by Blair Holden
But before we get to that…
“Stop, stop.” I’m panting as Cole rains kisses on my face, down my neck, pushing the camisole to a side. It takes him a minute to break through the lust-fueled fog, but he listens and stops. Breathing as heavily as I am, he rolls to his back and drapes me over his chest.
“I think I’m dying. I don’t know if it’s possible to die from a persistent case of blue balls, but I think I’m dying.”
I swat his chest. “Stop it. You’re not dying,” I unbutton his shirt and slip my hand inside, tracing his abs, “you’re a perfectly healthy male who just needs to control his baser urges for a while.”
“How long are we talking?”
“About as long as it takes you to come clean. I won, fair and square, so you need to cough up my prize.”
He pouts. “And here I thought I was the prize. Wouldn’t you like seeing me wrapped up in a red bow and delivered to your doorstep?”
“I’ll pass, but maybe save the idea for Christmas, and while you’re at it, make sure you note down that you need to be shirtless while doing so.”
He laughs. “As you wish, Shortcake.”
But then the mood becomes somber, the weight of Cole’s untold confession heavy between us. I lean my head against his chest, my hands still stroking his skin. “You can tell me anything and I promise I’ll still be here.”
He tightens his hold on me and his nervousness is tangible. My heart breaks for him, for all the uncertainty he’s facing. Quitting football is something he’s talked about often, but to have the choice snatched away from you is something else entirely. A sport he loves, a sport that’s been on the cards for most of his life, a sport that’s made him a hero and that could possibly be his future. To know that an injury has the potential to take it all away from you? I’d be terrified.
He takes a deep breath, his heart beats furiously beneath my hair, and for a second, I consider telling him that he could tell me later, when he’s ready, but I remember the conversations I’ve had with his coaches, a physician at our local hospital, and of course with Cassandra. The more he ignores the problem, the worse it could get. His problems might get bigger than a knee that’s acting up; if he keeps putting strain on it, he might permanently damage his ability to move. So I need him to open up, despite how hard it is for him.
“For as long as I can remember, football’s been the one thing my dad and I can agree on. I liked playing it and he liked that I could channel all my energy into a sport rather than getting into trouble. He loves seeing me play and if he could, he’d come to every game, but you know all that.”
“I think it’s beautiful that you and your dad have something so special that allows you to connect with each other, even when you’re not getting along.”
What I don’t tell him is that I know his dad will love him even when he’s not the star quarterback anymore.
“And maybe somewhere along the line, football became all about wanting to keep my dad happy rather than playing because it made me happy. Sure, I love the sport, but all the bullshit that comes with it, the people, the attention, the pressure of playing the perfect game every single time gets to you. I train my ass off and give a hundred percent whenever I play, but at the end of the day, I feel guilty as hell for not enjoying any of it.”
“Have you talked to your dad about it? You’re not that impulsive kid anymore; you don’t need an outlet like football just so that you can manage your anger, because that aggression isn’t in you anymore. Maybe that’s why he liked it so much, and that doesn’t hold true anymore. If you just talked, perhaps you’ll see that he supports you because he loves you, not because he loves the game.”
“You think?”
“I know. Anyone who loves you, be it the sheriff or Cassandra or me, we love you because of the person you are, not because of what position you play. Whatever you choose to do with your life, we’ll always be there for you.”
“I haven’t really done much in my life to make my parents proud of me. I’ve always been the one causing trouble, getting into fights, pushing him into sending me to military school. Jay, on the other hand…”
“…Isn’t you,” I finish his sentence. “You are your own person, and I don’t think your dad just sits there comparing which one of you he likes better. Pretty sure that’s not part of the parenting textbook.”
He laughs. “Seems kind of silly when you say it like that.”
“It is silly. Do you think your parents would love Jay any less if he decides to quit baseball and become a stripper? No, because when you love someone, you support and respect their choices.”
“Who said I’m becoming a stripper?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, but it’s just an analogy.”
We lapse into a comfortable silence, but I’m still waiting for him to drop the bomb.
“Is that what you fought about, before you came here?”
He runs his fingers through my hair absentmindedly and hums in the back of his throat. “It was part of it.”
“Want to tell me the rest?”
“You won, so I guess I have to.”
“You don’t have to, but I would appreciate it very, very much.”
He pulls me closer, tucks me into his side, and kisses my forehead. “Then I’ll do anything for you.”
He takes a deep breath. “I was already angry with Cassandra because of the way she ambushed you, there’s still nothing she can say that justifies what she did. But at dinner, she kept going on and on about how maybe it’d be a good idea that we take a break, that doing so would help me think about my future clearly.”
I stay quiet; the fact that a woman whose opinion I’d valued so highly now thinks so little of me still hurts.
“I told her to drop it, repeatedly. It wasn’t exactly dinner table conversation, right? But she kept pushing, kept suggesting that maybe I should switch schools if I wasn’t happy at Brown. I had great grades, I’d been accepted to a lot of good colleges where I wouldn’t have to pay as much.”
His breath hitches; I squeeze his arm in support. He might not love the game anymore but I can feel his loss, the physical proof of what it’s costing him to even consider being robbed of a future that he hasn’t fully decided upon rejecting.
“She brought up something that I thought was just between the two of us. She looked at me, knowing that I didn’t want my dad to know, or anyone, for that matter, and she told him the one thing I’d begged her to keep a secret.”
“You’re scaring me, Cole.”
“I know, Shortcake, maybe when I actually tell you, it won’t be as scary or intimidating. But I’ve kept it to myself for so long that it’s gotten bigger and bigger. In my head, it’s the worst thing that could possibly happen to me, but Cassandra tossed it around so lightly that…I was so angry at her. It was better to leave or I would’ve ended up saying shit I’d regret later. Hell, I still said too much, to both of them, and they were only trying to help me.
“Toward the end of senior year,” he tells me, “my knee started acting up. It was nothing at first, or at least I treated it like nothing. If I could still play and win, I was okay with it. But during one of the games, my knee received a direct hit during a tackle. I heard that sound and god, that popping sound was the worst thing I’d ever heard, at the time.”
“Why…why didn’t you tell me? I…I never noticed an injury or…how did this happen?”
I wrack my brain, trying to force a memory out where I’d remember Cole being injured, but I come up empty. During high school, my attitude toward football had been similar in the sense that I avoided games when I could. The jeering and the insults felt like walking through barbed wires at the time, and somehow, I’d decided that it wasn’t worth it to attend. Cole had told me repeatedly that he didn’t mind, but how could I have missed this? As much as I like to think that I’m the girl for Cole, that no one could love him as much as I do, I’ve done a horrific job of taking care of him. And, plagued by gui
lt, I have to literally envision myself using a baseball bat to hit out all the doubts being thrown at me.
“Hey, look at me,” he cups my cheek, “you don’t get to blame yourself. Nobody knew, just coach and the assistant coach, and that was only because they found me swearing my life away in the locker room after the game. Once I’d iced it, I could go back and pretend it never happened.”
“But what about the pain? The swelling? It should’ve been obvious to anyone who saw you, and I can’t believe your coach let you play without consulting a doctor or getting some form of physical therapy for you. He deserves to be sued! I don’t know how that works exactly, but I’m going to find a kick-ass lawyer and sue the man for every single penny he owns. The nerve of him to take advantage of you like that—”
Cole shuts me up with a kiss, a long, deep, and toe-curling kiss that has me trying to climb his body. But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, Cole pulls back and places one last kiss on the tip of my nose.
“Feeling calmer now, oh Tessie the Warrior Princess?”
I huff, “That’s playing dirty. I’m still mad at your coach; he better watch his back.”
“The man’s pushing sixty and needs a cocktail of meds to get through the day, not all of which are prescription. I think you could handle him, but I’d like you to stay out of prison for a while, my little thug.”
“If you insist, although I think the last time I was there, I really held my own.”
“You’re actually proud of going to jail?”
“No, but theoretically speaking, if I did end up there again, I now know I’d be part of the tough clique, so it all works out great. But stop trying to distract me, where did you leave off?”
“The part where you wanted to behead my coach?”
“Sounds about right.”
“In his defense, he tried to help me even though I was a stubborn bastard and wouldn’t let him do anything. I still thought football would be my future and it was the one thing I knew I was in control of.”
“I have to know though, Cole, for my own peace of mind. Did you continue to play just because it increased your chances of admission? Just so you could follow me to Brown?” I whisper, almost as if I was afraid to know the truth.
“I don’t know what to say, Tessie. I knew that even though things were rough between us at the time, we’d fix it and I didn’t want to spend the next four years apart. There’s no sacrifice involved here, Brown is one of the best schools in the country. I would have applied to it no matter what. I agreed to the physical therapy because I love the game of football.”
“So you had some form of therapy then? Did it help?”
“Ideally, the PT wanted me to take some time off and put in the work to make sure my knee healed. Football would be off the table, but the damage wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t play and I held on to that like a lifeline. Things were just starting to look up for us; we’d finally be able to put aside all the unnecessary bullshit and start over. I couldn’t risk that.”
I’d been prepared for this, but hearing him say that so many of his choices were because of me made my heart ache. I have to know that he doesn’t resent me for how things have turned out.
“Are you unhappy here, Cole? You went to so much trouble to be with me and I know it’s an understatement to say that things haven’t been easy. Please be honest,” I plead, “do you regret any of it?”
“No, of course not!” Cole growls.
He untangles himself from me and I’m left feeling oddly cold as he lifts himself up from the couch and begins pacing the room.
“Why would you think?”
“When have I ever given you the impression that I was unhappy?” He isn’t shouting yet but I can practically see how much he’s restraining himself from doing so . “Ever since I accepted their offer, I’ve never looked back. I haven’t once thought that I’d be happy anywhere else because guess what? It was my decision and I stand by it. I love the school, what it has to offer me but most of all, I love the fact that you’re there, and I love the life we’re building with each other.”
“You’ll still have me no matter what you choose. That’s never going to change. I want you happy and I want you healthy. You need to stop pretending that there isn’t a real issue here, talk to someone, a doctor, your coach, talk to Cassandra if you have to. You can’t continue playing just because you’re worried you’ll lose the people who care about you. Anyone who loves you and deserves you will be there no matter what.”
I get up and walk over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my chest to his back. He exhales and links our fingers together.
“What do you want to do? Stop worrying, stop thinking about others, tell me what your heart wants.”
He brings our linked hands to his mouth and places a gentle kiss on my knuckles.
It’s his decision and I’m not going to second-guess or take sides. What drove him away from his parents was the fact that someone was trying to take that choice away from him. Cassandra, as much as she cares for him, is forcing his hand, and I don’t intend to repeat her mistakes.
“I don’t want to play football anymore. I’ll look into getting therapy for the damage I’ve already done to my knee, but the game stops here. I’m done.”
I don’t feel like celebrating. This isn’t a victory for me and for all the time that I spent hating the baggage Cole’s football career came with; I feel something more bittersweet. I never thought that at age nineteen, my boyfriend would have to give up a sport because of an injury. But maybe the seeds had been sown long before that, and his knee has just made the choice easier, simpler.
“Your GPA is incredible, Cole, and your teachers love you. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You’ve turned your life around and you’ll keep going higher even without a future in football. I know you’ll do great in whatever you put your heart into, and if that’s no longer the game, then you shouldn’t force yourself to continue pouring so much of yourself into it.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He turns around and the smile on his face lights up my entire body because it’s carefree and devoid of the weight of secrets. For the first time in a very long time, we’re on the same page, and I can’t begin to describe how good that feels.
“Since I’m not going to be a bigshot NFL player in four years’ time, how the hell am I going to pay Dad back for putting me through college?”
He’s joking, but I can tell it’s a genuine concern. Luckily, I’ve had a little conversation with Nana Stone about this that’ll put Cole’s worries to rest.
“I don’t think he’d want you to pay him back for simply utilizing a fund that’s been set for years just for your college tuition.”
He’s obviously confused. “Uh, last I checked, Dad had to basically empty out that account when Mom got sick.”
“But your grandfather, Michael, also left you a little nest egg for times like these. Nana didn’t want me to tell you, but that’s what’s paying for college, not your dad.”
He’s emotional, remembering the man he had so much in common with and so much of whose personality he’s got. This feels like coming full circle, one more act that’ll forever remind Cole how much he’s loved and cherished.
.
***
“You might want to cover up any parts you don’t want us to see!”
Three heavy knocks force Cole and me to spring apart and reach for the clothes scattered around the room. His shirt’s on the table lamp, mine’s flung in the direction of the bathroom, my pants seem to be blocking the door since they were the first to go and took the longest time to remove. Cole’s pants, well, his are nowhere to be found.
“Did you take them off on the stairs?” I hiss, hopping on one foot to try to find the clothes that haven’t mysteriously disappeared.
“I don’t know, hell if I can remember the parts between me picking you up and tossing you onto this bed.”
> “Well, try harder, Sherlock. Cami is persistent, and if we don’t open the door, she’s going to barge in and see you in all your naked glory.” I toss a pillow at him. “At least find your boxers.”
“Open up, Tessa, we have company downstairs and you two can get kinky later. Right now I need you to stop me from mauling Lan.”
“Coming!”
“That’s for sure.” Cole’s smile is cheeky and wicked, and I’m positive Cami heard him because she snorts, “Keep it in your pants, Stone. Fine, I’m leaving, but be down in five minutes or I’ll drag you out myself. I need a wing woman, and for a do-gooder, sweet, sweet Megan sure knows how to drink.”
“They’re all downstairs!”
Cole’s too busy laughing at how frantically I’m attempting to collect the various pieces of clothing from around the room. My bra is by the sink, how did it get there?
“Relax, I’m pretty sure they know what we were doing, given how loud you were screaming.”
I throw another pillow at him, with a lot more force. “Shut up and get dressed.”
“You wound me, Tessie, no time for pillow talk? I feel used.”
He lounges against the bedroom wall looking deliciously disheveled, at least having the decency to put on his underwear. I pick up his shirt and throw it at him, rummaging through my own closet to find something I can throw on quickly.
Grabbing a tank top and some denim shorts, I wiggle into them as Cole watches me, his expression making me feel all hot and flustered, which is surprising, given the activities of the past hour.
My cheeks flush at the memories, but let me just say, makeup sex is not overrated.
“We could just pretend they’re not here.” He stalks toward me but I stop him with a hand to the center of his chest. “Oh no you don’t. We’re going to go down and hang out with our friends like the normal, sociable couple we are, so go find your pants.”
And that’s when we hear the thud.
