Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love)

by Agnes Canestri

  A hint of coconut titillates my nose, and before I even realize it’s coming from Ellie’s curls, the exotic scent has already made my mouth water. Bounty chocolate bars used to be the treat my mother would sneak into my sports bag, and I’d devour them after each training.

  Perhaps it’s this delicious fragrance or the rustling sound of the acacia leaves, but my imagination plays along with Ellie’s absurd exercise.

  I’m not sure if I’m a bunny, but I’m definitely now standing in woods that look eerily familiar to the small park where I used to go as a kid, behind our house in Kingman.

  “Suddenly, a dark figure comes out of the shadow.” Ellie’s voice becomes grave. “The person is carrying a weapon. You can’t see what it is, but you hear a metallic clinking on the ground.”

  The image of my father with his belt dangling loosely from his fist pops into my mind. The sound of the prong hitting against the end tip reverberates in my skull as if I could hear its characteristic jingle right now.

  My body goes rigid, and my jaw tightens.

  A throbbing starts in my temples, and it must be strong enough for Ellie to feel, because she draws back her fingers from my face. “Did this imagery trigger something special in you?”

  “No,” I answer without opening my eyes.

  There’s nothing special about a drunk bum who abuses his son. Absolutely nothing.

  “You don’t have to tell me what you saw unless you want to…” Ellie waits, but when I don’t answer, she continues, “We’ll just work with your body then, okay?”

  “Sure,” I murmur without much listening to what she says.

  Ellie touches my hand, and as her fingers close around mine, I realize that it’s rolled into a tight fist.

  I open my eyes and find her gazing at me with tilted eyebrows. There’s compassion and understanding in her glint as if she’s sensed the ache twirling in my chest and knows what unleashed it.

  But, of course, she doesn’t know.

  Nobody does. Not even Devon, Pete, or Joe. I’ve never told anyone what kind of hell I’d survived.

  No, not merely survived.

  I’d used my past as a jumping board. It’d been the fuel that propelled me into my efforts of becoming the best and had helped me make it to the NFL. I wanted to show my father that he couldn’t break my dreams.

  Ellie captures my eyes. “Please tell me what you’re feeling right now. Not why, but what. Just the sensations, but without filtering.”

  “Uhm, I don’t know, I guess your rabbit story tensed me up a little.” I opt for a nonchalant tone, but my strained muscles betray my bluff.

  “Be specific. Where is it that your unease manifests itself the most? Your neck? Your legs?”

  I wiggle my fists a little but not enough to shake off Ellie’s hand from my skin. Right now, her touch is the only thing keeping me from smashing something. “In these, I guess. My hands are clenched.”

  Ellie gives me an approving smile. “Very good. Now, I want you to hold on to this feeling and tell me what you would like to do.”

  “Punch something,” I murmur without hesitation. “Or someone. Yes, preferably someone.”

  “Okay, let’s do that,” Ellie says.

  My eyes dart to her. “What do you mean? You want me to hit someone? Who?”

  She nods. “Me.”

  I yank my hand away from her and step back. “I won’t hit you. Are you crazy? You could die if I did. Besides, I’m not upset with you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “No, but you’re obviously very angry at someone.”

  “I might have some unresolved fury brewing, yes.” I realize that my words speak the truth.

  “So let’s unclog that.” Ellie smiles.

  “How?”

  “When you lash out at someone, it always happens in a fraction of a second. Like when you scream and realize after what you said. Or when you hit that teammate. You acted before you could think, so your mind couldn’t process the emotion. Perhaps you didn’t even want that to happen, but it did. And after it did, you felt shocked and guilty, and tried to deny that it meant something.”

  I gape at her.

  She’s nailed what went down with Rodriguez.

  Ellie flashes an understanding smile. “Don’t beat yourself up for what happened before. You’re here now, working through your issues, and that’s what counts. I’ll teach you to deal with your tension differently.”

  She inches to me slowly, as if afraid that I might recoil. She reaches for my hand again. “May I?”

  I nod.

  She engulfs my wrist in her both of her palms. “Look, I’ll guide your hand toward my cheek in slow motion—very gradually. I want you to monitor closely what goes through your head as we do this exercise, as you prepare to punch me. You’ll obviously not put any force into your blow, or else I’ll go K.O.”

  She grins, and without leaving me a chance to protest, she lifts my hand. The movement she makes me do almost equals a standstill. I hardly realize she’s shifting me closer to her face.

  “Concentrate on the emotions this triggers in you,” she says in an even and calm voice.

  I try to study the bitterness that had been coursing through my body only a minute ago. To my surprise, I can’t find any trace of it—like it evaporated or never even existed.

  A sweet buzzing has taken its place—a mushy, almost giddy sensation that coats my insides like a soothing balm.

  My fist relaxes just before it reaches her cheek.

  A smile tugs at Ellie’s lower lip. “It’s working. I knew it would.”

  “Indeed,” I murmur.

  Ellie stands only two feet from me, and our bodies are connected, our gazes interlocked. It’s been over ten years since Ellie and I were in such an intimate position as we are right now—hand in hand, staring into each other’s eyes.

  She’s right, only it’s not her exercise that helped me let go of my negativity, but her presence. Which is probably not what was meant to happen.

  I free my hand from her grip before my fist reaches her cheek. “I think we can stop.”

  I can’t prevent my thumb from brushing her neckline briefly, almost as if by accident—an accident my cells deeply desire—before retreating from her.

  Her breath hitches. “Anyway, that’s the best way to treat tension. As you could see, when you become mindful of your feelings, they dissolve.”

  She turns and strides back to the sofa.

  I stare at her back and can’t help but fear that no matter how mindful I become about the sensations Ellie unleashes in me, I’d still be a victim of her allure.

  Chapter 14

  (Ellie)

  The temperature in our condo’s empty basement is sultry, making our stretching session led by Cora feel like an authentic Bikram yoga practice.

  I don’t mind the heat. I hope the sweating will wash out all the unhealthy emotions I accumulated throughout this week’s sessions with Wyatt.

  Sensations I’m not supposed to have for so many reasons.

  “Laia, sugar, that’s no way of doing a downward facing dog,” Cora scolds my future sister-in-law. “You’re dropping your neck again. I told you not to do that.”

  I throw a glance at Laia, but I can only see patches of red skin beneath the thick curtain of her dark mane that spreads around her head, making her resemble Cousin Itt.

  I’d invited Laia to our usual Friday afternoon workout because Hope had gotten caught up in a meeting—again—and I didn’t want to endure Cora’s brutal training alone.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her so Cora can’t hear us. “Cora’s a very severe instructor.”

  “That’s okay,” Laia pants back. “It’s my fault. I’m so stiff.”

  “You two, practice is almost over and then you can get back to gossiping,” Cora says while firming her shoulder blades against her back and drawing them toward her tailbone.

  No wonder my roomie has such perfectly toned abs. She can keep still like it’s noth
ing, even in the three-legged plank position.

  “I’ll continue my story about Dev and Wyatt’s night out after this pose ends, okay?” Laia whispers, then imitates Cora’s impressively fluid motion—with little success.

  Fine. So I might have had another minor hidden agenda when I invited my brother’s fiancée to join us.

  But my interest in Wyatt’s affairs is purely professional.

  Wyatt showed intense physical reactions to several of the exercises I’d proposed to him during our first week. Though I’ve done my best to encourage him, he hasn’t verbalized the core of his unease yet. I hope that if I learn more about how Wyatt spends his afternoons and evenings, it might shed some light on what’s really going on with him.

  Cora sits back to her heels. “We’re done for today.” She grins at Laia, who’s catching her breath. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Enjoying might be too strong of a word for now.” Laia smiles at my roomie. “I’m all sore. All the stooping in front of the computer takes away my flexibility. I’ve installed an app that freezes my screen every hour, so I stand up and move, but—”

  “You use the breaks to scribble ideas by hand for your novels?” I finish Laia’s sentence for her.

  Laia’s eyes widen. “How did you know?”

  “Just a guess.” I’m afraid if I point out that the last time I visited her, her house had been chock-full of handwritten notes, I might derail her from the tale she needs to finish. “So that night out, you wanted to tell me about…”

  My prompting collides with Cora’s encouragement. “You should come to our yoga practice more often, sugar. It’ll get you into great shape for your wedding,” she says to Laia.

  Laia’s eyes illuminate, and she pivots to Cora. “Ah, really? You think so?”

  I stifle a frustrated grunt.

  I know Cora didn’t do it on purpose, but she’s just double-crossed me big time. Laia, being the romantic soul she is, adores talking about her upcoming nuptials. Now I must explicitly ask her to return to the topic of Wyatt.

  But if I do that, Cora might get suspicious. My roomie already gave me a questioning look the first time I casually asked Laia whether she knew what Wyatt’d been up to these days.

  Cora starts combing through her ombre ponytail, staring at Laia with a dreamy smile. “You’re so lucky that Devon proposed to you.”

  “If Andrew is the right one, he’ll pop the question eventually,” Laia assures her.

  “We’ll see,” Cora answers.

  The guarded edge in her tone makes me forget my previous suspicion and study her face to understand its origin. I’m not sure whether it’s her uncertainty about Laia’s prediction that makes her hesitant or whether she has conflicting feelings about the possibility that Andrew’s proposal might actually happen.

  Before I can decide, Laia turns to me. “Devon will have two best men. He couldn’t choose between Wyatt and Pete, so I get to have two bridesmaids as well. You and my cousin. What do you think?”

  My brows rise. “What about your best friend, Chelsea?”

  “Chels told me she’d prefer to stay at her beau’s side during the ceremony. It’s unusual for her to be so considerate of a guy’s feelings, so I think she really likes Howard,” Laia answers, blissfully unaware of my thumping heart.

  I wish it were only the surprise that Laia is offering me this honor, but it’s not just that. And precisely because my heart is racing, I need to take all the necessary precautions. Pronto.

  “If I’m not stepping on your bestie’s toe, then I’d love to be your bridesmaid. As long as you don’t pair me up with Wyatt,” I say.

  Cora lifts a brow at me.

  I quickly reach for my yoga mat and roll it up to lessen the effect of her penetrating gaze.

  Laia, thank goodness, doesn’t seem startled by my latest request. “Pete’s tomcat manners would make Nathan, Eva’s hubby, jittery, so I’ll make her walk down the aisle with Wyatt.”

  “Great idea,” I reply, but to my surprise, the relief in my voice is tinted with something weird—almost as if a splash of tangy lemon juice got mixed into my words.

  “Is the ceasefire between you and Wyatt only temporary, then?” Cora asks.

  My fingers tighten around the pink foam mat that’s now in a neat bundle. “What do you mean?”

  “I think she’s asking whether you’ve buried the hatchet with Wyatt for good or not,” Laia chimes in while twisting her long, dark hair into a messy bun. “The air between you in El Placer seemed so chilled. Isn’t that right, Cora?”

  Cora taps a pearl-tinted fingernail on her lower lip twice. “My impression wasn’t exactly that. The air between Ellie and Wyatt seemed rather…charged, if you know what I mean.” She wiggles her brows at me.

  I freeze.

  I remember those loaded particles snapping back and forth between Wyatt and me during our dinner.

  Did Cora notice them too?

  I arrange my facial muscles in a hopefully serene expression and forbid my hand from doing my usual finger tapping. “No, I don’t know.”

  Cora cocks her head to the side and studies my face. “I might not dig into people’s brains for work like you or get paid to unmask cheaters like Hope, but part of my job is to recognize when an object resonates with someone on a deeper level. Plus, I know you like you were my sister, and I can tell that Wyatt is moving something in you. Something profound.”

  I think I pale because a chilly sensation spreads on my cheeks.

  I need to deny Cora’s words, but I can’t. The words won’t come to my tongue, no matter how much I try to conjure them.

  Laia’s eyes widen, then she shifts closer to me and touches my hand. “Ellie? Did something happen between you and Wyatt?”

  Maybe it’s the sweetness in Laia’s voice, like she’s truly worried about me, or the piercing glance of my roomie that confirms that despite my best effort at pretending, she’s onto me, but a sudden urge to unload at least a fraction of my current mayhem invades my chest.

  I blow out the air from my cheeks with a whoosh that hums like a fat bumblebee. “Many years ago, Wyatt and I had a…a short…a sort of…a thing.”

  Laia gasps. “You mean a romantic thing?

  I nod.

  “I always suspected there had to be more between you two. You couldn’t just start disliking someone for a stupid argument,” Cora says.

  Laia shakes her head. “I don’t understand. How come Devon never mentioned this to me?”

  “I never told him. Or anyone else.” I shrug.

  Cora studies me without saying a word.

  I feel like a hypocrite recalling the countless times I told my roomie how important it was to talk openly about her past to liberate the ghosts that still torment her.

  “But why?” Laia asks. “Keeping a secret like this must be hard.”

  “By the time there was something to tell, it was almost over. It only lasted a month or so,” I reply, avoiding their gazes.

  “A month is a long time.” Laia pulls her knees to her chin.

  “Maybe,” I murmur.

  And perhaps it is. I indeed can’t seem to forget it, no matter how hard I try.

  “When did you date?” Cora finally asks.

  Her voice is warm and lacks the accusing, why did you lie to us, tone I deserve.

  “In my second year in college. We got together at that frat party in Tucson.”

  Cora’s eyes drift to the ceiling, and she chews on her lower lip. “The one you went to with Hope? So it started just after Devon discovered Morgan’s betrayal, huh?” She blinks back at me, searching my gaze. “Is that why you kept it quiet? Because you didn’t want to burden your brother?”

  “Not with my happiness at first, and certainly not with my pain afterward.” I sigh, a numbness nabbing my limbs.

  It’s frightening and comforting to have friends who can deduce my motives so quickly.

  Laia’s face twitches. She knows firsthand how that delusion had affected my br
other. If it weren’t for Laia, Devon would still be a prisoner of that hideous playboy lifestyle Morgan pushed him into.

  My roomie crawls over to me on all fours and hugs my shoulder. “So it ended that badly?”

  I smooth a wrinkle on my blue T-shirt. “Well…I fell hard for Wyatt, so when he broke up with me, I had a hard time accepting how little he cared for me.”

  Laia puts her palms on my ankles, nuzzling them. “Why did he end things?”

  “He got drafted and wanted to focus entirely on his new career. But it wasn’t just the fact that he’d placed me second to football. What made it worse was how he did it—over the phone.” I try to describe the events as factually as possible, but my voice still breaks at the end.

  I’d stacked away the memory of my breakup with Wyatt like one might imprison a malicious genie in a bottle, safely and tightly. But now the cork is loosening, and long-stifled details are drifting to the surface, filling my chest.

  Both Laia and Cora gasp.

  “You’re kidding, right?” My roomie asks.

  I shake my head. “Nope. The day after Wyatt left for Atlanta, he called me to say that it was better if we nipped our blossoming romance in the bud before either of us could develop serious feelings for the other.”

  “Breaking up from another city?” Cora’s face moves into a grimace of horror. “That’s just horrible. So he left without telling you he wanted out, and once at a safe distance, he called and dumped you? That’s such a cowardly thing to do.”

  Laia wrinkles her forehead. “Yeah, it isn’t very courageous…but maybe he did it because he fell for Ellie and knew he couldn’t let her go if he stood face to face with her.”

  “But why did he have to let her go?” Cora asks. “There are plenty of football players who have families.

  “I don’t know,” Laia sighs. “Did he give you any other reasons?”

  It takes me a second to realize she asked me a question.

  I’d kept my secret for so long that it’s unbelievable that my friends would interrogate me about Wyatt.