We have an hour from when the game is over to get showered, changed, and on the bus to go to the airport. It’s late here, and I’m ready to be in my own bed. The past two nights at the hotel yielded very little sleep for me.
After I shower, I dress quickly and head out of the locker room. Fans are waiting when a bunch of us exit the building, asking for autographs. I give mine freely because you never know when I might be traded to this team or another, and if the fans have waited for you to come out, you might as well reward them. I’m not fooled though. I’m sure these people rooted against the Pioneers and me for four quarters, but I’m not holding that against them. Everyone makes mistakes.
Once I’m on the bus, I turn my phone on, and while I wait for it to come to life, I rest my head on the tinted glass and close my eyes. All I want to do is sleep, lay in bed for the next two or three days while my body heals. I’m thankful we have tomorrow, as well as Tuesday off, because I need time.
My phone vibrates in my hand. The notifications are non-stop. I watch as the text messages come in, all from my mom, Reggie, and Elena. Scrolling, I look for the one from Autumn and find nothing. I try not to let that bother me, but it does. I know I messed up, but I thought she had forgiven me. The last I knew, she was coming over to watch the game with my parents and kids. I suppose there is a chance she changed her mind or was called into work, but I think she would’ve texted me or something. At least, I hope she would’ve.
Noah sits down across from me and sighs heavily. He took a beating too but managed to survive long enough to give us the victory. There were times during the game when I thought our offensive line was playing for the other team. Too many open holes left Noah vulnerable. I know everyone has an off-game. Hell, I’ve had many, but for the whole line, whose purpose is to protect the quarterback, to fail at their job is unheard of.
“I’m ready for vacation,” Noah says. His eyes are closed, and his head is resting against the seat.
“I’d like to start in February if you don’t mind. Preferably starting the second or third week.”
Noah laughs. “I hear ya. That’s my plan as well, although Peyton may have to ask for time off.”
“Wouldn’t that be a shit? We win the Super Bowl, and your wife still has to work.”
Noah hums in agreement. “I’d tell her to quit or take time off without pay. There is no way in hell I’m missing DisneyWorld if we win the big one.”
Now I’m the one laughing. “I’m sure everyone in the organization would go if we win.”
“When we win,” he reminds me. His eyes are still closed, and I think about doing the same, except my phone is still blowing up. I look down at the notifications. There isn’t anything new, just my phone reminding me that I have a slew of messages. I scroll, once again looking for Autumn’s name, hoping I just missed it in my early search. Still not there. Now comes the time when I decide who I want to hear from first. The twisting in my gut tells me Elena has done something, which is why my mom has texted so much. That or there is something wrong with the kids, which could be why Elena is texting. The sheer amount of anxiety I’m feeling right now is making me sick. I finally open the messages from my mom. Of course, the last one is the most damning and sets my mood right off. I don’t even desire to read the previous ones she sent because I’m so angry. My eyes focus on the last one.
Mom: Elena is back, and by back, I mean she’s unpacked clothes in your room.
What the fuck?
I exit her window and go to Reggie’s. Of course, he’s also telling me his mom is there, but he says his mom is home. She’s home. To him, everything is right in his world because this is everything he wants, for his parents to be back together. I finally click on Elena’s message, and the anger I felt after reading my mom’s message increases tenfold.
Elena: I’m home for good.
Why does she think this is okay? Did her boyfriend break up with her once he found out she isn’t getting any money out of me?
“Hey, man, you okay?” Noah's voice rings out. I look at my hands. My knuckles are white, and it’s like I’m trying to squeeze the shit out of my phone. Or break it. If it broke, I could play stupid when I get home, and no one would be the wiser.
“Yeah. It seems Elena decided to move home.”
“As in back to Portland?”
I shake my head, slowly back and forth, until I look at him. “Back to the apartment.” I go back to reading the messages from my mom. I give Noah a summary of what I read. “It seems Elena showed sometime during the fourth, interrupting everyone’s game watching, and she suggested Autumn leave.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. And here I am, encouraging her to go to my place and spend some time with my parents and the kids, and Elena shows up? I can’t even imagine what went down.”
“You should call Autumn. She’s likely the only one to give you the truth. Your mom’s view is skewed, as is Elena’s. Autumn is literally the only one who can tell you exactly what happened. Not that I think your mom would lie to you.”
“No, I know what you’re saying.” I press her name and bring my phone to my ear. The other line rings until it goes to voicemail. I don’t leave a message. Instead, I hang up and redial her number, only to have my call go to voicemail again. This time, I leave a message. “Hey, I’m on my way to the airport. If you get this, text me.” After I hang up, I stare at my phone. I should probably call my mom, but I don’t want to hear about the drama. Not right now. I send her a text, letting her know that we are about to get on the plane.
* * *
By the time the plane lands, I’m exhausted. Usually, I sleep, but with everything going on in my head, there was no way I could close my eyes long enough without seeing images of Elena being a shit to my parents. My mom won’t say boo in front of Elena, especially if the children are around. My dad won’t hold back. He’s never been a fan of Elena and tolerated her until she asked for a divorce.
We are on a charter bus once again, and this time, I try to keep my eyes closed. I have no idea what to expect when I get home, other than knowing Elena is there and my parents are back at their rental. In the slew of text messages from my mom, she had concerns about leaving the children with Elena, but being as we’re not divorced, there isn’t much my mom could do. Elena wouldn’t take the children—this much, I know.
I say goodbye to my teammates and drag my tired ass to my SUV. As soon as my CarPlay comes on, my playlist starts playing. I look at the time and know it’s too late to call Autumn. I wish she had texted or called me back. I want to talk to her, get a feel for what exactly happened at my place tonight. Right now, I feel like I’m walking into a firestorm without any protection.
The drive back to my apartment takes hardly any time because of the lack of traffic. The one time I need the drive to be prolonged, it’s short, and I’m pulling into the garage in no time. My bag feels heavy. Almost like it’s carrying the weight of the world in it.
When I get to my floor, I hesitate outside the elevator doors. The temptation to go down to Autumn’s floor and knock on her door is pressing. It’s late, though, and she works tomorrow. I don’t want to wake her. The truth is, she may not even want to see me. I already messed up earlier in the week, and while I worked to fix the gap I created, adding Elena to the mix is enough to scare anyone away.
When I come around the corner, the door to my apartment is open. Elena stands there in a T-shirt that is meant to look like my jersey. She reaches for my bag, but I hold onto it. “What are you doing here?” I ask her. To my knowledge, she received the divorce papers, and while I can hope she will just sign them, I’m not stupid. She wants money. The money I’m not willing to give her. I might need to rethink my stance on this because if she goes away with a cash payout, it’ll be worth it.
“I’m home.”
I tilt my head slightly. “I thought we agreed you’d give me notice when you wanted to come to visit the children, and I would get a hotel. Showing up in the middl
e of my game, when I’m out of town, is a bit . . .” I pause to seek out the right word. “Dare I say, rude?”
“It’s rude to come home to my children and husband?”
I push past her. “Ex,” I remind her. “I’ve filed for a divorce, Elena. I know you’ve received the papers.”
“I did,” she says as she follows me into my bedroom. “But then I sat there and read what had become of our marriage, and I realized I didn’t want this. That we owed it to ourselves and our babies to try again.”
Her words make my stomach roll.
“Boyfriend break up with you?” I look at her, sitting on my bed, and wait for her answer.
“We were never really together, Julius. And he was never my boyfriend.”
“Just your fuck buddy? Got it.” I leave the closet and head into the bathroom. Unfortunately, she follows. “What happened here earlier?”
“Nothing, why?”
“No, not nothing, Elena. What did you say to my parents and to Autumn?”
Elena blanches. “I would never say anything to your parents. We sat here and watched the rest of your game. I braided Roxy’s hair, and Reggie called out the plays as Noah did them. Everything was perfect.”
“And Autumn?”
“What about her? She was on her way out the door when I arrived.” Elena moves into the bathroom and sits on the countertop. “I know you’ve been seeing her, and I get it, but I’m back now, and I’d really like to work on our marriage, Julius. You should’ve seen how excited the kids were when I walked in. Reggie is so happy, and Roxy fell asleep in my arms. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until now.”
“I’ve moved on, Elena.”
“Well, unmove on, Julius. We owe it to each other to give our marriage another shot.”
I pop some Tylenol and drink from the faucet. “I’ll take the couch,” I tell her as I exit the bathroom.
“What’s wrong with the bedroom?”
“Not if you’re in there, Elena. I told you. I’m done.” I shut the bedroom door behind me and head back into the living room. I go to my pile of stuff, pull my phone out, and scroll to Autumn’s number. Call me when you wake up. I need to talk to you. I missed you, Weather Girl.
Thirty-One
Autumn
As soon as the elevator door closes, I feel relieved. I half expected Elena to continue to follow me, but she turned back to the apartment—the one she has shared with Julius since they moved here. If that isn’t a deterrent for this relationship with him, I don’t know what is. My mind is racing with everything that just occurred in that apartment. One minute, we’re all sitting there rooting on the Pioneers, and then the next—a straight-up hurricane. Pint-sized too. Julius and I are close in height, but Elena is tiny, which means Julius towers over her. Still, her personality and demeanor are anything but small. She’s fierce, demanding, and scary. More so, she’s a mama bear asserting her claim on her cubs. I can’t fault her for being aggressive toward me. What bothers me the most is I feel like I’m innocent in all of this. I’m not the other woman. At least I hadn’t looked at myself that way until this past week. However, Elena made me feel like I am one in a matter of seconds.
When the elevator reaches my floor, I don’t step off. It takes me until the door starts to close to realize what I need—a drink. I hit the button for the lobby, and once I’m there, I walk into the restaurant adjacent to the entrance. I’m guessing that the game is over because of the lack of people here and easily find a spot at the bar.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks as he wipes the spot in front of me and sets a coaster down. He rests his hands on the bar, waiting for me to give his order. If I’m drinking, my usual is wine or something fruity, but I feel like this situation calls for a more potent drink.
“Whiskey.”
He looks at me oddly, waits a beat, nods, and then walks away. I’ve never had whiskey in my life, and I suspect he knows this. This guy is probably so good at his job. He knows what people like me drink, and it’s definitely not whiskey.
When he returns, he sets a small glass of amber-colored liquid down in front of me, along with a bottle of beer and a glass of water. I look at him expectantly, and once again, he places his hands on the bar and leans down. “You’ll want the beer chaser and then the water to wash it down. Trust me.”
Trust me. Famous last words, right? I glance around the bar, looking for some distinguished gentlemen or someone similar to who I have pictured in my head, to see how they’re drinking their whiskey. I pick the glass up, swirl and sniff—my stomach rolls at the powerful odor.
“Gah, how do people drink this?”
“It’s an acquired taste.” I look up to find the bartender cleaning the spot next to me. “Many start like you, one sip at a time.”
“I’ve never had one,” I tell him.
“I could tell, which is why I brought you the extras. Whatever made you decide to order that,” he pauses and tilts his head toward my glass, “must’ve really upset you.”
She did. He did. I can’t decide who I’m more upset with. Julius. Elena. Or myself.
“Maybe I wanted to try something new?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, maybe. But I doubt it.” He walks away toward the end of the bar, where he spends time helping the other customers. A few football fans are still lingering, but most of the patrons in here seem to be residents of the building or people who happened to pass by and wanted a place to eat.
I finally convince myself to taste the whiskey. When the glass touches my lips, my phone rings, and Cam’s name lights up my screen. Setting the glass down, I stare at my phone, wondering if I should answer or not. I give in and answer. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. What are you doing?”
I sigh and contemplate telling him the truth. At the end of the day, I consider him my friend. “I’m sitting in a bar, about to try my first whiskey.”
“Why? Someone break your heart?” he asks with a slight laugh.
“Yes,” I tell him.
“Wait, what?”
Another sigh emits. “I started seeing someone, and I just don’t think things are going to work out. My heart isn’t broken, but I’m sad. I really like him.”
“The football player, right?”
“How did—oh never mind, you probably saw it on the internet or whatever. But yes, him. He’s a great guy. He’s just going through a major life change, and I don’t want to be a complication or get too far deep only to have him end things.”
“Come visit me,” Camden suggests. “I’m heading to Texas because there’s a hurricane in the Gulf. You can see your parents, do an on-air test, and just storm watch with me.”
“I just started my job, Cam. I don’t have vacation time yet.”
“Don’t tell Leon it’s a vacation. Tell him you want to cover the story because Portland could, potentially, have a hurricane someday, and you want to be prepared.”
I laugh at his absurdity. “I doubt Leon will go for it.”
“Eh,” he says. I know he’s shrugging his shoulders. He does it every time he brushes something off. He makes life sound so easy. Maybe his is, but mine feels like a complicated mess. “Call Leon, and then call me back.” Camden hangs up, leaving my protest hanging in the air. I pull my phone away in disbelief and find myself smiling at the text message from him.
Camden Porter: Call him. Call me. Let’s meet in Texas!
He’s crazy, and as tempted as I am, I won’t do it. I don’t want to rock the boat with Leon. What I have here—what I’m building here—it’s a solid foundation for my future.
“Still trying to decide if you want to burn your throat?” the bartender asks.
“Something like that.” He laughs and walks away.
I ordered the stupid drink. I might as well try it. I pick up the tumbler and bring the rim to my mouth and tip my head back. As soon as the whiskey touches my tongue, I know it’s not for me and quickly pull the glass away. I hear laughter and glance at t
he bartender, who is shaking his head. Wise guy.
* * *
The following day, I find myself in Leon’s office, sitting across from him. He called me in and said he had an urgent matter to discuss with me. Instant fear and excitement washed over me. These two emotions do not complement each other. At all.
To make matters worse, I’ve ignored the text messages and phone calls from Julius. I purposely didn’t run this morning out of fear he’d be outside my door, or he’d catch up with me on the path and force me to talk to him when I’m not ready. I don’t know what to say or how to tell him what I’m feeling. I don’t want to be a side chick or the woman that tore a family apart. But I also feel like what Julius and I started to build had the potential to be amazing.
When Leon requested we meet, I almost asked him if we could FaceTime so that I could continue to hide from Julius. I know I’m being ridiculous and need to grow up. I need to be an adult about things, but I honestly don’t know what to say to Julius. First, he hates me, then he likes me, then we sleep together, and then he disappears for a few days. When I think we’re on the same page, his wife returns. Now what? I honestly don’t know where I fit when it comes to Julius. z
Leon Woolworth is not a big man, but his presence is massive. I tower over him, without my heels on, and right now, I feel like I’m two feet tall by the way he stares at me. I swallow hard, waiting for him to say something. In my opinion, he’s a bit dramatic. He picks up a piece of paper, sets it down, picks it up again with a heavy sigh, and swivels back and forth in his chair.
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