Chapter 17
chapter seventeen
Ryan
Today’s Learning Objective:
Students will be able to read the room.
Emme chose the room upstairs.
It was probably the better direction to go, all things considered. We all needed to retreat to our separate corners and recalibrate for a night. Plus, she didn’t feel well and I doubted I’d succeed in staying on my side of the bed. I hadn’t managed it yet, and after this morning I couldn’t see the odds getting any better.
We shared a meal upstairs in the family room and then she worked on her plans for school while I watched a few hockey games. I needed to pack for my trip to Minnesota tomorrow and I owed Jakobi a call—my grandmother too—but nothing in the world could get me off this couch. No fewer than six hundred times did I stop myself from asking Can we do this forever?
Goddamn, that was all I wanted. Just like this and for as long as possible.
Though I didn’t know where we went from here. If we went anywhere. She’d kissed me in the kitchen and neither of us were pretending it had anything to do with wifeing up my reputation.
But it’d ended and she’d drawn some boundaries. That part didn’t surprise me. I knew Emme so I knew it was coming.
I remembered two things from my four years of high school. The first was the dark, suffocating blanket of my father’s illness and the way I still felt trapped beneath it every time I went home.
The second, and the one that stuck with me like an old splinter, was sitting by while Emme bounced from relationship to relationship. She dated a lot though never seriously. Nothing lasted more than a month or two and it always ended when there was a threshold she wasn’t interested in crossing. Some thresholds were big, others nothing at all. But she only crossed the lines she chose to cross.
In ninth grade it was Christmas. The guy she was with—Ethan Mace, a year ahead of us and not a complete prick but I resented his presence on this planet very much—wanted her to join his entire extended family on Christmas Eve. There were like sixty people coming to this thing and they took their traditions very seriously. She wanted nothing to do with it and he didn’t recognize that insisting it would be fun and chill—with sixty people and a baby Jesus in the manger skit—only made her run faster for the exit.
In tenth grade it was Marcus Denflower and the homecoming dance. She wanted to go with a group of friends. He wanted to go with her . They split up one day before the dance. I lucked out in that situation because she used me as a human shield against Denflower’s attempts at smoothing things over. Fortunately for all of us, he knew better than to fuck with me.
In eleventh grade it was Jaxon Perrent, and that silly motherfucker wanted Emme to watch him play chess at lunch every day. She didn’t even bother with a backward glance in Jaxon’s direction when he swore he hadn’t meant it as an ultimatum. She was done and that was the end of it. She ate lunch with me. That single point on the board—and those lunches—had kept me going through some hard times.
In twelfth grade it was Kivan Waleswood and he wanted her to go to his parents’ lake cabin with him after the prom. It was obvious what Kivan was looking for with that. I knew Emme had…done things but there was a big difference between some time behind closed doors at a house party and a whole fucking weekend alone in the woods with someone. Emme— thank god —wasn’t interested in the cabin or even going to the prom with Kivan anymore.
Then she blew my entire mind and announced we’d go together. It was supposed to be a joke, and I didn’t understand how or why or what that was supposed to mean but I didn’t care. It was the closest I could come in that grueling time to getting what I wanted.
And I knew now that if I wanted Emme, I had to let her make the decisions. If I wanted her to wrap herself around me the way she had this morning, if I ever wanted to feel her shake and pant with pleasure again, I had to wait until she was ready.
I had to give her time to cross the line.
If there was one thing I had when it came to Emmeline Ahlborg, it was patience. After fifteen years of watching her date the weakest link in every chain, a week or two was nothing. I could do that in my fantasy-soaked sleep.
Hang on. There was a third thing I remembered from high school. It was working out with the football team before school started and hearing Brett Kincaid, the senior quarterback who lost his starting position to me three weeks later, yell Dibs on the new girl when Emme walked past the field. We all knew he had a hard time hearing the word no. He was a fucking asshole who thought everyone owed him something.
Everyone knew this except Emme.
I would’ve noticed her regardless of Brett’s announcement. She was gorgeous and new, two things we didn’t get much of in my town. I might’ve talked to her though I didn’t do much of that in those days. I would’ve liked her and I probably would’ve let her sweep me into her orbit too.
But I knew there was something undeniably right, something specific about her that fit me like a key in a rusty old lock when I told her to watch out for Kincaid and she replied, “You mean the punk with the slippery hands and slow feet? Yeah, he outed himself as a dick waffle this morning. I asked him if this was his first season on the field. Surprises all around because it’s not. Then I asked whether he knew he wasn’t supposed to be throwing interceptions.” She leaned in, close enough for me to smell the citrus on her. Close enough for that scent to imprint itself on my nervous system. “He made some noise about me not understanding the game and I told him to worry less about my understanding and more about the yards lost to all his sacks.”
She’d dropped her hand to my arm like we’d known each other forever and I remembered walking around all day with the heat of her touch burning me like a brand. I remembered looking at my skin and expecting to see a mark there. But it was the last thing she’d said that stayed with me even longer.
“And then, since he was getting all fired up, I explained that I just don’t go out with players. It’s a homegrown rule. My dad owns a whole-ass football team”—that was back before he destroyed his relationship with her—“so believe me, I have rock-solid reasons.”
I nodded along like yes, I understand this but I was busy snapping off the early buds of hope that’d sprouted at the arrival of this unbelievable girl who knew football and smelled like oranges and laughed at people who tried to give her shit. I foreclosed every possibility that’d surged to the surface when she smiled at me, leaned close to me, touched me.
I could still feel that key breaking in my lock.
Because I had to play. There was no other choice on the table for me. I had to suit up and take the field on Friday nights because it was the one thing my father looked forward to. He’d already lost so much, already struggled with the hopelessness of an ALS diagnosis. The least I could do was play the game he loved. Give him an hour or two where life wasn’t completely fucking awful.
And I was counting on the game to get me out of that town. There wouldn’t be money for me to go to college, not when everything was going into round-the-clock care for my dad, and not when there were four other kids in my family.
I had to play.
It didn’t matter whether this irreverent, fast-talking, half-pint of a girl had crashed into my life and all I wanted was to stay close enough to her that she might touch me again and make me feel a million confusing things at once. She made it seem like we were the only ones in the world, and that world wasn’t nearly as terrible as the one I went home to every night.
I had to play and she didn’t go out with players.
That was how it went with us. Inseparable from that point forward but never together . The difference was slight, the sort of thing that didn’t translate cleanly. I learned every nook and facet of jealousy. I taught myself how to swallow down desire and walk away from possessive envy. I stewed in resentment of the guys she dated—always the most deplorable candidates the species had to offer—but I never let myself resent her.
The thing about that key was that when it broke, it stayed inside me. Waiting for her to come back, to find the remnants and finally turn it.
I’d already asked for so much and probably taken more than I deserved. I wasn’t going to rush her tonight.
Not when I was going to ask for much more very soon.
Claudia: “Boston’s star QB Ryan Ralston announces engagement to girlfriend Emily Ahlborg at Kentucky Derby”
Claudia: link to Bleacher Report
Amber: ok wow so this is really happening
Ruthie: they never get her name right
Chloe: at the Derby?
Mom: RYAN
Chloe: I can think of better places to get engaged
Mom: !!!!!!
Amber: The article just says she was wearing the ring at Derby parties so maybe he popped the question before?
Mom: Is this real?
Gramma CeCe: It’s about damn time
Mom: Ryan, answer your phone!
Ruthie: I’d offer to draft a prenup for you but I don’t want my head ripped off
Mom: RYAN PICK UP YOUR PHONE
Gramma CeCe: Leave the betrothed alone, dear, or you’ll never get that grandbaby you want
Chloe: For the record, she does have grandbabies
Claudia: Here’s a pic from some fancy party
Claudia: If you zoom in, you can see the ring
Gramma CeCe: Didn’t need to zoom in much! That thing’s the size of an egg!
Ruthie: Yeah, an ostrich egg
Ruthie: Give that prenup a thought, okay?
Claudia: He’s not getting a prenup, Ruth. You know he’ll give her everything.
Mom: They aren’t even married yet and you’re talking about their divorce????
Amber: Do we actually know they’re not married yet?
Mom: What does that mean????
Gramma CeCe: You know how your son works, Cecelia. He won’t say a word until he’s ready.
The first thing Jakobi said when he answered my call that night was, “You’re in so much trouble.”
“That’s the least useful thing you’ve said all day.”
“That little lady has you wrapped around every one of her fingers and all her toes,” he drawled. “And you love it.”
I flipped on the lights in my home gym and headed for the weight rack. Earbuds in place, I asked, “Is there a point to any of this?”
He hooted with laughter. “Is the sister part of the package?”
I closed my fingers around a pair of fifties. “You saw the place. Couldn’t leave her there.”
“Maybe not, but I wouldn’t have taken her home with me. This city is full of apartments. You could’ve found one for the sister before the day was out and been done with it.”
“Emme never would’ve gone for that.”
A noise trilled low in his throat. “You and that heart of yours. You fooled everyone into believing you don’t have one, but after the weekend you’ve had, they’ll think you’re a man reborn. Nicely done.”
Leaning my chest against the bench, I started in on a series of trap raises. “If you’re done with the pearls of wisdom for the night, do you think you could update me on the pending issues we have? Or are you just going to shovel shit at me until you find something else to amuse you?”
“Stella will be pleased,” Jakobi continued. “She knew we’d be able to turn your image around but I think she’ll be surprised at how fast those tides turned.” He chuckled to himself. “She’s a good choice, this friend of yours. Excellent, actually. Couldn’t have done better myself.”
Grunting as I reached the end of the set, I managed, “Any news from the Wallaces?”
“Wally’s personal assistant informed me that he’s leaving for a month-long family holiday tomorrow and he’ll be making his final decision on the franchise bids when he returns.”
“A timeline,” I panted. “It’s about fucking time.”
“We’d suspected this all along but the confirmation is appreciated.” After a pause, Jakobi added, “The assistant suggested our bid was the strongest. Barring any unforeseen events, we could have this wrapped up before preseason games start.”
That news came with a wave of relief but then there was something else—an odd prickle of disappointment. If we succeeded in buying the rights to these teams, I wouldn’t need to drag Emme to every party and charity event on my calendar. Wouldn’t need to perform for the cameras and anyone else watching. Wouldn’t need to do any of this.
The truth was I didn’t have an exit strategy with Emme. My best guess was that it would blow up in my face and destroy every shred of connection we shared. But if that didn’t happen and we managed to survive the next few months, maybe we’d keep the fun going a little longer. Maybe we’d just stay together. Forever.
I forced my arms back harder than necessary and sucked in a breath when a ripple of pain went through my shoulder. “Dammit,” I murmured, dropping the weights.
“If you’re messing with that arm again, I’ll call your fiancée and inform her you require supervision. Something tells me she’s quite the disciplinarian.”
“Don’t bother her unless I’m dead,” I snapped. “The arm’s fine. Just pushed it a bit too far.”
“You’re going to push yourself right out of another Super Bowl ring if you’re not careful.”
I dropped into a plank rather than argue with him.
“We’ll talk later this week,” Jakobi said. “Before I let you go—what’s the story with the sister? Ines. She’s lovely—and fascinating. Brilliant. She’s the engineer who needed the summer gig, yes?”
I dropped my head between my arms and groaned. “She’s twenty-two.”
“I figured as much.” He murmured to himself. Probably justifying a twelve-year age gap with something about women maturing more quickly. They certainly matured more quickly than former NFL running backs. “Would it be a problem if I?—”
“She’s Gary Rockwell’s daughter.”
“Well, fuck.” He huffed out a laugh. Gary was a nice guy but he was a fucking train wreck. It was one of the worst kept secrets in pro sports. “You always know when he’s in big trouble with a bookie because he starts showing up on all the networks for color commentary.”
I sat back on my knees for a moment before starting the next plank. “He’s not around much but I’ve heard he’s protective of Ines.”
“Not nearly enough if he let his daughter live in that moldy attic your fiancée called an apartment.”
“Now do you understand why I wanted to buy the building?”
After a moment, he asked, “Are you seriously warning me off from her?”
I stared at the mat as I counted to sixty. Jakobi could wait for his answer. “I’m warning you to be on your best behavior. Ines is—special.”
“You don’t think I noticed that?”
“Listen, man, a lot of things happened today. I’m not making assumptions about a fuckin’ thing. I’m just trying to keep my head above water.” I blew out a rough breath as I settled in for another sixty seconds. “She’s also trained in the art of kung fu so I might not have to kick your ass if you fuck it up. She’ll do it for me.”
A deep laugh rumbled across the line. “I’d savor the opportunity.”
Before I could think better of it, I added, “She wants to learn to play the harp.”
“Interesting. I can work with that.” I heard the shuffle of papers and then, “Just look at us. Teammates yesterday, business partners today, brothers-in-law tomorrow.”
“Are you drunk or high?” I sat back on my knees. “You met her today. You talked to her for a maximum of fifteen minutes. It’s early to lose your head. Find out if she’s remotely interested first.”
“Ah, but that’s where you and I differ.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t think I care but what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I see what I want and I go for it. I see the win before the game even starts and I put everything into clinching it,” he said. “You see what you want and spend fifteen years running down the clock. You wait until the win is in sight.”
“A win is a win,” I said, annoyed to find any shred of accuracy in his words.
“Come on, now. We both know that’s not true.”
I didn’t say anything. I just knew I’d do anything for that win.