Page 70 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

WILY

I’m still waiting for surgery. The hours ticked by as my parents got more and more agitated. I couldn’t give my father a firm yes on the training camp situation, and it was pissing him off.

He’s pushing hard for it, and logically, I know it’s the right thing to do, but I just can’t bring myself to agree for some reason.

You know the reason.

Shit, if I tell them it’s because I’m not ready to leave my girl, they will never get over it.

But is that all it is?

What is this niggle inside me?

Why can’t I jump all over this idea?

A nurse came through about an hour ago to check my chart and ask if I needed more meds. I took them because my head was splitting, and my knee was killing me.

Dad peppered her with questions as she sorted me out, and when she told him it was most likely that my surgery wouldn’t happen until the morning, he lost it .

Mom had to calm him down, but she was just as gutted as he was. I could tell because she went really, really quiet, and she only does that when shit is bad.

And it was so fucking quiet.

I couldn’t talk. Dad sat there staring at nothing while Mom perched on a chair, her knee bobbing as she messed around on her phone, obviously trying to distract herself.

Thank fuck, the nurse came back and told my parents visiting hours were nearly over. They could come back and see me tomorrow, and probably after the surgery would be best.

Before my parents finally left, they moved me up to a room for the night—my parents insisting that I have one to myself.

It was fucking embarrassing, but thankfully it worked out that there was a single room available, so they parked me in there and told me to try and get some sleep.

I’d be prepped for surgery first thing in the morning.

They didn’t give me a specific time, and it will no doubt feel like an age, stuck in this bed with a dead phone and a little TV that doesn’t work.

I can’t watch anything anyway.

I’m aching and can’t get comfortable.

I have no way of contacting my friends or my girl.

Shit.

I have no idea what she’s going through right now, but I should have fucking told my parents she was my girlfriend!

After her disaster of a birthday party and how hard I had to work convincing her she was everything I wanted, I then went and blew it !

And I can’t contact her to apologize because my fucking phone is out of juice and?—

The door creaks open and I glance up, hoping it’s a kind nurse who might find me a charger.

But the second my visitor walks through the door, the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. “Thank God.” I choke out the words, relief swamping me as I hold my arms wide and silently ask for a hug.

I might not get one.

I probably don’t deserve it without some kind of explanation, but then I spot Satch’s smile as she walks toward me, nestling against my side and laying her head on my shoulder.

I can’t describe the emotion welling up inside me.

Cupping the back of her soft hair, I hold her close and whisper on repeat, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She stops me after my third time, sitting back to look at me with a gentle smile. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” I tuck the hair behind her ear, running my knuckles down her smooth cheek. “I hurt you.”

Resting her hand on my chest, I cover her short fingers with my large ones as she softly says, “You confused me. At first, yes, I guess I was hurt, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that you must have done it for a reason. Because… I’m fucking amazing, right? You made me promise to believe that.”

My lips twitch, then rise into a slow smile, which I press against her fingers the second I raise them to my mouth.

“You are fucking amazing,” I whisper.

She watches me, her gaze burning with that silent question: “Why? ”

Releasing a heavy sigh, I ignore the pain in my knee and lean forward anyway, wrapping my hand around her hip and pulling her closer to me.

She tucks her legs up beneath her, careful to avoid my injury, and rests her head against my shoulder.

“My parents don’t know about you,” I admit.

“Yeah, I got that part.” Her tone is rueful, and I take it as forgiveness.

Kissing the top of her head, I thread our fingers together and continue, “The reason I didn’t tell them is because they have this idea in their heads that girls are a distraction.

They don’t seem to mind me messing around and having fun, but anything serious is gonna hinder my career.

They’ve been so set on me getting established in the football world and really making a name for myself.

In their minds, falling in love will only stop that from happening.

They’re convinced I’ll be distracted. It’ll be a split-focus situation, and that’ll affect my game and my training. ”

“Do you think that’s true?” Her voice is small.

After a long pause, I finally admit the truth with a sigh.

“To some degree.” I kiss her head again, assuring her that this isn’t a breakup speech.

“I guess when they got here and asked who you were, I was worried that if it all came out, they might accuse you of getting in the way. I was just trying to protect you, but I wasn’t able to explain it, and my phone’s died, and I’ve been lying here hating myself and worried sick that you were thinking I don’t want you.

Because I do.” I squeeze her against me.

“You’re my woman, and I just… I need you here with me.

And I fucking hate that I let my dad dismiss you.

I should have said something. I should have?— ”

“Shhh.” She calms me, rubbing a hand over my stomach, then up to rest on my chest. “It’s nice that you wanted to protect me.

” She kisses my pec before nestling her head back down again.

“But you can’t always do that. I need to be strong enough to stand up for myself.

And we could have faced your parents together.

” She lets out a soft sigh. “I probably should have said something when you introduced me as your tutor.”

I grunt, resting my cheek against her head and refusing to let her take any of the blame for this. “It was my fault, Satch. I played it all wrong.”

Wrapping her arm around my waist, she holds me a little tighter, then lets out a soft giggle.

“What?” I shift my head at the same time she does, leaning back so I can look at the cute smile on her face.

She looks… proud as she licks her lips, then tells me, “I played something right tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I think you’re gonna be really proud of me.”

“Oh yeah?”

Her smile grows, and then she proceeds to tell me exactly what went down outside Buckley Hall.

At first, I tense up, my muscles coiling with fury at the thought of those girls ambushing her outside her fucking dorm! A place she’s supposed to feel safe. A place to rest and study and?—

But then she tells me what she said to them.

“Really?” I interrupt her to clarify a few details, and she’s right.

I am so fucking proud.

She stood up to those girls. She put them in their place, and she? —

“I don’t know if they’ll come at me again, but at least I know how to handle them next time. I’ll just keep up that ‘your words are vapor’ mantra, and if they try to step things up a notch, then I’ll?—”

“There won’t be a next time,” I growl.

“Wily.” She sits up to look at me. “There might be. And you can’t always be there to stop them.”

Shit. I hate that she’s right, especially if I go to this private training camp. I won’t be around to protect her, and it’s weighing on me big-time.

My expression must be giving this all away, because she gifts me a sweet smile before pecking my lips.

“I love that you want to stop them, but that’s not always possible. The point is, I handled it. Me. And you know how I did that?”

“How?” I grumble, still riled by the idea that they might try again.

“I believed my boyfriend when he told me I’m fucking amazing.” She grins, and I swear she’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment right here.

Weaving my hand around the back of her neck, I pull her forward to kiss me, taking my time to strength the connection between us.

I love this woman.

She is fucking amazing, and I never want her to doubt it.

Tipping my head, I deepen the kiss and dance a slow, sweet tongue tango with her, then softly ask her to stay with me. Because the thought of watching her walk out of here again is too devastating. I need her tonight. I need to hold her tight and draw from the strength she’s offering .

I need to talk to her about the decision that’s looming in front of me, but right now, I just want to hold her.

My heart is bruised and metaphorically bleeding as I face this unexpected injury.

But I’ll survive.

I’ll heal.

And having her beside me is only going to speed up that process.