Page 14 of Everything In Between

TEN

jersey

Seconds later, Hayes’s face appears on my screen and my stomach flips. I bite into my lower lip, my eyes scanning his features and memorizing how he looks right now.

He’s so handsome.

Even after pushing himself to the physical brink to claim the win tonight, he’s as good-looking as ever.

His amber eyes are alight with happiness as they flicker over my face.

The only evidence I can make out that he might be slightly worn out is the way his eyes are crinkled in the corners, like he’s pushing the exhaustion to the back of his mind for now so he can focus on me.

“Hi,” I whisper first, breaking the silence.

His mouth pulls into a crooked smirk, and again, my chest flutters. “Hey there.”

His voice is gruff, tired, and I ache to know what his voice would sound like late at night or first thing in the morning. What would the sound of his gravelly tone whispering my name into the darkness do to me?

Hayes is lounging in his bed, comfortable against some fluffy pillows, and I briefly have a mental image of me using him as a pillow. Would those muscular pecs be comfortable to lie on? Or his built shoulders?

“Congratulations on the win,” I say with a grin. Padding through the house, I make my way to my bedroom and fall onto the mattress. “Are you too tired to talk?”

Hayes stretches an arm above his head, his biceps flexing with the movement.

My mouth goes dry, seeing the strong bulge of his muscular form.

He’s not wearing a shirt, his broad shoulders and chest bare.

The dormant, sexual side of me slowly awakens and I find myself feeling a bit more confident.

What would it feel like to have those massive biceps circle around me and hold me close?

“I’m never too tired to talk to you,” Hayes says, then is overtaken by a yawn. I laugh and he gives me a sheepish look. “How was your day?”

I’m lying on my belly on top of my bed, and I bend my knees, crossing my ankles together in the air. Hayes’s eyes track my movement, darting away from my face for a second before returning to me. I fight off a sly smile.

“It was great, actually. I got to watch one of the best quarterbacks in the league do his thing.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t hide the pride that appears on his face. He’s so dang handsome I can’t stand it. “And seeing you out there on the field in that uniform had me feeling some type of way.”

Hayes catches on quickly, one brow arching a bit and that smirk of his deepening. “Is that so?”

I bite my lip again and he tracks the movement, eyes darkening. “Oh yeah. Those uniform pants should be illegal.”

He laughs and stretches again. “Some type of way, huh?” I nod slowly. “I gotta admit, seeing you in that low cut tank top has me feeling some type of way now too.”

My eyes fall to the small inset on the FaceTime call reflecting me, where I observe my cleavage on full display for him. Heat blooms through me and my chest flushes bright red. I’m thankful the room has subtle lighting otherwise, I’m sure he would catch onto my embarrassment.

“I guess we’re in the same boat then,” I tease. “Really though, watching you do your thing out there was incredible. You were meant to command the field like that.”

His arm flexes again as he shifts, and my attention goes straight to the bulging muscle, imagining what it would be like to snuggle up against him. His lips pull into a smirk as he tracks my distraction. “Thanks, baby.”

My heart skips a beat at the endearment, and I squeeze my thighs together.

“How does one even get pulled up to a professional level football team?” I ask him, meeting his eyes again.

“I was drafted right out of college,” he explains.

“I’ve played football my whole life, first with my dad in the backyard, then flag.

Then, when I was old enough—and my mom gave the green light—I upgraded to tackle football and made the varsity team in high school.

That’s when I started making a name for myself, which helped me get to the collegiate level.

From there it was simply garnering the interest of the right NFL scouts. ”

“Have you played on any other teams?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Majestics pulled me right out of the draft and started me that first season. They needed a new quarterback and drafted me in the first round, starting me out on the field right away, even though I was a rookie. I’m grateful someone in higher management saw the potential in me. ”

“I think they were right,” I muse and he grins. “You seem to be in your element out there. It’s like you’re making your own kind of music out on the field.”

“That’s a good way to put it.” He nods. “It has been a whirlwind of a career. I’m grateful for the opportunity to do what I love and hone my leadership skills.

I have a lot of goals I want to achieve with the Majestics, so I gotta keep my eyes on the prize.

” Proving his point, his eyes swirl with something and I wonder if he’s thinking about what those future games might bring, what plays will make it to the playbook.

“Like what?” I prod him, listening raptly. He’s obviously passionate when it comes to football and his team. It’s hard not to feed off that energy.

“Another Super Bowl ring,” he says with a wide smile. His eyes grow distant, lost in thought, as if he can picture himself holding that trophy in his hands.

“You won . . . last year?” I ask, even though I know. I read that information online during my searches.

“We sure did. The first win for the franchise in twenty years,” he says proudly, as he should. “But it wasn’t all me. It was a big team win for us. I couldn’t have done it without any of them just as much as they couldn’t have done it without me.”

I bite my lower lip. “I like the idea of having a team dynamic like that.”

He tilts his head to the side, appearing a little confused. “Well, you have one too, don’t you think? A team is anyone you have in your corner, supporting you through thick and thin. It might look a little different than mine, but you still have one.”

I think about Bethany and Kelsey and Roman, how they do exactly that, even when the going gets tough with meeting the schedule or demands of the label. “You’re right. I do.”

“What about you? How’d you get into singing?” he asks me, pivoting the conversation.

I hum a little, recalling my own origin story.

“I’ve always loved signing. My mom tells me I used to go around the house creating songs as they came to me when I was little.

As I got older, it became a dream of mine to make it big, create songs and albums that people could love.

But it’s damn near impossible to get started in the industry with no connections. ”

“I bet. I can imagine it would be a crazy grueling process to try and get your name out there,” he says. He has no idea. The number of singers who never got their chance to make it to the big leagues is innumerable.

“It is. When I was eighteen, I started performing in dive bars in Northern California where I grew up. I had a fake ID and everything.” I laugh and Hayes grins back at me through the phone at the sound.

“I just had this dream that someone, anyone, would take notice of me and give me a chance to prove that I was worth the time and effort.” My voice takes on a tender edge to it.

In the back of my mind, I can see a young version of myself, standing at the threshold and staring out into the future with nothing but a heart full of hope and a guitar in my hand.

“Was that hard?” he asks, eager to know every little detail of this time in my life.

“It was a lot of hard work,” I agree, sinking further into my pillows. “But it was work I enjoyed doing, and that made all the difference. Eventually, the endless shows with little to no interest from anyone higher than bar management started to wear on me. I was so close to giving up hope.”

“I bet,” he says, shaking his head.

“After three years of nothing, I was ready to throw in the towel. I told myself to just do one more. One last show, and then I’d call it quits.

After that I’d know for sure that this dream was never meant to be.

” Three years is a long time to stick with the grind with no return on investment.

Something I’m reminded of now with three years left on my contract.

I’m struck with the coincidental parallel.

“But?”

“But little did I know inside of that dive bar was Lorelai Brown, a recruiter for Silver Shadows. I had no idea she’d take a video of me performing my heart out for something I thought would be my very last opportunity to get up on stage and sing.

And I definitely had no idea I’d be called to LA to be onboarded to the Silver Shadows Records roster.

I was assigned to Callum, and the rest is history. ”

“Wow,” he says, exhaling a breath. “That’s . . . a lot of change in a short amount of time.”

“It was. It still makes my head spin when I lay it all out like that. But I’m forever grateful. They took a chance on me, and it ended up changing my entire life.” I prop my cheek up on my fist and stare into the screen. Hayes stares right back, studying me.

“But it wasn’t all fun and games?” he questions, and I wonder if he’s remembering our very first conversation through texts.

I laugh lightly, though really, it’s not funny.

“No, it wasn’t. They rolled out the red carpet for me until I signed the original five-year contract.

It was too late by the time I realized Cal had a different idea of what my career was going to look like.

And my contract is ironclad, so there’s nothing I can do about it, even when I adamantly disagree with the direction he’s taking me in. ”

“I’m sorry,” he says, sincerely. “Is there really no way you can change how things are?”

“He keeps me on a tight leash. Occasionally, he’ll give into a suggestion, but I think it’s merely to keep me compliant.

I have three years until my contract is up for renewal again since I recently went through the renewal process.

Last time he gave me lots of empty promises to convince me to re-sign.

I should’ve known better, but I fell for it anyway, thinking things would be different this time. ”

“They keep you on for three years at a time?”

I nod. “My first contract with them was five years, and then they do three-year extensions. That usually allows them to get an album or two out—if they’re lucky—with enough time for touring in between.”

“Is every label that way?”

“I think every label has a multitude of different deals they can offer artists, either new or returning. I’m not exactly in the know about any of that, though. Three years isn’t really a long time, but it feels like forever to me sometimes.”

“Well, just keep standing up for yourself,” he says, eyes on mine. “It’s your career. You shouldn’t have to bend to the will of someone who doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

“I wish it were that easy.” I sigh.

Hayes blinks. “If it were easy, anyone would do it, you know? But I think you can do anything you set your mind to, even if that is standing up to your manager.”

My heart flutters with the compliment. “Thank you . . . That means a lot to me.” His lips quirk up in the corners, but then fall into a massive yawn. I fight off a smile. “I should let you get some sleep. You’ve had a crazy long day. Do you have to work tomorrow?”

He shakes his head and stretches again before running one of his hands over his face.

I track the movement, wondering what it would be like to feel those big hands all over my body.

“I don’t have to be with the team tomorrow since we won yesterday.

I’ll probably work on my own, though, get a light workout in, do some rehab, maybe a massage and some cryotherapy to help my muscles heal up.

I’ve got an event out of town on Friday, which I still have to pack and get ready for.

Then be be back here by Saturday evening to get to the hotel for curfew before the next game Sunday afternoon. ”

“Well then, I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks for suggesting this,” he says, eyes gently tracing over my face. “I liked getting to see you this time. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

My cheeks warm a bit. “I liked it too.”

“We might need to make this the norm from now on.” He yawns again. “All right, well off to bed with you too, then. I’ll talk to you later?”

I love the hopefulness which laces his question. “Definitely. Goodnight, Hayes.”