Forgiving the Football Player

by Emma St Clair

  Emma’s father slapped him on the back. “Of course. But without you, we wouldn’t be here. I won’t minimize that. Thanks for helping our little girl find hope again.”

  “Dad, you’re embarrassing me.” Emma rolled her eyes and pulled her father’s arm. “Come on. I want a fried Oreo.”

  Pax watched them head toward the food trucks, which had everything from street tacos to all the deep-fried foods you might find at the rodeo or state fair. He surveyed the crowded parking lot and practice football field. It was time for him to head inside to watch the swimming, basketball, and table tennis events. Then Cilla’s race.

  Where was she? It had been at least an hour since Pax had even seen her. She might have been ignoring him, but for most of the day, he knew exactly where she was. She was the flame; he was the moth. He couldn’t help his gaze constantly moving to her any more than he could stop her from burning him up.

  “Last I saw, she was heading inside,” Reese said, as though reading his thoughts.

  Was he that obvious? Clearly. He grunted a response and began walking quickly toward the natatorium for the swimming events.

  Reese caught up with him, almost running to keep up. “Things not going so well with you two? Or just a busy day?”

  Pax wished that it was just the busy day. “It’s complicated.”

  “Think we can get a picture of you two together before the day’s over? Or is the complication bigger than that?”

  “Ask her,” Pax muttered, picking up the pace. Before he got more than a few steps, Reese grabbed his arm.

  “Hold up, Pax.” She tugged him to a stop, then put a hand to her chest, breathing hard. “Wow. Didn’t realize that keeping up with you would be an athletic event.”

  Pax crossed his arms and leaned against the brick building. Leveling her with his most intense stare, he waited for her to back down. Instead, she smiled and pointed a finger at his face.

  “It won’t work on me. This whole scary bad-boy thing. Did you ever see Sterling in one of his moods?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I don’t scare easily. Let me guess what’s going on with you and Cilla. Fake relationship?”

  Pax looked past her, toward the rows of food trucks where smoke rose, only to dissipate in the air. “Not exactly.”

  “Okay. Fake relationship that’s not-so-fake. Am I getting warmer?”

  He only shrugged.

  Reese made a frustrated groan. “Pax. I want to help. Please know that this is totally confidential. I won’t even tell Sterling unless it’s something you want him to know.”

  “You can’t help.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You might be surprised.”

  “Fine.” Blowing out a long breath, Pax started in on his explanation. He hadn’t meant to tell Reese everything. But when he finally clamped his jaw shut a few minutes later, he had gone all the way back to high school, doing the Cliff’s Notes version of his story with Cilla.

  Reese didn’t seem surprised. Instead, her expression looked more determined than ever. “That’s a lot of baggage.”

  “Yep. Sorry for dumping on you. Let’s just go in and watch the swimming.” Pax moved away from the wall, but she caught his arm again before he could get to the doors.

  “Wait. I didn’t say it was too much baggage. Just a lot.”

  “Yeah, well. I think it’s too much.”

  “You’re giving up, then?” Her head tilted to the side, issuing a challenge.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then don’t walk away. I’m just trying to process everything and think of how I can help.”

  Pax grimaced. “I’m not sure what you could do. At this point, my life is a huge mess. Lawrence is breathing down my neck, and I’ve already been suspended. Cilla won’t talk to me.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what you can fix. Professionally or personally.”

  Reese shook her head. “Suspension doesn’t mean the end of your career. You’ve got months until they have to make a final decision or when you can declare your intent to go back into the draft, if that’s what you want. That’s easy.” She bit her lip before continuing. “What I’d really love to help you with is Cilla. It’s a little outside my normal wheelhouse, but I’m actually not terrible with relationship strategy.”

  “Relationship strategy?” Pax didn’t want to be rude, but it was impossible to keep the disbelief from his voice.

  Reese made a face. “I know. It sounds cheesy. Or ridiculous. I don’t have a better term for it. Matchmaking? That’s not exactly it either. The thing is that relationships and love aren’t just about feelings. They’re about actions. Intent. Hard work. So, yeah. I think we can apply strategy there.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ll mull it over today and we’ll talk later. I can’t guarantee results and I won’t make you promises I can’t keep. But my goals with you are to see you with a contract you want for next season, whether that’s with Dallas or somewhere else. And to win the girl of your dreams.” She grinned.

  Pax shook his head. “I think you’re a little over-optimistic. But I appreciate you wanting to try.”

  Reese shrugged. “What have you got to lose?”

  Pax didn’t know the answer to that question. His career was likely salvageable, though he honestly wasn’t sure he cared anymore. But with Cilla? He had a very strong suspicion that he had already lost her. This time, for good.

  Reese’s eyes were warm and so genuine that somehow Pax heard himself saying, “Okay.”

  “Great. Let’s keep doing what we’re doing today and after the concert, maybe Sterling and I can hang around a bit so I can talk with you. I hope I’ll have some ideas about winning Cilla over.” Reese’s smile was fast.

  Pax returned her smile. After the rollercoaster of emotions this week with Cilla, hope seemed naive. But he couldn’t let himself give up on her. On them. Not yet.

  Chapter Twenty

  Pax finally located Cilla warming up on the track before her race. After he got tied up with the swimming and other indoor events, she had disappeared again. Now she had changed into fitted black leggings and an athletic tank. He hadn’t seen this chair before, with one wheel out in front, a much more streamlined form.

  Cilla’s hands gripped the wheels, her arm muscles flexing with each movement. He couldn’t help but admire her strength and the soft gold of her skin as her muscles tightened and released. Only then did he notice the number pinned to her chest.

  His heart stilled. Number eighty-seven. His number. Shockingly, his number for Dallas was the same as it had been in high school. And now Cilla wore it over her heart.

  Noticing his gaze, she looked down. “It wasn’t intentional. Just the number they gave me.” She couldn’t look at him. Her cheeks flushed. “Total coincidence.”

  He bit back a smile that she knew his number, even if she hadn’t asked for it. “You don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “I do now. A lot has changed, Pax. Too much.” Her eyes burned into his, then filled with tears. She pulled her sunglasses down over them and took off, calling over her shoulder, “I’ve got to finish warming up.”

  Reese gave him a tight smile as Pax moved back to the center of the track. She had been practically glued to his side all day. He minded less and less. Especially after their earlier talk. Even if he didn’t think she could do a single thing to help him with Cilla. She was impossible.

  “At what point do I give up?” he asked, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Reese so he didn’t have to look at her. “I mean, just trying to be practical here.”

  “Sometimes when people push us away the hardest, that’s when they need us the most.”

  Pax expected Reese to say more, but she didn’t. They watched in silence as the runners lined up. Her words kept tumbling around in his mind until they finally settled. He knew that she was right. But he also knew that he couldn’t keep sitting around throwing himself at Cilla, offering love to her when she didn’t want it.


  It wasn’t about pride. He wasn’t too proud to keep putting himself out there. But he knew Cilla. If he stuck around, vying for her attention, fighting for her love, she would only push him away more.

  Somehow, this week Pax had come to terms with what he’d done six years ago. The cowardice in leaving. The years of not explaining, not apologizing, needlessly punishing himself. Just that morning, he had pulled into a parking lot, rested his head on the steering wheel, and asked God to forgive him. If God could forgive him—and the years of going to church with Cilla had assured him that God could—then, Pax should be able to forgive himself.

  But this realization made him understand that Cilla hadn’t been able to do the same thing. He wasn’t quite sure of the source or the direction of her anger, but he sensed it within her, tightly coiled, just as his had been. He suspected that she punished herself as thoroughly as he had been punishing himself. Until now. The prayer didn’t magically fix Pax somehow, but it had filled him with a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced for six years.

  He wanted the same for Cilla. Would she let herself experience peace? Or love? More than anything, he wanted her to be able to move on from the suffering they’d both been putting themselves through. He wanted to move on together. Helping each other through it, rather than causing the other more pain.

  Today. He would lay it all on the line today. And then, if she wouldn’t budge, he would go back to Dallas. He didn’t think he could ever stop loving her, but he wouldn’t keep pushing her.

  The decision felt right, but it sat in his gut all the way until the race was about to start.

  From his spot in the center of the track, Pax found himself almost as nervous as he got before his games. Elton and Easton were up in the stands with Adele between them, on their feet and already cheering.

  Pax couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

  Her parents stood at the bottom of the bleachers, clutching the railing. He had a sudden flashback to high school, when they’d all watch Cilla run hurdles. Her parents would watch in the same way. Never sitting. Always on their feet for their girl. They looked just as keyed up, as proud as they ever had. The visual made a vise squeeze around his heart.

  If only I could go back.

  The tone sounded the beginning of the race and they were off. Cilla pulled out ahead early. Pax found himself shouting for her, his whole body a tense ball of nerves, cut only by the pride swelling in his chest.

  It had been a thing of beauty to watch her jump hurdles back in the day, but this was no less beautiful. Every coiled muscle in her arms and shoulders promised power, pushing her lengths ahead of the other women racing. Her hair streaming out behind her and her face almost seemed to glow with determination. As it always had, her beauty didn’t rest simply in her face, but burst out of a place deep inside.

  Pax fell in love all over again, watching her cross the finish line, raising her arms in victory. That was his girl. Even if she never wanted him back.

  His chest cracked open, splitting him in two as he ran toward her. She turned that smile toward him, for the first time all day, beaming right at him. Without thinking, he pulled her out of the chair and into his arms, crushing her to his chest. Her small hands squeezed him right back. The sounds of people cheering and the cameras flashing faded until there was only Cilla, in his arms where she belonged.

  “I’m so proud of you,” he said, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear. “You are so strong. So beautiful. I love you, Cilla. Always have. Always will.”

  The moment she stiffened, Pax knew he had pushed her too far. He hands balled into fists against his back. “Put me down, Pax. Now.”

  He did as she asked, placing her in the chair, where she jerked away from his touch as quickly as she could get herself settled. Turning toward the bleachers, she waved, as though the point had been to acknowledge the crowd, not turn her back on Pax.

  But he knew the truth.

  Still, he stood there, hands in his pockets, waiting for her to acknowledge him again.

  “Can I get a picture of you two?” Reese asked, carefully stepping between them. “Make sure you hold out your medal, Cilla.”

  Pax stepped closer, unsure of how to stand. Cilla did not look at him but held out her medal and plastered on a smile as Reese took a few photos. Pax knew they’d never end up on his feed. Not when he couldn’t hide the emotion from his face.

  “I think I got a good one,” Reese said, her eyes briefly meeting Pax’s. She gave him a tight smile and walked away, leaving him there next to Cilla.

  She still wouldn’t look at him, but when she spoke, he had no doubt the words were for him. “It was nice working with you this week. Helping out with your PR stuff. Getting the word out. I think it’s time we drop the act.”

  “It’s not an act.”

  “It was for me. Goodbye, Pax.”

  Before she could roll away, he caught her shoulder, holding her in place, even though she didn’t turn to face him.

  “I put you down when you asked,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. I’m here, Cilla. We’re better together. I believe that, even if you don’t. If you change your mind, I’ll still be here. Waiting.”

  Cilla’s only acknowledgment was the tensing of her shoulders before she wheeled away to talk to her parents and their friends, waiting on the other side of the track.

  Though this was a moment Pax wished he could forget, watching Cilla wheel away from him would stay etched in his mind. He might have left her six years ago, but their relationship ended right here in the middle of their high school track.

  “Goodbye,” he whispered. But Cilla had already gone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cilla slammed the door of her car and jabbed the key fob until it honked several times. Not that she needed to lock it in the twins’ driveway. But she had woken up this Christmas morning with the need to slam and jab and maybe even stab and punch and break things. Her emotions had been building since Pax left a few days before.

  You asked him to leave, she reminded herself as she rolled up to the back door. You told him it was an act and said goodbye.

  Maybe it was the right thing to do. But getting that small taste of Pax’s love had ruined her. If she had been bitter before he showed up, that was nothing compared to now.

  She’d already had a major blow-up with her parents and it wasn’t even noon. The only reason she didn’t skip out on this brunch with Elton, Easton, and Adele was because she couldn’t stand to be in her house any longer. Plus, they’d had this long-standing tradition since the twins’ parents died. The four of them got together to exchange gifts over brunch. She might be caught up in a tornado of ugly emotions, but she wouldn’t leave the twins on Christmas.

  Now, if she could only get through it without tearing someone’s head off, it would be a Christmas miracle.

  “Merry Christmas,” she called, heading through the screen door in the kitchen. She didn’t even try to force cheer into her voice, and it came out sounding sarcastic and bitter.

  At least that meant her outside finally matched her insides. Shriveled. Black. Hard. Just like coal.

  “Funny,” Elton said from the stove. “You don’t sound very merry.”

  “Don’t start with me,” Cilla practically growled. She shoved a platter from her lap into Elton’s hands. He’d been reaching for a hug, but the dish made a nice shield. “Cinnamon rolls. You’re welcome.”

  With a faint smirk on his lips, he took the dish, then set it down on the counter and gave her a hug anyway. She groaned, trying to wiggle away.

  “Happy Christmas,” Elton said, kissing her cheek.

  “Yeah yeah. I’ve got bags in my car for you to bring in.”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” Elton said, with a little salute.

  Cilla shook her head at him. “You’re in a mood this morning. Where is everyone?”

  Elton rolled his eyes and went back to the stove, where he was scrambling eggs. “Your bestie i
s drooling over my brother in the family room.”

  “You almost sound jealous,” Cilla teased.

  Elton didn’t answer, and his shoulders tensed. Huh. That was interesting. When he didn’t say anything after another few seconds, Cilla wheeled out of the kitchen. She found Adele in the family room practically draping herself over Easton on the couch. Adele was trying to show Easton something on her phone, and he looked like he was hoping a hole would open up in the floor and suck him down into it.

  Thinking about Elton’s response in the kitchen, Cilla narrowed her eyes. Maybe Adele had a crush on the wrong twin all this time. If she hadn’t been so caught up in her own melodrama and heartbreak, she might have given this more thought. Or maybe pulled Adele aside to talk about it. Not today. She’d probably only mess up Adele’s relationships too.

  Who cares. Love sucks. Merry Christmas. Ho ho ho. I suck.

  “Hey,” Cilla said. Adele jerked her head up, looking startled, and Easton practically jumped away from her, crossing the room to kiss Cilla’s cheek. The look of relief on his face would have made her laugh on any other day.

  “Merry Christmas, Cilla. I’ll go see if Elton needs help in the kitchen.”

  “You can get my bags out of the car if Elton hasn’t done it!” she called after him. “The keys are in my purse.”

  Adele wrapped Cilla in a big hug. “My Christmas gift to you is that I forgive you for interrupting me and Easton just now. We were having a moment. Finally.”

  To tell her or not to tell her that she was delusional? Cilla debated for a moment before squeezing Adele’s shoulders and pulling away. Later. They’d talk about it later.

  “Sorry.” Cilla shrugged and tried to smile.

  “I forgive you,” Adele said. “I guess. But stop making that face. It’s terrifying.”

  Elton swooped in with plates before Cilla could snap at her best friend. “Take your places, ladies! Breakfast is served.”

  Food had no taste this morning, but Cilla choked down eggs and half a cinnamon roll, washing it all down with coffee so hot it burned her tongue. This tradition had fast become her favorite part of Christmas, like the four of them had created their own family by choice, not from blood. Adele had lost her mom back in college and never talked to her father, who skipped out when she was a kid. Other than her grandma, she didn’t have family around. Cilla was the only one who had both living parents.