I need to tread carefully here, because the wrong thing could hurt him worse, or damage our relationship, and so far, our chemistry on the field was putting this team back in the rankings.
“Listen. It’s rough as fuck, but don’t jump to conclusions like that yet. Okay? Let it play out. Talk to her. Take a step back and think things through.”
“I’m not leaving if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just now I have to play ball for the rest of my life knowing I gave her up to do it.”
“You don’t know that yet.”
“Don’t I? Even if she’s sorry, it’s not like I can trust her anymore. Especially not when she’s there and I’m here. Besides, why the fuck am I staying celibate for her while she’s out there getting laid?”
I don’t have a good answer for him, so I just nod silently. I can’t imagine having to choose between the girl I love and football. It would be impossible. And then my heart falters in my chest.
I love her. It’s the reason I’m so goddamn happy right now. The reason fucking her last night had felt so unreal. The reason I’d felt like I’d been swallowed up and drowning in fucking joy when she’d asked if we could be exclusive. I was in love with Violet, and she’d given me hope.
I blink to see Colton giving me a strange look.
“Sorry. Just having my own realization.” I shake my head.
“Hopefully it’s a better one than me.”
“It’s either really great or really awful. Definitely one of those.”
He shakes his head and gives a small laugh.
“I’m really sorry though. Let me know what I can do, okay? If you need to get a beer or something.”
He nods. I love Colton and Jake and the rest of the guys. What we’d built in a few months together had been phenomenal, but days like today I missed Waylon, Liam, and East. Being the man left behind when they all went off last year felt like I still had time to spare, but now I’d kill to have them to talk to about all this shit.
* * *
When I get homethat Monday night after practice Violet is curled up on the couch flipping through channels and looking anxious as her eyes dart up to meet mine.
“What’s wrong?” I toss my bag down and come sit next to her.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You look like you’re going to explode from anxiety.”
“This week is Thanksgiving.”
“Right.”
“But you’ve got the big game on Saturday.”
“Right. I know. It sucks. I can’t go home, but if you want to… are you? I don’t mind if you miss the game if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No. That’s not it. Well it’s sort of it… Ugh. I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Tell me what.”
“It’s supposed to be a surprise, and I don’t want to ruin it for you.”
“A good surprise?”
“Maybe?”
“Okay. Just out with it.”
“They’ll be mad.”
