Page 20

Chapter Twenty

Ivy

“Damn, Scott is on fire tonight,” Katie comments from where she stands next to me in the box.

I arrived at the game late tonight, trying to avoid the press and excitement around the Broncos first playoff game. It’s almost full time and Scott is on the field below us. The crowd is going wild, the noise deafening every time the boys make a few more yards but the game is a close one.

They want this.

Scott wants this.

The ring is why he came to Boston and why he works himself into the ground. Just last night I fell asleep curled into his side on the couch as he watched tape of the opposition over and over, studying them.

I watch as the offensive line sets up for another play down on the field. With only a few minutes left on the clock, the Broncos need to get a touchdown to secure their lead. Scott squats low behind the O-line center. The players are still for a beat, then another.

The ball snaps into Scott’s hands and everyone’s moving. Scott steps back into the pocket, eyes darting around looking for someone.

Katie grabs my arm at the same time as I see the gap but Scott is already running.

“Holy shit,” I curse under my breath. Katie begins to jump up and down because Scott’s broken through and is sprinting down the field. Forty yards … thirty … a defensive player from the other team is on his tail but he’s too fast. Ten more yards .

“He’s going to do it!” Katie screams, her voice matching the deafening noise coming from the fans all around us.

Scott runs into the end zone and slams the ball on the ground. His team mates catch up to him, circling around him and celebrating.

In the middle of it all, he points up into the stands. Towards our box. Towards me.

Katie slaps my arm over and over like I can’t see exactly what she is seeing.

Heat crawls up my neck and I know my face is on fire.

Damn, I hope the cameras didn’t follow his finger.

The moment passes and the teams swap over. I watch Scott rip his helmet off and scull some water. His hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat but he’s smiling with his teammates, clapping them on shoulders and helmets. I watch as Jeff pulls off his headset as he walks up to Scott. Coach grabs his player by the shoulder and shakes him, smiling and laughing at the brilliant touchdown.

Pride floods me.

Scott is beaming and when the whistle goes to signify the end of the game, he throws down his helmet and cheers. The Broncos will progress through the playoffs. They’ve got a chance to be divisional champions.

Katie is jumping up and down next to me. Grant is yelling and cheering along with all the other fans. My eyes don’t leave Scott as he’s surrounded by cameras, giving his post-game interviews.

He’s still sweaty, and still smiling, and damn, I cannot wait to celebrate with him tonight.

This is the first game I’ve come to since the game at Christmas with Pops. I’ve pushed down and ignored the anxiety in my chest pretty successfully. I stare down at the field. If I close my eyes, I could picture my dad running that same route Scott did today.

Not for the first time in the last few weeks, I wish I could have experienced this with him .

I wait around in the suite again. Katie and Grant left me an hour ago so I curled up on one of the couches in the back of the suite with a plate of fruit and have been there ever since.

I’m starting to doze off, bored of my phone and starting to feel exhaustion from the long first week back at school creeping in. The door opens as my eyes start to shut and Scott wanders in.

He’s back in the same game day suit he left the house in this morning and his hands are shoved deep into the pockets. His bag is slung over his shoulder but he drops it inside the door when he spots me.

“Hey, you,” he says, bending over the back of the couch to kiss me.

“Hi.” I duck away, yawning as I sit up. “Sorry, I’m exhausted.”

“Did we bore you?” he chuckles. He leans his arms on the back of the couch, eyes trailing down my body. His gaze pauses on the jersey I wear, his name across my back. A surprise that I didn’t have last time.

“Where did you get this?” he murmurs, tugging at the shirt as I walk around the couch and into his arms.

“Gift shop,” I shrug. I lift up on my toes and ask for a kiss. He obliges.

“You drive here?” he asks, running his lips against my jaw.

I shake my head. “I came with Katie. She’s already left. Can I catch a ride with you?”

“Let me fuck you in that jersey as soon we get home and you have yourself a deal?”

I giggle and nod .

Obviously.

Why else would I have worn his jersey?

He tucks me under his arm and we walk through the quiet stadium.

Cleaners are about. A few players are getting treatment as we head past the locker rooms, and one or two coaches are still debriefing as we pass the offices.

There’s a small group loitering outside but they pay us no mind. I curl further into Scott’s side as we walk towards his car. He opens the passenger door and helps me into the SUV.

“Thank you for coming today,” Scott says quietly.

I sigh, pressing my palm to his cheek and smiling. “You’re welcome.”

He rounds the car and buckles himself in. I watch as he turns on the car and fiddles with some buttons. My seat starts to warm up and I sink deeper into it.

I glance around the empty car park and a familiar guilt rises up in my throat. I swallow, turning to look at Scott. “Do you hate that we can’t go celebrate with the team after a game like that?”

“Huh?” Scott looks at me. “What are you talking about?”

“I feel bad. That I can’t … we can’t be seen together or you can’t tell you teammates, or have me in the family room after a game. Do you hate it?”

He’s silent for a moment. But then he reaches across the console and grabs my hand. Bringing it up to his lips, he says, “I want you in whatever way you’ll let me have you right now. Like I said, if it has to be a secret for now then it’s a secret.” He leans in, beckoning me forward. “Besides, I don’t want to celebrate with them the same way I do with you.”

He winks and closes the gap between us.

God, I love kissing this man.

Later, we’re curled up in bed and watching reruns of Friends , my phone rings on the nightstand. I groan, pulling away from where I’m practically burrowing into Scott’s chest and turn the phone over to see the screen. Katie’s name flashes up at me. I glance at the time and notice that it’s almost eleven. She wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t important.

“Are you okay?” I answer the phone quickly.

“Have you seen it?” Her voice sounds panicked.

I sit up, Scott slowly waking up as I move away from his body. “Seen what? What is it, Katie?”

“I don’t know how they got it. Or when? When would they even have had the chance to get it? ”

“You’re not making any sense. Slow down.” I take a deep breath, hoping she’ll do the same. Next to me, Scott picks up his phone and I see his brows come together.

“Shit,” he murmurs next to me, staring at something on his phone. I try to look at his screen but my phone buzzes in my hand. Then, it buzzes again. And again.

And again.

What the fuck?

“Katie?” I prompt down the line.

“They have a photo of you,” she says quietly down the line. “And Scott. Together.”

“Who’s they?”

I feel sick. My stomach turns over and anxiety floods my body. I look over at Scott. He’s staring back at me. His features are full of regret.

“The press. A photo of you and Scott kissing after the game is all over the internet. Someone leaked it.”

A sob crawls up my throat as she says her next words. “It’s everywhere.”

***

I scroll through my phone, looking at picture after picture of myself and Scott.

Me, tucked under his arm and walking through the underground tunnels at the stadium. His face is turned toward mine so you don’t really know it’s him but his name is clearly written across my shoulders.

Me sitting in the passenger seat of his car with my hand on his cheek.

Me leaning over the middle console of his SUV and kissing him.

Clear as day. Unmistakable.

It’s all over Instagram. It’s all over TikTok. His female fans didn’t hesitate to start digging. My followers blew up in a matter of hours and I ended up making my profile private. I wish I had been quicker. My posts had been screenshotted and shared everywhere, people piecing together my history one post at a time. My high school yearbook pictures have popped up more times than I’ve probably ever seen them. I’ve seen comments from people I went to college with claiming to be my best friend. Katie lost her mind when I told her that.

As if on cue, SportsCenter also picked it up and started to take bets on whether we’d last.

Football princess and star quarterback finally reveal their secret relationship .

Sports royalty recluse shakes up with Boston’s newest football star .

Continuing the D1 athlete line has never been so cute as Ivy Booker and Scott Harvey show off new love after last night's playoff game .

These headlines are starting to do my head in.

The television hanging from the wall across from the bed is on low but when I glance up and see the SportsCenter titles play, I groan.

Pops chuckles from his bed next to me. “You can’t hide out here forever, Ivy.”

“I can and I will,” I reply, still scrolling through my phone.

“I think it’s nice. All the reports I’ve seen are just commenting on how smitten you two look.”

I look up, setting my phone aside and narrowing my eyes. “What reports have you been seeing?”

“Well …” Pops runs his hands over the already smooth blanket. “They talked about it on the local news this morning.”

I roll my head back to rest against the chair, my eyes shutting. “I don’t want to know.”

“All they said was that you make a cute couple.” I crack an eye open to glare at him.

I try to ignore how pale he looks today, and how he’s been complaining of being cold since I walked in. Still Pops smiles at me.

“And that you would make very cute, very athletic babies. ”

“Oh my god.” I sink into the chair, covering my face with my hands. I burn up. The blushing is so real when I think about me and Scott, getting pregnant and having that kind of future.

Of course, that was before this relationship of ours—this very new relationship—was outed and became a media freak show.

“Jeff called me as well. Wanted to know if he should trade Scott effectively immediately.” Pops tries to sound casual but I can hear his chuckle coming. I roll my eyes as he continues, “I told him no because I want my great grand baby to be a fourth-generation Broncos player.”

Knew it.

The rollercoaster of emotions that I’m going through today is something else. I love that Pops is finding some joy in this going public and trying to keep my spirits up but I also know what the media coverage means. It means that I’m being thrust into a world I’m not fully ready to be in.

“What did Uncle Jeff actually say?” I ask after a beat.

“Well, he was concerned.” Pops coughs, his face going a bit red. I move forward on my chair, reaching for the water on his bedside table. Pops sips on it before holding it gently in his lap. “He said it made sense you were keeping it quiet and he’s concerned how you’re handling the media attention now it’s all out there. He is worried about you.”

I feel my face heat. “He doesn’t need to be worried. I’m fine.”

“We both know you’re lying through your teeth right now. But I told him there isn’t anything to worry about. Scott is looking after you.” Pops takes another sip of the water and sinks back against his pillows. He levels me with a stare. “How are you feeling about it?”

The question I’ve been avoiding all day.

The same question Scott asked me today before he left for practice and meetings that I wasn’t able to answer.

How am I feeling?

I feel … disgusted. Exposed. Scared .

I feel itchy all over, constantly checking over my shoulder and terrified I’m being followed by some idiot with a camera.

I feel like I can’t go more than a few hours without crying. I’d come to the hospital straight after school today, hoping to hide out from the rest of the world for a while.

It's as if I’ve been spiraling since the moment the pictures were leaked.

I can’t control that my face is being posted across a hundred different gossip and social sites. I can’t control that the sports media is making a connection between Scott and my dad. I can’t control that my colleagues at work are already asking if I can get them tickets to games.

My head hurts and my heart aches. It feels as if an electric current runs just beneath my skin. My heart has been racing all day and I feel on edge.

Completely out of control.

Scott is still at the stadium, getting work on his arm done. If I’m honest with myself and admit to the pit that is growing in my stomach, I don’t really want to see him when I get home tonight.

It just all feels … tainted.

“Ivy?” Pops prompts, his gaze unwavering.

“I don’t know.”

I don’t want to admit how I feel, not to Pops, or to Scott, or to myself.

Pops shifts on his bed. He’s not been able to sit up while I’ve been here, instead he’s just propped on some pillows. He’s as white as a ghost and his movements are slow, sluggish. I know he’s getting worse. I can see that just by looking at him.

The reality of being without him feels like it’s getting closer and closer. The thought makes my stomach twist. I’ve been in denial for weeks, choosing to believe that Pops is going to come home soon. But even though he still smiles at me as brightly as he has my whole life, when I walk through the door to his room, I know he’s in pain.

Pops is tired and it’s starting to show.

Just another thing I’m not able to control or fix right now .

There is ache in my chest that goes along with the constant sting behind my eyes and nervous energy. One that I feel every time I think about my parents. One that just hurts more and more as Pops gets worse.

But, as with everything else going on, I decide to push the fact that he’s not improving out of my mind and change the subject.

“Did you hear any more about whether nurse Sophie broke up with the boyfriend?” I ask him, shuffling my chair a little closer to his bed so I can hold his hand. He stares at me for a moment, the look in his eyes telling me he knows exactly what I’m doing. After a beat, he blinks and goes with the change of subject.

We gossip for a while. When they bring Pops’ dinner in, I let him turn up the volume on SportsCenter and sit with him while the announcers replay the stats from this weekend's games. They ramble on about the teams, including the Broncos, who are moving into the playoffs.

Life for Scott is about to get more hectic, more pressurized, more intense.

My stomach turns over as I think about whether or not I even want to be a part of it.

After the nurse drops off Pops’ night medication and warns me about visiting hours, I finally get up from the chair and collect my coat from the small couch in the corner of the room.

“Ivy?” Pops says as I pull my coat on. I look up at him, waiting. “Don’t let the press ruin what you and Scott have.”

Ice runs under my skin and my lungs tighten. I feel like crying. Again. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I … I don’t know, Pops. It’s been a lot.”

“You and him … you just remind me of your mom and dad.” He takes a sip of water after popping another pill in his mouth. He swallows before continuing. “I just don’t want you to throw that away because you think you can’t handle something as insignificant as the press.”

I don’t know what to say.

The press is nowhere near insignificant. Not to me .

“You’re stronger than that, Ivy-girl. I promise.” He lifts a hand, shaking a little as he does, and reaches for me.

I move over to him, wrapping his hand in mine and squeezing gently. I lean down and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Love you, Pops.” I blink back the tears stinging in my eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, after school.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”