She nods, calling the bartender to pay her tab as my eyes drift up and my heart stops.
On the television above the bar is a fleeting picture of us kissing outside the chapel before the camera switches to Crew.
He’s in full uniform, smiling and joking with TJ. The camera pans to his number—22. And the whole fucking bar erupts in cheers.
I’m starting to think that I must have fucked the universe’s boyfriend. Because payback is really feeling like a bitch.
thirty-two
“Get your cherry… And put him on top of you.”
crew
“Goddammit,” I shout, hitting my fist on my palm.
Everything about today’s practice has been a fucking disaster. I can’t throw for shit, my feet feel like fucking lead, and I can’t see a fucking pathway to anyone.
Everything’s wrong.
I’m thrown another ball so I can try the play again. So I set up, calling it out to the line, and fall back into the pocket, knowing the fucking route, and still, I throw way above TJ’s head.
“Fuck,” I grind out again, punching the air.
My hands come to my knees as I stare down at the turf, berating myself quietly.
“This is bullshit, Crew. Get your head in the game. You’re better than this, you fucking idiot.”
I hear my name called as Coach jogs over to where I’m posted and pats my back, so I stand.
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” he offers. “You’re letting all the shit—the press conferences, the news, the divorce…you’re letting it get in your head.”
If you only fucking knew what I’m really thinking about right now.
“Listen, son. I asked a friend of mine to come and talk to you today. He just got here, and I’d like to introduce you. I think he can help you through this time of transition, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s a Hall of Fame quarterback.”
A v forms between my eyes before I glance over my shoulder, immediately recognizing who’s standing about six feet away.
Alec Price walks toward me. The legend himself.
And also one of Eleanor’s sister’s boyfriends. And I do mean boyfriends because, apparently, she has four.
He extends a hand, and I take it, shaking it as Coach pats both of us on the shoulder and says, “I’ll leave you to it.”
What he thought he was leaving us to, I’m not sure because neither of us says a thing, choosing to silently size each other up. I’m debating on whether or not it’s a power move to speak first when he beats me to the line.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Crew Matthews.”
I give him a tight smile.
“And I’ve heard a lot about you.”
We stand there staring at each other, tension building until we both break and laugh at the same time. Alec throws an arm over my shoulder as he turns and guides me off the field.
“Are we talking football, or are we talking women?” he says quietly, giving a nod to someone who says his name with admiration.
I look at him, appreciating the frankness, but I shake my head.
“There’s only one thing I can talk about. Because the other one’s not an option.”
He nods, looking thoughtful, and removes his arm as we get to the bench, so I grab my sports bottle and take a drink.
“Well,” he finally offers, “if we’re talking football, then that’s easy. Just do what you know how to do. That’s what got you here, and it’s what’ll keep you here. And maybe if you’re lucky, your name will be somewhere around mine in that Hall of Fame.”
I nod, and I keep nodding because I heard him, but I’m still thinking about what I really wanted to ask him. And that thought is getting more and more intrusive until I look up and, against my better judgment, say, “How is she?”
He smirks and gives my cheek a pat. “Give me a moment.”
Alec pulls out his phone and hits the call button as I frown. Who the fuck is he calling? But I don’t get a chance to ask before a voice rings out.
“Did he cave already?” Who the fuck?
Alec chuckles, covering the phone and whispering, “That’s Cole,” before he answers the question. “He did. Even before I got to the inspirational shit.”
Cole shouts, “Reed, you owe me three hundred dollars.”
Jesus Christ, he called the whole damn dick brigade. So now I have to talk to all her sister’s boyfriends. Come the fuck on.
“I already gave it to your mom for head,” Reed yells back.
Alec hangs up and looks at me.
“Sorry about that, but a bet’s a bet. You understand how that is.”
I roll my eyes because my girl talks too much—shit, not my girl…thought typo.
Alec continues. “And to answer your question, she looks about as good as you.”
I take another drink from my water bottle, trying to decide how I’m handling this bullshit. But again, he beats me to the punch.
“You should call her.”
“I can’t do that, Alec. Simply because she doesn’t want me to. I won’t pressure her. Why should I? For a chance at love? I don’t believe that would make up for giving up who you are. Sometimes people can’t have it all, and that just fucking sucks.”
Alec crosses his arms, staring back at me for a long, hard few seconds before he takes a deep inhale. But I pipe up first this time.
“Is this gonna be the inspirational part?”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.
“No. This is the honest part. I’m assuming you know about my private life?”
I nod.
“Then we’re proof that you can have everything you want without sacrificing who you are. We manage that shit daily with five people. Your amateur-hour ass can figure out the two of you. Don’t you think?”
I toss my bottle a little harder than necessary, but he’s starting to piss me off.
“If I go after her, I’ll always wonder if she would have ever eventually chosen that for herself. She wrote the note. She decides for herself. Who the fuck am I to second-guess that?”
“You’re the fucking guy that wants to be with her,” he presses.
He doesn’t get it. “Eleanor isn’t there for me to take… That woman is a gift only she can give.”
I hear Coach blow the whistle, so I reach out and shake Alec’s hand, putting an end to the conversation.
“I appreciate you coming today.”
He gives me a tight smile, but as I let go, he holds me in place, his eyes locked on mine.
“Eleanor’s a wild card, Crew, but she’ll never be able to surprise you if you don’t give her the option.”
Alec releases my hand, and I take a few steps backward, still staring at him. But as I turn around to head out onto the field, I stop, looking back over my shoulder, and do something I’m scared to death I’ll regret.
“Tell her there’ll be tickets with her name on them at will call for the season opener. If she wants me, she can come and get me.”
eleanor
“Yay, salon opening.” Sami cheers, clinking her glass to mine.
I smile and say, “Yay,” back before downing the entire flute of champagne I’m holding.
“Whoa,” she breathes. “I was assuming the vibe was celebratory, not blackout drunk.”