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

by Agnes Canestri

  “Mom, I’m sorry for my harsh words and my commanding tone,” I say. “I don’t want you to get sucked back into that nightmare again.”

  She sniffs. “I know, son. I won’t.”

  “Good,” I murmur, but the guilt of having chided my mother still courses through me. To soothe it, I say, “You know what? I’ll come visit you earlier than we planned. It’s not possible this weekend, because our running back, Joe, is arriving in Phoenix tonight. He’s only staying for two days, though, so I could drive up to Kingman on Monday.”

  It’d mean skipping a session with Ellie, but I want to look into my mother’s eyes when she promises she won’t pick up any future calls from Dad. I’ll need to convince Ellie not to record our missing meeting in my report, otherwise my required therapy hours might not add up. Would Ellie do that for me?

  Perhaps she will if I explain to her what I’ve just realized about my father.

  While I’m thinking about this, Mom says, “Monday? That’s…that’s not so good. I have…an appointment at the doctor’s in the afternoon. For my ankle.”

  My brows crease. “What happened to your ankle?”

  “Nothing serious. I slipped on the church steps. It’s just a sprain, but to be sure, I’ll get Dr. Murrow to look at it.”

  “All the more reason for me to come,” I say. “I can take you to your appointment. You can’t possibly drive with a twisted ankle.”

  “No, no. His office is always full. You’d get bored waiting for me. Also, I’ve already asked Wendy to accompany me. Why don’t you come next weekend as we planned?”

  “Okay, if that’s what you prefer.”

  “Yes.” Mom exhales as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. “That would be much better.”

  Mom and I say goodbye, and I lower the phone. I stick it back into my pocket while blowing the air out of my cheeks.

  If I don’t see Mom for an entire week, I’ll need to make sure she’s safe from Dad. Tomorrow I’ll contact my father and let him know that he should leave my mother alone. Yeah, I’ll do that.

  My eyes drift to the ice cream parlor.

  But for tonight, I’ll forget all about his lousy existence.

  I head back to Daisy’s Creamery. The bell on the door jingles as I push it open and the sugary scent of fresh waffle cones fills my nostrils.

  A girl with astonishingly large fake eyelashes stands behind the counter. She’s pinned her black curls so she resembles the Betty Boop poster hanging on the wall behind her.

  I step over to the glass case with over thirty ice cream buckets and scan the flavors.

  “Do you need any advice?” the server asks. She studies me from head-to-toe, pursing her lips slightly provocatively. “I’d love to give you a hand.”

  “No thanks, I already know what I want. Only I can’t find it here.”

  “What’s your poison, love?” she purrs.

  “Sweet avocado cayenne. It used to be a staple of this place years ago. Do you still make it?”

  The waitress’s face falls. “I’m sorry, love, but I can’t help you with that. There’s only one scoop left, so I took the bucket to the kitchen an hour ago.”

  I grin at her in my most charming way. “Well, I wanted at least three scoops, but I’ll be okay with less.”

  She shakes her head. “No can do. It’s for a regular client who comes every Friday at seven-thirty sharp.”

  I glance at my watch, then wave my hand toward the empty store. “Well, it’s past forty-two so—”

  The door chimes.

  The waitress blinks up and smiles. “You’re late, honey.”

  “I know, Monica, I’m sorry—”

  A familiar soprano chirps, and my heart stutters.

  I should have known…

  The shuffling of Ellie’s shoes moves closer while she continues to explain herself. “—Hope and Cora couldn’t make it, and since I was alone, I stopped to enjoy the sunset.”

  The waitress points at me. “If you’d come even a minute later, I might not have resisted this handsome gentleman’s dimples and sold him your ice cream. He’s a sucker for that flavor, too. Today was crazy, so I only have a scoop left, and it’s for you, of course.”

  Ellie is so close I feel her body heat roll in waves toward me. That or my senses are truly heightened through all the mindfulness therapy we’ve been doing.

  She didn’t recognize me from behind, probably because of my baseball cap, but she’s bound to realize it’s me soon. I prefer to anticipate her, so I take off my hat and turn. “Hi, Ellie.”

  She jumps, and her hand flies to her chest. “Wyatt?”

  “Yeah. I was at your brother’s, and on my way home, I remembered this ice cream parlor. I decided to check whether it still served that delicious avocado flavor.”

  Despite her bewilderment, she doesn’t seem annoyed at seeing me. There isn’t the same hostility in her irises as when she spotted me in that Mexican restaurant. “Ah, I see,” she answers.

  “You two know each other?” the girl asks.

  “Yes, we do.” Ellie nods.

  The waitress claps her hands. “That’s a fluke. Even more because you both like the same flavor.” Her eyes bounce between our faces, then stops on Ellie. “If you want, I’ll make two cones, each with a half scoop?”

  I throw a questioning glance at Ellie. “Would you be okay with sharing?”

  Ellie studies my face, then nods. “Sure.”

  Monica grins. “Okeydokey. Two half-portions of sweet avocado cayenne, coming right up.”

  Before she reaches the kitchen, Ellie calls out to her. “Don’t forget the—”

  “—more resistant napkins, please,” I finish Ellie’s phrase.

  Monica whips around and gives me a weird look, then she blinks at Ellie. She wiggles her brows, turns, and disappears.

  Ellie’s mouth opens then closes. She keeps her gaze on the counter while Monica comes back with the cones filled with bright green cream.

  The server hands them to us, together with a couple of white, thick napkins. “Here you go.”

  I latch my cap on my belt and grab my wallet before Ellie can reach for hers. “Please, allow me.”

  “Okay, thank you,” Ellie says.

  I pay Monica, and we exit the shop.

  After a few steps, Ellie stops and peers up at me. “So then…” Her tone sounds a lot like she’s saying goodbye.

  But she can’t leave now. I don’t want to waste this lucky coincidence. I’d like to stay in her company some more and share with her my epiphany about Dad.

  “Would you like to take a stroll in the park with me?” I ask.

  When her brows arch, I add, “You can ditch me whenever I bore you. I won’t get offended, I promise.”

  Ellie stares at me. “How did you know what I wanted to ask her?”

  “Her?”

  “Monica. You finished my phrase.”

  I shrug. “My memories of you”—of us—“never faded. I remember that you dislike the papery napkins they give with ice creams.”

  “I do.” She tilts her head to the side and draws in a breath. A weird glint invades her eyes. “Okay, let’s have a walk together.”

  Standing in front of this ice cream parlor, with our treats in our hands and gazing into each other’s eyes, catapults me back to a time when I had something else in my life besides football. Something that made my heart beat faster and lighter than it ever had—even counting my last Super Bowl game.

  Did I make a mistake giving that up?

  Chapter 16

  (Wyatt)

  TEN YEARS AGO

  The door of our college locker room slams, and the banging noise echoes through the walls, followed by a loud yell.

  “Morning, Wyatt.”

  I grab my T-shirt, stick my head through the opening and yank the fabric down over my torso before turning.

  I expect to see Jimmy or Mike, the only other players besides me who take their game seriously enough to arrive half an
hour in advance before a practice. But instead, it’s Coach Williams who marches toward me.

  When I first turned up to my college practice, our trainer’s physique had fooled me. His height makes him look leaner, but he’s more beast than man. When he stomps his foot, the cracks in the sidewalk are proof of his four-hundred-pound, rock-solid, creatine-fueled muscles.

  “Nice of you to show up,” he thunders at me, loudly, as if scolding a lineman who’s about to pick fried food from a buffet. Judging by his tone and furrowed eyebrows, he didn’t appreciate me missing our training last week.

  Okay, it’s best to pretend I didn’t pick up on his sour mood. “Morning, Coach,” I answer with a smile. “How are you today?”

  “Not nearly as good as you. Why are you sporting that imbecile grin like you were just handed the Man of the Year award, huh?” He gives me a disapproving glance. “And where were you on Friday?”

  “I had a thing, Coach. Sorry.” I avoid his scrutinizing glance.

  I don’t want him to read in my eyes that I had something more important to do.

  It’s not that I wanted to slack off, but I didn’t have a choice. The ballet performance Ellie had been raving about for over a week started too early. I never could’ve made the drive to Phoenix on time if I’d come to play as well.

  “A thing?” Coach William’s voice is icy. “Is this what you’ll tell your new team as well? Do you even comprehend the importance of what happened to you? You got drafted to the NFL, my son. The NFL. It’s a chance of a lifetime.”

  I shift my weight. “I know.”

  He shakes his head. “Do you? Because from the way you’ve been acting lately, it seems like you don’t. You’re distracted. You keep arriving late. And on Friday you skipped our practice. Do these actions remind you of a young man dedicated to his career?”

  His rebuke bugs me.

  I’ve always given all my energies to becoming the best quarterback. I made some slip-ups in the past weeks, but so what? My drafting game had been a success. Isn’t that what counts?

  I meet his glance with a composed expression.

  Coach Williams can be rather scary when he’s grumpy, but I’m rarely intimidated by anyone—I guess one good thing had to come out of dealing with my dad’s drunken temper.

  “I nailed the roster in the first round, didn’t I?”

  Coach Williams shakes his head. “Your dream wasn’t just to make it into the league, was it?”

  My jaw tightens. “Don’t I deserve some compensation? A break from the routine?”

  He sighs. “You do. But soon you’ll be playing for the Atlanta Kites. And there, even more than here, your focus will make or break your career.”

  “Having something else that matters beside football isn’t a sin.” I don’t even realize I’m using Ellie’s words until they spring out of my mouth like doves from a magician’s hat.

  My brain must have jumped back to her image, because the coach’s words reminded me that I still have to break the news to Ellie that I’ve been picked and will be leaving Arizona soon. I’d meant to tell her over the weekend, but I couldn’t bring myself to address the topic of a long-distance relationship.

  How will she react? I hope she’ll be open to it.

  Coach William snorts. “Son, what’s her name?”

  “There is no—”

  “Cut it,” he interrupts me. “I’ve been working with you for a long time. You’re our team’s star and the only one who deserved to be selected. But”—he lifts a finger—“only if you keep your head clear and leveled. Are you clear and leveled, Wyatt?”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “Guessing won’t carry you far in the NFL. Only knowing will. And acting on what you know is best. What happened to the laser-focused freshman who was ready to do anything to become a champion? He would’ve never guessed. Or lied to me.” Coach spits out the last part with obvious disdain.

  I know Coach Williams cares about his players’ success. His frustration is fueled by his concern for me.

  “NFL is all I want. You know this, Coach. But there’s this girl…”

  Coach William chuckles. “Ah, I see. Suddenly, there is a girl. I told you to stay away from those frat parties, didn’t I?”

  “She’s a friend’s sister. I know her from Kingman—” I keep silent about the fact that Ellie and I crossed the boundaries of friendship thanks to a frat party.

  The place doesn’t really matter. It’s not like I first noticed how incredible Ellie was that night. That process started much earlier. Probably that first afternoon when Devon invited me over to their house and Ellie came out to their backyard with fresh cucumber lemonades. The bright smile with which she offered me the glass remained ingrained in my mind. As did her quick-witted comments once she and I started talking.

  “—and she’s not just any girl. She’s special,” I add.

  A mocking glint invades Coach William’s eyes. “Do you intend on playing Romeo from another state? Between soul-crushing practices and new strategies you need to learn with the Kites? Will she travel to you? Or will you spend your weekends on the road?”

  Coach’s words punch me in the gut.

  For some reason, I haven’t pondered the logistics of my relationship with Ellie yet.

  “Why not?” I ask. “Some players are together with their high school sweethearts.” Heat spreads to my neck as I utter my phrase.

  Coach Williams’ laugh is dry and raspy. “Ah, that might be true. But do you know how many relationships end badly and hurt the player’s career while destroying the woman’s happiness in the process?”

  I shake my head.

  He pats my shoulder with a patronizing gesture. “Too many. Don’t forget, by thirty-nine you’ll be a grandpa in football terms. You’ll have enough time to think about your romantic involvements once your career is over. Why rush things now? You’re only twenty-three, for Pete’s sake.”

  “But what if she’s the one?”

  My coach tilts his head to the side. “Are you in love, big man?

  “Love?” I jerk back. “I’m not sure, but—”

  Coach waves dismissively. “Don’t misinterpret youthful devotion. Especially when it’s boosted with raging testosterone.” He pauses and his forehead creases. “Listen, I’ll tell you a brief story of a talented young player. This guy got drafted like you did and had a girlfriend he didn’t want to leave behind. In his first year on the team, he was unfocused because he always thought of his woman and what she might be doing. As a result, after only a year, his career was over. He missed out on his big break.”

  “What happened to that girl?” I ask.

  “Our guy married her, but a few years down the road, they grew apart and got divorced.”

  I study Coach Williams’ regretful grimace.

  Is he talking about himself?

  He sniffs. “This is just to say that relationships when you’re this young don’t mean a thing. This mushy feeling won’t last forever. And when the bliss is over, what will you have? The regrets about a glorious career you could have lived if you only gave it all you had. Take my advice and cut things with your girl in the bud. Focus on your future. If you want to be a legend, you need to be one hundred percent dedicated.”

  He finishes his speech with a nod, sticks his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets and shuffles over to his office, without any further word.

  I sink onto the bench and bury my face into my palms.

  Playing pro football was what I’ve wanted since I first held a ball in my hands. This goal gave me a purpose and kept me sane in the most horrible circumstances. I can’t lose my head (and heart) when I’m so close to making it in the league. I just can’t. I owe it to myself to make my dream come true.

  Is my relationship with Ellie detrimental to the future I aspire to?

  I recall how I skipped a practice to take Ellie to the theater and my heart sinks.

  That’s exactly what Coach meant.

  I scratch m
y cheeks, digging my nails into my skin.

  I already made a choice for her that deprived me of an opportunity to hone my skills in the mechanics of no-huddle offense. It’s also true that I think of Ellie most of the time when we’re not together.

  Will these thoughts become obsessive when we’re apart? Will they render my performance hazy and mediocre?

  It’s possible…yes.

  Also, doesn’t Coach William have a point about Ellie needing someone who isn’t a thousand miles away?

  Ellie deserves more than the idea of a boyfriend, and I’m sure that she wishes for more. Once I start in the league, I’ll have scarce free time between trainings, camps, pre-seasonal and seasonal games, and other obligations.

  A thought occurs to me.

  Could Ellie’s desire to keep our relationship secret also be fueled by her doubt about whether I’m the right guy for her? She’s a very intuitive person. She might have felt that we were destined to be together only for a brief period of time.

  The more I ponder this, the more I convince myself that Coach Williams could be right.

  Perhaps the best thing is to end my relationship with Ellie. It’s not too late yet. We’re not too deeply lost. In the long run, perhaps we’ll be both better off without each other.

  Even if the mere thought of breaking up with her makes me feel like the entire 49ers defense team has pinched me to the ground and is stomping on my chest.

  How am I ever going to do this?

  Chapter 17

  (Ellie)

  “Ah, don’t you just love this breeze?” Wyatt asks as we step off from the small bridge onto Amp Island, a small picnic area of Encanto Park.

  This park is a haven of shade and grass in our city and my absolute favorite spot for a summer night stroll. I can usually feel the greenery’s instant cooling as soon as I get off the light rail station and take West Vernon Avenue. Here on Amp Island, we’re surrounded by water, and it only increases this refreshing effect.