’t one to sit around helpless and frozen. She was a fighter. A soldier. Earned a master’s in sports management, then started at the bottom with San Diego, eventually making it in lower positions in the NFL. Then, just a few years ago, she became the first woman hired as a general manager of an NFL team.”
“Gia.”
“Gia,” Cat confirmed, a soft frown forming on her face. The women were quiet for a long moment. Reese felt that ache in her chest intensifying, wondering what Gia had to do to bury the pain she felt. Reese understood the work ethic. It was her own desire to work and train that gave her even the smallest reprieve from the pain of losing Rhiannon and Ryder.
“That breaks my heart,” she finally admitted, trying to clear away the clog in her sinuses.
“That’s because it’s heartbreaking.” Cat stood, walking to the sink to rinse out her glass. “Don’t get me wrong, her bed isn’t cold. She gets plenty of attention, but from what I’ve seen, no one is ever allowed to stick around for long and she definitely has a type.”
“Let me guess. Big Hawaiians?”
Cat nodded. “Probably all of which could pass for Luka Hale’s twin. I honestly don’t think she would have signed with the Steamers if Hale had joined the team. It’s still…” Again Cat waved, leaving the rest of her sentence unspoken. “Anyway, so like I said, Gia knows unrequited. She knows loss, but I have no intention of telling anyone how you still feel.”
“Thanks, Cat,” Reese said, joining her friend at the island.
Reese moved around the kitchen, still wincing as she tidied up her glass and the now empty bottle of wine as Cat picked up her bag.
“You know,” she started, walking toward the island, “maybe if Ryder had any idea how you felt…”
“Uh-huh and maybe you should let Wilson prove he can be loyal, pro player or not.”
Cat’s mouth tensed, became a hard line before she shrugged, grinning at Reese before she waved goodbye and left down the hallway.
“Maybe,” Reese said to her empty apartment, stuffing her glass into the dishwasher and moving into her room. She opened her closet, going to the dresser inside it. The small black box was no bigger than a piece of paper, and Reese dug inside it, taking out worn letters that had been read and reread hundreds of times. She put them aside, finding a stack of pictures at the bottom of the box wrapped in tissue paper.
“Coño,” she said, unfolding the paper, sifting through one picture after another, all of her and Ryder together: on the field, alone in the back of his truck, his arm around her, his mouth on her temple. They’d had a life together once, a life no one should have ever discovered. They had gone a decade living apart from each other, keeping years and distance and anger between them.
Gia had done the same, but it hadn’t been her choice. If Cat was to be believed, her manager had loved Luka Hale. She’d loved him so much that she’d gone on without him, willingly keeping the void he left behind open and expansive.
Reese had done the same. The difference was, her unrequited was alive. He was real, and as Reese looked over the pictures—the couple in them in love and happy and ready to take on the world—she realized she didn’t want her void to remain empty, but the only one who could fill it was off limits. He couldn’t be hers.
17.
RYDER
Game seventeen, wildcard
15:2
HE HADN’T SEEN her close up. Not since New England. Not since the date she had with Murry got splashed all over the damn place. Cat informed Ryder that Reese had been busy, working out with a few girls from her fan club when they weren’t slammed with practices. He’d seen her at the Lil Steamers camp, working hard with her team, but not at Ryder’s side anymore now that the teams were gearing up for the tournament coming in a couple months.
Though he knew it was stupid, he hadn’t wanted to talk to her, despite his promise that he’d try to be her friend. Despite Coach’s lecture about being her captain. Despite how she seemed to worry and obsess about the field goal she missed in New England. Hell, he hadn’t even apologized for South Carolina, but then that had more to do with the fucking image of her and Murry tongue battling than any guilt he might feel for going at her like an asshole.
Besides, maybe there was something serious happening between them. Ryder hoped not, given Murry’s reputation, but Ryder wouldn’t give his opinion. It wasn’t his place. Instead, he backed off, deciding he’d watch her from a distance. He didn’t want to wreck anything for her.
But, God, had it been hard to keep away from her. Travel was especially bad, when Reese would fall asleep, her seat facing his one row back on the plane. Most trips he was the last to board and got landed with whatever seat was left. Seemed his teammates always congregated in groups, and Reese and Ryder were odd men out. Wilson like to stretch out on the plane, while Pukui and Pérez took nearly an entire row to themselves.
That left Reese across from him and Ryder stuck watching her sleep, face perfect, relaxed as she snored soft sounds that reminded him of his senior year at Duke.
He squashed the thoughts during most trips and tried to focus on the play book in his hand, and whatever ideas Ricks had about their game plan as they moved through the season.
They demolished Texas in week five, and then embarrassed Atlanta in w
eek ten. The season went by in a blur with Ryder throwing more touchdown passes than he had in at least two seasons while Wilson had upped his game right alongside Hanson, who had finally stopped messing with Reese during the season. Both men were neck and neck for nearly seven hundred rushing yards.
Pukui was still blocking everything that game for Ryder as he threw, and Reese had a stellar season so that by the time they got into week sixteen she had missed only two field goal attempts. She performed like the pro Ryder knew she was, and the chances looked great that the Steamers would have a running shot at the playoffs.
He’d been professional to Reese at the camp and in practices when they managed to see each other, and when they got close to game sixteen on Christmas Eve, Ryder decided enough time had passed. Murry had moved on to some reality star with a huge ass while Reese maintained a low profile only hanging out with Cat and Gia, sometimes Wilson, Baker, and Pukui at Lucy’s, and still Ryder hadn’t bothered to have a real conversation with her.
Because, deep down, he was a coward.
He should have never touched her. Not once. Not ever. But Reese Noble was like lightning. Beautiful. Wild. So fucking dangerous. He had always been drawn to her. He could have never stopped himself from having that first touch, then the first kiss, then the first taste. The years had not driven the memory of any of those things from his mind, but Ryder had learned to keep the want buried deep. He’d let it slumber—a sleeping giant he’d convinced himself would never wake.
Then, Reese had stepped onto the field, ready to show Ricks what she could do with a ball.
The giant stirred as she impressed the coaching staff and owners. The giant grumbled, frustrated in his sleep as she signed her contract and began practice with the team. And after that night in South Carolina, after her performing like a champion, bringing to life every dream, every effort she’d worked for in her life, the giant jolted awake, ready to take and taste and feel her all over again.
But it wasn’t his place to touch her. It wasn’t his right to take what hadn’t been his in a very long time. She was free. She was vital, and with those pictures—her looking so fucking beautiful while Murry kissed her—Ryder knew that everyone had seen just what had once been only for him.
He hated her for it, despite how much he wanted her.
Their life wasn’t theirs. They belonged to the world. To the league. To the fans. No amount of progressive thinking would take away old prejudices. The hateful words and behavior stood firm and toppled that giant with gossip and lies and assumptions that weren’t true.
Didn’t mean the giant wasn’t still awake and eager, despite Ryder’s anger. Didn’t mean he’d let the creature loose.
The only conversations they’d had in months were about games or practices and the briefest discussions at the kids’ camp. Nothing deeper than that. Not much at all, really until Pukui’s Christmas party, though Ryder hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to her, much less apologize to her for the elevator incident. Pukui’s kid monopolized Reese’s attention and Greer wouldn’t let Ryder have two minutes to himself. But he broke away when his girlfriend left for the ladies’ room, and Reese slipped into the kitchen to fix herself a drink.
She looked up when he walked into the room digging his red glass into a bucket of ice as Reese went back to mixing her drink.
“Baileys?” she asked him, unscrewing the beige bottle.
“Yeah,” he answered, handing her his glass when she reached for it. It felt awkward standing next to her, smelling her thick, rich scent, wanting to lean down and inhale her hair like some wacked out freak, but Ryder managed to control himself.
“So,” he tried, nodding at her when she offered him his glass back. “Pukui’s kid likes you.”
She smiled, looking through the opening between the kitchen and living room to the young girl who sat on her father’s lap as he helped her open what had to be the fifth present he’d given her in the four hours since the party started.
“Keola. Yes, she’s sweet,” Reese told him, sipping slowly from her drink.
They watched their teammate with the girl, not speaking as the man said something to Keeana, Keola’s mother, and all three laughed.
“Weird,” Ryder said, nodding at them.
“What is?” Reese sipped from her glass, but Ryder could feel her stare.
“They have a kid together. They were high school sweethearts, from what Pukui says, and then she breaks up with him so he can go off and play ball.”
“He told me,” Reese confirmed, watching as Keola began to demonstrate what she’d learned at her hula lessons.
“He’s three months into his pro career when she tells him she’s pregnant. He supports her.”
“That’s weird to you?”
“No, not that,” he said, liking the taste of his drink, how sweet it was, how nice the warmth of it felt. “What’s weird is how cool they are. They broke up and they still act like nothing’s changed. They do vacations together, I think he even told me he’s putting her through grad school.”
Reese paused, holding her glass near her mouth before she took a sip. “They have a kid together and from what Pukui said, they were close for a long time.” When Ryder shrugged, not quite understanding her, Reese turned, gaze on his face until he looked down at her. “People don’t stop being important to you when they’re not around anymore. If they matter, you find ways to keep them important.”
Ryder watched her, mouth opening a little as he fought back speaking at all. He didn’t know if he should mention the conversation he’d had with her father at the beginning of the season or that Coach had said something similar, but Ryder went on watching her, amazed, surprised that she’d been so honest.
When he kept looking at her, not speaking at all, Reese blinked, turning her attention back at Pukui and his family. “He wanted her to stay for the tournament, maybe play with my girls, but Keeana, his ex, has to get back to Maui.”
“That’s a shame,” he told her, inching closer to reach for the Baileys bottle next to her left elbow. “She would do well with your team.”
Reese looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together. “Why?”
“I saw Pukui playing with her and the other kids when I got here. She’s a natural. So were you. You could teach her a lot.” When she went on watching him, expression still curious, Ryder laughed, shooting her a smile. “What?”
“You think I was a natural?”
“Of course I do,” he said, exaggerating an eye roll that made her laugh. “So forgetful.” He took a sip, slipping a look down at her as she watched him. “I told your dad that all the time back in college. How good you were. How you were born to do this.” Ryder waved a hand around the room, pointing his glass to Wilson and Baker and the congregation of players crowded in Pukui’s living room.
“I never knew that,” she admitted, not moving when Ryder stood closer. She watched him, a twitching smile on her full lips.
“Well,” Ryder said, turning toward her, liking the look she gave him, forgetting for two seconds that he wouldn’t look at any of his other teammates the way he looked at Reese just then. “I meant it then.” He smoothed his tongue along his bottom lip as Reese watched him, her eyes shifting to stare at the movement. “I mean it now.”
If she’d just lean forward, just a bit, Ryder could almost…
“Babe,” Greer called, her voice cold. Ryder lowered his shoulders, switching his focus to his girlfriend as she stood in the kitchen doorway. He moved his head, jerking it at her in way of greeting and the woman frowned, her face pinching up as she glared at him, then to Reese and back again. “I wanna go home. Now.”
That night, Greer had gone off to her sister’s place in Orlando, pissed at him for daring to have a two-minute conversation with Reese, and bored already by the cooling temperatures. Ryder’s folks and older sister came into the city the next morning to celebrate the holiday with him. He spent most of that morning deflecting questions they had about how Reese was doi
ng on the team.
They’d never blamed her for Rhiannon’s death. Ryder had been the only one and when his mother left the day after New Year’s, she made Ryder promise not to hold grudges.
“She loved you so much,” she said, dusting lint from his shirt. “More to the point, Rhiannon loved her. We all did. It does no good to look for guilty parties when it’s God’s will what happens to us. Be kind to her.”
He hadn’t been, though. There had never been a conversation about what had almost happened in that elevator. There had only been the memory of it and Greer’s angry exasperation when the news broke about Duke and what Reese had meant to him back there.
But there had not been an apology.
He intended to make one now.
The locker room was empty except for two ball boys that Ryder nodded away as he approached Reese. She was bent over a bench, double-knotting her laces as he approached.
“I was wrong,” he started, and she jumped. He winced, hating that he scared her.
Reese turned, hand on her chest as though that loud confession had nearly given her a heart attack. She watched him, turning on her heel to face Ryder, only a foot or so separating them. “About what?”
Her hair was back, her face smooth, free from makeup, and her full bottom lip was dewy with what Ryder guessed was some kind of balm. “I was drunk in South Carolina.” She crossed her arms, shifting from one foot to another, but didn’t speak. “I should’ve apologized when we spoke at Pukui’s party, but there wasn’t…time. Anyway, you knew, I’m sure, about me being drunk in South Carolina, and it’s no excuse…what I did. What I said…” Ryder looked up, wondering why Reese was the only person on the planet he’d ever apologized to and why that was never an easy thing to do. His cheeks rounded with his exhale, and Ryder dragged a hand through his hair. “You don’t owe me anything. I was wrong, like I said. I shouldn’t have…touched you.”
