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Until now.
Romel comes and sits down next to me. “I know I’m fucking things up,” I say.
“What’s going on with you? Even after your other scandals, you were never this sloppy on the field. We need you out there, Dom. Wherever your head’s at, I need you to get it back here.” He points his finger to the ground between us. “Do what you gotta do to get it straight.” He leans closer and his voice lowers. “Our coaches need a reminder of why they can’t let you go, not another reason for you to leave. You feel me?”
“I feel you.” My voice is gruff. I don’t say anything else, but I don’t need to. These guys know me, almost as well as Laney. Romel knows I’ll talk about it when I’m ready. Hell, I’m surprised Ty hasn’t told him already.
He stands up and slaps me on the back before walking over where Gabe and Ty stand on the sidelines while I grab the tablet lying next to me and focus in on the plays I should know like the back of my hand. I can’t mess this up anymore. It doesn’t surprise me when a few minutes later, Gabe comes over and sits down. It seems like they’re taking shifts checking in on me, and that solidifies my determination further. No matter what’s going on in my personal life, I’ve got to pull it together for these guys.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he sits down.
“I’m sorry I’ve been playing like shit.” I set the tablet down and rub my hand over my head, resting back along the bench, trying to look as composed as possible for the cameras watching the players on the sidelines. They can’t see the waver in my voice, so the only thing tipping them off that I’m not up to my usual standards is my playing on the field. “I really fucked up this time,” I add, not that I really needed to, but I’ve got to get some of this off my chest—like a release valve letting out some of the pressure that’s built up.
“You can’t be the first guy to get caught naked with a married celeb.”
I grip my thigh on the side where the press won’t notice in a lame attempt to help keep me composed. “She swore they were separated, but I couldn’t care less about her.” It’s the truth, even if it pisses me off that her lie led me to this moment.
“You’re talking about Alayna.”
Hearing her name causes my composure to crack. “Yeah.”
“You guys have been friends for a long time. She’s dealt with your bullshit before. Maybe she just needs a little cooldown time.”
I shake my head. “Not this time. She was pretty clear she was done.” The words are like shards of glass ripping through me. I can still hear her words crystal clear as she said she thought our friendship was over. But it can’t be over. It can’t.
“She’s going to be even more pissed if she finds out you played like a pussy because she got in your head. She might be cursing your name, but we both know she’s a die-hard Wolves fan and wants to see us go to the Super Bowl.”
Fuck, he’s totally right. She’d be ripping me a new one if she was here to see me play like garbage. I turn my head to stare at Gabe. “So what you’re saying is I need to pull my shit together?”
“Pretty much.”
I huff out a laugh. His words are exactly what I needed to hear. “Are we straight?” I ask.
He slaps my back. “Yeah, man. We’re good.” He holds up a fist waiting for me to pound it, which I do. “Brothers forever,” he says.
“Brothers forever.”
Then he stands, rubs my hair, and pushes my head down.
“What the fuck, dude?”
“That’s for telling Alayna about Taylor Swift,” he says with a gleam in his eye even as he’s fighting back a grin.
I fall back against the bench, my hand over my chest as a hearty laugh escapes for the first time in days. Shit. Laney must’ve told Gabe’s new girlfriend about what huge secret Swifties we all are. Gabe smiles in victory before the play on the field ends and we’re up.
I’ve got a job to do, and knowing Laney’s probably watching—even if she’s mad at me and convinced our friendship is over—drives me to play harder than I ever have.
Yes, I need to prove my worth to my coaches. But more importantly, I need to prove my worth to her. I need to show her I can keep my shit together.
She can’t give up on me yet.
Five
It would be a lot easier to let go of Dom if he wasn’t leaning against the wall next to my front door when I get home from work—again.
I let out a resigned sigh. “I thought you agreed to give me space? Why can’t you ever just let me ignore you until I’m ready?”
He pushes off the wall, and I hate the way my gut tightens with want. It’s really unfair how attractive he is.
