Chase didn’t turn his head; he stared at me, eyes begging for understanding that I couldn’t give.
“You’re in the hole.”
Shit . There would be talk. Speculation. The door slammed shut, and we were alone again.
“I like you,” he said, and there was never more simplistic beauty.
“You hurt me,” I accused and felt tears come. Tears at a terrible time, our team’s needs imminent. “You’re stupid,” I repeated. Drugs ? I hadn’t believed the rumors, too many of them swirling around these men. I’d thought he was above that. I’d thought he was stronger than that.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he leaned forward, his lips gentle as they pressed against my cheek, underneath my eyes, my tears kissed away. “Forgive me. Please. I need it.”
I didn’t know if I could. His need for drugs had led to too much. What I had given up in Tobey’s hotel room … it hadn’t felt valuable then, it hadn’t felt major. But now, looking into his eyes, I wanted it back. I wanted Chase to hold me and love me, and I wanted to have that to give to him. I hated him for ruining that. And I loved him for his regret—regret that matched my own, my heartbeat echoed in his eyes.
Both of us had made mistakes. He had confessed his. I couldn’t begin to bring up mine. Instead, with precious seconds ticking by, I ducked under his arm. “You’ve got to go,” I called over my shoulder, heading toward the door.
I was almost there when I saw the handle turn, my jump to the side barely in time before it flung open, in my direction. I flattened against the wall, hidden by it, and heard the bellow of our manager. Chase had been following me, almost running into Don, and I watched his fingers wrap around the edge of the door, keeping it away from me. “I’m coming,” he gritted out, his eyes darting to me, and I mouthed the word GO .
He didn’t move, and I gave him the only thing I could, a smile. It was small and hesitant, but his eyes grabbed at it, his fingers leaving the door, and he reached for me, the pads of his fingers brushing over my cheek for a brief moment, and then he was gone, the echo of his cleats bouncing off the walls as he followed Don to the field.
That night his disappearance was the talk of every sports show, our own team giving him hell, his bathroom excuse bought by most but not by all. Maybe it was just paranoia, but I felt my dad’s eyes, boring into me, past the laughter and the ribbing. I focused on the glove I was oiling and didn’t look up.
That night, he texted me and asked if he could come by.
That night, by the time he gently knocked, I had my mind made up.
47
“You can’t do drugs anymore.” I cracked the door and spoke quietly through it, scared to give my heart more than a sliver of a view. I’d be the first to say that I was naïve about a lot of things. Young in the world of experience. But drugs—I’d seen them destroy too many players. Their marriages, their careers, their reputation. He had too much at stake. Not just with me, but with life.
“Okay.” He tilted his head at me, and I eyed the freshly shaved jaw, the damp hair, the cornflower blue polo cleanly tucked into the top of his jeans.
“I’m serious.” I wet my lips and saw his eyes drop to them. “No coke, or weed, or heroine or—”
He pursed his lips at me. “It’s just coke— was just coke,” he amended. He held up his hands. “But no more. I promise.” I didn’t know him well enough. I didn’t know whether his promises were gold or tinfoil. He glanced both ways down the hall. “Please let me in before someone sees me.”
I rolled my eyes but opened the door wider, ready to table the discussion for another time. “Scared of my father?” I asked.
“Terrified.” He grinned at me and stepped forward. I shut the door behind him, and quietly flipped the latch.
“We can’t stay in here all night.” He stood at the window and looked out, the Cincinnati skyline glittering out of the
“You’re in the hole.”
Shit . There would be talk. Speculation. The door slammed shut, and we were alone again.
“I like you,” he said, and there was never more simplistic beauty.
“You hurt me,” I accused and felt tears come. Tears at a terrible time, our team’s needs imminent. “You’re stupid,” I repeated. Drugs ? I hadn’t believed the rumors, too many of them swirling around these men. I’d thought he was above that. I’d thought he was stronger than that.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he leaned forward, his lips gentle as they pressed against my cheek, underneath my eyes, my tears kissed away. “Forgive me. Please. I need it.”
I didn’t know if I could. His need for drugs had led to too much. What I had given up in Tobey’s hotel room … it hadn’t felt valuable then, it hadn’t felt major. But now, looking into his eyes, I wanted it back. I wanted Chase to hold me and love me, and I wanted to have that to give to him. I hated him for ruining that. And I loved him for his regret—regret that matched my own, my heartbeat echoed in his eyes.
Both of us had made mistakes. He had confessed his. I couldn’t begin to bring up mine. Instead, with precious seconds ticking by, I ducked under his arm. “You’ve got to go,” I called over my shoulder, heading toward the door.
I was almost there when I saw the handle turn, my jump to the side barely in time before it flung open, in my direction. I flattened against the wall, hidden by it, and heard the bellow of our manager. Chase had been following me, almost running into Don, and I watched his fingers wrap around the edge of the door, keeping it away from me. “I’m coming,” he gritted out, his eyes darting to me, and I mouthed the word GO .
He didn’t move, and I gave him the only thing I could, a smile. It was small and hesitant, but his eyes grabbed at it, his fingers leaving the door, and he reached for me, the pads of his fingers brushing over my cheek for a brief moment, and then he was gone, the echo of his cleats bouncing off the walls as he followed Don to the field.
That night his disappearance was the talk of every sports show, our own team giving him hell, his bathroom excuse bought by most but not by all. Maybe it was just paranoia, but I felt my dad’s eyes, boring into me, past the laughter and the ribbing. I focused on the glove I was oiling and didn’t look up.
That night, he texted me and asked if he could come by.
That night, by the time he gently knocked, I had my mind made up.
47
“You can’t do drugs anymore.” I cracked the door and spoke quietly through it, scared to give my heart more than a sliver of a view. I’d be the first to say that I was naïve about a lot of things. Young in the world of experience. But drugs—I’d seen them destroy too many players. Their marriages, their careers, their reputation. He had too much at stake. Not just with me, but with life.
“Okay.” He tilted his head at me, and I eyed the freshly shaved jaw, the damp hair, the cornflower blue polo cleanly tucked into the top of his jeans.
“I’m serious.” I wet my lips and saw his eyes drop to them. “No coke, or weed, or heroine or—”
He pursed his lips at me. “It’s just coke— was just coke,” he amended. He held up his hands. “But no more. I promise.” I didn’t know him well enough. I didn’t know whether his promises were gold or tinfoil. He glanced both ways down the hall. “Please let me in before someone sees me.”
I rolled my eyes but opened the door wider, ready to table the discussion for another time. “Scared of my father?” I asked.
“Terrified.” He grinned at me and stepped forward. I shut the door behind him, and quietly flipped the latch.
“We can’t stay in here all night.” He stood at the window and looked out, the Cincinnati skyline glittering out of the
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