by Kendall Ryan
“Bedtime?” Wes asks. He must have spied my heavy eyelids.
“I think that would be best,” I say, crumpling up the empty fast-food bag and tossing it into the trash across the room. “I think I’m just going to stay on the couch. Fall asleep watching TV.”
I turn the volume down on the remote and curl up on the couch, cueing Wes that it’s time to go. He grabs the blanket off the back of the armchair and heads toward me, draping it carefully over me. I give him an expectant look like he might kiss me good night, but he just tucks in the edges of the blanket and turns away.
“I’m going to get your mom an overnight bag, garage code still the same?” he asks.
How in the world does he remember that? I nod.
“Call me if you need anything,” he says as he heads for the door.
I can barely keep my eyes open, but just before I fall asleep, I hear the door click open and closed again.
Goddamn. Wes can be really sweet when he’s not being a complete asshole.
Chapter Eighteen
Weston
A nurse pokes her head into the waiting room. “Jane? Weston?” We both leap to our feet, and she holds up her hand with an apologetic smile. “Ken wants to talk to both of you, but I’ll have to take you in one at a time. He still can’t handle too much excitement.”
Before Jane can say anything, I tell her, “Go on.”
She hurries to join the nurse and be escorted back to her father’s hospital room. I take the opportunity to grab a cup of coffee and stretch out the stiffness from waiting on that tiny, hard plastic chair.
The nurse returns about half an hour later to lead me down the mazelike hallways. She doesn’t need to bother—I’ve been here almost every day for the past week, so I know the route by heart—but I appreciate her quiet, efficiently professional company.
When we arrive, I’m both disappointed and relieved to find only Coach Royce and his wife, Nancy, in the room. Jane’s mom must have finally put her foot down and sent Jane home.
She desperately needs the rest; she’s barely left the hospital since the ambulance brought her dad in. And although I hate to admit it, spending so much time with Jane has racked my nerves as well as soothed them. Everything has become agonizingly awkward, and I never know how to act around her anymore.
“How are you?” I ask Coach. He looks haggard still, but undeniably better than yesterday. It’s hard to believe his surgery was only a week ago.
“I’m feeling all right,” he replies, his voice only a little gravelly. “And the doctors say my prognosis looks great. One more night of observation, and they’ll release me tomorrow morning.”
This is fantastic news. Everyone on the team will be so relieved to hear it.
So, why do I still feel wrung out inside?
Coach says, “I’ll be back in the saddle in two weeks. In the meantime—”
“No, dear, they said six,” Nancy says, interrupting to remind him. “Work is too stressful.”
He grunts dismissively. “He said I shouldn’t go out on the field for six weeks. If I can’t oversee practice drills, I need to at least attend team meetings, for crying out loud.”
When Nancy shoots him a we’ll talk about this later frown, Coach turns his attention back to me. “Anyway, you boys listen to the assistant coach. Don’t slack off just ’cause I’m gone, ya hear?”
I force a chuckle, thinking of how abysmally I’ve been playing ever since I stopped seeing Jane. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Coach.”
He studies me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You been eating all right, son? Getting enough sleep?”
Not even close. “Yes, sir.”
He still looks skeptical. “Well, you look about as bad as I feel. Whatever the problem is, figure it out and deal with it before our next game.”
I nod, knowing that I can’t.
• • •
I sigh in disgust as I open my locker. Today’s practice was yet another embarrassing shit show. I can’t concentrate, and there’s no strength in my throws or sprints, no finesse in my footwork.
I rub my eyes. I’m fucking exhausted. Every night, I lie in bed for hours before sleep finally decides to grace me with its presence. Maybe tonight will be different . . . but I doubt it.
Pull it together, Chase. Just focus on one thing at a time. Take off uniform, shower, put on clothes, decide what the hell I’m going to do for dinner when I have no appetite and everything tastes like sand.
On my way out of the locker room, a hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to see Alex.
“Can we talk for a minute?” he says.
I sigh, and my response comes out dull and listless. “What do you want?” I can’t even muster the energy to snap at him.
“I meant in private.”
I give him a wary look, trying to determine if he really just wants to talk, or if this little chat will end in a fight. But his face is solemn, with no trace of his usual taste for sparring.
Finally, I say, “Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Just stop looking like someone died. You’re freaking me out.”
“Deal.” He pushes the locker room door open.
I follow him to a deserted corner of the hall. “So, what’s this all about? You just trying to get me alone to kick my ass or something?”
Alex presses his lips into a tight line and exhales loudly through his nose. “You’re already doing a great job of kicking your own ass. No, I wanted to say . . . I’m sorry.”
I stare at him. “You’re sorry? About what?”
“What the hell do you think, man? You and Jane!”
My confusion morphs into shock.
“I know you thought this was for the best,” he says, “but it’s not. You’ve been moping around for weeks, and you’re playing so bad, you’re ruining practice for everybody else.” He gives me a measuring look. “And she’d kill me if she knew I told you this, but Jane is miserable too.”
“She misses me? Still?”
My spirits lift for a second before guilt crushes them again. Only an asshole would feel happy that she’s sad. This only confirms she’s better off without me. And then there was what everybody else said about us . . .
“But you and Coach told me to leave her alone.”
“I was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have pushed you into breaking up with her. Don’t make me say it again.” Alex pauses. “Wait, Coach asked you to dump his daughter?”
I shrug. “Not exactly. He said I should either leave now or stay forever.”
“So, let me get this straight. Jane’s father, your boss, the man with every reason to shut this down with extreme prejudice, instead told you to shit or get off the pot. And you chose the latter?” He shakes his head with a slight smile. “You really are an idiot, you know that?”
Clearly not. “Okay, fuck off,” I mutter. “It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Whatever we had is dead now. I killed it.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “So you screwed up. Big deal, we all fumble sometimes. What matters is how you fix your mistakes. Get off your ass and go win back your girl.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or to scowl. “As fun as it would be to prove you wrong, I don’t think that’s likely.”
“You aren’t even going to try? You’ll just roll over and let me have her?” Alex smirks, all dimples and swagger.
My jaw drops. “You?”
“Sure, she’s heartbroken now, but she’ll get over you eventually. And when she does, I’ll be right there, waiting in the wings. The perfect rebound. I’ll love her up, marry her, put my baby inside her . . .”
“The hell you will!” I snarl.
I know damn well he’s just trying to piss me off, and it’s totally fucking working. At the mental image his words conjures, Jane full and round with someone else’s baby, I’m ready to snap from all the primal, possessive rage building up inside me.
His shit-eating grin tells me Alex knows he’s scored a point. “What, you going to do something to stop me?” He shrug
s his shoulders arrogantly. “Weren’t you just saying you’d given up?”
I glower at him. “I never said that.”
“Could’ve fooled me. It definitely sounded like you were done with Jane, and you didn’t care what happened to her anymore.”
“Of course I care about her! I’d do anything for her. That’s why I let her go.”
“What a bunch of bullshit. You didn’t let her go—you wussed out and ran away. You were scared of a future you couldn’t control, of all the ass-busting work it takes to be a good partner.” Alex’s eyes flash, his nostrils flaring. “And you broke her heart again.”
My teeth are clenched so tightly, my jaw aches. But no matter how hard I search, I can’t find any comebacks. Can’t deny his accusation that I acted like a coward. And if cutting Jane off really did make her suffer . . .
Fuck.
I’m an idiot.
“If you’d really ‘do anything’ for Jane, then you should’ve pulled your shit together and buckled down. You should’ve put her feelings first, not decided what was best for her without even telling her what the fuck was going on in that empty head of yours. So I’m gonna ask you one last time. Are you really going to let her go forever, without even putting up a fight?”
We stare each other down for a long minute. But in the end, there’s only one thing to say.
“You wish, asshole!”
“There’s the Weston Chase I know and tolerate.” Alex punches me lightly in the shoulder. “Now, go get your ass in gear, you stupid fuck.”
“Thanks . . . and fuck you.” I stomp off, already cooking up a plan.
Chapter Nineteen
Jane
“You must be Jane.”
The brown-haired, blue-eyed man standing in the entrance of the sushi restaurant must be the guy I’m waiting for. He looks exactly like the picture my mom showed me on her phone, which is more than I can say about most of the blind dates I’ve been on.
“Kevin?” I tilt my head coyly, trying to conceal the shock in my voice.
It’s not like I was expecting the guy to be a total troll, it’s just that I don’t have the world’s best track record when it comes to blind dates. At this point in my life, I can safely assume any guy I’m being set up with is going to be a total clunker, emotionally unavailable, or just trying to score free Hawks tickets, the last of which I can’t really blame him for. Kevin might still be a flop, but at least he’s handsome, so that’s a strong start.
“Yes. Nice to meet you,” he says warmly, smiling at me.
When my mom mentioned setting me up with the son of her friend from book club, I knew she was just grasping at opportunities to get me out of her hair and out of my own head. I know I’ve been driving her up the wall.
Since work gave me all the time off I need after Dad’s heart attack, I spend most of the day hovering around the house and spewing worst-case scenarios about Dad’s health, despite him recovering just fine. Better than fine, really. The nurse at his last appointment said he was on track for a full recovery in record time, but that hasn’t stopped me from gnawing at my cuticles and grilling Mom with questions about his medical history and cholesterol levels.
So I agreed to let this guy buy me sushi to give my mom a little room to breathe. If I’m lucky, maybe this date will even get my mind off a certain quarterback for an evening. Killing two birds with one chopstick. At least, a girl can hope.
Kevin pulls me in for an informal but slightly awkward hug. I can’t help but notice how skinny he seems, but then again, any guy is going to seem skinny after you’ve cozied up to a pro football player. As the hostess leads us to our table, I promise myself that will be my first and last thought about Wes for the evening.
As we take our seats and open our menus, Kevin hits me with the same opening line I’ve heard a dozen times. “So, I hear you work for the Hawks.”
A proud smile spreads across my face. “I sure do. Best team in the league. What about you? What do you do?”
He starts in on a long-winded explanation about his career in software sales, pausing only to order us a bottle of cabernet—after clearing with me that I drink reds, of course. Cute guy, normal job, hasn’t brought up a crazy ex-girlfriend or living in his mother’s basement yet. Maybe I’ve served my time on enough crappy blind dates, and it’s finally my turn for a good one.
“But enough about me,” he says, reaching for his glass of wine. “You work in professional football. That must be a trip.”
“Actually, with all the away games, I would say it’s a lot of trips,” I say with a smirk, but Kevin doesn’t even crack a grin. I can’t help but think that Wes would have laughed at that joke.
“Do you like it?” Kevin asks, squinting at me suspiciously.
“Like it?” I laugh. “It’s my whole life. I grew up going to Hawks games with my dad all the time. He’s the head coach now, so I guess football is just in our DNA. The whole game is such a rush from start to finish, and these guys are so crazy driven.” My mind immediately turns to one player in particular, so I add, “Every single one of them.”
Kevin crinkles his nose in distaste. Maybe the wine is bad?
I take a sip. Nope, it’s just fine.
“So you work directly with the players?” Kevin says, dragging out the word players as if he were saying dirty socks or moldy cheese.
“Well, yeah. I’m the assistant manager. That’s kind of a huge part of my job.”
He shrugs, swirling the wine in his glass. “I’m not really a football fan. I don’t watch or anything. But those guys just seem so . . . I don’t know. They’re like Neanderthals or something. How does a girl like you work with them all the time?”
The waitress appears as I jolt up in my seat, saving me from snapping back at that Neanderthals comment. And what does he mean by “a girl like me”? He’s known me for all of five minutes.
Kevin orders a few rolls, but I tell the waitress I’ll just stick to wine, suddenly not feeling particularly hungry. He scrunches his eyebrows at me in confusion, but I force a tight smile and close my menu. Looks like this blind date is another clunker after all.
Sure, this guy is moderately handsome, and I’m sure he’d be perfect for a lot of girls. But not me. I could never fall for someone like him, someone who doesn’t understand such a crucial aspect of my life. I’m not necessarily looking for a guy who knows who won every Super Bowl. He doesn’t have to be football obsessed. But he does have to be a football fan, a football appreciator, or maybe—
A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow it as I complete the thought that I wish I wasn’t having.
Or maybe a football player.
Maybe Wes was right from the beginning when he said that I always did have a thing for football players. Or maybe, more specifically, I’ve just always had a thing for him.
He was so sweet while Dad was in the hospital, always ready to help out any way that he could. He broke things off with me, he has no obligation to my family, and yet he was still there when I needed him the most. Maybe there’s a reason he came back into my life. Maybe it’s no accident that I can’t seem to shake him.
“Hello? Jane?”
With a shudder and a few blinks, I return to reality. A dismal reality where I’m sitting across the table from a guy I have no interest in. And all I want is to escape back into my daydream.
Instead, I take another long sip of my wine.
Chapter Twenty
Weston
My heart rate spikes when I hear Jane’s muffled, but unmistakable voice. I shouldn’t be surprised she came to work even earlier than I did. With her dad’s heart condition and our breakup, it’s understandable that she’s thrown herself into work. Hell, I’ve been doing the exact same thing.
As I push open the door to the inner hall, I see she’s chatting with the janitor, her slim back to me.
“Howdy,” he says when he sees me. “You’re here early.”
Jane’s shoulders twitch. She turns to face me
with an expression of careful, fragile neutrality. “Good morning.”
That hyper-professional mask is familiar, but this time, it’s not hiding anger. The hurt buried deep in her eyes makes my chest ache.
I’ll make it right, I vow, making her a silent promise. I worked on my plan for hours last night, and as soon as we get the chance to talk, I have something that I hope will heal everything.
In the meantime, I can’t just stare blankly at them. What was this guy’s name again? Fred? No, Frank. I’ve never talked to him much, but he seems like a nice old man.
“Yeah, I woke up at four thirty and couldn’t fall back asleep. Figured I might as well get started on strength training.”
Frank nods with a hmm of understanding. Nobody speaks. They’re clearly not going to continue with their conversation while I’m here.
Well, I’m more than happy to puncture this awkward atmosphere. “See you later,” I say, and start off to the locker room.
But when I’m about halfway down the hall, Frank says to Jane, “A little bird told me you had a date last night.”
I freeze for an instant, then hurry around the corner, trying to act like I didn’t hear anything.
A date? Jane’s already started dating again? My stomach clenches almost violently at that knowledge. Fuck, am I too late?
Fear makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It’s entirely possible that I messed around too long and made too many mistakes, and now I want to ram my head through this cinderblock wall because I might have blown my chance.
I shouldn’t eavesdrop. I really shouldn’t. But I’m too desperate for more information to force myself to move.
“Seriously?” Jane groans. “Is my father the one feeding you this information?”
Frank wisely doesn’t explain how he found out. “So? How’d it go?” His voice has the prodding tone of a doting father.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” I know she’s shrugging without looking at her. Probably knotting her fingers together too.