by J. S. Scott
“Yeah. You toss a decent ball, so you’ll make me look good,” he said with a laugh.
Funny thing about Ty…he might be cocky at times, but he still lacked confidence in himself.
“Lauren is going to help me with my accuracy,” I shared. “I dislocated my shoulder at the end of last season, and my aim is slightly off now.”
Ty looked confused. “She knows football?”
I shook my head. “She knows as much as a regular fan, but it’s her brain power that’s going to help me get even better. She’s gifted in physics. After watching some of my tapes of last year’s games, she thinks she can help me adjust my throws to accommodate the differences since my shoulder injury.”
Ty hesitated before he asked, “Do you think she can help me? I’m up for all the help I can get, and I could use your dietary advice. I want every edge I can get.”
I appreciated the fact that Ty was willing to take help. I’d been an asshole in my rookie year, positive I knew everything there was to know. And I’d been so damn wrong.
I shrugged. “I know she’d try.”
“I’ve been in touch with some of the other guys on offense, and most of them would like to come out and toss some balls.”
I hesitated. Although I wanted to do some unofficial practice with the other critical members of the offense, a few of them weren’t exactly friends. I’d met some of them during my college years, and I hadn’t exactly made a good impression.
“Most of them don’t like me,” I warned Ty.
He shook his head. “They don’t know you, dude. Not really.”
“I did what I had to do to bust their balls during college and last year in New England.”
“You want this offense to be the best in the league?” Ty asked, staring at me as though he already knew the answer.
“You know I do,” I snapped back.
“Then it’s time to be a team player, dude. You don’t have to kiss their ass. You just have to be able to judge their strengths and weaknesses.”
I clenched my fists to my sides. “You don’t understand,” I said roughly. “I actually ran right over some of them to get to the Cats.”
I wasn’t proud of my history, but I knew some of my offensive members would just as soon bury me as play with me.
Ty leaned back and crossed his beefy arms across his chest. “Then explain it to me. Most of them are willing to come out and practice.”
“I’m fucked up in the head,” I said hoarsely. “Or at least I was before I got treatment.”
Ty frowned. “Depression?”
I shook my head slowly. “Bipolar.”
“Fuck, dude. I just learned to respect you even more than I already do.”
I scowled at him. “Why? I just told you that I’m messed up.”
“You had a hell of a lot more obstacles than I did,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s a tough disorder to get under control.”
Ty wasn’t looking at me like I was mental. In fact, his expression didn’t change much at all. “It got out of control soon after I got into college ball. My roommates eventually had to take me into the hospital. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. It took until my senior year to get me stable.”
“Do you miss it?” he asked carefully.
“What?”
“The manic phases. Do you miss them?”
I knew what he was asking. I was stabilized on medication, but I knew for some bipolar patients, the temptation of stopping their medications was nearly impossible to ignore. During a manic episode, I had felt like I could do anything. The high I’d had was addicting. I was king of the world, and there was nothing I couldn’t do when I was manic. However, I wasn’t in control of my actions most of the time. I was somebody else. Not to mention the fact that the mania had been closely followed by crippling bouts of bipolar depression.
“A little,” I confessed. “Every once in a while, I wish I could feel like I did when I was manic, but I wasn’t in control, and that was worse than the temptation to feel invincible again. My doctors tell me that since I caught it early, I wasn’t as likely to go off meds. But I think it’s the loss of control that really keeps me grounded. I don’t want to go there again.”
Some bipolar patients hated stability. They felt flat emotionally, so they opted for going through the highs and lows, even if they were out of their mind.
“Honestly, I never would have known if you hadn’t told me,” Ty observed. “Do you still have symptoms?”
For a moment, I’d forgotten that Ty was into mental illnesses. It had been his major in college, so he was obviously curious. Strangely, I didn’t mind talking to him about it because there was no judgment in his questions.
I shrugged. “I have small highs and lows, but nothing major. They feel more like part of life.”
“We all get that shit,” Ty said calmly. “Yours might be a little different because of the disorder. But your focus is incredible.”
“I’ve been working on it.”
“It shows,” Ty answered.
“But that doesn’t mean that something can’t happen. Something bad.”
My illness was like walking on a very thin tightrope. At any time, I could topple off the line and shatter when I hit the ground.
“You can’t focus on that, Graham,” Ty insisted. “You’ve been doing good for a couple of years. Yeah, you have a tough disorder, but you should be pretty damn happy with how far you’ve come. I have a cousin who is bipolar, and she goes off her meds at least once a month. She craves those highs. She’s never been stable for long.”
“I want to be successful,” I confessed. “I want that more than I want to be high.”
“You chose your course and you stuck to it until you were able to function.”
“It was like being in hell,” I said hoarsely. I’d never been able to forget those years of being out of control, unable to play good football consistently.
“But you fought your way back to Earth. Never forget that. If, at any time, you need my help, I’m there,” Ty offered.
I had to swallow the lump that formed in my throat. Nobody had ever offered to help me. Maybe because I’d never wanted to risk telling anybody. “Thanks,” I said in a husky tone. “I have good doctors right now, and I’m in counseling. But I’ll take you up on that offer if I ever slip.”
It felt so damn good to know I had support if I needed it. It was something I’d never really experienced before.
Ty nodded. “Good,” he answered. “How’s the counseling?”
I scowled. “Like being raked over a hot bed of coals. I hate having shit dragged out of me that I’d prefer not to remember.”
Ty chuckled. “It’s good for you. And hey…you have Lauren to support you, right? She knows?”
I nodded sharply. “She knows. But I fucked up with her so much that she doesn’t trust me. Not that I blame her.”
Ty had been a good listener, and he knew where I was right now with Lauren. “What do you want from her?” Ty questioned.
The tension in my body eased, and my fists relaxed beneath the table. I slumped back on the bench seat, feeling defeated. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. I think you know,” Ty countered.
“Lauren is part of my soul,” I said, knowing what I told Ty was the truth. “She’s been there for me for so long that I can’t lose her.”
“I think you’re in love with her,” Ty challenged.
“I can’t have that,” I said angrily. “I can’t. Not with her. She deserves a guy who can treat her like the fucking amazing woman she is. She doesn’t need to be sitting on a bomb that could explode at any time. She should be with somebody who doesn’t run the risk of having bipolar kids someday. And I’ve done some pretty shitty things to her.”
“Maybe,” Ty analyzed. “But no relationship is perfe
ct. And are you willing to give her up knowing that she could end up with somebody far worse than you? You’ve done some pretty nice things for her, too. And yeah, you screwed up, but everything you’ve ever done was out of fear, not because you’re an asshole.”
“I am an asshole,” I argued.
“We all are at times,” Ty told me. He hesitated before he asked, “So are you up to meeting some of our teammates?”
“I have to go pick up Lauren.” Thank fuck her plane was coming in later today. “Go ahead and set it up.”
Ty grinned. “You won’t be sorry. The more off-season practice we get, the better.”
I slid out of the booth and stood. “I hope you’re right,” I grumbled as I grabbed my jacket.
“I’m pretty much always right,” he said cockily. “But I wouldn’t mind if you worked with me on my diet, and I’ll take whatever advice I can get from Lauren.”
“She’s off-limits for anything except advice,” I warned him as I put on my leather jacket.
He shot me a knowing smirk, but he didn’t comment. I could see the satisfied look on my wide receiver’s face as I grabbed my car keys and went out the door to go get Lauren.
CHAPTER 29
Graham
FOUR MONTHS AGO….
“Daddy thinks we should marry, Graham,” Hope said casually, as though she was considering whether or not to purchase a new pair of shoes.
Her words came close to making me choke on my protein drink.
We were in Hope’s expensive condo, and I was getting ready to start winding down from my season. We still had a few football games to play, but we were out of the playoffs. I suppose I should feel guilty about how my team did, but the defense sucked. I might have played my heart out, but I couldn’t save a team who couldn’t keep other teams from getting into the red zone.
“Why does he think that?” I asked, still stunned by her comment.
Hope and I hadn’t really spoken for the last few hours. I’d just turned off the TV. I’d been watching last week’s game, trying to figure out who I could chew out for fucking things up on the field.
And Hope had been frantically working on her social and work schedules on her phone.
She finally looked up and smiled. Just like always, her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. But who in the hell cared, right? She was still beautiful.
Hope said, “Daddy says you’ll be a star football player next year because of the way you played this season.”
I already knew that. I was either going to end up as the starter for New England, or I was going to take another lucrative contract that came my way. I’d already heard that other teams were sniffing around at the possibility of taking me as a starter, so I’d probably have a pretty big decision to make once I knew all of the offers.
Did I want to marry Hope? Wouldn’t I be crazy if I didn’t?
She was everything a guy could want from the woman who would be by his side for the rest of his life. Okay, maybe we didn’t do much together, and maybe sometimes I felt like I was an appointment to her instead of a date, but we both had busy careers. We were both driven. Hope was in high demand as a supermodel and a filthy rich man’s only daughter, and I was still trying to carve out my place in the league.
And…Hope was safe. She’d been around me enough that I’d had to tell her that I was bipolar. But unlike sharing it with Jack and Lauren, I hadn’t been worried about telling Hope. I’d already known that she wouldn’t really give a damn. Illnesses weren’t really her priority, unless she was at a charity ball or something.
Why wouldn’t I want to marry her? I studied business in college. Hope’s dad had some connections I’d never have, and I wanted to start my own business once I was too old to play football.
The whole arrangement would be perfect for my career, and Hope’s.
“Okay,” I finally said huskily.
Hope hopped up from her chair across the room. “Great. I’ll get the invitations out, and I’ll send you links to the ring of my dreams. Don’t feel like you need to formally propose. I already found a ring I adore, and I can’t wait to get it on my finger. I’ll be the envy of all my friends.”
I started hoping to hell I did get a great contract. I wasn’t poor, but I knew Hope’s taste for the finer things, and my current salary wasn’t that great. She’d grown up with the best of everything. So I knew the price of the ring was going to be steep.
Hope continued, “I hope you stay here on the East Coast. If you don’t, I’ll just have to visit you occasionally. It wouldn’t look right if we weren’t pictured together. I know you’re going to have to do what’s best for your career, and I have to do what’s good for me.”
I nearly flinched. We were going to be married, but living across the country from each other if I didn’t end up here? Hope did travel a lot, but I assumed she’d make her home base with me. Apparently…not. Her whole social life was in Boston, and she spent a lot of time schmoozing with her dad. But I admired her drive to make connections, so I guess I was going to have to accept the fact that she wouldn’t be living with me while I was attached to a team elsewhere.
But I could be with her for some of the off-season, and like she said, she could come to me when she wanted. It wasn’t like either of us would have to be pinching a penny.
“Sounds good,” I told her.
“Daddy is going to want us to spend the holidays with him this year if we’re engaged,” Hope mused. “We can get a rush on the ring so I have it by Christmas. It will be so fun to show it off in holiday pictures. And I have to get the invitations out. We can have the ceremony before you start next year.”
That worked for me. Once I started training, then training camp, and finally the football season, I could hardly breathe, and my ass was dragging.
I was bone deep exhausted right now from the season. I’d been pushing myself to the limit, and even though I was in the best physical condition I could be in, there was a limit to what a body could take.
Hope leaned down and pecked me on the cheek. “I’m so excited, Graham. I’m going to start working on everything right away. I’ll take care of everything so you don’t have to. It’s going to be the wedding of my dreams.”
She was dismissing me. It wasn’t like I didn’t get the fact that she wanted to be alone to plan things. More than likely, she’d be on the phone the minute I left.
I got off the couch and stood up. “Don’t you want to celebrate?” I asked, shooting her a look that had most women wrapped around my cock pretty quickly.
I hadn’t gotten laid in months. Hope and I had agreed to be exclusive six months ago, and we didn’t see anybody else.
She tapped my shoulder, which was more of a brush-off than not. “You’re exhausted and so am I. I just got back from Paris, and you’ve been playing so hard. Let’s make a date for after you finish the season.”
I knew what that meant. She wanted to schedule time to have sex. “Put me on your calendar,” I grumbled.
I was used to her response. Neither of us really had time for spontaneous sex. But I was willing to make time. Obviously, Hope was not.
“What about the holidays? Should I tell Daddy to expect us?”
Okay, I was bummed about that. I tried to get back to Denver every year near the holidays to see Jack and Lauren, but marriage was all about compromise, right? Besides, I was really hoping the Wildcats would make me a great offer, and I could get back to Colorado permanently. They needed a good quarterback, and I could be back home again.
“I’ll go to your dad’s for the holidays if you join me for my trip in Aspen,” I bargained.
Hope pulled a face. “I’m not a skier, but I’ll go. Aspen is a place to see and be seen. We’ll get some great photos for the social pages there.”
“You’ll love it there,” I told her as I made my way to the door. “It will j
ust be you, me, Jack and Lauren.”
I didn’t care if Aspen was a place for the rich and famous. To me, it was a special place with Jack and Lauren, and we were going to go in style this year if I got the contract I wanted. Finally, I’d be able to pay them back for all the years that they’d paid for a place for us there in the past.
“Is this the guy who came to visit over the summer?” Hope asked.
Jack had come for a job interview here on the East Coast over the summer, and Hope had briefly chatted with both Jack and Lauren via Skype several times. Jack’s interview hadn’t panned out into a job, but we’d had a great time while he’d been here.
It bummed me out a little that Hope didn’t seem to remember either one of the two most important people in my life, but I put it down to her busy schedule. She met so many people that she couldn’t possibly remember them all.
“Yeah, that’s him,” I finally answered. “And you’ve chatted with Lauren on Skype.”
Lauren and I hadn’t touched base as often as we did when I was in college, but we still talked on the phone, by text, or on video chat once in a while.
“Oh, yes,” Hope said like a light bulb had just turned on in her head. “The chubby girl with glasses.”
I didn’t consider Lauren overweight at all. In fact, she had curves that would make any guy take notice. And her glasses were just…Lauren. She’d worn them for as long as I could remember, even though she rarely cleaned them well. I’d always thought they were adorable on her. Now that she was all grown up, they made her look like a sexy wise owl, and it was a good look on her.
Oh, well. Maybe Lauren did look overweight to a supermodel who was so thin I could pretty much feel all her bones.
“I suppose they’re both tolerable,” Hope said. “Jack was nice to me, but he asks some intrusive questions.”
I grinned at her. “He’s always been pretty blunt. He usually calls it like he sees it.” It was one of the things I liked about him.
“I remember him asking me if I liked being a supermodel,” she said.