Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lainey
I’m so worked up the next day that when the guys run onto the field, I actually question who’s more nervous, me or Thomas. Although, according to the text he sent me this morning, he’s not nervous at all. But I know he’s holding back, and I hate that we didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday.
After a long walk down the stairs, the fire alarm blaring the entire time, my plan to leave was foiled with the fire department blocking the road. So rather than making my escape, I had to stand at the other end of the street and pretend I couldn’t feel Thomas sneaking glances my way as he chatted with his teammates, trying to act like I hadn’t been seconds away from getting naked with the man of the hour, the man everyone around me was discussing.
The women—“Have you seen how hot the new Seattle quarterback is? And he’s staying in our hotel,” and, “Oh my god, yes. Is that him down there?” blah blah blah.
And the men—“Surely he’s going to step up this time after the last loss. He can’t let us down again,” and, “Look at him smiling over there. Not a care in the world. Shouldn’t they be at practice or something?”
Both conversations, whether positive or negative, had me a little ragey, and I had to stop myself from speaking up. I would have loved to chat with Thomas again, but the second we got the all clear, the team disappeared together and I jumped in my car to head home. The last thing he needed was more ammunition for the gossip.
Now as I watch the game, butterflies take possession of my chest cavity, and I’m completely on edge. I don’t want him to go through what he did last time. He’s a phenomenal player. He deserves to be praised and he needs this personal win. Even if he won’t admit it.
My heart races when he throws the first pass, jumping in the air as the ball makes its mark and the wide receiver catches it with ease.
Heath comes home just as Seattle scores a much-needed touchdown in the second half, and I force myself to inwardly cheer, not wanting questions on why I’m supporting the wrong team.
As the game goes on, I feel Heath’s gaze boring a hole in my back while I perch on the edge of the couch, biting my nails. It’s a close game, too close, and I have a strong feeling that San Francisco is going to come out on top.
“Since when do you watch football?” Heath asks when the tension gets high, and I almost snap back—since when are you home on a weekend—but I don’t want him to think I care.
“I’ve been watching football since I was born,” I say. “It’s pumped into my blood. You remember Luke, right?”
“Yes, but he plays college football. How about I rephrase my question. Since when do you watch football alone?”
“It’s San Francisco. They’re my team.” I barely look at him as I speak, but the silence in the air suggests that he doesn’t believe me, and I can’t say I’m shocked. For as much as I’ve tried not to outwardly support Seattle, I know I’ve slipped up.
“Have you ever met Thomas Kelly?” Heath asks out of nowhere, and I internally curse myself, realizing I’ve been busted.
“Huh?” I ask, my eyes glued to the TV like it’s a pivotal moment, praying they don’t go to a commercial.
“Thomas Kelly. The Seattle quarterback. Have you met him?”
“Ah yeah, I think so. Before I went to New York. I’m sure he came to one of Luke’s parties.”
Heath falls silent again, and I make the mistake of glancing his way, my muscles tensing when I find him on his phone. “Have you met him?” I ask, trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach, hoping to God whatever he’s doing has nothing to do with me. But who is he texting?
Heath makes a show of pressing send before looking back at me, acting like he didn’t know I was watching. “I actually have,” he says with a smile. “We were friends in college. I met him through Luke too.”
I’m a ball of nerves as my eyes bounce between the screen and Heath’s gaze, but I work hard to maintain my composure, trying to hide the tension in my body.
My only saving grace is that Luke can’t stand Heath at the moment, so if he is texting him, Luke’s likely to ignore it. He can be petty like that. “That’s cool,” I say with a shrug. “He seems to have done well for himself. He’s a rookie, right?”
“He is.” Heath makes his way closer, sinking into the seat beside me, throwing his arms up on the back of the couch before shooting me a cocky smile.
San Francisco’s wide receiver secures an amazing catch, and it takes me two seconds longer than it should to react, drawing further suspicion. So when the receiver races ahead, getting closer to the end zone, I cheer out, even though I don’t want them to score.
I shouldn’t care what Heath thinks, but I only just got Thomas back. I’m not ready to lose him again if Luke gets involved. And he will. Because that’s what he does.
While I expect him to call me out, instead, Heath stands, cursing under his breath. I cheer again even though the play doesn’t necessarily call for it, doing anything I can to pretend his actions aren’t affecting me, but when I hear the jingle of his keys, my stress increases and I give in.
“Where are you going?” I ask, my brow furrowed.
“Out.” He opens the door.
“Didn’t you just get home?”
“I’ve been home longer than you realize, Lainey. And I’m not about to sit here and watch you drool over another guy.”
“What? You’re crazy.” Shit.
“Am I? Because while you were watching the game, I was watching you. And your reactions seem to be directly linked to Thomas Kelly’s performance.”
Jesus. Though he’s not wrong.
“Heath, it’s not—”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell your brother. He made it clear we’re no longer friends, so why would I help him out?” I hold back my relieved sigh, sensing a “but.” There’s always a “but.”
“But…” he drawls out, making me huff. “You should really think about how he reacted to us getting together when I was barely more than an acquaintance to him. If he finds out you’ve got something going on with one of his best friends, he’s not going to be happy about it.”
I roll my eyes, pretending he’s overreacting, but again, he’s not wrong. “Heath. I’m just watching his game. There’s nothing—”
“I saw his number in your phone,” he blurts before his eyes widen.
“You what?” I spin around and stand so fast I almost get whiplash. “You went through my phone?”
Heath shakes his head as he closes the door. Heaven forbid one of our neighbors hears about his blatant disrespect for my privacy. “I didn’t go through your phone. I saw his message when I borrowed it this morning.”
“You borrowed my phone to find the name of that playlist you liked, not to look at anything else.”
“It was an accident.”
“Heath, this is so—” The commentators start yelling about the end of the game, and I instantly forget what I was about to say, my eyes flashing to the screen to see San Francisco jumping around in celebration.
“Damn, that’s rough.” Heath cuts into my thoughts as I stare at the TV, my heart slamming against my rib cage, internally breaking for Thomas. “They’re going to tear him apart in the media,” he continues, without an ounce of sympathy. “He—”
“Stop.” I cut him off, raising a hand between us. “Just stop. Nothing is going on with me and Thomas. I drove him to the airport a couple of weeks ago as per Luke’s request, but that’s all. Stop trying to make something out of nothing.”
With a scowl, Heath opens the door again. “Okay, Lainey. Whatever you say.” He slams the door shut, propelling me into silence as I stare at the entry. Fuming.
God. What did I ever see in him…besides the ripped chest and soulful eyes. Clenching my fists, I ignore Heath’s rant and drop to the couch, my mind back on the TV, my heart firmly wedged in my throat. Heath’s right. The media won’t be kind to Thomas. And there’s nothing I can do to help him.
Istare at the screen, my body tense as I watch the locker room interviews, an anger forming in the pit of my stomach. He’s a goddamn rookie, and he played his freaking heart out. Seattle lost by two points, and they’re still crucifying him, like he’s on trial for murder.
Two games. Two losses. Colton had better have this baby soon.
Do you think the coaching staff made the wrong decision in starting you today? Was Patrick a better choice?
Last game you used the excuse that Los Angeles played better on the day, but today that wasn’t the case. San Francisco made several mistakes, and you still lost. How do you explain that to Colton when you see him?
The more they tear him apart, the angrier I get, but to his credit, Thomas stands tall, handling it like a true quarterback should. To those watching, he comes across like a media trained professional, doing his job, supporting his team. But I can see the truth—the void in his eyes as he speaks. I can see the man that’s had to face harsh media scrutiny since he was in college, the man forced to harden his shell at a young age. And it’s breaking my heart more than the loss did.
I pull out my phone to text him, ready to ask who deserves my wrath, when Jace calls. And his timing couldn’t be better. Thomas needs to deal with this how he wants to; he doesn’t need me telling him how shit it is. He doesn’t want me to feel sorry for him.
“Jace, you saved me from a big mistake.”
Jace laughs. “I swear that’s why I was put on this planet. Haven’t I done that before?”
His comment brings a small smile to my lips. “Many times. But this one has nothing to do with needing a fake emergency call.”
Having a friend who’s a doctor, or at least studying to be a doctor, comes in handy when you need someone to use technical jargon to get you out of a bad date. I’ve used Jace as my emergency call one too many times.
“What happened then? Please tell me you weren’t about to take the douchebag back.”
I exaggeratedly groan. “No, Jace. This time I mean it. And you sound like Luke.”
“Speaking of Luke… Are you going to tell him you broke up?”
“Nope. He doesn’t need to know everything as soon as it happens.”
“And…” he hedges, knowing I’m also being petty.
“And I like pissing him off.”
“So that’s why you won’t tell him where you work?”
“Exactly that. See, you get me.” Jace laughs again, but this time it’s forced and I know why. “Okay. I’ll tell him. But it’s so much fun to get a rise out of him.”
“I know. But as a guy on the receiving end of the same bullshit from my sister, I can tell you, he’s just looking out for you.”
“Ugh. Don’t make me feel bad.”
“I’m not.” He chuckles. “I’m telling you like it is. But back to this saving business…” he trails off and I bite the bullet.
“I saw Thomas,” I say, giving him no further explanation. Not that he needs it. He knows everything.
Jace goes quiet for a second before he speaks. “Did you watch the game?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Wait. He was there, wasn’t he? He was in San Francisco.”
“He was.”
“Jesus,” he huffs out almost under his breath. “How did that come about?”
“He messaged me and I agreed to meet him.” Plain and simple. Twice.
Jace clears his throat, and I know what’s coming. He’s not quite sure where he sits when it comes to Thomas. It’s going to take time for him to completely trust him. “I hope you made him grovel. I still want to kick his ass after his behavior last time.”
I laugh as I picture Jace’s serious expression, but then I laugh harder imagining Thomas towering over him. Since I tell Jace almost everything, he was the first person I called when Thomas kissed me after smashing his truck. Of course, Jace wasn’t impressed that he walked away without talking about it and was even less impressed that he was drunk at the time.
“You know I always appreciate your concern, but he doesn’t have to grovel. I told you he’d been through a lot and—”
“It’s no excuse.”
“Actually it is,” I defend him. “If you knew what he’d been through, you’d be on his side.”
“Wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“I will always be on your side.”
My chest warms, but there’s a sadness to it. Jace has been there for me through everything, and it’s hard now that we don’t get to see each other anymore.
“You know I love you, but he’s a good guy, Jace. And I promise to look after myself.” I made that promise to Thomas too.
Jace sighs, but I can tell it’s out of love over frustration. “Okay, Lainey. I trust you. But please protect your heart. God knows it’s been through enough already.”
When I hang up, I feel worse than I did before the call. Jace is usually the one person who can lift me up, but he also tries not to bring up my past, or the parts of it he knows—something he failed to do today.
After making myself an herbal tea, I grab my book and curl up on the couch, content to disappear into another world. To escape my life for a second. To disappear.
I’m an hour in, and I’ve just hit a particularly suspenseful moment when Thomas texts, making me completely abandon what would usually keep me hooked.
Thomas: Lainey. Lainey. My dear Lainey. What are you up to?
I smile at his attempt to be funny until I remember how shitty he must be feeling. Not that I want to directly ask him because there is a good chance he won’t respond.
Lainey: I’ve got my feet up and I’m reading a book.
Thomas: One of those sexy books or are you more of a nonfiction reader? We never did establish that.
Lainey: A sexy one.
I laugh as I type, completely messing with him. It’s actually one of those keeps-you-up-at-night-until-you-know-the-ending types of books. But the last book I read was exactly what he’s alluding to, so I go with that one for fun.
Lainey: He’s a billionaire and he just hired his future love interest as his assistant.
Who doesn’t love a billionaire romance?
Thomas: I like it, tell me more.
I laugh even harder and glance over to the abandoned book on my nightstand, my eyes lingering on the half-naked man on the cover, his open shirt and rolled-up sleeves revealing his perfect abs and ripped arms. He’s absolutely drool worthy, and yet, he has nothing on the guy currently texting me.
Lainey: They knew each other when they were young, and…
Thomas: Leaving me in suspense?
Thomas: Actually, I’m calling you. I NEED to hear your voice
What? Bad idea.
Lainey: …
Thomas: Before you say no… PLEASE
My breath hitches as the phone rings, and I have to fight to control my breathing. I can’t fall for him again because what I need is to leave this place. I need to disappear for a while.
“Hi,” I say finally on the last ring as a cacophony of noise hits my ears. Is he out?
“Hi. Sorry, one sec.” A door slams and the noise softens. “Sorry, I should have waited until I reached the balcony before calling you. How are you?”
I push my feelings away, knowing now that he’s probably been drinking like every other time he’s called and asked to see me. But, it’s not the time to dwell on it. I want to make sure he’s okay.
“I’m good. More importantly, how are you?”
“I’m great. I’m on top of the world. I’m—”
“Thomas,” I interrupt, ready to call him out, but he cuts in first, releasing a long sigh.
“That was brutal, Lainey. I was really hoping you hadn’t watched it. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You really should—”
“Please. Not tonight. Just like everything else going wrong in my life… right now, I need to forget it. And you’re going to help me.”
“Oh yeah, and how am I going to do that?”
“By telling me more of your story while I sit back and enjoy my drink.”
It doesn’t feel right to let him bottle it all up, but at the same time, who am I to tell him how to cope? All I can do is be here for him and try to help in any way he’ll let me.
“Okay, but you’ve been warned,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I’ll be describing the corny bits in full detail.”
Thomas laughs, and I picture his relaxed smile. The smile I’ve only ever seen when we’re still. When we’re just existing together as the world goes by. It makes me happy to imagine him feeling that ease right now.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Lainey. But make sure you include the heartbreak. I deserve it after A Walk to Remember,” he jokes and I finally laugh.
“That you do. Here goes. It all started when he bullied her in high school.”