Focused

by Sorensen, Karla

  I let out a slow breath and left the building.

  Everything held a surreal quality as I walked numbly to my car. Like when you have a cold and your head feels disconnected from your body. Or everyone around you is moving at a different speed. There were boxes in my hands, but I hardly felt them, like someone else's arms were holding them up.

  My car was right where I left it, and I set the boxes on the hood so I could dig my keys out of my purse. With the trunk opened, and the boxes set carefully inside, I couldn't get over the strange sense of detachment I felt.

  Later, I'd probably cry again at the loss of a job I loved.

  I'd probably cry at the knowledge that I wouldn't see Noah anymore. Then I snorted. Please, I hadn't seen him in eight weeks unless it was on a TV screen.

  That was when I heard him. "Molly?"

  The sound of Noah's voice sent chills racing down the length of my spine, one after another, tumbling on top of each other to see which could go faster. They were powerful enough, those racing, chasing chills, that I shivered. Just once.

  For the past eight weeks, I'd fought against every impulse to show up at his door some night. To catch a glimpse of him after a game or when he was sweaty after practice. But I'd been right to stay away. Because I knew, I knew so deep in the darkest, most vulnerable part of my heart that I couldn't go to him. Not this time.

  With my hands still braced on the lid of my trunk, I took a deep breath, dropping my arms slowly as I turned to see Noah, watching me with a careful expression on his face.

  If his voice gave me chills, then his face melted me to my core.

  "Hi, Noah," I said, keeping my own expression just as neutral.

  His jaw clenched. And I held my breath to see what he'd say next.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Noah

  She looked terrible.

  And beautiful.

  Her nose was red, and her eyes rimmed like she had a cold or had been crying. There was no messy bun today, the kind I was used to, the one that she'd no doubt done and redone a dozen times, and her hair was down in messy waves.

  It was shorter, just below her shoulders.

  Molly's eyes surveyed me in much the way that I was her, and it occurred to me, after a few beats of awkward silence, that it was my turn to talk.

  "How are you?"

  If I'd ever wanted to find the situation in life that I sucked at the most, it was this, right here. I couldn't have sounded more painfully polite. More disinterested. But inexplicably, her eyes softened at my robotic tone.

  "It was kind of a rough day," she answered quietly. "Or not nearly as good as yours was yesterday, at any rate."

  I grimaced. "Yeah." My eyes searched her face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  When she smiled sadly, I knew she wasn’t going to answer me. "Congratulations on breaking the record." She shook her head. "You've looked great out there."

  My eyes held hers, and she blushed.

  "Or played great," she stammered. "Not looked great. Not that I can see your face under the helmet."

  "I knew what you meant." I gentled my tone. "And thank you."

  Molly glanced away, staring hard at the facility behind me. I had to close my eyes for a second and try to formulate a plan. Walking out to my car, I hadn't expected to see her or have this awkward facsimile of a conversation with the one person I never struggled to talk to. Rick and Marty's words about her rang through my head, louder and louder until I wanted to smack my temple and dislodge them. Empty my ears like they were water I'd allowed in while swimming.

  "Are you still liking the house?"

  I nodded. Good plan, Griffin. Stand awkwardly until she felt forced to speak because you couldn't get out of your own head.

  "Yeah, umm, I'm still slow at buying furniture and stuff. I don't do much besides sleep and eat there."

  That made her look sad. For me.

  "Did you get your telescope at least?"

  "Yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck. "It's still in the box they shipped it in."

  This was getting better and better.

  She gave me a tiny smile. "I found a constellation the other day."

  "Yeah? Which one?"

  "The Big Dipper."

  I smiled widely, and it felt like that simple motion cracked a concrete mask off my face.

  How far had my blinders extended? I'd been so focused on work—eating it, breathing it, sleeping it—gladly allowing it to drown out every other thing in my head so that I didn't have to dissect what was remaining. And in one uncomfortable conversation, she sliced them off with the neat clips of a blade.

  No wonder I never dipped my toes into the ocean of dating and women. I sucked at this. I'd managed one stupid question, the kind you'd ask a stranger.

  But this was Molly. The same woman who made me laugh, when laughing was the last thing I wanted to do. Who made me smile, and surprised me when I thought I was beyond surprising. The same woman who singlehandedly obliterated my legendary control because I couldn't imagine not kissing her or tasting her. The only thing I could do was be honest.

  But she spoke first. "I should go."

  "Wait." I strode forward, stopping just shy of touching her. "Why is this so hard?" I asked.

  Molly slumped against her car and gave me a miserable look. "Come on, Noah. You know why."

  "No, I don't," I said. I ran my hands into my hair, a helpless gesture when what I wanted to do was tug her into my arms and feel my soul settle again. "Help me understand why it's so hard to see you, why we can't talk like normal."

  "What's our normal?" she asked quietly, shaking her head as she did. "We hated each other until we didn't. We slept together, then stopped talking. And here we are."

  I raised an eyebrow. "That's a massive simplification of what happened between us."

  "I know it is."

  "Nor was it my idea to stop talking," I reminded her gently.

  That made her eyes flash dangerously. "Can you blame me for backing away? Would it have been easier to try to pretend that weekend didn't happen? Film, work, be around each other every single day and just ... pretend." Her voice sounded thick. "That sounded like hell to me."

  "No, it wouldn't have been easier. I hate pretending. I don't ... I don't think I could have." I took a step closer. "But this hasn't been easy either, has it?"

  She dropped her head into her hands and exhaled shakily. I got the distinct impression that the only thing allowing her to keep hold on her emotions was if she physically blocked out my presence like that. I took a step back.

  "What do you want me to say, Noah?" she asked, voice muffled behind her hands. "I had a shitty day, and I'm tired, and I don't know what you want me to say right now."

  "I want you to be honest with me." Curling my hands around her wrists, I gently pulled her hands away from her face. "I know you said that we never had a normal ... but ... I don't know what to make of that. You were my friend, Molly. I talked to you more than I talked to anyone. I miss you," I told her fiercely. "It was easy to ignore how much when you weren't around, but I do. And I hate how weird things are right now. Don't you?"

  I couldn't believe what had just tumbled out of my mouth.

  Unpracticed.

  Unrehearsed.

  Hell, I'd barely registered how I felt, but standing in front of her, it was like someone took a wood-chipper to whatever I'd been using to block out everything I'd suppressed for the past eight weeks.

  It was impossible to believe that only a day earlier, I was able to stand back and monitor just how little I felt about my life. Like someone who'd lost the ability to feel pain. You could set your hand on a stove and not register the sensation of blistering skin. And now, watching her expressive face work through what I'd blurted out, I felt everything.

  Every pinch of her lips and every shift of her eyes. When they filled with bright tears, I wanted to do anything, anything humanly possible to make it stop. Just the threat of tears on her part, and I felt them li
ke a blowtorch to my gut. But if withstanding the heat, if pressing into it further was what she needed from me, I'd step closer and hold the flames against me for as long as she needed.

  Oh, hell.

  Rick was right, that asshole.

  I'd ... I'd fallen in love with her, and it happened without me realizing it.

  "Noah," she started, completely oblivious that my heart had just splattered to the ground at her feet. "Of course I do. But …" She trailed off, eyes snapping beyond my shoulder. "Shit. I need to go. I cannot be on camera right now. Not after my day today."

  I glanced back and saw Marty sprinting toward us like he was about to catch me mounting Molly on the hood of her car. I pinned him with a look and held up my hand, but he just kept barreling toward us. Thank goodness he was so out of shape. He stopped about forty yards away and braced a hand on his knee to breathe for a second.

  "Molly," I begged. "Don't go."

  "Please don't make me do this right now. Not on camera." Her eyes were huge and pleading. I nodded and stepped back.

  I knew at that instant that I'd do anything she asked of me. Anything, even if it meant letting her drive away.

  "Have a good rest of the season, Noah," she said, just before she slammed her door shut.

  "What?" I went to grab the door handle and ask her why the hell that sounded like a goodbye, but I stepped back when I heard Marty's pounding footsteps and obnoxiously loud breathing behind me. "You rotten asshole," I told him.

  "You let her leave?"

  I whirled. "Yeah. She didn't want to be on camera, you dick. You think I'd force her?"

  Marty sighed, watching Molly's car leave the parking lot once the security guard lifted the gate. "No."

  I gave him a dry look. "Your timing leaves a lot to be desired."

  "Molly got fired," he blurted out.

  "What?" I yelled.

  "That's why I was running out here. I overheard her brother say something about it when I was packing up my gear after practice. You looked like shit today, by the way."

  "Why did she get fired?"

  "Why do you think?" He shook his head. "She lied to her boss about what happened in South Dakota. I guess Beatrice had added a no-fraternization stipulation in Molly’s contract for this project that covered the cast and crew." He pointed at his chest. "And she ain't sleeping with the crew."

  I ran my hands over my face. "Shit, shit, shit. She said she’d had a rough day." My hands curled into fists. "Shit," I yelled. "I really want to punch something."

  Marty gave me a warning look. "Don't even think about it."

  With fumbling hands, I pulled out my cell phone and tried to call her. It went right to voicemail.

  "Her phone is off," I muttered.

  "Probably a work cell. I bet she had to leave it."

  "Do you know how pissed I am at you and Rick?"

  "Us?"

  "Yeah." I glared at him. "My life was perfectly fine before you two showed up. And now I have an old man informing me that I fell in love without knowing it, and another old man who can't run for shit interrupting the first chance I've had to talk to her. I hate you guys."

  Marty grinned. "We love you too."

  "I can't believe she got fired." My chest pinched tight. And then tighter again. Love was awful. Even imagining what she must be feeling made me want to hurl an unsuspecting vehicle across the parking lot.

  I knew how she felt because I went through it. I loved playing at Miami. One stupid choice on one stupid night, and a career I'd been building for years was upended.

  Upended, but not ruined.

  I liked Washington.

  The team was strong.

  The coaching was top-notch, even if one of those coaches was probably currently plotting my demise knowing that I slept with his sister.

  The culture was accepting and warm. Stable. That was harder to find than you'd expect.

  But there was no way I could have known that when I was shipped here just before the season started. And no way for Molly to know right now, caught in the muck and mire of feeling dumped by a place that was so important to her.

  "She's a smart girl," Marty said, interrupting my thoughts. "This is a tough knock, but I'd put my money on her any day." He nudged my shoulder. "I mean, if she can go head to head with you without backing down ..."

  I smiled. She had, too. Thinking about all those moments now, I was such a fool that I hadn't seen how quickly she got under my skin. But she was there now, and I didn't want her gone.

  "I need your help, Marty," I said, still staring at the road where her car had disappeared.

  "Anything."

  "Before you promise that, it may require you to be chained to that computer for a day or two."

  He eyed me. "What do you need?"

  I slung my arm around his shoulder, and we walked back toward the building "The way I see it, you and Rick owe me, right? For ambushing me in front of Beatrice. But I guess I owe you too, for bringing it up in the first place. I can be a little ..."

  "Blind?" he helpfully supplied. "Clueless?"

  "Hyper focused," I amended, "when I'm in football mode. So that little trailer he sent me? I'm going to need more from you."

  "I was afraid you'd say that." He sighed. "If she doesn't have a phone, how are you going to get in touch with her?"

  I glanced back at the Wolves facility. "I know a guy."

  "Just ... let me film it when you ask him, okay?"

  I laughed. “Shall we get it over with now?”

  Marty's face blanched as he looked at the building with me. “Now?”

  “Why do you look so nervous?”

  His eyes never wavered. “Because I’m worried I’m about to catch your death on film. And Rick will never forgive me.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Logan won’t kill me.”

  Marty glanced over at me.

  “Okay,” I hedged. “It won’t be pleasant. That’s why I’d rather rip off the Band-Aid now.”

  He swept a hand forward. “Lead the way.”

  * * *

  I knocked on Logan’s door. Marty shifted behind me, probably making sure he had the optimal angle to catch whatever happened next.

  “Come in,” Logan said.

  My exhale was slow and steady before I pushed the door open. His head was bent over his computer, face hidden by the brim of his black hat.

  “Do you have a minute, Coach?”

  Logan’s frame froze imperceptibly at the sound of my voice. As he lifted his head, I braced for what I’d see on his face.

  It wasn’t pretty.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. Logan’s expression was forbidding, carved from granite for as little as he gave away.

  Right. Another member of the Ward family who would wait me out and force me to talk today.

  “I’m assuming you know what happened,” I started.

  His jaw clenched.

  “And I’m also assuming you aren’t very happy with me right now.”

  His nostrils flared. I’d take that as agreement.

  “But even if that’s true,” I said, holding his terrifying gaze as steadily as possible, “I have no way of getting in touch with her, and I’m hoping you’ll help me with that.”

  His eyes narrowed dangerously, and behind me, Marty shifted uncomfortably.

  “Her?” he spoke slowly. “By her, you mean my little sister? The one you slept with after I told you to stay away from her?”

  “Yes.” I lifted my chin a fraction. “That’s who I’m talking about.”

  The line of his mouth flattened.

  “Logan,” I told him, hands raised by my sides, “I can find another way to reach her if you won’t help me.”

  He tilted his head. “Do you think that’s the best angle to take when you’re trying to convince me this is a good idea?”

  “I’m being honest because I respect you enough not to lie to you.”

  One eyebrow rose on his forehead, s
lowly, incredulously. I felt my face flush hot, because disbelief radiated off him in strong pulses.

  “Your sister is important to me. It … it took me a while to realize just how much.” I swallowed roughly. “And I could stand here all day trying to convince you of that, but no offense, I won’t admit anything to you that I haven’t said to her first.”

  His face went slack with understanding.

  I fell in love with Molly, and now he knew it.

  Slowly, Logan unfolded his arms, his gaze searching my face for … something. Proof. I wasn’t sure. Then he ran a weary hand down his face and nodded. “I’ll help you. Just tell me what you need.”

  I glanced back at Marty, who was grinning behind the camera. “Right now, I just need a little time to pull something together.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Molly

  When I left, I knew I could've gone home to my apartment with Isabel. But the only thing that waited for me there was the temptation of day drinking and the inevitable crying into my pillow.

  So I kept true to my word and drove straight from the Wolves facility to Paige and Logan's house about thirty minutes away. The neighborhood had tall, mature trees and shrubs, and the houses were set back off the road. They were big but not obnoxious. And selfishly, especially at moments like this, when I felt my most vulnerable, I wanted to return to the place that felt like home.

  And nothing felt more like home to me than here.

  I parked my car behind Paige's and ascended the concrete steps to the solid oak door, opening and closing it quickly since it had started to rain on my drive.

  "Back here," Paige called from the kitchen. I smelled garlic and carbs, and instantly applauded my decision to come here.

  Emmett skidded around the corner, knocking into me with an oof. His skinny arms wrapped around me in a hug, and I leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

  "Hey, bud. No school today?"

  "Nope. Mom said you needed the tightest hug ever."

  My throat pinched. "I do. Thank you."

  He set his chin on my stomach and looked up at me with huge eyes. "Can you help me with my math homework? You're good at it, and Mom said she doesn't do that bullshit."