“I won’t. I promise. When do you plan on dropping this bombshell?”
That was the question at hand. Timing was everything and not on her side right now. “I don’t know. Soon.”
Over the next few days, Amber dwelled on the right time to speak to her father about Robert. She even went as far as circling dates, and subsequently crossing them out, on her wall calendar. She turned December into a mess of red marker and ended up tearing off the month, crumbling it into a ball, and tossing it in the wastepaper basket.
She paused to look up at the calendar on the wall closest to her desk. January stared at her, even though there were still three weeks before the new year.The new year.She nodded to herself. That’s when she’d drop the bombshell, as her mother put it.
The Bucks arrived in Denver early this morning. Today’s agenda was short since the game against the Dragons was tomorrow. After a practice session, followed by a team meeting to go over the playbook one final time, everyone went out for dinner. But Robert wasn’t in the mood. He missed Amber. The time apart was killing him.
Luckily, the number of cross-conversations taking place at the table didn’t bring attention to his lackluster demeanor. He couldn’t follow any of the discussions for more than a few minutes, because he wanted to get back to the hotel and call his girl before it got too late on the East Coast. Another hour went by before coffee and dessert were served, and his leg bounced with impatience.
Unable to wait any longer, he slipped away from the table and headed to the alcove that led to the restrooms and called his girl on FaceTime, but the call went to voicemail. Disappointed, he started back toward the table, but a text message made him stop at the bar to read it.
AMBER: Just about to step into the shower. Long day. Can I call you back in 15 mins?
ROBERT: We’re still at dinner. Can I call you when I get back to the hotel or will it be too late?
AMBER: Call me. I’ll wait up. Miss you.
ROBERT: Miss you too. TTYS
The 90 seconds of texting made his spirits soar and his insides tingle, but he still longed to see her face and hear her voice. He began to scroll through his photos, and it lightened the heaviness in his heart at missing her. A picture of Amber laughing as she tried to untangle a mess of Christmas lights made him smile. The next photo depicted Amber asleep on his pillow, surely dreaming of a fantastical tale by the expression on her face. With her pale blond hair and perfect features, she looked like an angel. He remembered taking the photo one morning a couple of weeks ago and wondering if her dream was as magical as their life together. He flipped through the dozens of other photos on his phone: the two of them at the park, huddled together in front of a huge oak tree with gold and orange leaves sailing through the air behind them; Amber stirring a pot of chili on the stove; Amber sitting at a small table in the coffee shop with latte foam on her upper lip making a comical face; Amber in her white doctor’s coat, laptop in hand—he’d discreetly snapped that one when he was still her patient. Her long blonde locks were piled high on her head, and she wore those sexy, black-rimmed glasses. He loved that look on her.
Halloween photos of Amber dressed as Dexter pretending to stab Robert in the chest with that gigantic knife made him laugh out loud. The next photo was just the two of them. It wasn’t a special occasion. They’d squeezed together for a selfie because he thought she looked exceptionally beautiful that day. Her periwinkle eyes sparkled in the photo, while his baby blues were focused on her. His finger had prematurely clicked the phone just as his eyes had shifted to Amber’s face, and it captured how enamored he was with this beautiful woman he was lucky enough to call his girlfriend. It was one of his favorite photos of them together, so he saved it as his screensaver.
A hand landed on Robert’s shoulder.
“How the hell are ya, Blade?”
It was Danny Lang. They’d missed being teammates by a few years, thanks to a scandal that rocked the NFL, but were well acquainted. Once a kicker for the Bucks, Lang had it all until a random drug test had him ousted with a hefty fine. The Bucks’ owner had zero tolerance for drug use, and Coach even less. Lang had gone from being a favored and illustrious player to a disgrace and disappointment that Coach still ranted about.
Danny Lang had lost his endorsements, and it had been rumored that he’d been spiraling out of control. Redemption didn’t come easy. No one ever expected to see him play pro ball again, but he resurfaced three years later, rebuilt his reputation, scored a contract with the Denver Dragons, and retired a champ.
Robert shook Lang’s hand. “It’s been a long time. Ready to watch your old team get their asses kicked tomorrow?”
“Look at you. Being all cocky,” Lang teased. “I remember when you were just a kid. Still a rookie. Now you’re an all-star.” He waved his index finger at Robert. “I always saw something in you, but I never thought you’d be this good.”
“Thanks. I’m trying my best. I love the game. I don’t know how much longer I have, so I’m enjoying every minute of it.”
“Yeah. I hear ya.” Melancholy filled Lang’s voice, and he shook his head with regret. “My knee took me out at 32.”
Robert’s age. “I remember.” They hadn’t known each other before the steroid fiasco, but Lang seemed like a cool guy now. Although Robert would never indulge in performance-enhancing drugs, he understood the pressure that Lang had been under, because he was under the same pressure on a daily basis. He just dealt with it better. “You look good,” he told the former kicker.
“You too, man.”
Robert’s phone lit up with a text message. It was from Martinez, stating that the team was ready to leave. Terrific. All night long, he couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. As soon as he struck up a conversation with someone he wanted to talk to, it was time to go. He chuckled under his breath and turned the phone toward Lang. “Can you believe this shit? My team is already on the bus and waiting for me.”
The moment Lang saw Robert’s phone screen, his face contorted with confusion. He grabbed Robert’s wrist and looked closer at the screensaver photo, still illuminated by the text message notification. Lang’s brows pinched together, and he scowled. “What are you doing with Amber?”
A sickening feeling crept into Robert’s belly. It was a mixture of jealousy and unease, and he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer to his next question. “She’s my girlfriend. How the hell do you know her?”
“Oh, man.” Lang shook his head. “How long have you been dating her?”
“A few months.” Annoyance kicked jealousy aside and made a muscle in Robert’s jaw tick. “How do you know her?” he repeated, this time with more agitation.
“Take my advice and run. Far away. As fast as you can.”
Robert had no idea why Lang would say something like that about Amber, and a burst of anger pumped through him. He reacted by grabbing Lang by the front of his shirt and pulling him to his full height. “What the fuck does that mean?”
