Matters to Me: A Football Romance (The Hart Series Book 4)

by M. E. Carter

  One of the biggest benefits to this change in situation, however, has been how my issues have changed at practice. Con and the other guys have been laying off me since the meet a couple of weeks ago and the subsequent public outing of my relationship. It’s been nice to not have a giant target on my back in the one place I love the most. Well, maybe the target is still there, but it’s much, much smaller now. I feel like I can breathe again.

  The other nice part of practice has nothing to do with Heath and everything to do with all the hard work I’ve been putting in. After the accidental addition of my Shushunova, Coach made it clear I’m a contender for one of our floor-exercise spots. It’s not a guarantee, and I need to make that a permanent addition to my routine, but for a walk-on athlete, it’s still a dream come true. And that little bit of extra confidence has been as effective as the rage was at getting things accomplished. Maybe even more so.

  Confidence, however, is something Ellery seems to be lacking lately in her own skills.

  “I just want to make it on bars. I’m not asking to vie for the all-around title,” she whines to me for the millionth time. She is seriously stressed out over the intra-squad meet coming up next month. “I know I’m not as good as Cassidy and Layla, but at least give me a shot to show I can medal on bars. Have you seen my piked Deltchev? I’ve almost got it nailed. That’s huge,” she says, referring to the release move she’s been working on for weeks now.

  “Coach still has one more meet to decide, Ellery,” I remind her. “You don’t need to stress about it yet.”

  It’s still odd having conversations with her. This is our third year of being on the team together and the first time we’ve become sort of friends. Maybe because this is the first year I haven’t just been the outsider, I’ve been the target. Maybe Ellery has truly seen some of the shitty behavior people around here pull. Or maybe she finally stepped away from the crowd to actually get to know me and likes what she’s learned. Either way, it’s been okay having someone to hang out with in the gym. Even if the conversation is as simple as, “Can I borrow your grip tape? Mine just ran out.”

  She lets out a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve got time, I’m just nervous. You know how cutthroat people can be.”

  I snort a laugh as we push open the heavy gym doors and step out into the chilly evening air. “Oh yeah. I’m shocked my jugular is still intact sometimes.”

  She stops short and the look on her face entirely changes from one of frustration to one of delight. Gesturing with her head to something behind me, she says, “You seem to have made it through okay.” She gives me a small wink, and I look over to see my “boyfriend” leaning against the wall.

  His strong, denim-clad leg is bent, foot propped up on the wall behind him with his hands shoved in his pockets. His broad shoulders and large frame relax like he’s deep in thought. His dark skin camouflages him in the last remaining shadows that are cast across the building. He’s beautiful. And I’m not the only one who notices.

  Ellery giggles next to me and says, “See ya later, Lauren,” before heading the opposite direction, leaving me alone with Heath.

  I shouldn’t feel giddy about him being here. I shouldn’t have butterflies in my stomach when he hears us and looks up. But I do. And it takes everything in me to remember this isn’t real. He’s not really looking at me with heat in his eyes. He’s playing a role. A very convincing role, but that’s all it is, regardless.

  “Hi.” I stroll toward him, shoving my own hands in the front pocket of my hoodie.

  “Done already? I wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes or so.”

  “And yet, you’re standing out here waiting for me?” I tease.

  He flashes me a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and before he confirms it, I already know he needed some time alone. “I was just thinking. No big deal.”

  Heath pushes off the wall and we slowly walk toward the dorm, neither of us in a hurry. Normally, I would be booking it across campus. Rarely do I slow down. But something about his mood makes me feel like he needs this—fresh air, and maybe even a friend. Plus, I’ve come to enjoy our walks. It’s my favorite part of the day.

  “It sounds like a big deal. Anything I can help you with?” I offer.

  He ponders my question, probably deciding how much he wants to tell me. We’ve had some decent conversations over the last couple of weeks, but this one already feels more personal than, “How did your economics test go?” and, “Did you finish watching all those game tapes?” We’re close enough now not to avoid each other, but I’m not sure we could consider ourselves good friends.

  “Are you close with your family?” he finally asks. That’s not at all what I expected him to say, but it gives me a little insight as to what’s got him needing time alone. Apparently, it has nothing to do with life on campus.

  “No. Well, yes. I mean…” I fumble over my words, not exactly sure how to explain my weird family. “I guess it depends on your definition of closeness. Do I go home for the holidays and talk to my mother on the phone once a week? Sure. Do my sister and I make contact outside of those holiday visits? No.”

  “How come?”

  Now it’s my turn to think about how to answer. “I don’t know. We don’t have much in common, I guess. She’s kind of self-absorbed by nature, and I’ve been told I can be stubborn.” He chuckles next to me, but I can’t blame him. I’m not exactly stealthy when I dig my heels into the ground. That’s how I got a fake boyfriend, after all. “I guess once I get tired of being treated like I’m insignificant, I shut people out. Not on purpose, necessarily. Maybe more out of self-preservation.”

  “She’s really that bad?”

  I shrug. “She’s not as bad as my teammates. But she’s made it clear over the years that my choices are my problem. And she’s passive-aggressive with her comments. The small pokes and prods sting after a while. Waterboarding is illegal for a reason. I feel like sometimes she gives me the emotional version of that.”

  Heath looks like he wants to say something. Maybe try to make me feel better about the fact that my sister and I will never be close. Or maybe to tell me that she’s the one missing out. Not that I need his reassurance. When I was a kid, I always thought the TV shows with close-knit families were purely fiction for our entertainment purposes. It never occurred to me that real families like that exist. Obviously, they don’t all push through conflict in twenty-two minutes plus two commercial breaks, but there are people out there who are close with their parents and call their siblings their best friends. It’s kind of mind-boggling to think about.

  I suspect Heath has one of those families. And I have a feeling something happened with them tonight. I don’t want to come right out and ask, though.

  “I take it you’re close with yours?”

  “Oh yeah,” he replies with no hesitation at all. “I talked to them earlier. I wish I lived closer.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “Lubbock.”

  “Wow. I had no idea you hailed from West Texas. That’s quite a hike if you want to go home for a weekend.”

  He nods. “I don’t have time to go home for weekends anyway. But yeah, it would be nice if I at least had the option.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it would make you more frustrated if you were closer but couldn’t take advantage of it because of your football schedule.”

  He considers me for a minute as we stroll. The air around us is crisp, but not really cold for a November evening. It feels good on my skin, which is still warm from exercise. This time of year is my favorite for that reason—the reprieve from the scorching heat, but not cool enough that you run the risk of hyperthermia from walking out of practice sweaty.

  “They’re struggling, ya know?”

  Heath’s comment confuses me. “Who is?”

  “My parents,” he says quietly, and I wonder if he’s afraid he’s already said too much. I don’t push him, though. I don’t like it when people try to force me to talk ab
out certain things, so I don’t want to do it to him. Instead, I remain quiet, giving him an opening if he wants one. Apparently, he does. “I just worry about them.”

  I wasn’t going to push, but I feel like he needs someone to vent to.

  “How come?”

  Heath heaves a sigh. “I have three little sisters—Jackie, Maggie, and Amy. All of them are teenagers which means all of them have upcoming proms and college and probably weddings in the future. I hate that my mom and dad have to work so hard to pay for everything. They should be looking at retirement, not picking up more hours.”

  My dorm comes into view, the lobby seeming extra illuminated as the sun goes down. I feel like some of Heath’s stress has also been illuminated as well.

  “Can I ask you something personal?”

  He looks at me for a long minute before finally nodding.

  “Is that why you worry so much about staying focused on football? Because you want to get into the pros to take care of your family?”

  Looking up at the sky, he sighs before answering. “That obvious, huh?”

  “No. But you aren’t the only one that can figure people out.”

  “It just seems like there is so much on the line sometimes. Jackie was telling me tonight about her prom coming up and how she needs a dress and a hair appointment and a mani/pedi… her list just kept going and I kept thinking, they can’t afford that. Dad’s gonna have to work twenty extra hours to make enough money to pay for all that.” Heath shakes his head in discouragement. “Sometimes I wish my sisters would stop growing up for just a couple more years until I sign a contract and get my first paycheck.”

  We come to a stop at the bottom of the entryway stairs. Our walk may be over, but it feels too abrupt to end this conversation right now.

  “I know I don’t have the closest family, but I used to watch a lot of family sitcoms when I was a kid.”

  Heath chuckles. I like the sound. It’s soft and deep and reverberates throughout my body. “And what life lessons did you learn from the magic of television?”

  “That most parents, the good ones, don’t want their kids worrying about how the bills are going to get paid. That’s not your job.”

  “It feels like it, though. I have the means to make their life so much easier.”

  “I know. And you will. In two years or less, depending on if you get invited to the combine this year or wait until next.” I put my hand on his arm, hoping to convey my understanding for the pressure he’s under. “Do your parents know how much you want to help them?”

  Just as I suspect, he shakes his head.

  “That’s what I thought. Which means you have two years to keep your eyes on the prize and work for your goal. If they don’t know you plan to support them when you go pro, they’re going to be surprised either way. And if it doesn’t happen, well, they won’t be disappointed about something they never knew.”

  Heath nods, and I hope that means he agrees with me. But I can tell he’s still in his head trying to come up with the best game plans to take care of everyone. I hate that he’s put so much pressure on himself. But it’s also endearing to see how much he cares. How much he wants to make things easier for his family. I don’t know if mine would care if I had to work overtime regularly to make ends meet for my kids. It’s a sobering—and sad—thought.

  “Well,” he finally says abruptly, making it clear this topic is finished. “I have a paper to write for my eight-a.m. class, so I better head back to my dorm.”

  “Thanks for walking me home. I like talking to you.”

  His dark eyes flash up to mine and there’s a look in them I can’t decipher. It almost seems to be one of surprise. “You’re welcome. I enjoy talking to you, too.”

  I look at the ground and turn quickly, trying to hide the fact that I’m biting back a smile. I think that’s as close as I’ll ever come to Heath Germaine admitting that he may have been wrong about his initial assessment of me.

  Trotting up the stairs, I use my key fob to unclick the door and yank it open into what feels like a sauna. “Ugh,” I say to myself. “Who the hell runs the HVAC around here, and why do they think it’s a blizzard outside?”

  What’s-his-name who sits at the desk doing who knows what just glances up at me, unconcerned if I belong in the building or not. Glad to know our safety is the top priority around here. I shake my head.

  It takes just a few seconds to get into my room and realize I’m all alone. I’m sure Annika is with Jaxon somewhere. The two of them are inseparable. It’s only a matter of time before they get engaged, which makes me happy for her. She deserves someone great like Jaxon.

  Me? Not sure I’ll ever be so lucky to find a great guy. Girls like me are the last to be chosen. Like in elementary P.E. class when two people pick teams and everyone crosses their fingers, praying they aren’t the last ones standing against the wall.

  No. No! Those self-deprecating thoughts aren’t welcome right now. I had a great practice and a great walk home, and it’s not about being wanted by a man. My future is dictated by whether or not I want him.

  Or at least that’s what I’ll keep telling myself until I really feel that way.

  Blowing my bangs out of my face, I know the quickest way to derail the negative self-talk is with some good conversation. I grab my phone out of my pocket and dial. Flopping on my bed, I listen to it ring once… twice…

  “Hey!” Kiersten’s voice already puts me in a good mood.

  “Hey. What’s going on?”

  “I am getting ready for a date.”

  My eyes widen. Hook-ups we’re used to. But a date? That’s extremely rare. “Like with dinner and a movie and everything?”

  She laughs through the line, and I can tell she’s excited about this new experience. “More like dinner and dancing…”

  “Of course.”

  “… but yes! His name is Chad and he’s super cute. Came into the bar last week and hung out at the end until closing time. He’s so nice.”

  “That’s so great, Kiersten,” I gush. “Is he hot? Tell me he’s hot.”

  Another laugh. Man, she’s really into this guy. “Hot in a boy-next-door kind of way.”

  “Oooh. That’s the best kind.”

  “I know,” she says with a sigh. “I don’t want to jinx it, but I like him so much. We’ve hooked up a few times, and I wasn’t expecting more than that. It’s kind of nice being appreciated for more than just my skills in bed, ya know?”

  No, actually I don’t know because I haven’t found anyone who likes me for more than that yet. Case in point… Con. I don’t say that though. I know she would immediately start wanting to psychoanalyze me, and I don’t want to ruin her date.

  “Totally get it. I hope it works out. If you like him this much, he must be a great guy.”

  “He is.” I can practically see the dreamy look on her face. “But enough about me. How’s it going there? Still kicking ass and taking names in the gym?”

  “Every day. My routine is coming along, and if I keep perfecting it, I should be a shoo-in for a Nationals spot.”

  There’s a click on the line before she yells, “That’s so great! I knew you just had to get over that mental plateau.”

  “Did you put me on speaker?”

  “Yeah sorry. I’m finishing up my makeup.”

  “No worries,” I grunt as I push myself off the bed. “I know you’re getting ready to go, but I want to know when you’re planning to visit again.”

  “Um… I was thinking like next month? Before your season officially starts and your weekends are always booked? So, I guess maybe the week before finals.”

  I snort a laugh because if anyone is going to take a long weekend break in the middle of a college student’s busiest time of the semester, it’s Kiersten.

  “I’ll check my schedule and let you know. I haven’t even looked at it yet.” I use one hand to shimmy out of my pants and hoodie, leaving me in my skimpy work-out clothes. Gathering my shower supplies
, I use my chin to hold my phone in place. “I should know by next week, and we can make plans.”

  “Sounds good. And by then, I should have more news about Chaaaaad,” she singsongs making me laugh.

  “I hope so. And if not, we’ll make a voodoo doll and stick pins in all the right places.”

  “Deal,” she says with a laugh. “Anyway, I gotta run. I’m supposed to meet him downstairs in five.”

  “Cool. Call me later.”

  “Adios, chica.”

  We disconnect, and I toss my phone aside, heading for the shower we share with our suitemate, who always steals my shampoo. Jokes on her! I keep it in my room now.

  I hate that Kiersten lives so far away, but I love that even when she’s not here, she’s always got my back. It’s nice to have solid friends.

  If only I could say that about my teammates.

  TWELVE

  Heath

  I’m sweaty. My muscles hurt. And I’m in desperate need of a shower. After an hour of weight training, I’m spent.

  It’s not just my body. My head is starting to hurt, too, because of a tiny blonde gymnast who won’t leave my thoughts. I can’t get my conversation with Lauren out of my mind. I was just babbling when I walked her home yesterday, processing my thoughts out loud and all that. I didn’t expect her to do more than listen at the most. Honestly, I thought she was pretending to be paying attention, not actually hearing what I was saying. But she cared about the pressure I feel and felt compelled to give me what essentially amounts to words of wisdom. My already changing perception about her shifted once again, and I’m not sure what to do with that.