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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

DECKER

Every time Lena calls, the knife digs in a little deeper.

It’s been a month and a half, and from time to time she still hits me up.

She never leaves a voicemail, and I never answer.

I want to, but I can’t. My worst fear is that one day they’ll stop, which I know will happen eventually.

That day will probably be soon. The thought of it almost hurts more than her rejection when I bared my heart to her.

“Head in the game, Trace! Quit playin’ with your dinghy. It’s not what’ll get ya to playoffs.” Coach’s mustache twitches as he adjusts his cap. Even from here, I can see his eyes narrowing.

I run a towel over my sweaty hair before dropping it on the bench and sprinting back toward the field.

Practice has been rough this week, my knee has been aching, a stark reminder of last year’s injury.

But Coach is right. I should be focusing on the playoffs.

It’s just the distraction I need right now anyway.

When did the playoffs become the distraction?

Maybe I should take a page from Lena’s book.

I worked too hard for this to let her be the end of my career.

Even if I’ve been gunnin’ for retirement, I’m going out on my terms. She’s the distraction now, though I never got to thank her for the popularity boost and the major hike in Pro Bowl votes.

The results come in next week, but if the trending hashtags are any indication, I might actually make it on the roster this year.

It’s not like it’s a real game. It’s basically flag football, but it looks fun and was an unofficial goal of mine.

And now it could be a reality. Barring that we don’t make it to the Super Bowl, of course—and odds are looking pretty good for the Kings on that front.

Even if I have to miss the Pro Bowl, I can’t help but wonder what Lena would say to me if I had the chance to share my excitement with her face to face.

Probably something sarcastic or sassy that makes me want to shut her mouth with mine.

Get ahold of yourself, Decker. She’s gone. She doesn’t want you. She’s only calling you to torture herself like she does with every single relationship she’s ever been in. You aren’t special.

As I plow the sled down the field, my mind does what it absolutely shouldn’t.

It wanders. My head is anywhere but here today.

Thank God it’s a practice and not a game.

I think about her eyes, her smile, the feel of her against me, about how the internet completely melted down when we broke up.

I have to be honest, it was pretty validating to see how upset everyone was.

I thought we were a perfect match, too. Of course, I went off socials after our disastrous night, so any updates I received were from Maleko.

Even Ty looked like he felt sorry for me, and that’s the last guy I ever expected to show me any sympathy.

Poor Princess has been extra affectionate lately, and half the time that old girl just wants to sleep.

She’s lost valuable nap time lolling in my lap and monitoring my well-being.

Ian’s always joked she’s the only girl who could ever love me, and I’m starting to believe he’s right.

When practice is over, I bolt to my car.

I’m covered in grass stains and sweat, but my driver’s seat will recover.

I’ll shower at home. Locker room chaos is the last thing I need, especially since it’s off the charts today due to the holiday.

New Year's Eve. Most of the guys are behaving since we have too much riding on us at this point in the season. We’re so close to making it to the Super Bowl again.

Plus, Princess hates the fireworks everyone will no doubt be lighting off.

She’ll need my support. And a Benadryl. I’ve been with the guys all day. I want to be home. I want to be alone.

I drive in silence the entire trip to my condo. Princess greets me when I walk through the door, and I stop long enough to rub her velvety ears before heading to shower. Leftovers from the fridge will have to do for tonight. This evening is all about minimal effort.

I settle in on the couch next to an overjoyed Princess. For the first time since this morning, I check my phone. Lena texted me. I don’t open it. I can’t.

Part of me is relieved she’s still trying to get ahold of me, but she and I are at different places in our lives.

She’s at the height of her career, while mine is finally starting to die down.

I have my brand deal with Vital Reign, a few modeling opportunities outside of that, and some voice-over work Jason’s been begging me to take.

After football season is over, it’s odd jobs from here on out.

I can finally retire. My body gets to rest. I get to set my schedule and choose my own work.

Gable’s demise could be one of the best things to happen to me.

My stint with Lena proved to be successful, and because of it, my dog shelter could actually be a reality.

With what I have lined up now, once football is over, I can start planning.

Find a location and volunteers. Invest in it to get it onto its feet while we work on registering it as a legitimate nonprofit.

It’ll all be up to me. It’s surreal. I won’t be at the beck and call of an entire team, something I know Lena is unwilling to give up.

Her work posse dictates her life, and I’ve come to accept that.

Though it’s none of my business anymore.

I turn on the TV and dig into my three-day-old Chinese takeout.

The chicken is drier than it should be, but still good.

Turning to the channel where the ball drop will be televised, I see her.

Lena Lux in the cutest, fuzziest earmuffs and brightest red lips I’ve ever seen.

Her gold dress shimmers as she giggles and exchanges clever quips with the emcees while they discuss her midnight performance.

From all I can see through the screen, she’s doing fine.

That’s enough to get the TV turned off for the rest of the night.

I toss a cheese rangoon to Princess, and she swallows it whole.

Can’t wait to kiss that slobbery mug when the clock strikes twelve.

I shove another pitiful piece of chicken in my mouth and stare at the blackened screen.

Tonight is shaping up to be the most uneventful New Year's Eve I’ve ever had.

Eventually, my boredom and curiosity win out, and finally, I open her text from this morning. I suck in a deep breath and read.

Lena

Hope you’re well. Wanted to let you know I’m taking your advice on that new song. Think I’ll test it out tonight during the ball drop if you wanna see. Maybe you can give me some of those pointers you’re so good at.

If I’d opened this text earlier, I wouldn’t have flipped on the TV and endured that ball drop jumpscare as I attempted to find some semblance of New Year's normalcy. Watching Lena smiling and interacting in a live interview is almost too much to bear. It’s so much different than seeing her in the snapshots we took that I still haven’t deleted.

My phone buzzes over and over, my heart leaping a little at the thought that maybe it’s her.

Of course it isn’t. She isn’t stalking me, just trying to keep in touch.

The first text is from Maleko, the second is from my brother, and the third is a call from my mom. I don’t answer any of them. Instead, I shut off my phone, roll onto my side, and close my eyes, hoping 8:00 p.m. isn’t too early for bed.