Eligible Receiver (Men of Fall Book 3)

by S. R. Grey

  But my heart isn’t in it.

  It hurts too much.

  After practice, I leave Becca a few more voice mails, some texts too.

  She ignores them all.

  I almost call my agent to tell him I want to go home to Columbus. That way I can fix this horrible misunderstanding.

  But I decide not to do that.

  I’ll leave Becca alone and give her time to cool down.

  The next several days progress with me feeling like I’m in a daze.

  My heart aches all the time.

  Still, I continue to perform to the best of my abilities at each and every practice.

  I’m a professional, and as they say, the show must go on.

  I also hold out hope that I’ll hear from Becca.

  But every day my optimism is crushed.

  Nonetheless, by the last day of practice, I’m back to believing I can save us.

  I fly back to Columbus tomorrow. I’ll formulate my next move with Becca then.

  That’s right, I’m not giving up.

  She’s had almost two weeks to cool down.

  For the moment, though, I have one final practice to get through.

  I put my thoughts aside and refocus on football.

  With my new attitude and a light at the end of the tunnel, I perform spectacularly. I have three amazing receptions, one of which I run in for a touchdown.

  On the sideline, Mike says, “You looked really good out there. I think you have a real chance with the Sharks.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  For a moment, it dawns on me that I could come here unattached. Sure, I’d need to sell my house back in Columbus. But if things don’t work out with Becca, meaning I can’t win her back, I have to ask myself what’s really keeping me in Columbus?

  Wait, I don’t want that.

  I want Becca.

  Mike asks, “Do you want to play here? Are you hoping the trade goes through?”

  Shit, I have no clue.

  Shrugging, I try to blow it off.

  But he looks at me pointedly.

  I ignore that too.

  Once we’re in the locker room, taking off our equipment, the subject of Becca is brought up again.

  Mike, seated next to me, yanks his pads over his head. Running his hand through his sweaty dark hair, he says, “I’m guessing you still haven’t heard from your girl?”

  I shake my head. “No, not a thing.”

  Looking thoughtful, he says, “You know, sometimes women need to work these things out on their own schedule. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always match up with ours.”

  I snort, “That’s for sure. And trust me, I’ve been telling myself that same thing ever since this happened.”

  “You giving her time still?”

  “I am.”

  Mike finishes undressing and wraps a towel around his waist.

  Standing, he pats my shoulder. “Hey, don’t give her too much time, though. It could go the other way. She could reach a point where she thinks you don’t care. It’s a difficult balance, my friend.”

  “Jeez, you’re just full of sunny optimism,” I quip sarcastically.

  He shrugs. “I just try to see it from all sides.”

  “I know.” I sigh. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  “Don’t think too long, though,” he warns. “I think I’d get on it as soon as you get back.”

  He is so right.

  But I don’t have time to tell Mike I already made that decision.

  As he heads off to the showers, I remain seated on the locker room bench.

  Yeah, no way am I giving up on Becca.

  I caught her once.

  I can catch her again.

  I think about how my girl is a runner.

  I know that.

  She ran from me at the theatre.

  And she ran from “us” in the beginning.

  She’s just running from me again now.

  Good thing making great catches is what I do.

  And no doubt about it, winning Becca back would be my greatest reception of all time.

  What a Jerk!

  Over the next couple of weeks, I keep my butt busy with work. Lars is far from my mind.

  Ha!

  Who am I kidding?

  The stupid ass is all I think about.

  And let me assure you, he is an ass.

  So much for making all my dreams come true.

  Liar!

  Apart from a flurry of voice mails and texts the day after the incident, I don’t hear another word from him.

  “What a jerk!” I look over at Jodi, poised for her reaction.

  I’ve just shared with her all the anger and fury I’ve been feeling.

  But she’s just sitting there, not saying a thing.

  Huh?

  When she continues to not respond, I prompt, “Am I right?”

  She shrugs. “Yeah, Becca, I guess you are.”

  Balling up a piece of paper and lobbing it over at her, I snap, “What do you mean ‘you guess’? Whose side are you on, anyway? We should be bashing Lars together.”

  Intercepting the paper ball easily, she replies, “I don’t know about that. I’m on your side, of course. But let’s review.”

  “Okay.”

  “Didn’t you tell Lars you’re done with him?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Yet he still left messages, right?”

  “Only for a day,” I snap, trying to generate some outrage.

  “Did you respond to any of those messages?”

  “Er, uh, no.”

  Jodi throws up her hands. “Then what is the guy supposed to think, Becca?”

  Looking down at my desk, I mutter, “I don’t know.”

  “You told him to leave you alone. But he still tried. I think when you didn’t respond, he decided to respect your wishes.”

  Damn it, she has a point.

  “I hate when you’re right.” Still feeling defiant, I add, “But the jerk shouldn’t have given up so easily. I don’t want him to respect my wishes, damn it!”

  Jodi snorts. “What kind of modern-woman approach is that?”

  “Okay, okay, I don’t know.” I let out a long sigh. “I guess a part of me just really wants to hear from him.”

  In a soft, understanding tone, she says, “That part would be your heart.”

  I place my head in my hands. “Ugh, you’re right again. I hate this so much.”

  Wheeling her chair over, Jodi wraps a comforting arm around my shoulders. “I know, sweetie.” She leans the side of her head against mine. “This is a tough situation, no doubt. Your heart is warring with your head.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  The tears begin to fall.

  I let it all out—my grief, my pain.

  And then I straighten in my chair.

  Moving her arm from around my shoulders, Jodi reaches for the box of tissues I keep on my desk.

  Grabbing a bunch, she hands them to me. “Here,” she says. “You look like you can use a few.”

  “Thanks.” I sniffle into one tissue while wiping my cheeks with another.

  Patting my arm, Jodi says, “I really hate seeing you hurting like this.”

  “Trust me—” I blow my nose. “—I hate feeling like this. No man has ever had me this messed up.”

  With sadness in her pretty whiskey-brown eyes, she says softly, “That’s because you’ve never been in love like this before.”

  “Actually, I’ve never been in love like this or in any way. I thought maybe I was in the past, but I know now it was something else, like infatuation… or lust. Lars has shown me what real love is.”

  That brings on a fresh round of tears.

  Once I pull myself together, Jodi quietly suggests, “Maybe you two should get together and talk once he’s back in town. He comes home tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes. His two weeks in Dover are done.”

  She nudges me. “Then get in touch
with him. Make a move. I think you made your point of how angry you were with how long you’ve ignored him.”

  I’m hesitant, though.

  “I just don’t know,” I hedge. “What if he does get traded?”

  Sternly, Jodi says, “Stop. I’m tired of hearing about that. If he does, he does. You two will work it out. Be an adult, Becca.”

  “Yeesh.” I blink over at her. “You’re tough.”

  “I think you need a little tough love right about now.”

  I murmur, “Maybe I do.”

  “So when are you going to call Lars?”

  “I don’t know. Not yet.”

  Jodi’s not giving up.

  Nor do I expect her to.

  She knows what’s best for me.

  “Don’t be so stubborn,” she says.

  “I’m trying not to be,” I whine. “I just can’t make a decision right this instant.”

  Jodi sighs. “Look. Why don’t you take tomorrow off? That’ll give you time to think with a clear head.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  She has a point.

  Why argue?

  Jodi also has a warning. “Becca, seriously, make a decision. Don’t wait too long. You don’t want to throw away the best thing to ever come along in your life. Lars is everything you’ve ever wanted in a man. How many times have you told me that? Not to mention, he really does love you.”

  Crap, every fiber in my being knows she’s right.

  But all I can do is just sit here and nod.

  Hey, at least I’m not running.

  Yet.

  Next Moves

  I fly back to Columbus, ready and pumped to win Becca back.

  Yeah, I got this.

  Only problem is every time I call her, I’m sent to voice mail, just like before when I was in Dover.

  Fuck!

  I don’t bother with texts.

  We need to resolve this with spoken words, not typed statements.

  So the first day and night that I’m home, I leave many messages for Becca, begging for her to call me back.

  I hear nothing in return.

  But I’m not deterred.

  In fact, I start leaving voice mails again on day number two early in the morning, as soon as I wake up.

  I continue into the afternoon.

  In the middle of one particularly long apology, my agent beeps through.

  Switching over, I take his call.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Actually, not much,” he replies.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Why are you calling me if you have no news?”

  “I didn’t say I don’t have any news, Lars. It’s just not groundbreaking.”

  What a tool.

  “Would you just get to the point?” I grind out.

  He finally does.

  “The deal is dead, my man.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The Sharks aren’t making any moves after all. Management mentioned something about budgetary constraints that hadn’t been taken into account.”

  I muse, “I thought their offer was a bit generous.”

  “You don’t sound upset,” my agent notes.

  “Fuck, I’m not. This is great news.”

  He just chuckles.

  A sense of relief washes over me, and the first person, the only person, I want to talk to and share this fabulous news with is Becca.

  First, though, I need a little more info. I have to know if the Comets are done with trying to trade me.

  “So what happens now?” I ask. “You talked to the Sharks, but have you spoken with the Comets?”

  “Yes, Lars, I have.”

  “And?”

  “They want to keep you.”

  I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “They do? Are you sure? The Comets will keep me even with my high salary?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.” My agent laughs. “The answer to all those questions is a resounding yes.”

  “You’re absolutely sure about this?”

  “I am.”

  “Shit, okay. Let’s discuss all the details later. There’s someone I need to call.”

  My agent lets me go, and I start to call Becca.

  But my finger just kind of hovers over the screen.

  What if she’s still not answering?

  Is she even checking her messages?

  “Maybe not,” I murmur.

  I have a better idea.

  Yeah, this is good.

  With a renewed sense of urgency, and feeling fucking awesome, I pocket my phone and grab my car keys.

  Avoiding me by phone is too easy for Becca.

  She can hide.

  But she can’t run from me in person.

  Even if she does, I’m faster.

  Holding Out

  Lars is back in town, and he’s calling me like crazy.

  I don’t answer, but that doesn’t stop him from leaving multiple voice mails.

  I don’t listen to any of them.

  I’m still thinking and trying to decide what I want to do.

  I will make a decision, just like I told Jodi I would, but I’m not sure when.

  I’m holding out, and I really don’t know why.

  I love Lars.

  Maybe I’m just trying to punish him?

  By the time Friday rolls around, his attempts to get ahold of me ramp up.

  I’m caving.

  Still, I’m not quite there yet.

  I’m not ready to talk to him.

  But when I come upon a sports update on my phone, everything changes.

  It reads: Comets Will Be Keeping Wide Receiver Lars Samuels, Putting Trade Rumors to Rest.

  Holy crap!

  Lars is staying with the team.

  He’s not leaving.

  My heart soars.

  Wait, why is my heart soaring?

  I haven’t decided what I want to do, right?

  Or maybe I have.

  “Damn it!”

  Jumping up, I realize I need to get out of the house.

  I’m going crazy with my own back-and-forth.

  I have to go somewhere, anywhere, just not here.

  Slipping my phone into the back pocket of my skinny jeans, I smooth down the soft pink cashmere sweater I have on and head out.

  Once in my car, I feel the urge to run.

  But I hold off.

  You are bigger than this, Becca.

  To tamp down my escape instinct, I aimlessly drive around for a while.

  It’s soothing.

  The hum of the car and the radio playing lightly in the background are relaxing to me.

  I even start thinking more clearly.

  I consider driving over to Lars’s house, but the turns I make don’t lead me there.

  Instead, I find myself at the old quaint theatre where he and I first met.

  I drive by the front slowly.

  The marquee indicates there’s an old eighties John Cusack movie playing, Say Anything.

  “I love that movie,” I say out loud.

  It starts at seven.

  On the dash, I check the time.

  It’s six thirty.

  I can do this.

  I have time.

  I can see the movie and then head over to Lars’s place.

  Am I just stalling?

  Maybe.

  But I need a time-out.

  All the parking spaces in front of the theatre are taken, so I drive around to an alley in the back and park there.

  After an adjustment of my long ponytail, I hop out of the car.

  I’m sure the movie will make me cry, especially the scene where Lloyd Dobler holds up that boom box outside Diane Court’s bedroom window, blasting Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes.”

  Damn it, I need to see that.

  I need to see that true love does exist.

  And that things can work out, even in the face of adversity.

  Desperately Seeking Becca

 
I’m assuming Becca is working today, so I drive over to the bridal shop.

  Unfortunately, I find the door locked and the sign turned to Closed.

  It’s not that late, is it?

  I check my phone.

  Damn, it’s after five.

  It makes sense that the shop would be closed by now, especially on a Friday.

  After hopping back into the Nav, I drive out to Becca’s house.

  It’s such a beautiful day. The skies are blue and the birds are chirping. It gives me hope that I can save my relationship.

  But my hope is allayed when I pull up her long gravel driveway only to find she’s not home.

  “Fuck,” I bite out. “This is so frustrating.”

  Becca doesn’t have a garage, and her car’s not here, so it’s pretty obvious she’s out.

  Just to be sure, I hop out of my car and walk up to her door.

  After knocking and receiving no response, I head around to the back to see if maybe she’s out on the porch, a place that means a lot to us.

  I’m leaving no stone unturned.

  What if Becca had car trouble and Jodi dropped her off?

  I’m considering everything here.

  But she’s not on the back porch.

  Our chairs, nudged close together like they haven’t been moved since the last time we were out here, just about knocks me on my ass. A barrage of memories of us sitting in these very same spots, sipping iced tea and talking late into the night, overwhelms me.

  I need a minute.

  “Damn.”

  Collapsing down to one of the chairs, I place my head in my hands.

  I didn’t truly realize just how much I miss Becca.

  This is bad.

  This is ripping-your-heart-out level stuff.

  I sit for a while, just pulling my shit together.

  I consider staying until she returns, but I don’t want to freak her out.

  Last thing I need is for her to think I’ve turned into a damn stalker.

  But maybe that ship has sailed.

  Because here I am, hanging out on her back porch while she’s not home.

  Standing, I prepare to leave.

  I’ll just come back.

  I look around and sigh.

  We have got to make this work.

  I have to get her back.

  Once I return to my vehicle, I head back up the long driveway.

  What should I do now?

  Where should I go?

  I need to waste time before returning.