by Rebel Hart
“You thought we were going to cost you the pros?” I asked. I turned over onto my stomach so that I could look at Zeke’s face and read his expressions, but his eyes were closed, and he was totally calm.
“I still kind of think that,” he said. “I just don’t know that I care as much anymore.”
“Really?” I asked. “You don’t care?”
Zeke opened his eyes, and they landed right on mine. “Maybe there are better things to care about.”
I smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”
His warm smile faded into pensiveness. “Can I ask you a question?”
I tilted my head. “Of course.”
“Why did you go back on your word to withdraw your application?” he asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you did, but that’s always bothered me. Everything else about you seems so perfect.”
“I didn’t.” I sat up and crossed my legs so I could look down at him. “I was about to delete it. Actually, I already had, but then Wright showed up.”
Zeke sat up on the bed, shock reading in his eyes. “What?”
“Yeah. I told him I had to withdraw because I’d made a bet and lost. He told me he was giving me an excuse to back out, and I said that I didn’t want to. A deal was a deal. He said it wasn’t up to me anymore.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s kind of a smarmy guy. I thought he actually cared about the Widows, but now I think he wants to make us a gimmick.”
Zeke reached forward, put his hand on my neck, and gave me a kiss. “I knew you were perfect.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know about that.”
“What else did he say to you?” Zeke leaned in like I was about to drop a juicy secret.
“Well, he called you a washed-up pro wannabe,” I said, even hating let the words leave my mouth.
“He’s what changed,” Zeke said finally. “Wright fucking pitted us against each other on purpose.”
My jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”
“He invited me to a drink in a bar that he paid the owner to empty. He asked me about our game, acted like he didn’t even know that much about your team, and then called you amateurs and asked why I would play against your team. He even asked if one of you had cancer. I found out the whole thing was a setup. He cleared the bar so there would be no one to refute his story when he went on television to say that I agreed to your bid for semi-pro.”
I scoffed. “What! Fuck that guy!”
Zeke laughed and grabbed the side of my neck again, but he didn’t pull in for a kiss, just rubbed gently. “Yeah, fuck that guy.”
“Clearly, we’re gonna need to be more careful what we say to him.” I looked at Zeke. “No more letting him get between us.”
He nodded. “Yep. Now…” He pushed against me and laid me back against the bed. “Let’s forget about him.”
I smiled, my body already turning up the heat again. “Forget about who?”
22
Quinn
I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face, no matter how hard I tried. Dragging myself away from Zeke on Sunday was difficult enough, but then we spent the whole day texting each other like high schoolers. Stupid gifs, cheesy images—if it was a cliche thing for a new couple to do, we did it dozens of times, all day long. At one point, Zeke took a picture of himself shirtless and hanging out of his football pants, which sent me to the bathroom to take off everything but my jacket, and unzip it to a very low point and take a picture to send back. The naughty pictures turned into sexting before circling back to sending back and forth the pictures we’d each taken of one another asleep at different points after we finally wore ourselves out the night before. When we finally had to stop so we could both focus on football, it felt like I was a little kid and my mom was trying to drag me back home from the park.
“Looks”—Cal started to dance at my approach—“like someone”—he bobbed his head—“got…”
Kris and Hollie jumped over next to him, and they all did jazz hands. “Laid!”
“Glad to see you’re getting used to each other,” I replied. “Dorks.”
I continued past them, but Kris ran up to my side. “Are you really dating Zeke Matheson?”
I shrugged, my smile growing to a shit-eating magnitude. “A lot more than that.”
“Oh my god.” She punched my arm. “That’s crazy! Well, congratulations. If he makes you smile like this, I’m on board. Just as long as he doesn’t turn into a crazy jerk who wants to end your career again.”
“Oh.” I looked at her. “We need to talk about that. All of us.” I turned to face the team. “Hey guys, can you huddle up? I have some news.”
The team immediately responded, gathering around, and Cal came to stand next to me. I looked around and noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Lila?” She was never late. If anything, she was always early.
My gaze dropped to George, and she shook her head. “No idea. I haven’t heard from her.”
“I called her sister,” Max said. “She talked to her, but when I tried to call and text, no response.”
“Maybe she’s in a snit about the game last week,” Jansen said.
“Hmm.” I made a plan to try and get a hold of her later, but for the time being, we had to focus. “All right, listen. I talked to Zeke last night—” My words were interrupted by hoots and hollers and Cal dancing next to me. I swatted his arm. “Knock it off, this is serious.”
Cal put his hands up. “My bad.”
“We started talking about Wright, and it turns out that all of this was a huge set-up. He set up Zeke, and he set us up, too,” I explained.
“Wait,” Mala said, “so we’re not really going for semi-pro.”
“No, we are, but on Wright’s terms right now. He’s intentionally making this a huge publicity stunt. The outcome of our games doesn’t really matter to him. He just wants the views.”
“Gross,” Kris grumbled.
“Yeah. He went to Zeke and called us amateurs and came to me and called Zeke a pro wannabe. He purposely tried to turn this into this huge, heated rivalry on and off the field so he could make money off it.” I crossed my arms. “Fortunately, we figured it out, but no one on this team is to talk to him for any reason. If he contacts you, simply don’t respond.”
“Can we do that?” Hollie asked. “Isn’t this, like, all up to him?”
“Let Cal and me worry about that. He may be at the top, but there’s a whole board. If I need to fight for us because he tries to pull us out now or something, we can, but we need to handle him with fireproof gloves. I’m serious, and if he tries to approach any of you, let me know right away.”
Everyone nodded with understanding, so I looked over at Cal. “All right, the floor is yours, Coach. I’m gonna try and get in touch with Lila.”
Cal nodded. “Cool.” He clapped his hands. “All right, Widows. We’re gonna start by closing in our gaps from last week. Lila ran us rampant, but we all have stuff to work on. Let’s get started.”
I left Cal and the team to their devices and pulled my phone out of my bag. It was difficult to ignore the new messages I’d received from Zeke, but I practiced patience and navigated to Lila’s number. I called her first, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried it again, but the second time, it rang only a couple of times before going to voicemail. Her phone wasn’t off. She was intentionally ignoring me. I typed her a quick text about how we needed to talk about what happened and that, even if we were at odds right now, we needed her, and then put my phone down and went to join my team.
Lila never showed up for practice, and when Wednesday rolled around, she wasn’t there again. Max confirmed again that she’d spoken with Lila’s sister, and Lila was okay—she was just ignoring us.
“If this is her way of quitting, it’s a pretty shitty way of doing it,” Jazz growled once practice was over on Wednesday.
“It just isn’t like her,” I responded. “She loves football, and there’s nowhere else in Idaho that she can play.”
“Plus, she
’s not a quitter,” George added in. “I agree, there’s something else going on. I’m just afraid of what.”
“Well, in any event, are we going to have to forfeit our game? We’re down to ten players,” Beck asked.
Cal held up a hand. “Fortunately, no. We can technically play with less than eleven players, just not more. It’s gonna be tough, though.”
“Can we find someone else?” Kris asked. “I know we only have two days, but it’s not impossible, right?”
“We can only play with the team entered on the roster I submitted when I applied,” I admitted sadly. “I’m sorry, ladies. We’re gonna have to figure out how to do it with just ten of us.”
Dejectedness circled around us like a low, dark cloud. “That’s gonna be hard. Colorado is crazy,” Jansen grumbled.
“Don’t worry. I’ve already got some ideas I’ve been working on to use our strengths creatively,” Cal said. “You’ve already gotten so much better in the past couple of weeks. There’s not a doubt in my mind that we can do it.” He looked at me. “But if we do go semi-pro, getting more players will be the first order of business.”
“I have a few that might be interested,” Mala said. “Ever since we started all this stuff, a few of my friends have asked.”
Jazz nodded. “Few of mine, too.”
“Who knows. We could have applications pouring in once we’re official.” Kris flashed me a smile. “It’s gonna be awesome.”
I grinned at the way her excitement immediately lifted the spirits of the group. “Hell yeah, it is.”
“All right, ladies. Let’s plan on meeting up tomorrow like we talked about. It’ll be good to get some practice in, knowing Lila probably won’t be back,” Cal said. “Go home, get rest.” He snapped. “Don’t forget to stretch. I’m serious.”
I grabbed my phone on my way to stretch and sent Zeke a text.
Hey, are you free after practice
today?
I’m always free for you,
gorgeous.
I need some help developing
a new game plan. Lila’s out.
I’ll be home by seven. Meet me
there?
I’ll see you soon.
23
Zeke
I was a ball of excitement, which was probably a bad thing because I was definitely going well over the speed limit while racing home. “You’re the best. Now get out of my house.”
“Huh, what a weird way to say, ‘Thank you for coming and cooking me and my girlfriend dinner, Daniel.’ What language is that?”
Daniel was on my car’s speakerphone, live from my house where he’d just finished cooking Quinn and me a nice dinner. I was already planning on inviting her over but thought I had more time. I wasn’t expecting Quinn to text first, not that I had any complaints.
“Thank you for coming and cooking me and my girlfriend dinner, Daniel,” I said. “Now get out of my house.”
“I would just like the record to show that this relationship is terribly uneven,” Daniel quipped. “Last time you came to my house, you ran off at least a month’s worth of sex, stole my clothes, and still had breakfast cooked for you.”
“I borrowed your clothes. They are now back in your possession. You like cooking breakfast, and you said that guy was boring,” I huffed back.
“I said a month’s worth of sex, not a month’s worth of entertainment,” Daniel replied.
“You’re gross,” I grumbled. I tried to be patient with his womanizing—and man…izing—because I knew that he was just trying to make due until he could reunite with this long lost love of his, but in the meantime, he was treating the people he happened across pretty poorly. “Out of curiosity, what happens if you never see this guy again, the one you’re acting like this for? What if he’s, like, married with two kids in Omaha or something?”
Daniel didn’t respond right away. I waited for a response, but when he spoke again, it was totally unrelated. “All right, your brisket is warming in the oven. Asparagus are in there with it. Halved baby potatoes are on top, covered in foil, and yes, I brought a bottle of wine because I’m a good person.”
I sighed, knowing full well that I wouldn’t get any answers, so I dropped it. “Thank you, Daniel. How can I repay you? Seriously. You’ve done a lot for me, and I don’t think I’d be with this girl if you hadn’t helped out. I’d say I’ll cook for you next time, but you and I both know you don’t want food poisoning.”
“I’ll think of something,” Daniel replied. “For now, just enjoy your night.”
“Thanks. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Fortunately, when I pulled up to my complex about thirty minutes later, Quinn’s brother’s car was nowhere to be found. I pulled into the garage, parked my car, and took the elevator up to my floor. My house smelled amazing, and I hopped to work, setting out plates for the food and glasses for the wine. When I opened the fridge to grab the bottle, I noticed a plate of cream puffs covered in plastic sitting on the top shelf. They were my favorite dessert. It was a shame that Daniel didn’t take any of the relationships he fiddled with seriously. He was one of the most caring and thoughtful people I knew. Whoever did snap him out of his commitment to a memory was going to be a lucky person.
I grabbed my phone, sent Daniel another, “Thank you, seriously,” text, then went back to work to get the food plated and wine poured. Everything was ready to go just in time. My phone buzzed with Quinn letting me know she was outside. I grabbed my phone and ran downstairs to greet her. Her look was simple, understated even, in a pair of jeans and a zip-up hoodie with a t-shirt underneath. It was her typical work attire, but she had the ability to make anything look good.
“Hey.” I damn near skipped down the path getting to her.
“Hi.” She met me with a kiss, and my hands were already snaking around her back and pulling her close. She pushed me back a little bit. “At least take me inside first.”
“I guess.” I took her backpack off of her back and slung it over my own and then grabbed her hand and led her up the path back into my apartment.
When I opened the door, Quinn took one step inside and gasped. “Um, oh my god. It smells heavenly in here.”
I set her backpack down on the couch in the living room and pulled her into the dining room. The plates were perfectly stacked with the food Daniel had cooked, and the white wine glinted in the flicker of the candles I’d lit.
“Braised brisket, grilled asparagus, halved baby potatoes, and white wine,” I said as I pointed at each of the items as I listed them. I presented the plate of cream puffs. “And for dessert, homemade cream puffs.”
Quinn shook her head. “Stop it. Am I dead or something? There’s no way you’re this good looking, amazing in bed, love football, and can cook.”
“I would love to take credit for this, I really, really, would, but my brother Daniel did it. He’s a chef.” I pulled out Quinn’s chair, and she sunk down into it as I pushed it back up to the table. I took my seat perpendicular to her. “He came here this afternoon and cooked.”
Quinn smirked. “Were you that confident that I was going to ask to come over?”
“I was going to ask. You just beat me to it,” I winked. “Although I know that you can’t resist”—I did an awkward dance—“this.”
Quinn giggled. “You are so weird.”
“You love it, though,” I replied.
Quinn shrugged. “I do.”
We each took a few silent minutes to dig into our meals. The brisket was savory and perfectly seasoned, the asparagus was crisp with a light char, and the potatoes had a slight spice to them. It was amazing.
“Please tell me your brother cooks professionally,” she said.
“He does,” I responded, taking a break to take a sip of my wine. “I’ve tried to convince him to go to New York or California or somewhere where he can really hit it big, but he’s kind of tied himself to Idaho.”
�
��How come?” Quinn asked.
“He met someone back in high school and kind of went crazy for them pretty instantly. It was just a one-night stand, and he never saw the guy again, but he really romanticized it. He says that was his soulmate. I don’t know. He sticks around Idaho, hoping to bump into him again,” I explained, realizing I’d never told anyone that before. “Uh, you can never tell him that I told you.”
Quinn laughed. “I won’t.” She poked out her bottom lip. “That’s kind of sad, though. What if that guy is long gone or something?”
“Every time I ask him that, he ignores me. I think he probably realizes that it’s more likely than not and just doesn’t want to come to terms with it. Instead, he dates around, mostly for sex, and doesn’t really get attached to people.”
Quinn snickered, taking another bite of her food. “I wish my brother was more like that. He goes all-in on relationships. Like, every date he goes out on, he keeps a piece of memorabilia in case they’re the one so that he has something from their first date in case they get married.”
I furrowed my brow. “That’s a bit intense.”
“Yeah. I feel like if anyone he dates knew he did that, they’d run.” She sighed. “It’s a bummer as his sister, though. He’s such a great guy, and I feel like he’d make someone really happy. People are just so…I don’t know, shitty. I hope he meets someone one day who wants to go all-in with him, too.”
“He will.” I smiled at her knowingly. “There’s someone out there for everyone.”
Quinn nodded back at me. “So I’m learning.”
We finished our meals and carried our wine and cream puffs into the living room to get more comfortable.
Quinn pulled out her playbook, and I frowned at her. “What are you doing?”