Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Blue
I ’m sure the Emperors want a win tonight, but it feels like West and I need it.
The first game of the season always comes with a lot of pressure, but a bit of light in mine and West’s lives would be really nice right now. This past month has been a struggle, following Dr. Tyler’s recommendation that we wait to do the implantation. His final ruling, after first recommending that we wait four to six weeks, was that we hold off for eight. And now that we’re at the halfway point of that goal—despite having followed his instructions to the letter, the nonstop doctor appointments, all the monitoring, and the new meds—I’m nervous it still hasn’t been enough.
The shouting of the crowd pulls me out of the dark thoughts that follow, and I’m grateful for the distraction. Back in Sacramento, when I mostly watched West’s games alone, I did so from the designated suite for the players’ wives, girlfriends, and family. But tonight, with nearly everyone I love showing up to support our guys, we’re seated on the fifty-yard line. Scar, Jules and the rest of the crew are all here, and while Dad and Hunter made a point to snag seats at opposite ends of the row, I’m still grateful they came.
It's unseasonably cold for early-September, but it gave me an excuse to wear my “#07’s Wifey” hoodie Joss had made to match hers that reads “#19 put a ring on it”. I smile at the memory of how excited she was to show me what she’d bought. The score is twenty-four to twenty-one with the Vipers leading and eighteen seconds left on the clock. We have the ball on the Viper’s thirty-four-yard line, and while this would typically be a great time to bring out our kicker, he’s struggled today, making him too big a risk right now. So, calling this play a nailbiter would be an understatement.
“I hate when it’s this close,” Joss says.
“Tell me about it.”
My groaned words have her hugging my shoulders, and I lean into her. She knows there’s been a lot on West and me lately, so maybe she just sensed that a hug would go a long way with me right about now.
If that’s the case, she isn’t wrong. Little reminders that we’re loved and supported are exactly what we need.
Everyone’s on the edge of their seats as the crowd roars, hyping our guys up. Honestly, it’s invigorating. I study west as he scans the defense, making lightning-fast calculations. I once asked him what he’s thinking in these moments, and his response was that he’s reading the field, taking note of subtleties like the slight shift of a linebacker’s stance, or a cornerback leaning further inside than he should be—seemingly small observations that make a world of difference.
West braces his hand to the side of his helmet, then the sound of his gruff voice fills the air as he shouts an audible that prompts his teammates to shift their positioning on the field in real time. I’m not sure what he sees, but he’s got an eye for this game like no one else I’ve ever seen. It’s the reason Coach Wells wanted him here, wanted him to lead this team.
Then… the snap.
My stomach drops to my feet as I watch, seeing the pocket collapse the second the ball is in West’s hands. He’s so quick on his feet, amazing me with how gracefully he spins out of a tackle, then sprints right. Defense is moving in on him, but before they make contact, West drops back and the ball fires out of his hand like a bullet. It soars through the air in a perfect arc, spiraling with unfathomable speed, precision.
Every second the clock winds down feels like an eternity. With how my heart races, staying seated is no longer an option. I stand to my feet, and in my peripheral vision, I notice that Ricky does the same, his expression tense as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his jeans. We’re all entranced, and I place a hand over my wildly beating heart while my eyes trail the ball. Then, half a second later, the crowd is completely silent when Dane’s feet leave the ground, his arms reaching toward the ball…
“Touchdown!” the ref shouts the moment Dane lands in the endzone, and the crowd goes wild. Joss springs to her feet, screaming from the top of her lungs.
“ That’s what I’m fucking talking about,” Ricky shouts, clapping as a proud grin spreads across his face that only rivals my dad’s.
Tiffany cups her hands around her mouth, rearing back as she howls at our boys, because they’ve done it again.
My eyes are glued to West as he jogs off the field, and when the camera pans to him, I get a closeup of his face. There’s no smile, and he isn’t celebrating with the team, and when he winds his shoulder, wincing with the movement, I know exactly why.
I’m unaware of anyone else taking note of West’s reaction until I catch Joss’s eyes leaving the big screen to pan to me. There’s this look on her face as the excitement over the win seems to fade from her expression just enough to notice.
“Permission to speak candidly?” she asks, speaking into my ear so I’m able to hear her words above the shouts of the crowd.
I nod, letting her know she’s free to say whatever’s on her mind.
“As a friend, I’d urge you to talk your husband into seeing a doctor. But as his agent… I’m insisting.”
There’s this grave look in her eyes for the split second they remain on me, then she turns the smile back on to respond to a fan calling out to her, praising Dane’s phenomenal catch.
There’s shouting and cheering all around me, and while I’m proud of our boys for stealing another victory, the feeling of excitement drains right out of me. While I’m sure most see today as nothing but a win, I can’t fight the feeling that it’s a prelude to a loss.
One that could change everything.
West
When Dusty offered to host the team’s victory dinner, the guys were all on board. We’re expected to be there in the next thirty minutes, but Blue’s been moving slower than usual.
“Everything okay?” I kiss the top of her hair on my way to the closet, and she pauses putting on her mascara to smile up from her seat.
“Yeah, all good.”
Those words leave her mouth, but they’re not even remotely believable. I know things have been tough lately, but I thought seeing us crush the Vipers today might’ve helped.
Guess I was wrong about that.
I take a pair of jeans off the shelf and slip them on, zipping them as I pass another look toward my wife. Something’s off. I’m not imagining it.
She peers up when I walk toward her, catching my gaze in the mirror’s reflection as she smears gloss onto her perfect lips. This time, I catch it, the moment she tries to straighten that look on her face to pretend she didn’t lie to me a moment ago about everything being all good.
Her head tilts when I sigh, leaning against the door frame between our bathroom and bedroom. She bats her big, blue eyes at me, but it won’t work this time.
“We aren’t leaving until you spill it.”
The smile she flashes is just as forced as the last one. “You’re being weird,” she says, but she’s deflecting.
“Maybe, but I know my wife. I know when she’s upset, I know when she’s sad, and I know when she’s holding back. So, unless you want to stand here staring at each other all night, you’re gonna have to talk to me.”
She holds the smile a few seconds longer, then as expected, it slips.
“I didn’t want to do this now,” she admits, only now acknowledging that I’m not crazy, imagining things.
“Do what now?”
She lowers the tube of lip gloss to her vanity, and while I’d typically be distracted by the sight of her in nothing but her bra and panties, I’m focused on the dark cloud that seems to be hanging over us.
Her gaze drops, staying fixed on the floor even when she spins on her stool to face me.
“Your shoulder,” she sighs, and just like that, I’m wishing I’d ignored all the signs something was wrong. Because this is the last conversation I want to be having.
“Blue, we won today, which obviously means I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay,” she says, standing to take a step closer. “I saw your face today—the pain you were trying to hide. But you can’t hide it from me. Or from Joss for that matter.”
Here we fucking go.
“She saw, too, West. And she’s worried, too. It used to just bother you when you pushed too hard, or every few months, but now? It’s all the time, which means it’s getting worse!”
I let out a sigh, and my thoughts slip back to the stop I made at Tripp’s. Part of me has been thinking lately—maybe I should’ve just kept the damn pills. Then, at least I’d be able to hide the pain, I’d be able to push through until the extra strength training starts making a difference. I’ve been wearing myself out heading to see the trainer after practice, doing everything I can to build muscle to keep the strain off my shoulder, but these things take time.
Time no one seems to want to give me.
“Now you’re pissed,” she says, crossing both arms over her chest as she shifts her weight to one foot—a clear sign that I’m not the only one pissed.
“Just… drop it.” As I walk away, feeling the need to put space between us, I hear her steps trailing me.
Give me a fucking break…
“All I’m asking is that we see a doctor about it, West. Maybe he can prescribe something, do something,” she reasons, but I’m sick and fucking tired of having the same damn conversation every other week.
I stop dead in my tracks, feeling hot blood rush through my veins as I turn to face her.
“And when the fuck am I supposed to have time for that, Blue? Between practice and strength training? Or would you prefer that I squeeze it in between doing my part to help get the youth center ready and one of your ninety-nine-million doctor appointments? You seem to have all the damn answers, so break this down for me. I’ll fucking wait.”
The room is completely silent, and I stare into her eyes—frustrated beyond belief—as her face reddens.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I have an answer, but it wouldn’t be productive to start hurling words for the sake of hurting her, wanting her to feel just as frustrated as I do right now. So, I hold back. Only, it isn’t enough. Even without me saying more, she feels it.
Tears well in her eyes, and I wish I could take it all back, starting with being the dumb-ass who initiated this conversation, but it’s too late for that. What’s done is done.
What’s unraveled is unraveled.
“I didn’t realize I’d been such a burden to you,” she says, her voice breaking with those words. “But the last time I checked, I was only going through with these fucking awful treatments because we… decided to go through with it.”
Breathing wildly, I lower my head, wondering how we even got here. I’m in pain, trying to stay positive, trying to keep my head clear, but being constantly nagged about my shoulder injury makes that impossible. Still, I should’ve just kept my fucking mouth shut.
When I don’t respond, don’t reassure her that her assumptions are all wrong, she convinces herself I agree and starts backing away.
“You’re such an ass!”
Her voice breaks as she storms toward our closet, slamming the door shut once she’s inside. In my heart, I know I should go to her, know I should smooth things over, but my feet won’t move.
Honestly, with all the complications, with all the setbacks with the treatment, I’ve wondered if this is the universe’s way of telling us that now’s simply not the right time. But if I were going to bring that up, it wouldn’t be like this. It’d be while we’re both in a clear headspace, emotionally available to discuss this like adults, come to a viable solution.
But instead, there’s a doorway and thick tension between us that makes it feel like we’re miles apart instead of just a few feet.
I lower to our bed, cradling my head in my hands as I question everything .
Is now really the right time to be growing our family?
Are we just torturing ourselves?
And then there’s the other list of questions that taunts me.
Do I have a future with the Emperors?
Do I have a future in football period ?
And why the hell does everything around me feel like it’s going to shit?
As I consider all that’s happened lately, I’m painfully aware of when it all started going bad, as if to confirm a fleeting thought I’ve had from time to time.
That this city—or at least me being in this city—is fucking cursed.
@QweenPandora:
Well, that’s one way to shut the mouths of all the naysayers…
Congrats on your win, Emperors!
It was a close game, but our #GoldenBoys came through in the clutch. Whether you attribute that killer final play to #KingMidas’s golden arm, or #PrettyBoyD’s otherworldly catch, you’re right, because both these boys knocked it out the park today.
And before you say it, yes, I’m aware that I probably should’ve come up with a football pun instead of baseball, but I’m taking creative liberties here. You know what I meant…
Anyhoo, word on the street is that there’s a gathering underway at Dusty’s Diner, but with the amount of security that’ll be swarming the lot, no way us peasants stand a chance of grabbing a meal there tonight. Too bad, something tells me there’s gonna be all sorts of juicy gossip brewing among that crowd.
Can the #GoldenCrew play nice with the rest of the team?
Will #LostAngel be in the building, continuing to be a bee in #TheSubstitute’s bonnet?
Only time will tell.
But stick around, lovelies. I’ve got a juicy treat coming your way later tonight. And, trust me, you won’t want to miss this one.
Later, peeps :)
—P