A Deeper Blue

by S. E. Harmon

  “I think Blue’s not the only one who’s scared. And now you’re throwing up… throwing up….” He scrunched up his face in a way that could only be described as adorable as he searched for the word. “Roadblocks to make sure you guys fail before you even really begin.”

  Which reminded me. “If you throw up in my car, I’ll kick your ass.” At his indignant expression, I shrugged. “Needed to be said.”

  He glared. It would’ve been more effective if his gray-green eyes weren’t a little unfocused. Drunk philosophizing aside, he was kind of right. We seemed to be the biggest obstacles in our own way. And things were hard enough without me overanalyzing every damn thing.

  “I’ll take your words under consideration,” I said. “Now can we go? The traffic is going to be bad enough without us waiting for the entire stadium to leave.”

  “Okay.” He smiled beatifically. “But I’m right, though, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I sighed. “Now get your drunk ass in the car.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Blue

  WITH THE success of Sunday’s game, we were on a bit of a high. Coach was mildly pleased, which was as good as a hug. The team arranged for a celebratory breakfast on Monday, but I didn’t partake and had my usual chicken sausage, eggs, and bran muffin combo. Celebration was a bit premature, in my book. I was just determined to use our momentum to get back on the right track. Playoffs, playoffs, playoffs. That’s all that mattered.

  It was our turn to play on Thursday the following week, and I took the early bus again so I could put in some time with my trainer. As I walked down the hallway, earbuds firmly planted in my ears, I tried to get pumped. I was going to make some big plays and run the ball, and I was going to show them why I was more than just an old knee injury.

  I was focused. I was determined. I was… about to be derailed in a major way.

  There were always a few people near the locker-room door, watching the players come and go, but I recognized her immediately. It was no hard feat. All these years later, and she still looked pretty much the same as the last time I saw her, right before she kissed me on the forehead and left. She told me to close my eyes and go to sleep. Have good dreams, monkey, and I’ll see you in the morning.

  I stood stock-still, as though someone had iced over my extremities.

  My first thought was that Kelly had been right, and he so loved to be fucking right. I’d been ignoring her all this time, and she chose to force the issue in a big way—the biggest of ways.

  My mother smiled a little, her face pale and pinched. She nervously fingered the strap of her purse. “Mountain.”

  “I guess that would make you Mohammed.” I almost didn’t recognize the sound of my own voice. Didn’t know I could sound that cold or bitter. “How did you get back here?”

  “I told them I was your mother.” She lifted a shoulder, obviously aware of how hypocritical that was. I was so closemouthed about my private life, no one would know my mother was not a welcome guest.

  A couple of the trainers passed, and I nodded at their greetings and struggled to keep a lid on my anger. God, it was so vintage fucking Savannah. When and where she wanted and to fuck with everyone else. I took her by the arm and hustled her into one of the training rooms nearby. Thank fuck it was actually empty for once. I’d hate to send someone flying into the hall by the scruff of his jersey.

  I let go of her arm as soon as humanly possible and stepped back a few paces. “Okay, forget the how. Why are you here?”

  “You wouldn’t take my calls.”

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  She swallowed. “I just wanted a chance to explain.”

  “Explain what? Jesus, I don’t answer your calls, and you think that means I want to see you? Would it kill you to let me come to terms with things before you force this… this reunion or whatever the fuck this is on me?”

  “I wanted to wait, but we didn’t seem any closer to talking than when I started reaching out to you a year ago.”

  “And you think being here before my game is the right time?” Time. Time. Time. The word echoed off the empty training room like I was in a canyon. And I realized I might’ve yelled it. A little. Maybe a lot. Fuck.

  I rubbed my temples. That was probably going to bite me in the ass.

  Sure enough, only a minute passed and Diesel popped his head in the door, closely followed by one of the trainers, a short stocky guy named Matt. Both of their faces were creased in concern. Diesel glanced around the room, presumably for the physical altercation that had made me yell like a crazy person.

  “Everything all right in here, Blue?” the trainer asked.

  “Yes,” I said, still massaging my temples. I couldn’t quite fake a smile. “Of course. Thank you.”

  They didn’t seem convinced and looked uneasily at us both. “I’m right out here if you need anything,” Diesel said.

  “Thank you,” I said again, striving for calm when it felt like my world was imploding. Diesel and Matt left, and the door swung shut, leaving us alone once again.

  I stalked away from her, not trusting myself to be that close. I wasn’t showing her that I was okay without her, that I’d turned out all right, that I was worth sticking around for, even if she didn’t know it.

  Oh God. I suddenly had the sick realization that my father’s expectations weren’t the only things that drove me. Maybe I was still secretly trying to show Mommy I was worth keeping.

  Fuck. You’re a disaster, Blue.

  She was still beautiful, still had the same blonde hair and blue eyes I saw every day in the mirror. And she was still dainty and petite, only emphasized by the fact that she wore an oversized Outlaws shirt over her jeans.

  That made me even angrier. How dare she just show up looking the same? Like nothing had changed? Like no time had passed? Like she was my supportive mother wearing Outlaws gear? Like she hadn’t left me with a cold, emotionally stunted man who didn’t care what I did as long as I played football?

  “I think you should leave.”

  I furrowed my brow as I wondered who on Earth had said exactly what I was trying to work up the courage to say, only calmly and devoid of anger.

  We both looked at the doorway at the same time. Kelly stood there, the very face of righteous indignation. Like Savannah, he was dressed in and jeans and my jersey, and his cheeks were more than a little pink under the streaks of silver and blue face paint. I felt relieved and embarrassed all at the same time—I didn’t need anyone to fight my battles for me.

  You are so fucking weak. No wonder she left you.

  “This is between Britton and me,” she said, looking at him with confusion.

  “Well, it looks like he doesn’t want to talk to you.” He tilted his head, and his jaw jutted out stubbornly.

  I’d never been so grateful for that pugnacious attitude he could get sometimes. Most of the times he was easygoing, but when he got stubborn, there wasn’t a force in the world that could move him. I realized in short order that Diesel must’ve gotten him from the skybox. I laughed shortly, and even I could hear that it sounded a little hysterical. My God, everyone knew exactly what Kelly was to me, and I was just fooling myself.

  “Who are you again?” she asked, gripping her purse strap.

  Everyone except her.

  It was never clearer that she had no idea who the fuck I was and what was important to me. She was looking at person number one, the motherfucking MVP in my life, and she didn’t even know his name.

  “Get her out of here,” I said to the floor.

  He did. I heard him talking to her in an easy, cajoling tone as he led her out of the room. I hoped he got her guest pass. I hoped he ripped it up in a million pieces. God, if my father saw me like this, he’d call me the biggest fucking loser. Maybe he’d be right.

  But then Kelly was back, crouching in front of me, his gray eyes almost silvery with concern. And nothing else mattered.

  “Blue? Are you—”
<
br />   That was as far as he got before I lunged. I kissed him then, kissed him like I might never get enough. I bit at his soft, full lips even as he muttered for me to slow down. I fucked his mouth with my tongue, just grateful to have any part of me inside him. He submitted to the onslaught with a soft moan that made my dick jerk in my jockstrap. He rubbed my back soothingly, trying to calm me down.

  I pulled him up by his jersey—no, my jersey—which turned me on even more, and tugged him close until he almost straddled my lap. It wasn’t enough. I wanted to feel him against me naked, wanted to rut against him like a wild animal, wanted to yank down his pants and bend him over and fuck him right there in the training room and not give a flying fuck who was watching.

  A door slammed somewhere nearby, and I almost jumped out of my skin. We looked at each other at the same moment, and his drowsy, sex-addled, beautiful gray eyes went wide. I pushed him off me in one smooth motion as though he were covered in fire ants and, unprepared for my assault, he landed back on his ass.

  He yelped and grabbed his elbow. “Fuck, Blue.”

  “Oh my God.” I stared at him in bewildered shock. “I’m so sorry.”

  He glared at me on the floor, mindlessly rubbing his elbow. He knew I wasn’t talking about not knowing my own strength.

  I stood and reached out for him, but he scrambled up on his own and moved a few feet away. He jammed his fingers into his hair and stood it up on end, and it fell back in place. He stared at me the whole time, and I stared at the silver ring on his thumb because I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

  He exhaled strongly and finally said, “It’s fine.”

  But we both knew it wasn’t.

  “Kelly—”

  “You should go. You need to get ready, right?”

  “Yeah.” I stood there awkwardly, wanting more than anything to touch him again, but I knew he would move away before I could.

  I was pretty sure my world would never be right again if he wouldn’t let me touch him. Kiss him. At home. In private, where no one could see us. Shame twisted my gut because I had treated the most precious thing in my world like something I was ashamed of. I was fucking things up, and I didn’t know how to stop.

  Instead of doing anything even remotely useful, I babbled out another mindless apology. “I’m—”

  He cut me off. “Don’t….” He took a deep breath, and his voice was calmer. “Don’t apologize to me again.”

  I stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to react that way. She just got me so off balance.”

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t expect to see her here.”

  “I know that too.”

  I clenched my hands into fists. “Fucking Savannah. Why’d she even come back?”

  “I can’t answer that,” Kelly said, shaking his head. “Maybe she just wants to get back in your life. She loves you.”

  “Everyone’s mother is not like your mother, Kel.”

  “Granted. But I saw her face, Blue. She looked devastated.” He waited a beat and then repeated firmly, “She loves you.”

  “Well, can you blame me for not recognizing it? I don’t know what it’s like to be loved like you’re supposed to be loved.” I worked my jaw as I tried not to splatter my emotions all over his feet. “Some of that is her fault. Your mother is supposed to love you with all of her heart, her everything. I’ve never known what it’s like to be someone’s everything.”

  He smiled faintly. “Yeah, you have.” He stared at me hard until I got what he was saying. Until I got it.

  I blinked at him for a minute, too caught off guard to respond. And then the moment passed, and things were awkward and quiet between us. So I understood when he ruffled my hair and walked out. I understood when he didn’t look back. But it was kind of selfish to take all the air in the room with him.

  ONE WOULD think confronting my long-lost mother and having an argument with my partner would have an effect on my game.

  One would be abso-fucking-lutely right.

  For once, the crowd didn’t draw me in. Vaughn and I completely lost our rhythm, and he hesitated to pass to me more than once. That was a lesson you learned quickly with the Outlaws. Vaughn didn’t pass to guys who didn’t make plays, and today that guy was me. And when I missed my route on a simple play and couldn’t shake my coverage, I glanced back just in time to see Vaughn go down in a sack.

  On the next down, Vaughn faked like he was going to pass and handed me the ball. I saw the gap in the line of players and cut my way through the middle. It was a flawless play and one we did often, but I didn’t even have a second to revel in pulling it off. One minute I was zigzagging my way through players, and the next I was laid out, really laid out, with no idea of how I got there or who put me down.

  Sound rushed back all at once, and it was all too loud. I blinked at the swirl of colors in front of me until they merged into an actual image that didn’t look like a kaleidoscope—Hershaw’s gold-and-black jersey and his hand outstretched toward me.

  He’d pancaked me after a seventeen-yard return, and I hadn’t even seen him coming. I knew better. As a receiver you learned early on to keep your head on a swivel and constantly monitor your peripheral to avoid getting blindsided. Case in point. I gripped Hershaw’s hand and let him pull me to my feet.

  “You all right?”

  Have you always had two noses like that? I shook my head, still dazed. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  I watched him trot off. He was still blurry to me, and I wondered briefly if maybe I spoke too soon. I’d be lucky if I wasn’t concussed, and wouldn’t Kelly just love that. The old-fashioned thought of him waking me every hour on the hour with a sweet smile and CTE stats made me groan.

  Coach’s face was red and shiny as he yelled something on the sidelines, and I heard a whistle for the time-out. On the sidelines, Coach sent me straight to medical, which was in a blue pop-up tent behind the bench. A couple of the team medics checked me out, peppered me with idiotic questions, and examined my head to make sure I was still good to go. I answered gamely, even though I wanted to tell them to fuck off.

  When one of them flashed a penlight in my eyes, I reached the end of my patience. I waved her off. “I’m fine. Jesus.”

  “That’s what we’re trying to determine,” she said firmly, looming with her stupid little light. She tried to shine it in my eyes again. I leaned back, and she thinned her mouth. “Blue, this isn’t optional. We need to check you out. You know the routine.”

  “Well, that’s enough, don’t you think?”

  “I can do it here, or we can have Dr. Greene do it off field. But I can pretty much guarantee he’s going to want an MRI. Up to you.”

  I rolled my eyes and let her continue with her poking and prodding. When she was finally satisfied, I crammed my helmet back on and hit the field. And if I felt a little nauseated as I ran, that was none of her nosy business.

  It didn’t help things that I had acquired a shadow—a fucking shadow named Tennessee Tucker. He was a three-hundred-pound, six-foot linebacker with a face only his mother could love, and even then, only because she had to. I had a feeling his coach had told him not to even let me get a whiff of pigskin, and he was following that order to the letter.

  As though to add punctuation to that thought, on the next play, he plowed into me the moment my gloves touched the ball, and it popped out of my hand. Shit! After an obligatory moment of shock that I had actually dropped it, there was a sudden mad scramble as everyone tried to get the ball. It flew out of their defensive lineman’s hand, and suddenly we were in an impromptu game of frigging hot potato.

  Even in the madness, I could hear Coach screaming. It was hard to hear him in the melee, but it sounded a little something like “Get. The. Fucking. Ball. Goddammit.”

  I dove on it and braced myself for the pile on, which came almost immediately. I could still hear bodies hitting even as the whistle sounded. In game film, no one wanted to be the guy who looked like he didn’t care enough to sc
ramble for the ball.

  I gritted my teeth. The almost rib-cracking pressure was nothing less than I deserved for being such a fucking butterfingers. I had to get my head in the game. When they finally got the fuck off me, I staggered to my feet and flipped the ball to the ref.

  Dane whacked me on the back. “Nice recovery, Blue.”

  “Thanks.” I tried to breathe more evenly to ease the ache in my ribs. “If you find my spleen, just leave it in my locker.”

  “Will do.” He grinned, his mouthpiece half in and half out as he talked around it. “I’ll put it in there right next to your game.”

  “Fuck you, Williams.”

  Even though Coach was probably yelling at Vaughn to throw, throw, throw on the next down, Vaughn called an audible and handed the ball off to me. With my last mistake fresh in my mind, I finally did what I was supposed to do and plowed through the line. I dragged a player with me for the last three yards before he brought me down—face-first.

  I got up and picked a couple of clods of grass out of my face mask. The play wasn’t pretty—more of a show of brute force than anything else—but the only thing that mattered was getting that ball down the field. Even though it was a short yardage gain, I felt the momentum shift. But third and down, it shifted right back as a pass flew over my head.

  Coach called a time-out, and suddenly I was face-to-face with Vaughn’s frustration. “We’re going for the quick handoff.”

  “No.” I winced as I held my side. Fuck, I might need more than athletic tape this time. “I want to run the go route.”

  He looked torn as he treated me to an icy stare, and his Slavic features pulled down in a ferocious scowl. “You gonna catch it this time?”

  That pass was fucking high, and you know it.

  “Get me the ball,” I snarled.

  He nodded. “You want it? You got it.” It sounded more like a threat than a promise. Then he clarified things. “If this goes to shit, it’s on your head, not mine.”