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Levi
Iwas doing good, staying in my coaching zone and separating my personal life and my football life. I was treating Charleigh like any other referee, and I meant every word that I said in the moment.
I even started the game feeling good about where things were with Richard. I had asked Charleigh to trust me and even though I didn't have an elaborate plan, I at least thought I had saved her for a while.
During the pregame meeting, I asked to speak to him alone and told him that I had spoken to Ms. Wright. I told him that she was falling for my charm, and that if he promised not to scare her, I knew I could have her under our thumb by the end of the next few games.
None of it was true, I just wanted him to never speak to her again while I got Art involved in an investigation. But Richard just patted my back and told me he was glad I finally realized the opportunity we had with her under our control. He promised to let me take it from there.
But when I saw my phone at half time, and the message that Charleigh had left me, I knew I wasn't going to last another second. I meant what I told Charleigh before–I was the only one that could talk to her like that. I was irate that he dared to speak to her after I had told him not to.
It was a test. He was confirming with her that I really did talk to her. And I guess she played along enough for it to work. But that wasn't the point. He scared her; he had no business getting near her. I wanted to kill him for even saying hello to her.
“I can’t do this,” I confessed to her at the end of half time.
Her eyes darted around, wondering who had heard us, but it didn't matter anymore. I wasn't going to make it till the end of the game now that I knew Richard did not hold up his end of the deal.
He never would.
He will continue trying to intimidate her and I can't let that happen.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice shaking.
I realized she took my comment wrong, immediately worried I meant I couldn't do us anymore. After the way I was yelling at her, I should have been more specific.
“Fuck,” I pulled her behind the wall so no one could see us and wrapped my arms around her. “I just got your text from before the game. I made a deal with Richard, but he had to never speak to you. He broke that deal within the hour and now all I want to do is kill him. So, I can’t do this, baby. I can't even coach the second half of the game.”
“Just try,” she took her hands to either side of my face. “I can handle Richard. I just wasn't sure what to say. But it's okay.”
I shook my head over and over again with her hands still on my face. “It’s taking everything I have. I need to hit something.”
“Okay, then we’ll go to the gym after the game. You can hit me.”
I smiled a little, and instantly calmed a little at her words. Not that she was hilarious, and not that I would actually hit her. But for the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn't feel alone. Rhys was a great babysitter for a while, but nothing beat the feeling of knowing Charleigh had my back.
It helped me refocus, and I nodded to her that I would try. We kissed quickly and chastely, then I ran from the corridor and out with the team as they warmed back up after half time. Charleigh came out a few minutes later and joined the officials and everything started off smoothly.
Even the third quarter was good. Charleigh would look back every once in a while and check on me but I was fine. Calmed and collected as much as I could get. But I never forgot about Richard sitting in his air-conditioned box, looking down on us and thinking he needed to keep speaking to Charleigh.
I wasn't the same man that I was when the season began. My priorities had changed, and I was excited by how good it felt to feel those changes in my heart. I was doing okay, making it play by play, and looking forward to taking my girl home after the game.
Then sixty-seven entered the game for Chicago.
I eyed him, remembering the video I played over and over again of him messing with Charleigh. I thought about the look in her eyes after the game in Chicago, and how upset she had been at how nasty he had treated her. Not that she couldn't handle it, but it was the fact that she shouldn’t have to handle it.
The night we spent together on the rooftop, she told me about what he had done and that he had touched her. But the entire game, he had been on the sidelines across the field being the least of my worries. Now he was playing on our side of the field and combined with my anger over Richard, I was back to wanting to explode.
I stayed quiet behind Charleigh, calling the game and coaching the best I could, but I watched every single thing sixty-seven did. As long as he stayed in line, I would be fine. Or I hoped I would be.
But he couldn't do that.
He eventually found himself being pushed over the sideline and cut between the players to find his footing. He had dropped the ball so there was nothing to hand off to Charleigh and no reason he had to even go near her.
But he did.
Sliding past me, oblivious that I was watching him, he made his way next to Charleigh and inconspicuously leaned into whisper something to her. Everyone else would have assumed it was nothing–coincidence or just a normal word with the referee. I wasn’t everyone else and I saw it all.
I couldn't hear what he said, but I saw Charleigh’s face morph to anger. I saw the fight in her rise up and her willing herself not to respond. She looked back at me, probably just wondering if I noticed, but when our eyes connected, I felt her pain.
