Page 18

CHAPTER 18

REESE

I order a coffee at the counter before heading over to where I see Darrell already sipping his at a small table in the back of the shop. I'm surprised he wanted to have the meeting after a grueling yet awesome win last night and practice today. I figured he’d be too wiped out to function.

Or maybe that was just my wishful thinking, because I really wanted to spend time with Nash today. I’d already promised myself the second this meeting is done I’d go over to his place and surprise him with some much-needed body work.

I'm sure his muscles needed some attention, and Monroe taught me a few tricks on how to help give him some relief. He'd worked his ass off this week.

Pride fills my chest at how amazing he’d been at the game last night. Hopefully this will be a quick meeting to set up ideas of what he wants his spotlight series to look like, and then I can book it out of here.

“Hey, Reese,” Darrell says, standing up from the table as I approach and giving me a quick hug as if we're the oldest friends in the world. I furrow my brow at the greeting, but take my seat across from him, draping my bag over the back of the chair. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Yeah, I'm surprised you wanted to,” I say. “After the win last night and a no doubt hard practice today, I thought you’d either be in recovery or out celebrating.”

“This feels like celebrating,” he says, settling back into his seat across from me.

“Really?” I ask. “Don't get me wrong, I love my work, but it's not the same as having a good time after a winning week.” I pull my tablet out of my bag, getting my pen ready to take notes on what direction he wants.

“I think anyone would have a good time with you,” he says.

I shift, an internal sensor flickering a small warning at the compliment.

I brush it off. He's just being nice in order to get the best working relationship.

“Okay, well I would love to hear your ideas for your spotlight series. Did you have a particular theme you want to focus on? Only ice time? Technique? Game play? Or more of a get-to-know-me-beyond-the-game sort of thing?”

He takes a sip of his coffee, then smiles at me, his look lingering just a little bit too long on my mouth.

I swallow hard.

“Those sound good,” he says, leaning a little closer over the table. “But I had my heart set on the Nash Stokehill package.”

That flaring sensor inside me blazes. I tilt my head. “I’m not sure I know what you mean by that?”

My phone buzzes in my bag that hangs on the chair behind me, but I ignore it, too frozen in what I hope I’m wrong about.

He smiles, looking me up and down. “You know,” he says. “I'd love to have the same treatment. You and me, some epic dates?—”

“Wait,” I cut him off. “I'm sorry. You're joking right? Like you're doing this to break the ice or something?”

“I'm not joking,” he says. “You're gorgeous and clearly brilliant with all the side deals you've been landing for everyone. You're great at what you do. Who wouldn't want to date you? And I'm totally fine with it being casual. It doesn't have to be serious. It can be just like you did with Nash.”

Panic streaks through me, making my chest tight.

“I think you have the wrong idea,” I say still trying to cling to my professionalism. This is a Bangor Badger, and I do technically work for the team. I'm hoping to clear this up before it gets out of line. “Nash and I are actually together,” I say. “There's nothing casual about it.”

Darrell looks utterly confused. “Are you sure about that?”

My stomach drops.

Am I?

Nash and I haven't been able to connect in the last week or so. We've both been super busy, but that doesn't mean he's just moved on, does it?

“I'm pretty sure about that,” I say instead of expressing the doubts swirling through my mind at the moment.

“Oh, Reese,” he says, his tone drenched in pity. “My bad. He talks about it all the time in the locker room. I thought this was like a normal thing. When I set this meeting, I thought it would be a beneficial situation for both of us. Kind of like you did with him. I look good on camera, you get a ton of views, and we have some fun while we're doing it.”

Nausea rolls through my body in a quick wave at his assumption. At the way he's implying that's how Nash speaks about me when I'm not around.

“That's what you thought?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter, trying to cling to anything other than the breakdown I feel approaching me like a freight train. “Nash made you think that it was a casual beneficial business situation?”

He couldn't have.

Maybe in the beginning, because that's what it was, but after a month? Two months? There's no way he would talk about me like that. I knew him and he knew me and there was no way .

“Yeah,” he answers with a shrug.

“I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea,” I say, doing my best to not let my voice wobble. “But that's not how I operate. If you want a spotlight feature, I can make that happen, but there will be no?—”

“So, it's true.”

I hear Nash before I see him, stomping up to our table out of nowhere. He jabs a finger toward Darrell, but his eyes are on me, and I've never seen him so angry, so hurt.

“You're out here taking meetings for your next content star? Your next leading man?

What the actual fuck?”

“Whoa,” Darrell says, standing up with his hands raised. He looks between us, shaking his head. “I'm not signing up for this kind of drama unless you're going to put it on camera.” He looks down at me as if I'm about to pull out my phone and start recording. When I don’t, he says, “All right then, I'm out.”

He leaves the coffee shop, and I’m left gaping up at Nash, who looks livid to the point where he's actually shaking.

“Follow me,” I say, grabbing my bag and heading outside. We walk a few feet away from the coffee shop to a quiet street corner.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Is that all this was?” Nash asked, slowly pacing in front of me. “Was I only a tool to get views?”

I've never seen him so intense, so worked up. He can barely stop moving, and those normally playful blue eyes are like ice chips as he looks at me. “How can you ask me that? Do you not know me at all?”

“I don't know, Reese,” he says, throwing his hands up before letting them smack against his sides. “I don't know if I do. One minute, I'm excited, thinking about the future with you, and the next I'm being attacked by a teammate who's accusing me of not giving a shit about his well-being. And then I get told that you're out making dates with douchebags, trying to get new content because our videos aren't performing well.”

My lips part, and I swear I feel his words like a physical blow.

“You aren't serious,” I say, shaking my head. “You honestly think that's what I'm about? You think I only care about the page’s performance?”

“You didn't take down Daniel's video.” He doesn't yell, but his tone is sharp enough that I flinch.

“I—”

“You knew he was getting horrible, dangerous comments and you didn't take it down,” he cuts right over me, not even giving me a second to explain. “Do you really only care about the view count? Even though Daniel's receiving death threats and his wife is afraid to go out in public. That's why you're here with Darrell, having a date when you couldn't even make time to be with me this week?—”

“That's enough,” I cut him off, tears spilling down my cheeks. My voice cracks but I don't care. “I've heard enough,” I say, swallowing the emotion clogging my throat. “I don't know what triggered this, and I don't know how you can spend the last five months with me and think these things about me, but if you do believe them…if you believe the vile words that are spewing from your mouth right now, you have no clue who I am.” I shake my head, my heart sinking into my stomach. “I thought you were smarter than this,” I say. “I understand getting angry. Hell, I got angry just now when Darrell informed me that you've been telling everybody in the locker room that I do this for fun . That this was just a beneficial situation for both of us. But I was going to ask you about it. I was going to hear you out because I didn't believe for a second that's how you spoke about me when I wasn't present. But look at you, all up in your anger and taking it out on me when you're not even giving me a chance to explain.” Disappointment settles heavy in my now cracking heart.

Patience. Monroe had told me I’d need to have patience exploring this new, serious territory with Nash, but damn . It’s hard when he’s being so reactive.

If he’d given me one chance to explain I would’ve told him all about the situation with Daniel and the video. I would’ve told him I did take the video down. Days ago. I had an entire discussion with Crossland McLaren and Coach about it. But I couldn't do anything about the screen recordings of the video that were circulating around the sports influencers right now. As much as I try to reach out to every single one to get them to take theirs down so we can stop doing more damage and bringing attention to all the derogatory comments, I couldn't keep up with every single one of them. I spoke to Daniel’s wife, explaining all of that, plus what I was working on to try and help the situation, and she was completely understanding. Supportive even, but she must not have had a chance to tell Daniel about it yet.

I shake my head, wanting to tell him, but after what he’s said? There’s no point.

“Can’t believe this,” I say, mostly to myself.

The anger seems to fade out of him, his shoulders dropping, his eyes clearing from the hardness that clung to them seconds ago. “Reese?—”

“No,” I say, my heart flinching at the way he says my name—like a plea and apology at the same time. But I'm done. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

I head toward my car, and hear him following me, my name on his lips.

“Don't,” I say, throwing my hand up at him. “Do not follow me. I need space…if you say anything else…”

I might not have the patience to stop my heart from fully breaking.

“I’m sorry,” he says as I get into my car. “Reese…”

I drive off, and the farther I get the stronger my tears fall. I dial up the girls and call an emergency meeting, and within fifteen minutes I'm in Monroe’s living room, Blakely and her surrounding me on her couch as I let it all out.

“I took the video down,” I explain through my sobs. “I took it down the second it turned dangerous. I told Daniel’s wife that, but she must not have told him everything or Daniel must not understand that I can't control every screen recording and stitch that's been made. I needed to talk to him in person, but Nash didn't even let me explain. And God, he thought I was having a date with Darrell? That I was making some deal with him? How could he even think that about me?”

“He's being an idiot,” Monroe says, hugging me close.

“He's in love with you,” Blakely says, totally not what I was expecting.

“What? He is not,” I say. “Someone in love with someone wouldn't say those things.”

Blakely looks at me sympathetically. “I'm sorry,” she says. “But that's how I'm reading it. Nash has never been in a real relationship before, and he’s never acted like this before. He's terrified of losing you, and the first second he thought he did, the first second that he thought you may have played him, he let his hurt and anger take over. I'm not saying it's an excuse, I'm just saying that was a terrified man reacting in a very terrible way to a situation he didn't understand.”

I hate that she makes sense. “You're supposed to just call him an asshole with me,” I say, laughing darkly. “Not make sense.”

“Okay then,” Blakely says. “He's an asshole and we should go put sugar in his gas tank.”

“I happen to have a new bag of sugar in my pantry,” Monroe says, and I can't help but laugh through my tears.

“I love you guys,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I love him too.”

My friends gasp.

“I can't believe you’re admitting it,” Monroe says.

“Act like you two didn't already see that coming from a mile away,” I say.

“Of course we did,” Blakely says. “But you admitting it is great. But now that everything just happened, what are you going to do?”

“I don't know,” I admit. “How he reacted…what he said, it hurts. And I can understand the anger, but it hurt . The idea that he thinks everything I did was for views...”

“I am so not on his side,” Monroe says in the gentlest way possible. “But you did set this up as a business arrangement in the beginning. It's not such a leap to think that he could doubt himself in your life from the way this started.”

I drop my head into my hands, doing my best to take deep breaths and try to center myself. To try to think clearly and logically and take all my emotion and pain out of it.

When I look at it from his point of view, I can kind of see where the outburst came from. Hell, I'd been on the verge of having one after Darrell told me Nash was talking bad about me in locker room. I had been ready to believe Darrell, even though my heart said I shouldn't. And Nash has never been in a relationship before, so it’s not like his communication skills are perfect, but that reasoning didn't make it hurt any less.

“I can see how he might get to that conclusion,” I finally say, looking at my best friends.

“I've gone about this the entire wrong way. But in the beginning, I really did believe it was just a business situation between us. I had no idea I was going to fall in love with this asshole.”

The girls laugh, and I can't help but join them, shaking my head.

“How am I going to prove to him that the videos and the views and the success that we've had has nothing to do with the way I feel about him? And how am I going to forgive him for being a massive dick today?”

“That's up to you,” Blakely says. “It's hard to forgive someone who's hurt you, but loving someone isn't easy. It takes work. It takes a whole lot of understanding and accountability and communication. There’s a massive learning curve and it isn’t always orgasms and rainbows.”

I huff a laugh.

“It's already a huge step that you're owning your part in it,” Monroe adds. “Both of you need to realize that neither one of you communicated properly.”

Fear trickles into my veins. “And if you're wrong? If he doesn't feel about me the same way I feel about him?”

“Then the whole sugar-in-the-gas-tank thing is looking a lot more plausible,” Monroe says.

“Or I can get Lawson to hide a dead fish in his locker,” Blakely offers.

I laugh, leaning into their embraces as I do my best to just breathe.

My heart feels broken, but I can see the hand I played in it. And I can see the way he mishandled it as well.

We're both at fault, and if I have any hope of repairing this, I'm going to need to earn back his trust, and he'll need to earn back mine.

But I'm terrified neither of us knows how to do that.