Page 32
Story: The Game (Seattle Strike)
Chapter 32
Logan
We're a couple thousand miles away from home, ready to play our Christmas week game.
The day starts wrong. We're playing the Hunters on their turf. In the pre-show interview, someone asks if I worry that playing my old team will weaken my plays, when Coach McLellan knows all the best ways to undermine my strengths. My instinct is to frown, growl, and do nothing, but I manage to give a decent answer— placating words and a whole lot of nothing. But it gets me in a pissy mood. My best hope is that at least Evie is proud of the skills I've learned in our months together.
When the Hunters keep sabotaging my shots and tackling me with a bit too much force, I have to use every sports psych technique I know not to let my anger overtake me.
We lose the game after an interception Dom and I could have prevented. Hours and hours of reviewing tape, down the drain with ten seconds left on the clock. My answers in the postgame interviews sound poor even to my ears, and if I crack a molar from grinding my teeth through it, I wouldn't be surprised .
Late that night in my hotel room, I lay in bed and massage my brow, hoping it will soothe my frown. I've been overdoing it today, the more things devolved. The only thing keeping me from having to run to the gym to burn the frustration off, is that once I finally got on my phone, I found a picture Evie sent me wearing my college shirt and a text reading, call me tonight?
Instead of trying and failing to manage my frown, I tap on her name for a video call and wait.
"Guess what," she says for a hello. "I just realized I'm wearing your jersey which has your name on the back."
She answered while going through the hall toward the bathroom, and now turns in such a way she can show me her back in the mirror.
"See?" she asks. "You won the bet."
My chest softens. My limbs warm up. It's good to see her, and the fact she's trying to make me feel better again only adds to it.
Damn, it feels good.
I smirk, though my brow loosens up. "I wagered a lot of points for that one. It will have to be a current jersey during a game, I'm afraid."
She sighs and returns to her couch. "Oh well, I tried."
"Besides, to prove it I would have to show the picture of you at home wearing this well-worn shirt with my name on it. Eyebrows would be raised."
"I guess that's true. We're still telling people we're not dating, right? If they're suspicious already, this would only make it worse."
I chew on the side of my cheek. Evie and I are having a good time while it lasts. I hadn't considered how that coexists with telling people we're not dating.
The frown returns to my brow. I silently count. Evie and I have been together seven times in the past couple of weeks. That's three more than I've ever sought out with anyone else.
Mmhh.
"You've never been intimidated by my grumpy ways, have you?" I ask .
It's a rhetorical question. She has never backed down from an argument with me. I've faced multiple types of responses to my general disposition over the years. More than once someone has argued back. What's different with Evie, is that with her I enjoy it.
"What?" She laughs. "No. It's never bothered me."
"So that's not why you try to lift my mood after we lose a game."
"Oh, no. That's just who I am. It must feel awful to lose. Grumpy I can take, but I don't want you to feel awful."
The idea of Evie caring like that for me brings a new kind of warmth to my body. Her smile on the screen settles easily into my welcoming chest. It's the kind of gesture I want to see over and over again.
"It feels awful," I say. "Every time. But it's part of the job for me to handle it."
"But you're going to the playoffs! You didn't forget about that, did you?"
I didn't, but it does wonders to my mood that she's the one reminding me of it.
"Congratulations, Mister Quarterback to the Strike! You did it!"
"But we lost the game. To the Hunters."
"And the Pirates lost their game too, which put you in position to skip the wild card weekend and yay! You made it!"
I allow a small curl to my lips. She's adorable. Too fucking adorable.
"Thank you," I say.
"Oh, but where's that full smile? You're in the playoffs! It's what you wanted."
I offer a fake grin, heavy on the grimace.
She laughs. "You're the worst."
"I want rings, Evie. Playoffs are the bare minimum."
"You and your ambition. Is that what's robbing me of your smiles?"
"Mhhh. What I'm hearing is you're greedy, too."
It's fun arguing with her, and she can take it. She cares enough to want to lift my spirits, and she wants my rare smiles .
I want her close. I want her again and again. I'm nowhere near close to being done doing what we're doing. I'm not done wanting her… everything.
My brows pull down— hard. My heart skips a beat.
Once upon a time, dating was never an option. I was never interested in the performance of it. But with Evie I haven't faked anything, and the want is there.
The need. The longing. It's still there. If nothing else, it's grown. I missed her this morning when I woke up alone. I have her on my screen, and I want her in my arms.
If that means I want to date her, I'm in a lot of trouble.
I've never asked this question before. I don't know what the answer is.
Double the trouble.
But I know I'm not done wanting her everything.
"Fuck," I mutter.
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with wanting you to give me special treatment."
"I give you special treatment," I admit. "I'm sexing you up and no one else."
It's the truth, but I doubt she'll understand how significant it is. To me, it's more evidence for my broken brain to consider.
I have no interest in having sex with anyone else. Meanwhile, just holding her hand would fix this day. She's hundreds upon hundreds of miles away, and her smile on a small device does plenty in that regard on its own.
Dammit.
"Doesn't count," she says. "I'm also not having sex with anyone else."
"Does that mean we're exclusive?"
If I'm going to even entertain this, that's a necessary question.
And does that mean we're dating?
"We are," she nods. "Sure. If not on purpose, by default—"
"No defaulting. We're exclusive. On purpose, now that we're talking about it."
"Fine. Until we're ready to move on."
My blood chills in my veins. Gooseflesh takes over my skin.
I may not want to move on .
Fuck. Now, what?
"Mhh."
"The point is," Evie insists, a smile on her face, "I want you grinning at me. I want you to laugh when I can see."
"Then come out for dinner with me tomorrow. Bring a bag, and come home with me."
I'm running out of curse words to express how good it feels to act like we're dating, and how shocking it is to my system at the same time.
"One of our not-a-dates?" she asks.
"If that's what we're still calling them."
"Sure." She shrugs. "I saw your pregame interview. You might benefit from a refresher."
And now I'm unhappy. I wish I could find humor in it.
"Always so accommodating, Evie." I shake my head.
"I'm not going to get that promotion otherwise."
"Come on. You like me."
Tell me you like me.
I think she does. I hope she does.
She sighs. "I do, but don't let it get to your head."
But the problem isn't if I let it fill my mind and I think too much about it. The problem is if I let it get to my heart.
I get through all of Monday without panicking much. My latest discoveries about my feelings for Evie could push me there, but I keep them in check. During training, Saint and the guys ask twice if everything is okay. Apparently, my frown is particularly severe in the video room, but I don't share my thoughts. They already suspect too much, and I cannot reveal any of this until I know how the fuck I'm going to handle the situation. Evie might appreciate it when I push her out of her comfort zone, but I can't push her into considering changing the rules and arguing about dating.
Or can I?
The question stays with me all day.
The restaurant Bear recommended isn't as fancy as the last one Evie and I visited, but Leon vouched for the food and the service so I give them a call. I ask for a private booth and, later, I sit there to wait for Evie.
The light in this place is moody, halfway between the fancy restaurant and the club. The booth is furnished with tufted black leather, and framed in a dark wood that echoes the table. For contrast, a modern, reddish statement lamp hangs low, but it's subtle enough to avoid competing with the candle burning at the center of the table.
Evie arrives a few minutes later. She smiles at the person helping her find me, and the sight brings up a new feeling to me. Something like… warmth. Caring. It feathers down my chest and pulls from me, until I'm on my feet and itching to hold her and kiss her hello.
Restrain vexes me, but I keep things to a simple kiss on the cheek as soon as we're alone. It's an innocent hello, in light of being in public. Torn between what I'm doing and what I want to do, I grasp for anything I can say that sounds like banter, but there's nothing at the tip of my tongue.
I've never lost my words like this before.
Except her eyes are sad, and everything quiets down without a second thought. We sit and I grab her hand over the table.
I lean forward. "What happened?"
She shakes her head as if that would be enough to deter me. "You are the one who still owes me a question."
"Ask away. For my turn, I'll ask what happened today."
The server comes and lists the specials. We both choose her recommendation, so we don’t need to bother with the menu. She leaves us alone once more, and I'm happy to see Evie jump right back into the conversation .
"Do you think I'll get the promotion?" she asks.
"Selena would be making a mistake if she doesn't give it to you."
"You mean that?"
"Of course. You achieved everything Selena asked of you— even made it look easy. She's not the kind to suggest you'll get something and then deny it from you."
She sighs. "I hope you're right."
Water glasses and wine come to our table, alongside a crudo on crackers that melts in my mouth.
I eat another bite before asking more. "But Selena won't make a decision until after the dust is settled for the season. Why are you thinking about that?"
"I thought we were here to put a smile on your face. Get you to laugh."
"We can talk about what's making you feel like this, too."
She hesitates. Even if my heart is trying to move me forward, in this we could be taking a step back.
I push my feelings into a box and close it for the time being. Evie is sad, and that takes precedence.
"Come on," I say. "I'm tackled every day. I can take your heavy days."
The server returns with a busser. They take our starter plates and serve us a meal of risotto with wild mushrooms and herbs. We haven't let go of each other's hand. She holds mine tighter, and my heart demands to be included in the conversation.
It finds a way in. I don't stop it, because it's Evie.
She tastes her food. "I took some time off this morning to go to the bank with my parents. The bank refuses to renegotiate."
"Fuck. Where does it leave you?"
"It leaves me thinking I might need to get a sofa bed to sleep on, so my parents can move in and take my bed."
Her voice is low. It bores down on my breastbone, until I have to use my free hand to rub on the spot. To know Evie is sad, worried about finances and losing the house and taking care of her parents. That she carries this weight on her shoulders…
My chest turns concave. I can't witness this and do nothing.
"We can reach out to my financial advisor," I say. "See what she might suggest."
The words aren't fully out of my mouth when the pain in my chest intensifies. This offer is nowhere near enough.
I frown. "And if it comes to it… you can stay with me until we figure it out. Don't sleep on a sofa bed, when you can stay with me instead."
"That's… a big offer." She sips from her wine. The liquid in the glass ripples slightly, enough for me to notice that her hand is shaking.
Sadness remains on her face. The need to fix it solidifies. It has me tightening my jaw, and my half-eaten food is left forgotten on the table.
My eyes are on her.
She gazes down to her food, and moves some of it around with her fork. "You're way too generous, Logan. Who would have known?"
"You know. So say yes."
"We're not at that point yet with the bank, but thank you."
"So you have a plan?"
We go back to eating. The meal is buttery, with the tang of white wine bursting with freshness on my tongue. The mood is still heavy with the conversation, but there's something familiar about it, too. Like we do this every night.
She sips from her drink. "If I can manage to stall the foreclosure, and I present documentation with my raise and offer to pay a higher interest rate… maybe they'll give me a couple extra years. That may be just enough."
And that would make all of her issues last longer, rather than resolve them.
No, I can't let it happen
I watch her carefully. "What would it take for you to let me help you?"
The line of her lips turns tense. Her eyes lock with mine, but it's a hard stare.
"Logan. No. My parents are already asking about you and whether we're dating and it would be too… too… "
"Let me help. Let me show you I care."
"The fact you want to prove you're going to be a good friend— that's one thing. I know you care! But money? I just…"
"Is this about pride?"
"I'm proud, but that's not it. It's because money and friendship is a risky move. Too… weird, isn't it? And we're having sex!" She hisses the last part to keep it private. "Even if we were a couple— a real couple— if there is a world where our finances are marri— entwined somehow—"
"If we were a real couple, you'd have to come to terms with the fact I'm rich, and you'd never have to worry about money again."
I'd happily share everything with her.
It's scary to realize that. Especially because I know she's still unsure about everything we're doing. I have to be smart about all the things I'm feeling, if I don't want her to run for the hills. If I want her to believe I won't take away what I've offered, I have to make sure not to spook her before she trusts me. If it turns out my feelings are in fact leading me down a path I never expected, I'll have to be brave and play my cards right.
As a pro athlete, I'm used to games defining the course of my life. Figuring out this thing with Evie may be the most important game I ever play.
She sets her cutlery on the plate, like she's done with the dish. "This is all hypothetical. We are… quenching a thirst. That does not a couple make."
"Hypothetically, then. For my own edification. What would it take for you to accept help with this?"
"What's the point of me imagining? Of hoping? I spent years handling things on my own. I kept the only two people I ever gave the title to in my phone and in my pocket, because I couldn't cope with the idea of getting near someone who would ask from me and not give back. Now that I'm accepting some of that closeness? I'm still worried, Logan. Because if I take it in and believe in it only to find I was mistaken? I’ve told you that would be even worse."
"How can I prove this to you? I know words are not enough, so help me out. "
"But what if you change your mind? What if you regret helping me or resent me for it?"
"This is going to make me sound like an asshole—"
We're interrupted again by people who take away our plates and offer dessert. Evie declines, but I ask for cheesecake with two spoons just in case.
I wait until we're alone again to continue.
"Evie, I'm getting a big, fat bonus now that we're going to the playoffs. I'm going to have an extra hundred thousand dollars in my bank account soon. That's on top of the millions I make, and the money from endorsements. I promise I wouldn't resent making your life easier."
"Logan, I…" She presses her lips for a second. "I don't trust myself finding the right limits, don't you see? After years of blurry lines with my parents, when I was too grown up for a child. Or now as an adult, taking more responsibility than my share. Why do you think I kept that fortress around me for so long? Because I don't know how to exist in the gray. I don't know how to make sure I'm giving enough but not too much. And what if I mess up? What if now that I'm finally learning to receive, I take so much that I make someone else feel the way I do and I—"
Her eyes fill with tears. I take her other hand in mine as well. I bring both up to my mouth, where I kiss her fingers reverently.
"I'm an expert at strict boundaries," I say. "I've needed them, picky as I am over who I let close. I promise you, I would let you know if I felt this was too much. It isn't."
In many ways, it isn't enough for me anymore.
She sighs. "Okay. I'll think about it."
"Really think about it. Come to the playoff games, be there with everyone in our guest box, and celebrate with me. See if we break the football world by winning our first ring the first year I'm with the Strike. Take my bonus money. It's going to be okay. "
When we go out of the restaurant, fans gather and people take our pictures. I put an arm around Evie and hold her close.
Someone asks if she's my girlfriend and, for the first time, I hear a clear yes in my head.
Table of Contents
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- Page 32 (Reading here)
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