“Want to come up?” Nate’s balcony looks out over the water, but if he’s looking directly below, like he is right now, he can see down on the sidewalk.
“Stalker, much?” I kid, staring up at him. His arms rest on the railing as he leans on it holding his phone in one hand and giving me a little wave with the other.
“Come on, I’m hungry,” he begs.
“Oh, that sounds like a personal problem.”
“I was going to make chicken marsala. Extra garlic bread. Side of pasta. Have dinner with me, Smalls.” The pleading in Nate’s voice isn’t something I’ve been able to resist often. Plus, Nate’s actually a really good cook. I swear if he didn’t have a career in the NFL, he’d make an incredible chef. He can make mushrooms sound appetizing and Ihatemushrooms.
“Okay, you’ve won me over with the promise of extra garlic bread,” I tease, turning to his building and heading inside the lobby.
Once I get to Nate’s door, I knock a couple times before walking right in. Hendrix comes to greet me and I drop my bag at my feet to get down and pet him. Nate’s shirtless body is already standing over the stove stirring something in a pan. He wipes his hand on the towel that he has slung over his bare shoulder and I notice the outline of his cell phone in the pocket of his light gray joggers.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to cook shirtless? It’s dangerous.” But, wow. It smells amazing in here. When I get closer and take a look at the stove, Nate pulls my head to his mouth and plants a kiss on the top.
“Never heard that one before.” A deep chuckle leaving his chest as his lip curls up on his face.
“You’ll be happy to know Graham did not show any weakness.” I dip my finger in the pan as we stand against the counter and taste the sauce simmering on the stove, throwing my head back with a moan as the flavor hits my palate.So. Fucking. Good.
Nate swats my hand away when I try to go in for seconds. “Really? Well, that’s good. He wasn’t a full participant all week in practice… so I was wondering what was going on.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I walk out of the kitchen and flip on the television. Nate’s default channel somehow always comes up as NFL highlights, even though he’s aware he shouldn’t be watching commentary on himself.
Dinners with Nate are my favorite, especially when he cooks. Usually whichever one of us cooks dinner doesn’t have to clean, and nine times out of ten, he’s cooking and I’m cleaning. Listen, I can throw down in the kitchen, but why should I when he actually likescookingandhe’s good at it?
“Ready for Carolina?” I ask as we sit together at the island eating.
“People keep asking me that…” He sighs, taking a sip of his water.
Lowering my gaze in confusion, I say, “Should we not be asking you that? I mean, you have a game coming up, it seems like a fair question… Is everything alright?”
“It’s a fair question. I just… I don’t know how to answer it.”
Nate leans back in his seat, stretching both arms behind his head, showing the valleys of muscle that run over his stomach. “I don’t feel…in itright now. I’m not sure how to explain it.”
I place my fork down and wipe my mouth with the napkin before completely turning my body towards his.
“Well, start at the beginning. What’s going on?”
An obvious wave of apprehension washes over Nate’s features. He gets up from his seat and places his empty plate into the sink. His hands flex out in front of him before he places them firmly on the marble surface. His hands are truly massive and if I was attracted to my best friend I would probably be obsessed with the way they look.
“Honestly, Mi… I don’t know. Something’s off. I can’t pinpoint it. But I don’t think I can manage it anymore. I don’t know how to control it. I don’t feel like myself. Since winning the Super Bowl, I just feel like the pressure to do it again, do it even better, is too much. My name is in every article, on every news cast and my head is just screaming that I’m not doing enough.”
A knot forms in my stomach at his words. I knew something was going on. His tone. His behavior. I could tell, but I didn’t want to press it. I’ve known Nate for a long time, and one thing I’ve learned is regardless of what it is, Nate won’t talk about something until he’s ready.
“I wake up every morning with this monster in my head. And it just builds and builds throughout the day. These anxious thoughts just creep in and it’s almost becoming debilitating. I’m trying to hide it on the field, around the team, the coaches, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep that up.” His head shakes back and forth before he shifts his eyes to the left and then brings them back to me. “I’ve thrown up three times in my adult life, they all had to do with drinking. Want to know how many times I’ve fucking vomited in the last month?” His headrises and he looks at me with a sad, broken stare. I don’t want to know, because something tells me it’ll only break my heart.
“Seven,” he whispers.
“Nate,” I say softly, getting up and making my way around the kitchen island to his side. When I reach for his arm, I can feel his pulse jumping at his wrist.
“Hey, look at me.” My hands cup his cheeks as he turns to me and I place one hand on his chest only to feel his heart beating so rapidly, if I didn’t know any better I’d think he just sprinted the length of a football field. “I had no idea you were struggling this way. But you’ll be okay, I’ll help any way I can. It’s okay.” My forehead leans against his arm as we stand there and I continue whispering over and over, “It’s okay” until I can visibly see his body relax, and feel his heart rate slowing back to a steady pace.
His throat clears. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on telling you any of that tonight… or ever.” Nate’s arms wrap around me, holding me close. An interaction that we have daily, but this just feels like he needs the contact right now, the closeness.
“I had no idea this was going on. I sensed a change, but I never would’ve guessed. Thank you for telling me, though. You know you can always tell me anything, right? You can come to me for anything.”
He nods and takes a deep breath. I know there’s even more where all of that came from, but instead of asking anything more, I let him rest. I realize how big of a deal that was for him to share with me.
