On the Shore (Cottonwood Cove, #3)(83)
“That’s just fucking wrong. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to give them the story or work there now.”
“She was mad but also really disappointed. She’d really wanted it. Then she was questioning if a part of me was happy because it meant that was one less potential position that would keep her out west. And sure, I’d like her to be living here with me; I can’t deny that. But I didn’t want that shit to happen. And then you add in the element that now, she doesn’t know if anyone will hire her for the right reasons, and she doesn’t want to just be known as my girlfriend, or some shit like that. Hell, I get it. She was mad I jumped in, but I wasn’t about to sit there any longer after the way they were treating her. I don’t know.” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “She wants some time to figure out where she fits into my world and how this will work.”
He nodded. “I get that. It’s a lot. Relationships are tough on their own, but bringing in the element of fame, and her wanting to find her own way with her career, complicates things. But the greatest advice I can give you is that this is not about you, Lincoln. She’s trying to prove herself, and I’m guessing it’s not easy to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t need to prove himself anymore. She’s a strong woman. It sounds like she doesn’t want to just exist in your world; she wants to create her own and share it with you. Hell, it’s refreshing. Think about how many women out there want to be with you for the wrong reasons. You’ve found the one that isn’t in it for the fame or for what you can do for her. She wants to make her own way. I fucking respect the hell out of that.”
“I agree. But I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Well, I think she told you how to fix it. By giving her space to deal with it herself. You could try just listening to what she asked of you. Respecting her wishes.”
“Fuck. Patience is not my strength. She’s not calling much, just short little texts. I’m freaking the fuck out.”
“Take it from a man who has lived with four women… you’ll get better over time. She doesn’t want you to interfere. She wants you to trust her to handle it. It’s pretty simple, actually.”
“And what if she goes to work for some asshole like Lou Colson? Am I just supposed to stand by and do nothing?”
“Absolutely. That’s exactly what you do until she asks for your help. She’s a strong woman. Do you really think she’s going to put up with a guy like Lou for long? You’ve got to trust her, Linc. It won’t work if you don’t. She’s fighting for that independence right now. Let her have it.”
“Fuck. You make a good point.” I shrugged. “I’ll give her space. I’m going to catch a shower and head out.”
“All right. Call me if you need anything. Good job today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I thought about what he’d said as I showered, and after I dried off and got dressed, I made my way back to the hotel.
My phone dinged with a text from my girl right when I got to my room.
Brinkley
I hope your first day of practice went well. I love you. Thanks for giving me time to think. <heart emoji>
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.
She didn’t respond. I fucking hated this. I wanted her here, but Coach Balboa was right—this wasn’t about me.
Patience wasn’t my strong suit. I wanted this shit behind us.
But I’d put my head down and focus on what I could do right now, which was training hard for the new season.
And that was exactly what I did.
Three fucking long, painful days had passed.
I’d barely slept because now that I’d grown used to having her in my bed, I couldn’t sleep without her.
So, I ran harder. Lifted more. Pushed out on the field like I was playing in the fucking Super Bowl every damn day.
“Jesus, dude. You’re a fucking superhero. I need a break. Water. Maybe a goddamn banana. I can’t go this hard in the heat without a breather,” Brett said, as he clapped me on the shoulder.
“You don’t win Super Bowls by taking breaks every five minutes,” I hissed.
“Uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this, asshole, but we’ve been going hard for over five hours. And Brett’s right. But I don’t think you’re a superhero. I think you’re a grumpy dick,” Lenny said.
“I’ve been called worse.”
I’ve also been called better. A rude gentleman.
I’d spent most of my life not allowing myself to be vulnerable. Not getting attached to anyone outside of my mother.
I’d put my guard down with Brinkley, and I was paying for it now.
Because I missed her. I didn’t know what to do with that. How to fix it. And I wasn’t used to not being in control. Not being able to figure shit out.
Tia had lectured me last night when we’d FaceTimed about respecting Brinkley’s space. Apparently, she talked to my girlfriend a lot more than I did right now. She’d gone on and on about how women need to have their own identity, and Romeo had popped in and rolled his eyes, which earned him an elbow to the side.
My texts with Brinkley were brief.
She basically just wanted to know that I was surviving training camp.