Page 18 of Unrivaled Love (D.C. Renegades #2)

Jo

A Little Menty B

I don't want to eat warm yogurt for dinner but I also don't want to hear Bryson try to butter me up with platitudes he doesn't mean. After all, he believed me making the US squad was far-fetched.

Getting on the team was always my goal and I’m the first to say I’m honored just to be on the roster. But there’s no point celebrating or accepting praise, especially from Bryson, until the World Cup trophy is in my hands.

Nothing is going to get in my way.

Which is why I need to stay focused and serve my sentence before going back to Salt Lake and picking up for the second half of the season.

Bryson follows me inside and I watch him set his book down next to mine. I like that we're reading the same thing. I like that he finds enjoyment in reading too. And then another part of me doesn’t like that we have this in common. It’s making it difficult to continue despising him.

And I hate that his favorite author is also one of my favorites who writes smutty sports stories with characters you just want to be friends with.

Bryson hands me a spoon. "This is going to be kind of gross but we should eat it before that cooler really warms up." He says and I nod.

We peel back the tin covers and dig in.

The audible swallows are making me want to gag. I think Bryson is feeling the same way based on the look on his face.

"Wanna go back outside?" I ask and he nods .

It's a little better on the patio because there are some natural noises in the background. We finish our dinners and sit in companionable silence.

"So," he starts, dragging the word out to a few syllables. "What's it been like to join the US team?"

"It's been pretty great." I tell him. And it's true. Being on the national team has been awesome. We have so much work to do and I’m looking forward to it because this line up is special. "It's a super talented group of women and we're all able to put our league rivalries aside and play together."

"Is that weird? Like playing together one week and then being on opposite sides of the ball the next?"

"Yeah, but it happens for you in hockey when guys are traded mid season."

"True." he nods.

"Coach Taylor is all about team bonding too."

"How so?"

"He has us get on zoom calls with activities and stuff so we get to know each other off the field too."

"Really? Like what?"

"Hot sauce tasting, a white elephant gift exchange, a wild wig party. That sort of stuff."

He chuckles. "Don't let Coach Taylor share any of this with Coach Bradford or Felix for that matter. I'm sure he'd be all over it."

"You guys don't get enough bonding during the season?"

"During the season, yeah. We're together almost every day. But in the off season he usually tries to keep us connected. But not this year."

"Why not?" I ask because this year he should be thrilled about hanging with his championship teammates.

"With all the events and promotional stuff we've been spending a lot of time together. And since we went to the final our off season is only like 75 days this year. "

I'm quiet because I hadn't thought of that.

But still I'm curious. He's achieved the top level of his sport. Something I can only imagine.

"What did it feel like?"

"What?"

"Winning."

"Oh, it's tough to explain." He says and he rubs the back of his neck.

I just stare at him. I expected some gloating, some cockiness, but I'm not seeing those in his face.

In the moonlight he looks pale and his gaze dances before setting on me.

"It was a high unlike anything I've ever experienced.

" He continues. "In the final seconds I think I completely stopped breathing as I watched the clock and the ice all at once.

Then, the buzzer sounded and it was like peeing after holding it on the bus for ages. "

"What?" I laugh.

He smiles at me and I feel it warm my chest.

"Relief. I felt relieved."

I nod along. That makes sense. I felt similarly after getting my goal against Venezuela. Like, finally, there was some proof.

"And then it was a mix of emotions for the next few days. I bounced between being so happy I would just break out into spontaneous giggles to feeling an exhaustion deep in my bones." He looks down at his hands in his lap and I can see the wheels turning in his head. "And then? I dunno."

I sit and wait for him to continue. To give him the space he gave me in his bedroom earlier. I’m struggling to understand his mental state but I want to try. The slump of his shoulders, the hang of his head, the way he rips at his finger nail tell me something is off.

"Tell me Bryson." I say quietly.

He looks up at me and my breath catches. The look in his deep brown eyes is almost shameful.

"The happiness faded and I felt tired. "

"And?" I prompt because I can see there is so much more he wants to say.

"And I couldn’t imagine starting over.” He looks out over the scenery before turning to me.

“The only time I felt excited again was seeing you play. And, shit Jo, I don't want you to run again, I don't want to scare you off, but I had this, like, mini breakdown when I thought I saw you in the crowd at an event a few days after your game. I froze up on stage and that never happens. And, honestly, I hadn’t felt like myself in weeks. I didn’t even fucking dance at my teammate’s wedding.

” He drags a hand through his curls and settles it in his lap.

“So I left D.C. and came here. I needed to get away, to reset.

I don't feel motivated to train or even start the season again. It was so fucking hard to win."

He drags a hand down his face to wash away his emotion. He schools his features and looks up at me. He composes himself before his eyes travel down my body and back up. It's almost like he's verifying I'm here.

I’m not sure what to do with his admission. I wasn’t aware he had seen me in the crowd. I couldn’t stand being there because my jealousy was all consuming so I left after giving his mom a hug and thanking her for coming to the game.

"Why do you only have your practice uniform?" He asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I look down at it. "I left Salt Lake straight from training." I admit with a shrug and a sigh.

He swallows and nods. I could admit it all now.

I could tell him I also had a little menty b and ended up tickle fighting a teammate.

But the truth is, I've had a chance to reflect, and I'm embarrassed. How can I admit I snapped? How can I show him my weakness? I keep it together. Always have, always will. It’s easier, there’s less resistance, if I keep everything inside.

Bryson is testing the lock on my emotions.

"You couldn't have stopped at your apartment for a bag?" He asks.

"No, I just hit the road. "

Bryson leans forward and ducks his head so he catches my eyes.

"Jo, are you safe? Is there someone, I dunno, like stalking you or an issue with a coach or something?"

His words come out short like he's putting in effort to keep his tone even. The fire in his eyes tells me he’d take it upon himself to right the situation if there was one. My heart flutters because Bryson is ready to avenge my enemies.

"No, it's nothing like that. It was a petty disagreement with a teammate."

"Okay," Bryson says and he leans back. I watch his chest rise and fall with his breath. He rubs his hands on the tops of his thighs.

"One last question and then we can go to bed."

"Yeah?"

"What do you sleep in if those are your only clothes?"

I close my eyes and silently chuckle. After our kiss earlier, and with the way Bryson is looking at me now, I'm not sure I should admit it. But sappy emotions are uncomfortable and harmless flirting is easier, so I’m going to stoke the fire.

"Nothing."