The Wrong Game: A Sports Romance

by Kandi Steiner

  I hadn’t even realized he’d taken it off.

  I’d always assumed that the nurses or the mortician had removed it before the funeral. I knew about grave robbers, knew he wouldn’t be buried with it. But I hadn’t even asked about it.

  I hadn’t cared.

  I wondered now when he had taken it off, or if the nurses had done it. He’d gotten so small toward the end. Maybe it fell off.

  Maybe he took it off when the other woman came to visit him.

  I placed it to the side.

  It was sad, to see the last of what was once a man consolidated like that in a tiny little box. There was his wallet, with a little cash, old cards that had already been cancelled, a couple of photos — one of us, one of his family. There was a watch, a pair of socks we’d brought from home because his feet were always cold in the hospital, a few books he’d requested, and a stack of papers regarding something at the tech company. None of it made sense to me, except that it didn’t surprise me he’d worked up until he died.

  That was just the man he was.

  I filtered through the box, finding little things here and there, nothing of significance. I couldn’t figure out why Sofia had thought I would need to go through it, need to see any of it all. Perhaps the wedding ring?

  But when I made it to the bottom of the box, there was a stack of envelopes. And on the very top the one Sofia had referred to. It had my name written in his shaky, messy handwriting.

  Gem.

  I picked it up, feeling the harsh, cold paper in my hand as I ran my fingers over the ink. I’d always wanted Carlo to write me letters. I’d asked him to when we were younger, in college, thinking it would be romantic. But he never wanted to. Then, again, for our anniversaries, I tried hinting to him by writing him long letters each year. Still, he never wrote one in return.

  Until now.

  It felt like I was watching from above, like I was outside of my body as I opened up that envelope and unfolded the paper inside of it.

  Then, I took a breath, and I read.

  My Beautiful Gem,

  There are no words I can say to comfort you in this time. If you are reading this letter, it means I’ve passed away, that I have left this physical Earth and you behind to live in it. And for that, I am truly sorry.

  But what I want you to know more than anything is that I love you.

  I have loved you since the very first moment I saw you, and my love for you has only grown over time. I’m so sorry I had to leave you before we could build our life together, the one we always pictured.

  There are no words to make this easier, to take away your pain or ease the thoughts I’ve had haunting me at night as I lie in this bed, waiting to pass. I’ve never been good with words. That was always your thing. But I wanted to write this letter to you and tell you that you are the love of my life, and I will wait for you in Heaven.

  Take care of yourself, and take your time.

  I love you.

  Carlo

  I didn’t realize I was crying until the first tear fell from my wet cheek, splashing onto the paper and splotching the ink over where he’d said he loved me. And as soon as that first tear fell, I lost it. My face twisted, one hand covering my stomach where it sank and tugged at my heart from the inside. I dropped the letter to the counter and covered my mouth with my other hand, squeezing my eyes shut and sobbing harder than I ever had in my life.

  It was like holding my husband in my hands, reading that letter. My husband. The one I thought I knew. The one I believed.

  The sobs that racked through me in the next minutes were brutal. They ripped me from the inside out, leaving me breathless, and at one point, I fell down to the floor, sitting on the cold tile with my knees hugged into my chest.

  I couldn’t place why it was I was crying. Maybe it was because I missed him. Maybe it was because I loved him, still. Maybe it was because I hated him, too.

  I couldn’t be sure, not even when I finally stood again, still sniffling, eyes puffy as I folded my note away and tucked it back inside the envelope. I pulled out the rest of the envelopes next, seeing that he’d written to his mom, his dad, even my parents. Sofia must really have stopped once she saw my name, because the letter addressed to her was still sealed shut.

  I put them all to the side, knowing I’d need to deliver those, next.

  But my hand paused at the last envelope in the stack.

  It was written to someone I didn’t know. To a name that wasn’t familiar.

  Brielle.

  Everything slowed — my heart, my breath, my hands as they reached for that bottom envelope. It wasn’t addressed to me. I knew I shouldn’t read it.

  But I opened it, anyway.

  My Beautiful Brielle,

  There are no words I can say to comfort you in this time. If you are reading this letter, it means I’ve passed away, that I have left this physical Earth and you behind to live in it. And for that, I am truly sorry.

  But what I want you to know more than anything is that I love you.

  I have loved you since the very first moment I saw you, and my love for you has only grown over time. I’m so sorry I had to leave you before we could build our life together, the one we always pictured.

  There are no words to make this easier, to —

  I screamed.

  I couldn’t read another word. Then again, I didn’t have to, because they were the same words I’d just read. They were the same words he’d written to me.

  I screamed again, louder, the sound ripping through my throat like the last call of a dying animal. I grabbed the note in my hands, ready to rip it to shreds, but I stopped, crumpling it up and shoving it inside the box along with mine and everything else that had been inside it.

  Then, I whipped around, and I heaved it across the room.

  It hit my coffee table, the contents flying out and littering my floor, and I screamed again.

  But that scream turned into a wail.

  That wail turned into a cry.

  And before I knew it, I was back on the ground again. And this time, I couldn’t find the strength to get back up.

  How could I have ever have forgotten this pain?

  How could I ever have been so stupid to think it was worth it to risk this again, to let someone in, to trust them when no one could be trusted?

  Carlo was my everything. He was my light, my life, my best friend. And he betrayed me.

  Zach would, too.

  He may not want to. He may promise me he never will. He may even believe himself when he says it. But the truth is that no matter what he says, no matter what he believes, it can all change.

  Love is a slick, curvy, dangerous road, and no one is in control. It doesn’t matter what you drive, how carefully you maneuver, who you trust to sit beside you or take the wheel when you’re tired.

  The only way to stay safe is to stay off the road altogether.

  I wouldn’t forget that again.

  Zach

  It was a sucker punch.

  I had no idea it was coming, no idea I even needed to put gloves on as I got ready for work Thursday night.

  I was bouncing around, jamming to music and thinking about how much I couldn’t wait to see Gemma. It didn’t matter that I’d just seen her Wednesday morning, climbing out of her bed with the sun — I already needed more.

  That’s how it had been since the moment I met her — I always needed more. I needed another game, another night, another chance. Once I got it, I needed to know more about her, needed inside her heart, needed her to find a home inside mine.

  The last few weeks had been a blur and a slow dance all at once. My family loved her, Doc loved her, and when she was there on one of the nights I needed her most… I thought maybe I did, too.

  It was too soon for that, I knew it before I even let myself think the words. But just because it was too soon to say them didn’t mean I couldn’t feel what I felt.

  I couldn’t wait to see her again, and she was coming to
the bar that night. To top it off, if the Bears got another W, we’d put ourselves in great shape for the playoff race.

  It was going to be a good night.

  That’s what I was thinking.

  I wasn’t aware that across town, that same girl I couldn’t wait to see was not the same girl I left in bed Wednesday morning.

  Doc and I were in a rhythm, the bar already packed for the Bears away game as we did our best to keep up with orders. Since he dropped his news on me, we hadn’t discussed next steps. I knew I had a choice to make, but I didn’t know how long I had to make it. So, although we were working like normal, there was a different air around us — a different vibe.

  He was leaving, and I hadn’t accepted it yet.

  “Can you grab those girls down at the end of the bar?” Doc hollered at me as he scooted past, balancing the necks of several beers in his hands.

  “I’m on it,” I said, eyes skirting up to one of the TV screens. It was five minutes into the first quarter, and Gemma still hadn’t shown.

  I tried to shake it off, knowing she’d be there eventually. Maybe she got caught in traffic, or maybe she got held up at work. But there was a sinking feeling in my gut that told me something was off.

  The chaos continued, Doc and I rushing back and forth, pausing only to take a drink of water or cheer with the crowd when the Bears made a play. When the first quarter ended and Gemma still wasn’t there, I pulled out my phone to text her.

  And it was that exact moment that she walked in.

  She looked like hell. The fact that I could even think that meant something, too, because I’d seen her late at night and early in the morning without a stitch of makeup on her face and she was always beautiful. But tonight, even with a full face of makeup, her eyes were swollen and tired, her mouth set in a flat line, her arms crossed over her middle like she was holding herself together with that grasp.

  Something was wrong.

  Doc saw her when I did, and he shot me a worried glance at the sight of her. I just nodded, letting him know I needed a minute, and I delivered two beers to the guys I’d been taking care of all night on my way around the bar.

  As soon as I reached her, I pulled her into me. “There you are,” I breathed into her hair, kissing her forehead when I pulled back. “I was worried. Are you… is everything okay?”

  She hadn’t softened in my embrace, and now that we were apart again, she seemed to only curl into herself more. Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. She was only a few inches away, and yet it felt like there were miles and miles between us.

  “We need to talk.”

  I swallowed.

  “Can we go outside?”

  Everything in me wanted to say no. No, we can’t go outside and we can’t talk because whatever it is that you want to talk about can’t be good — not with your eyes looking at the floor instead of me.

  “Okay,” I said instead.

  I laid my hand across the small of her back, eyes meeting Doc’s just briefly before I ushered her outside. It was windy, the bite of the cold stinging my cheeks as soon as we were outside. My sweater did little to fight against it, and I knew even bundled in her coat and boots, Gemma had to be freezing, too.

  “It’s cold out here,” I offered, voice just a whisper. It was quieter outside, the noise from the bar muffled.

  Gemma just kept walking, taking me around the corner to the same little lot we’d played catch in on her birthday.

  “I’m okay. Do you want to go grab a coat?”

  I shook my head, pulling her to a stop as soon as we were in the lot. The buildings on all three sides blocked the wind, and though it was still cold, I couldn’t think of anything other than what it was that was plaguing Gemma.

  “What’s going on?” I asked her, framing her shoulders in my hands. “Are you okay?”

  Her arms were still crossed, and she tightened them over herself, eyes glossing as she looked out toward the street. She still couldn’t look at me.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Zach,” she breathed, and I felt my heart crack with the words, splintering like a tree struck by lightning.

  I swallowed. “I don’t understand.”

  “I have a date for next week’s game,” she said, sniffing, her lashes in rapid movement to try to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. “I’m going back to my original plan.”

  I blinked once, digesting what she’d said. My hands still held her as I blinked again, trying to figure it out, but I came up empty.

  I dropped my hands.

  I took a step away from her.

  And then, she finally looked at me.

  “This is a joke,” I said, searching her emerald eyes. They were so dark that night, so tired, still glossed over with tears she wouldn’t let fall. “You’re not fucking serious. After everything… why the hell would you take someone else to the game. What does that mean?” I took a step toward her, filling the space I’d just left between us. “What about us?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut at that, tears finally spilling down over the apples of her cheeks.

  “Gemma,” I said, reaching for her. “Whatever is going on, whatever made you feel this way, we can figure it out. Together.”

  “No,” she whispered, and when my hands touched her, she jerked away. “No!”

  I held my hands up, and she watched me with wild eyes, like an abused dog backed into a corner.

  “Don’t you get it?” she said. “What we’ve been doing, pretending everything is fine. It’s not fine. I’m not fine, Zach. Everything feels amazing right now. We’re spending all our time together. You’re letting me in, I’m letting you in. I’m trusting you, you’re trusting me. But you know what?” Gemma stepped into my space then. “It will all change. All of it. This, what we feel,” she said, gesturing between us. “It’s temporary. And it’ll go away. And no matter what you say now, what you believe now, one day it’ll change and you’ll lie to me and break my heart and I’ll be on the floor again and I can’t—”

  Her voice broke, and she covered her mouth with one hand, shaking her head. And I saw it in her eyes, the ghost of her husband, haunting her still.

  She lost her husband, the one she’d thought she’d spend forever with.

  Of course, she was hurting. Of course, she wasn’t okay.

  But I could help her. I could love her through it — through anything.

  “Gemma, I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

  “You can’t promise that!” she screamed. “Remember? We said. We made that a rule. No promises.”

  “Gemma—”

  “I’ve heard those words before,” she said, cutting me off. “I’ve seen those same eyes, believed a man when he said I was the only one for him.”

  Her words ripped from her throat like the roaring flames of a dragon, but they only confused me.

  “He said the same things. He believed them, too, which is why I did. I mean, you could have hired an escort to try to sway him, Zach, and he would have shoved her aside and looked for me. You could have promised him the hottest woman on the planet, and he’d still have said he wanted me.” She rolled her lips together, two more tears slipping from her eyes as she let out something close to a laugh. “But it changed. It alway does. And I’m not doing it again. I can’t do it again.”

  “Gemma, I don’t understand.” I reached for her, but she backed away again.

  “He cheated on me!” she screamed.

  The words echoed off the brick walls around us, circling us again and again until they finally faded, but I’d hear them forever.

  Gemma’s eyes watered again, and she couldn’t fight the tears off now, they came so fast. She shook her head, running her hands back through her hair as she turned away from me.

  “He was having an affair. And the same day I was going to tell him that I knew, the same day I put down a deposit on the place I live in now, the day I was going to tell him I was done and we were getting a divorce?” She turned then, pinning me with her stare. �
��Was the same day he told me he was dying of cancer.”

  I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know why. I didn’t have a single word to say.

  Gemma nodded, her eyes reading mine. “Yeah. So I stayed, and I held my tongue, and held my husband’s hand as I watched him wither away in just four short weeks. And when he died, she was there — in the back pew, crying more than me, mourning the man she loved who was married to a woman she never considered was being hurt in the process.” She paused. “Brielle. I know her name now. And somehow, that makes her even more real.”

  Her face twisted at that, and she leaned against the brick wall again, shoulders slumped.

  Her eyes were distant when she spoke again. “Yes, she was there, at his funeral,” Gemma repeated. “But it was me who buried him. And I buried his secret right along with him. I never told him I knew. I never told anyone, other than Belle.”

  “Jesus, Gemma,” I breathed. My hands ached so bad to hold her, to pull her into me, but I kept them fisted at my sides. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Exactly,” she spat back. “You didn’t know, because I didn’t tell you. Because I don’t trust you. I thought I did, but I was lying to myself, and to you. I don’t trust anyone,” she emphasized, shaking her head. “Not anymore.”

  My heart broke in that moment, but not for me. For her. For this beautiful, amazing, intelligent, strong and resilient woman who had gone through something no one in this life ever should have to.

  She thought she was scaring me away. She thought I’d run.

  I only wanted to hold her tighter.

  “Come here,” I said. I held my arms open as she shook her head. “Just for a minute. Please, Gemma, come here.”

  She was still crying, shaking her head like everything was pointless as she closed the distance between us. I took her in my arms, wrapped her in the biggest hug I could manage, and we both let out a long, tired breath.

  For a moment, I just held her, wondering what to say. When I finally spoke, it was soft, words whispered into her hair.