“Unless the famous Matt Stricker is too big-time to slum it with a bunch of rookies who have consumed too many energy drinks and sideline nobodies?” She fills the silence with her usual playful attitude. It’s truly what draws people to her. She’s endlessly optimistic on the outside, but it makes me wonder if that’s her protective shell.
I snort. “I’m the most down-to-earth guy around. Honestly, the coaches won’t want me there. I’m a coach for the opposition.”
She laughs again, her voice full of summer heat and spark. It runs right through me, and God help me, I want nothing more than to say yes. But something hardens in my chest—a chill that’s lingered since Harper’s warning, since my vision blurred in the morning sun. I won’t let her see; I keep it hidden, same as always.
“Why have you been so distant lately? Is this what you do when you date someone? Pull away?” she asks, her concerned tone weighing on me.
“We’re not dating. This is a fictional relationship,” I say.
“I know.” I hear the frustration in her voice, and it’s not my intention to upset her. “Are you just being this way with me or with everybody?”
“Noelle,” I let out a heavy breath. “I can’t do this.”
I let the silence stretch—maybe too long. The old Mattwould have joked it off. But something’s twisting inside me. “Noelle, I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”
“Hey, don’t take credit for my genius, albeit spontaneous, idea. Just say yes, Matt,” she goads. “You’ll keep me from throttling Brooks, which will keep me out of jail and on the sidelines.”
She bristles, as if she senses something more in my tone.
“I don’t know.” My voice comes out rougher than I want. “Maybe you’re better off with one of your girlfriends. Make it a girls’ trip.” I have enough on my plate right now, and Noelle just confuses my emotions.
Even through the phone lines, I know she’s bristling at my tone. My suggestion. There’s an edge now. “Oh, right, because you think I don’t have loyal girlfriends.” Her laugh sharpens, razor-bright. “That’s original. ‘Noelle only hangs with guys because of sports.’”
I wince. That one was below the belt, and I know it. Truth is, I get why guys flock to her. She’s the only person in every locker room who talks football like it’s her first language—and cares who wins, who loses, and who gets left behind. But I can’t tell her that. Not now, not with my own walls up.
“That’s not what I meant.”
She sighs on the other end, her voice softening. “Maybe. But yeah, sometimes it sucks being the odd girl out. You try growing up the only sister in a family like mine, then act surprised when you get football cards instead of nail polish at your birthday parties.”
I can picture her, pacing the length of her backyard, barefoot, annoyance bright in her cheeks. There’s a lump in my throat that won’t go down.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” I rub a thumb over my temple, wishing I was better at this. At her.
“Forget it,” she mutters. “Look, I just thought…you might want to come. For me.”
God, how am I supposed to say no to that? Especially with that hope, fragile as it sounds through the phone. I want to say yesforher. Hell, I want to say yes for myself, even though every instinct in me says to run. Protect her—from Brooks, from disappointment, from whatever’s coming for me that I’m not ready to admit.
But I’ve never been good at walking away from her, not since that kiss that broke the shackles off my heart. And every small touch, laugh, or smile ever since.
“All right,” I manage, my voice just above a whisper. “I’ll come. For appearances, right?”
She laughs, but softer this time—like I just lifted something heavy off her shoulders. “That’s all we’re doing, Coach. Just a little make-believe. A girl’s entitled to that once in her life.”
Anger rolls through my veins that Brooks cheated on her, more than once, from what I gathered from her family.
My heart’s pounding in my chest, the thump uneven. “Don’t call me Coach. I’m not yours, and I haven’t been a boyfriend in a long time, so forgive me for not being good at it.”
Her reply is quick, bold in a way that only makes her more dangerous. “I’ll consider that a challenge.”
There’s a hush between us, some current crossing the wire that neither of us wants to name.
“Let me know the schedule, and I’ll see if I can make it happen for sure. But if I can, I’ll support you in New Orleans.”
“Yes, sir.” Her imitation is terrible, but it makes me want things with her. Totally inappropriate things. “See you soon, grumpy.” Long after she hangs up, Noelle’s laughter hangs on like fog on a fall day.
For appearances, I tell myself. But in the quiet, it sounds a hell of a lot like a lie.
THIRTEEN
