Chapter 31
RYDER
I wave at Gus through the rain, pelting against the window. There’s a loud crack of thunder followed by a flash of lightning, and it mirrors the storm brewing inside me.
After a long night with little sleep, I tanked up on coffee at The Drip, then spent two hours at the gym running and sparring with Jos. My afternoon consisted of watching Cole kick major ass before hurting his wrist in the final quarter. Luckily, they were ahead, and his backup held the win.
But I spent the whole game trying to interpret his phone call last night.
Talking to him felt. . .normal, but then, he asked me to call him if I had a nightmare, and all the things I really wanted to ignore began to swirl again.
I pull into a parking space and survey the surrounding area as best I can through the downpour.
My body relaxes only a little, knowing Cole will step off the bus and I will get back to work. I can’t help but wonder if it will feel different. I don’t want it to. I need it to be like it was, and to have the time and space to. . .explore.
Ugh. I hate that word.
After a few minutes of idling, the bus pulls into the parking lot. Thunder rolls again as guys file off and jog to their cars.
I step out with a useless umbrella, hoping to see better, but the headlights reflecting against the rain make it difficult.
Thankfully, the storm has deterred all loitering fans.
Cole stops on the last step, spotting me, then dives into the rain. “Get in,” he hollers as he rounds the car and tosses his bag in the back.
I watch him run a hand through his hair, and water flicks off. His eyes snag on mine, and he grins, catching me staring.
“Hi,” he says, oh so smooth and casual.
Well, I’m happy to see his confidence hasn’t wavered in the last twenty-four hours. I put the SUV in drive and proceed out of the parking lot.
“Nice win today,” I say, pretending everything is normal.
It’s fine. Nothing has changed. For now, this is my job.
“You watched?” He sounds surprised.
“Yeah. I had to explain to Van what a sneak was.”
“Careful. Soon, you’ll be wearing a jersey and painting your face.”
Does he mean his jersey?
I check my mirrors.
It’s ok if this is more than a job.
I blow out a cautious breath, making a right turn. “How’s your wrist?”
He lifts his splint. “Just a sprain. I need to ice it and rest it next week.”
“The commentators said something about your backup’s backup having to step in. What was the deal with that?”
“Will Jenkins is my backup. You met his wife, Marla, at the fundraiser.”
I stop at a red light, and rain continues to pound against the windshield.
“Their daughter is really sick, and he couldn’t leave her, so they pulled in another quarterback. That’s who went in today. I probably could have played, but we were ahead by enough that Coach didn’t want to chance my wrist taking another hit.”
