Owen
The morning light streams into the Range Rover, blinding me. I pull down the visor, shielding my eyes from the annoying, overly bright, happy sunshine.
“Why am I coming along?” I ask my best friend, roommate, and teammate from the Cleveland Astronauts, Harley Wheeler—also known as Wheels—as we make our way to his girlfriend’s house. I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but I hit my knees on the dashboard instead. I feel too big for this SUV.
I wish I had driven, then I could have gotten out of this excursion by driving us somewhere else. Anywhere else. I don’t like being a third wheel to Wheels and Blake, his girlfriend.
“Because Opie is going through a hard time and Blake doesn’t want to let her fend for herself. It’s girl shit, King. I don’t know.” Wheels looks over at me quickly and rolls his eyes. “I don’t ask questions. I just do what I can to make this easier on Blake.”
I snort. “You are so far gone, it’s not even funny.”
He smiles. “I know. It’s awesome.”
We fall into comfortable silence as I watch the city speed by outside my window. I don’t want to go out on this date with Harley and Blake and her roommate.
Don’t get me wrong, I adore Blake. She’s perfect for Wheels. She keeps the quarterback on his toes. She holds him accountable for his actions, something I was never able to do.
But going on a date brings back memories of Anna.
I don’t like thinking about her. It hurts too much, even after all this time.
“You okay over there?” Wheels asks as we park in Blake’s driveway.
I look over at him and force myself to smile. “I’m fine.”
“Is that like code for something?” He asks me while he turns off his truck.
“No. I’m not a woman,” I tell him, knowing where he’s going.
He chuckles. “Good to know.”
Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but laugh a little. We make our way to the front door and Wheels knocks. He actually bounces on the tips of his toes, excited. His smile is a mile wide and for the life of me, I can’t be annoyed at him.
He’s happy. Why should I be mad at him when he’s found that one who can make him smile like that?
It just reminds me of what I’m missing.
And I do miss her—every fucking day.
Little things remind me of her. The worst is when I hear little kids laughing.
Anna giggles. Every freaking time.
I can’t help but laugh in response. It’s the best sound in the world, but she sounds like a small child cackling about.
“Are you laughing at me?” Her tone is incredulous as she widens her eyes comically.
“Yes.” I admit, wrapping my hand around her waist.
She wiggles out of my grasp. “Don’t try and touch me right now, Owen. I’m mad.”
“Why? What did I do?” I ask, smiling.
She narrows her eyes. “You know what you did.”
“I really don’t, Anna.”
She looks away from me and leans her head back so it rests on my shoulder. We’re sitting at the park, a picnic basket and a blanket our only companions.
“You said I laugh like a little kid.” She pouts adorably.
“Sweet girl, you do.” I’m not able to contain my laughter, which only aggravates her more.
“Owen!” She pushes at me, which does nothing, but joins in my laughter.
“You’re mean,” she asserts.
I’m never not fascinated by her. I’ve been in love with her as long as I can remember.
“I’m sorry, Anna.” I pull her into me, place a kiss on her forehead and she sighs.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just me being sensitive.”
“Never be afraid to tell me what you feel. Never.”
She looks up at me. “How did we get so lucky?”
“Lucky how?”
“We found each other so soon. So fast. We’re lucky, Owen. Never forget that.”
“I won’t, sweet girl. I can’t.”
Those memories haunt me now, just as they do every time I think about her. The time we spent after she went into remission was some of the best moments for us. We knew what she had beaten, which meant we didn’t take anything, not even ourselves, for granted. We lived every day like it was our last.
I‘m saved from any more painful memories when Blake opens the door. Harley’s body relaxes completely. He wasn’t tense, but now that he sees her, he seems calmer, more at ease. They stare at each other, longingly, which makes me want to tease them, but I don’t, because they deserve this moment. It’s taken them a while to get here. You’re not supposed to fall in love with the person who is responsible for getting the city you play in to love you again. She’s working on correcting his image and for the most part it’s working. But their path here wasn’t always easy. Love doesn’t care about silly things like being someone’s employer. It only cares about that one person that makes you happy.
“Hi.” It’s clear she only has eyes for him. It’s like the world around them disappears. They forget I’m even standing there. They just see each other.
“Hi.” Wheels’ smile gets bigger and bigger while they continue to stare at each other—love-struck.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes is hard so I break the moment. “Hey, let us in, BA. I’m hungry.”
It’s just too real for me. It actually hurts to watch them together and see how happy they are.
I was that happy once. Now? Now, I’m a shell of the man I once was.
Walking past the happy couple, ignoring the looks they toss at me, I make my way into the kitchen where Blake’s roommate is sitting at the table.
“Hello,” I greet her. I sniff the air; my stomach grumbles when it registers the bacon and eggs cooking on the stove.
She grunts.
“Well, someone is a ray of sunshine.” I head to the stove and look after the breakfast Blake must have been making before we got here.
I’m offered no response. She stares into her coffee cup like it holds all her answers in life.
Blake and Harley have still not joined us in the kitchen—something the grunter has apparently just noticed as she looks up at me.
“Who the hell are you?” she demands.
I hear it—the pain in her voice, the hopelessness she feels.
I feel for her. I felt that way at one time, with Anna. Every time she was bent over the toilet, throwing up her guts, or crying because she couldn’t taste her favorite foods anymore, I’d feel hopeless. I wondered if she would actually beat the sickness that was killing her from the inside out. When she did, that hope returned. But now? Hope isn’t my friend. It’s a fleeting moment of wishes and wants. My hope is at a standstill.
“Owen King. I’m on the Astronauts with Wheels.” I stick out my hand to her but she glares at me, leaving it hanging awkwardly in the air. Slowly, I pull it back, because the look she’s giving me is one of complete and utter annoyance.
“Ophelia Warren, but everyone calls me Opie.” She looks around. “Where are the love birds?”
“Probably still in the hallway deciding who loves the other more,” I tell her, not bothering to hide my bitterness.
She smirks, a new look for her otherwise pretty, but sullen, face, and turns her head in the direction of the hallway off the kitchen. “Get in here and stop sucking face!”
I can’t help it. I snort out a laugh.
She moves from her seat at the island and drops her cup in the sink, completely ignoring the sizzling pots and pans on the stove.
I move closer to the stove to watch over the food.
Blake and Wheels still haven’t entered the kitchen, which prompts an evil smile from Opie.
“I can’t deal with the happy couple right now,” she shouts toward the hallway again. “Alright, if you two are fucking in the hallway, I’m not going anywhere.”
I can’t help it. I hold up my hand for a high five, because that was a good on
e. She looks at me, the glare gone from her light eyes, and she slaps my hand. We laugh together and are still laughing when Blake and Wheels enter the kitchen.
Blake examines us suspiciously. “Alright, you two, what in the world?”
Opie and I haven’t stopped laughing and Wheels eyes me. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Nothing.” We respond in unison, which only manages to make us laugh more.
“Our friends are weird,” Wheels says, wrapping an arm around Blake.
She nods. “They are, but we love them.”
We finally control our fit of laughter and they look at us expectantly.
They heard Opie’s comment before, but chose to ignore it. Instead, Blake leans against the kitchen counter, next to me, with Harley not far from her.
“Alright, who’s excited for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? How about you Wonder QB?” Blake asks Wheels, with a secret grin on her face.
That nickname causes Wheel’s lips to tip up. “I’m pretty excited, BA.”
Opie and I share a look of utter exasperation as our best friends get lost in each other, letting them chatter excitedly about where we’re going today.
I keep my eyes away from Blake and Wheels, ignoring how happy they are together. Opie moves back to sit at the kitchen island, and I glance from my spot at the stove. I’m trying to watch the food, but my eyes are drawn to her. She has this look of longing on her face—I don’t even think she knows she has—as she watches Blake and Harley whisper to each other.
Wheels told me she and her boyfriend broke up last night, but I don’t know the exact details. Wheels wasn’t very forthcoming.
Watching Opie out of the corner of my eye, I sense her pain. I feel her despair. She’s no longer looking at Blake and Wheels, instead, she’s back to staring into her coffee, clutching the red cup in her hand to the point I think it’s going to shatter into a million pieces.
A part of me wants to fix it. Another part of me—the part that is loyal to her—is telling me to just walk away. Don’t get involved.
But I want to. God, do I want to.
I don’t know what it is, but Ophelia Warren drags me into her sadness and I don’t even know her.
Ophelia announces she’s going to get ready and heads down the hallway. I watch her walk away, not knowing if I should follow. I want to offer support to her, let her know that, even though I’ve only met her once, I get what she’s going through. I can commiserate.
Blake follows after Ophelia, relieving me of my dilemma. I know they had a long night, Wheels mentioned it last night while we were out with the guys, but it seems like nothing was really accomplished in their late-night talking. Ophelia is walking around like she could breathe fire at anyone.
Instead of getting involved with Opie and helping her out, Wheels and I sit at the countertop and eat our breakfast quickly. When we finish, we wash our dishes and I feel his eyes on me the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything right away.
“So, what was that?” Wheels finally asks, as he holds a soapy plate in his hands.
“What was what?” I ask, not looking up from my task of drying a bowl. My heart is aching in my chest, because this is most I’ve ever thought about Anna. There’s a reason for that. I avoid it at all costs because it still hurts. I still see her laying on that hospital bed, not breathing, her skin pale white, her eyes closed. My screams still haunt me in the night.
“You and Opie. You two buddy-buddy now?”
“I was being nice. She seems pretty upset still.”
Wheels brushes off the comment, “Opie will survive. She’s resilient that way.”
“Sometimes, the most resilient people are the ones who need the most help.”
“Who the hell are you, Buddha?” He teases while he washes another dish.
I snort, drying off the plate he hands me. “No, I’m just saying we don’t know the whole story.”
Wheels nods, agreeing with me. Sometimes, people make judgments about you based on a single interaction. He knows how that works, since he’s in the middle of something similar with the fans of Cleveland. Last year, he learned the hard way that you give this city, this team, your all. After the drunken fight he got into with fans, he was forced to change his ways. Rehab was the first step to help with his alcohol problem. Since then, he’s been better. He has taken to the time to learn more about the city he lives in. With Blake’s public relations help, he’s come leaps and bounds from where he was last season.
“I shouldn’t have judged, you’re right. How do you do that? How do you know exactly what she’s feeling?”
Last year, when we were rookies, we barely knew each other. But he’s been asking me that question for the past few months. We’ve steadily grown closer and he keeps wondering how I so easily understand people around me.
I’m a watcher. I listen to people. I pay attention to the little things.
Anna loved that about me. She loved that I would know exactly how to talk someone down, or up, depending on the situation. She loved that people would look to me for advice. You don’t see too many offensive lineman taking time out of their days to help others with the little issues, or big issues, in their own lives, since everyone assumes jocks and athletes only care about themselves.
I shrug, because this is the first time in a long time I’ve let myself get carried away with the thoughts of her, with the memories that she and I shared. “I pay attention.”
“Maybe I should start that.”
Laughing, I say, “Go ahead and try, Wheels. When Blake walks into the room, you are gone. No one else exists for you. So, you’d lose sight of everyone else around you.”
He smiles, “Yeah, you’re right.”
I know the exact moment Blake walks back into the kitchen. Harley stops paying me any attention and drops the dish in the sink, getting bubbles everywhere. I grumble, but I don’t hold it against him.
That’s fine. I love seeing him happy again.
When Harley and I moved in together our rookie season, something was off. He was quiet. Reserved. He didn’t know how to communicate with the rest of us. He shut himself off from the world and drowned his failures, on and off the field, in a bottle of alcohol.
As someone who has used alcohol as a crutch, I knew what he was doing. But my own heart was grief stricken; I wasn’t in the right mind to help him or offer him advice. I’d just lost the love of my life a few months before I was drafted last year. I kept my head down. I focused on the one thing that brought me some kind of stability—football.
I’m adaptable. I can change as I see fit. It’s what makes me such a good football player. I can see things the other offensive linemen can’t. I can see shifts in the defensive line’s movements. I can see the safety’s motions to each other. I can see the cornerback watching the quarterback.
I can see it all.
The one thing I couldn’t see, or anticipate? Losing her.
This time I couldn’t adapt. After she died in February of my junior year, I was a complete and utter mess. I lost my way a bit. After a few months of grieving, my football coach kicked my ass and told me to get it together. He pushed me into training for the combine again that was a few months after she passed.
So, I pushed her, and the guilt, aside. I did what was needed to get my head back in the game, and only the game. I didn’t want to make friends. My first year in the NFL, all I wanted to do was practice, play on Sundays, and ignore the rest of the world.
Letting Harley and the team down that first year killed me. This year? I’m making it work, and ignoring the guilt that still holds me under water some days, making it impossible to breathe.
The strange thing is, right now, seeing Opie? It makes breathing a little bit easier—like there’s finally oxygen around me that I can suck into my deflated lungs again.
I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
Stopping these feelings I haven’t had since Anna is harder than I thought.
“You up for this, Opie?” H
arley asks, his voice gentle, as he sees the look on Opie’s face.
Her eyes widen slightly, but she nods, “I’m good.”
We leave the girls’house, they lock up behind us, and climb into the Range Rover. I sit in the back seat—rather uncomfortably—with Opie. It’s silent in the car on the ride to the Hall of Fame, and I’m focused on only Opie. She’s watching the streets and the other cars that pass us by—Wheels is kind of a pokey driver—and there’s no life behind her eyes.
I touch her hand and her eyes shoot over to mine with that go-to glare of hers.
“What?” she snaps at me in a whisper.
“You okay?” I whisper back.
“Just peachy.” She turns her attention back to the road, ignoring me completely.
Well, this is going to be fun.
Something about her need to keep me at arms length only makes me want to know more about her. She needs a friend. I plan on being that friend. I can’t be anything else.
I expect the overwhelming feeling of guilt. Whenever I think about another girl, my heart pounds, my hands sweat, and I have a sudden urge to throw up.
It’s like I’m betraying her—I’m giving up on her and what we had.
Ours was the simplest version of love. She loved me and I loved her. Every part of my heart was hers, and her heart was mine.
We made it through a lot together, but losing her? There is no getting through that. There is no playbook for that. There’s only pain and heartache, both of which I’m very familiar with.
Chapter 3
Opie
I think back to my conversation with Blake in the bathroom before we left. It’s the one thing I can focus on. It’s the one thing I know that has some kind of meaning, because everything else right now doesn’t even matter.
“Opie,” Blake says from behind me. “Are you okay? I’m sorry for what I said in the kitchen.”
I look at her in the mirror. “It’s cool, B.”
“Like hell it is. I’m sorry if I’m flaunting this all in your face. My happiness and Harley.” Blake’s gaze is guilty. “I’m so sorry.”
I grab a hold of the sink and heave out a sigh.
Between Hearts: A Romance Anthology Page 17