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Chapter 34

Tyler

T onight, we lost.

And there’s nothing more that I hate than losing.

We played great, too. Did we have a few errors? Yes, but no one plays perfect. At least that’s what I thought until today. Seattle was nearly flawless. And we weren’t.

We knew they were going to be a tough team to beat, and all of us from defense, offense, and special teams watched extra film to make sure we understood their plays, their sequences, and their game, but it didn’t matter.

Should I be this pissed over losing one game? Probably not. But it’s still early, and there goes our dream of a perfect season. Just once, once in my career, do I want that, and I thought this was the team to do it.

When we got back to the hotel, I hit the bar with the guys to commiserate. There’s always a little bit of adrenaline that needs to burn off afterward, win or loss, and you’d think we’d be exhausted, but we’re not. This was a prime-time game, and since we’re on the West Coast, instead of flying back tonight, we’ll all get a little sleep, then head out in the morning. I know Lily is already asleep, and as much as I want to talk to her, I don’t at the same time. I don’t want to wake her, but that something else that’s been lingering holds me back, too. Besides, she leaves in a few days for New York, and I want her to be as rested as possible. At least rested while I’m not there.

This past week with Lily has been a dream come true. We’ve laughed, we’ve opened up more, and I’ve loved so hard on every inch of her body, I don’t even know how she’s walking. At least that’s what it is for me . . . love.

Something I didn’t expect to feel, and if I’m being honest, something I wasn’t sure I would feel again.

However, Tuesday, on the boat, after we woke up from an insatiable afternoon, I found that tightness in my chest almost smotherable.

A tightness that’s continued to have me reversing backward from her and closing myself up when, more than anything, I want us to move forward.

It’s strange too. I can’t pinpoint what’s causing it or how to get rid of it. And as the week dragged on, it just got worse and so did I.

Of course Lily recognized the change in me. She asked me once if I was okay, and while I told her yes, we both knew I was lying. I should be able to talk to her. I just didn’t know what to say. I don’t know what’s causing it or how to get rid of it. All I do know is that the caution flags are still internally flying. They won’t calm down, and I’m hypersensitive to them.

Just thinking about that tightness has me rubbing my chest, and after two beers, I’m ready to call it a night.

I miss her. I miss her something fierce. But something in me feels off. Not once since we’ve been living together have I felt any reservations toward her, but instead of texting her that I miss her so she’ll wake up and find it, I send nothing.

Which also feels shitty.

What is wrong with me?

I rub my chest again.

I need to call Lance. Do I know how he’s going to react when he finds out what I’ve done with his sister? No. But out of everyone in this world, he knows me the most, and he probably can put things into perspective for me. Not just with her, but with what’s wrong with my head. I have to believe that he knows me well enough to know that I would never intentionally mess around with Lily for the fun of it; I’m in it, for as long as she’ll have me, and I’ll tell him that.

Somehow, I get stuck on the elevator with a couple of women here for someone on the team. I don’t know them or who they’re supposed to be with, but they sure know me.

“Hold the door,” someone says, and I stick my hand out, as it’s the polite thing to do. Really, I’d like for it to shut superfast and close them out, but it doesn’t, and I don’t allow it.

“Tyler,” the tall brunette says, smiling at me in a way I don’t like. “Where’s Lily today? We were looking for her and didn’t see her.”

I look over these two girls. They are overly dolled up for going to a football game, which clearly means they’re here for one thing. I’m surprised they know Lily since she keeps to herself, and these girls don’t necessarily look like her type of friend.

I clear my throat. “She didn’t come on this trip.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” the friend says. “We met her last weekend and had the best time together. She’s just the nicest.”

“She is,” I agree with them but don’t say anything more and decide to stuff my hands in my pockets. This is how rumors get started. I shouldn’t have allowed them into the elevator, or I should have stepped out. Anyone could have seen this, and it would look bad. Just thinking about the headlines of me and two girls headed up on an elevator together makes my stomach turn. At least if there are cameras in here, my body language says it all. I’ll be on my side while you stay on yours.

“We were talking about how crazy it is that she went from one football player to another, when so many of us can’t even meet one. She is one lucky girl and living the life, if you know what I mean.”

Living the life?

What?

I turn to face them more. “Actually, I don’t know what you mean.”

Both of them blink at me.

“Well, it’s just that everyone knows football players are rich,” the brunette says. “Dean Davis is one of the highest-paid players in the league, and then there’s you. You’re having an amazing career, and your contract is impressive as well. Lily even agreed about how great it’s been. I thought it was our conversation that sparked the idea for her latest social post on her author account. We heard about that by the way.” She winks at me like we’re in on a shared secret. “Oh, and I love the fish tank.”

There is so much that I want to break down from just those few lines. I know Davis makes a crap ton of money, and I know my contract is public knowledge, but why were they talking about how much money I make? That’s really not anyone’s business, nor should it be discussed. Also, how great it’s been? How great what has been?Who did they hear from that she’s an author? And did she say fish tank?

I don’t respond to them. I don’t even know what to say and my hands curl into fists.

I can feel the color draining from my face, just in time for the door to ding and open to my floor.

“Good night,” I tell them as I exit and hear them whispering.

My heart is thumping hard as I think about what she might have discussed with them, with a lot of people, like my salary, and then there’s what she posted and why. Bumping my key against the entry pad, I push into my room when the light turns green and then kick the door shut. Pulling out my phone, I sit down on the bed and pull up her account. There are two new posts. The first is about the new book, but the second is an image of Lily walking toward my boat with the caption, “Living the life.” Her head is cut off to remove her hair, but the dock and the boat are visible, including all the markings that let people know it’s mine. The Tarpons flag, the pirate flag, and the brand. Not that the brand matters, but I’ve never wanted people to know I have such an expensive boat. It’s none of their business.

And then my breath leaves me as I swipe through the others.

This has to be a bad dream. A bad fucking dream.

While some are just random pictures like holding a Starbucks coffee, holding her last series up with the beach in the background, others are of inside my house. My fish tank and subsequently the kitchen, her laptop on my couch, which shows off the living room where there’s a Tarpons hat on the coffee table, and the inside of our refrigerator, which is full of some colorful sparkling water. I know Morgan does all of this, but Lily must have let her into the house where she took all these. Why would she allow this? Why would she willingly break the rules? I didn’t think they were too harsh or unreasonable, but she didn’t even ask me first. I know creating a list of rules is stupid, but she asked for them and these rules were important to me. I thought she understood that. I shared with her what Marissa had done, how it made me feel, and why my privacy is important to me.

She disregarded this completely.

Anger mixed with sadness burns its way through my veins as that tightness squeezes even more than it has in the last week.

And that’s when I realize what it is. My feelings for Lily, as they’ve grown and become so real, deep down, I feared that they were one-sided, just like they were before. The last time I cared for someone, I was used, and my very serious feelings meant nothing. They were laughed at, and I was humiliated. Do I think she’s into me? Yes. But she wouldn't have done this if she cared and respected me the way I do her.

This brings me back to that tightness in my chest that just wouldn’t let up because deep down, my soul worried that things were too good to be true. I wanted this, I wanted her, but it was naive of me to think that she would be as into me as I am her. My subconscious had to have known. She just got out of a long-term relationship. If anything, I’m a rebound while she figures out her life. I mean, she’s said it over and over. She’s creating a new plan and figuring out what and where she wants to be next. Only I’m the dumbass who wasn’t really listening. I got caught up in my head about what I thought we could be when really, I was wrong. I don’t think I was ever included in those plans. I just assumed I was, and you know what they say about people who assume . . . I make an ass of you and me.

Yes, she admitted to always having a thing for me. Maybe Dean was right. She can officially cross me off her list. She scratched that itch, but then again, thinking about what those girls in the elevator said—is being with someone like me her endgame?

Swiping through my phone, my fingers shake as I know I shouldn’t be searching for her online. We all know the things that are said aren’t necessarily true, that is until they are.

While there are some recent pictures of us, there are so many more pictures of her and Dean. I know that’s what happens after you spend that long of a time period with someone, but as I look at them, I realize she looks more like those girls in the elevator than she does her normal self. Her hair, her makeup, the jewelry she’s wearing, her clothes, all of it screams wealth and image, and she did what girls like her do. She moved from one idiot to the next.

How did I not see it before? She hasn’t even really tried to find a place to live. If it had been me, I would have been in and out within like two weeks. And while I get why she kept her writing a secret from Dean, it is convenient that as soon as we go public, she decides that she wants to too. It never even crossed my mind to consider that she had ulterior motives, but now that the seed is planted, every doubt and every scenario grows.

Throwing my phone on the bed, I prop my elbows on my knees, and my head finds my hands.My fingers tug on my hair, I’ve broken out into a sweat, and my eyes slip shut as they burn. They burn from anger, they burn from being exhausted, and they burn from being hurt.

Hurt again.

Do I think I’m spiraling? Absolutely. I’m certain there is more to this story than what appears, but anxiety, vulnerability, and heartache don’t care. When they take over, that’s it. Anyone who experiences this understands.

Maybe I should have talked to her before I left to make sure we’re on the same page.

Maybe I should have explained how I was feeling and how that tightness wouldn’t go away.

Maybe I should have called Lance before I ever even laid a finger on her.

Maybe I should have done a lot of things.

But here I am, feeling like I’m reliving some of the worst moments of my life with Marissa all over again.

Trust. The one thing I never give anyone until it’s earned, but because of our history, I gave it to her. What was I thinking? Oh, I know. Because she’s related to my best friend, she must be a good person too, but how many people out there have family members who suck?

Acid churns in my stomach, and I feel like I’m about to throw up.

Am I having a repeat of my past?

I didn’t think so, but she broke my rules without even saying a word to me.

She hurt me.

Oh God.

I can’t breathe, and my eyes are leaking.

What a shitty fucking day.