32. Third and Long
32
Riggs
Itossed and turned all night, unable to get the events of last night out of my head. And not just the whole scene with Grady and the aftermath, but my rude, sullen behavior with Tessa during the ride home. I was an asshole, and I never should have let her go home without clearing the air.
I texted her this morning, apologizing for last night and asking her if we could meet up to talk, but she hasn’t responded. I should’ve texted or called her last night, but by the time I got my head on straight and realized how badly I fucked up, it was late, and I didn’t want to exacerbate the situation by waking her up and making her even angrier.
Damn it. I should’ve woken her up. I should’ve gone over there and talked things out with her. I never should’ve let her get out of my truck without apologizing.
I never should’ve let Grady Hollis get under my skin to begin with.
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter, checking my phone again.
Maybe I should just retire. Quit the team and move on with my life without all this fucking stress and drama.
I tilt my head back with a sigh. Quitting isn’t the answer. I’m too young to retire, and I worked too hard to get where I am to just let it all go. Besides, I refuse to give Hollis the satisfaction of knowing he drove me out.
I need some air.
Pushing myself up off the sofa, I walk to the front door. Pulling it open, I step outside, close my eyes, and inhale deeply. As I exhale, I open my eyes and look toward Tessa’s place. My body stills as I stare wide-eyed at her car in the driveway.
She didn’t go to work this morning.
I’ve been trying to be patient, operating under the impression that she’s been busy at the coffee shop all morning and just hasn’t had time to return my text message. But if she’s home…
I’m off my porch and striding toward her house before I even finish the thought. Panic fuels my steps as my mind races. Is her phone dead? Did my text not go through, and she thinks I’m avoiding her?
Or worse, did she get the text, and she’s avoiding me?
I jog up her porch steps, pausing to compose myself before lifting a fist and rapping it against her door. I shift my weight from foot to foot as I wait, each second feeling like an eternity. On some level, I know I’m overreacting, but there’s a heavy pit in my stomach that I can’t ignore.
Finally, I hear the lock disengage, and relief floods through me. The door cracks open, and as I get my first look at Tessa, that relief evaporates, replaced with dread. She doesn’t look happy to see me.
At all.
“Hey,” I say when she doesn’t speak.
“Hey,” she parrots back, her voice devoid of emotion.
“Can I come in? I’d like to apologize for last night.”
“It’s fine,” she says, ignoring my request as she holds the door with one hand and the jamb with the other, effectively blocking me out.
“It’s not fine, Tessa,” I say, my voice turning pleading. “I was an asshole, and I’m really sorry. It wasn’t about you, though. I was angry with myself, and I should never have taken it out on you like that. Please forgive me.”
“I forgive you, Riggs. Like I said, it’s fine,” she replies in that same lifeless monotone.
“I can see that it’s not,” I try again.
“It will be.”
My head rears back. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” she says with an exhausted-sounding sigh, “that this thing between us is over. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s obviously causing problems for you, professionally. Better we end it now, before there are any lasting consequences.”
My heart plummets into my stomach. “Tessa––”
“No, Riggs. I thought about this all night, and I realize it’s for the best. This thing between us is so new, and it’s better to end it now before things get more complicated. It’s been fun, but now it’s over.”
“It’s been fun? Are you fucking serious right now?” I bite out, anger swelling through me, replacing the anguish from before.
Her eyes fall closed, and she takes a breath before popping them back open to pin me with a hard gaze. “This little fling isn’t worth losing your job over, Riggs.”
The words hit me in the chest like a sledgehammer. I somehow manage to refrain from reacting visibly, even though the pain nearly knocks me off my feet. Clenching my jaw, I take a step back.
“You know what? You’re right. A fling isn’t worth losing my job.”
I spit the words out and pretend like I don’t notice Tessa flinch under the impact of them. Without another word, I spin on a heel and leave, my footsteps slow and measured even though I want to stomp and scream and fuck some shit up as I go.
She called us a fling. A meaningless relationship that is easily ended with no emotional ramifications. Something to be tossed away easily.
By the time I make it back inside my house, I’m completely hollow inside.
The slamming of the door rings in my ears as I stride through the house. I rip my clothes off angrily as I stalk through my bedroom to the en suite. Turning the shower on, I step inside. My breath hisses through my teeth as the cold water pounds against my skin, but I stand there and take it, praying the icy stream will cool my temper before I do something stupid.
Like run back to Tessa’s and tell her to go to hell for calling us a fling. For so casually dousing my feelings for her in lighter fluid and setting them ablaze.
For making me believe she had the same feelings for me.
Because if she felt something for me, anything that even bordered on being real, she wouldn’t have been able to do what she just did. Without a hint of regret.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, turning off the water to end the bitter torture.
I step out of the shower, not caring that I’m dripping water all over the tile floor. Grabbing the towel from the rack, I wrap it around my waist and walk back into my bedroom in search of the shorts I shed in my haste to cool off.
Finding them, I pull my phone from my pocket and shoot off a single text.
Me: Meet me at my house. I need to talk.
“So it’s over? Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I say, depression lacing my voice as my three best friends stare at me in shock.
Miles, Foster, and Porter showed up within thirty minutes of my text message with a twelve-pack of beer and three bags of corn chips. I don’t normally drink much, especially before noon, but I’ve already downed two bottles and have cracked open my third. My teammates have barely touched their own beers, content to sit and listen to me spill my guts.
“Maybe she thinks she’s doing you a favor,” Porter offers. When I just stare at him with an incredulous expression, he holds up his palms. “Hear me out. She said your relationship wasn’t worth losing your job over, right?”
“Our fling,” I say, correcting him.
“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, bro. It wasn’t a fling to her.”
“I agree,” Foster says, chiming in for the first time. “She adores you, man.”
“Then why did she say that?” I bark, my voice growing louder with each word. “How could she throw it away so easily?”
“Like I was saying,” Porter answers before I can keep yelling, “if she thought this rift between you and Hollis could cost you your position on the team, and the rift is over her, wouldn’t taking herself out of the equation be the best way to protect you?”
Silence falls around us as we all digest Porter’s words. Could he be right? Could Tessa have some warped notion that breaking things off between us was best for me?
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “You didn’t see her face. There was nothing in her eyes, man. No remorse. No regret.”
“Maybe she was acting,” Miles says quietly. “Maybe she knew if she showed any emotion, you’d latch onto it and talk her out of ending things.”
A glimmer of hope ignites inside me, and though I know I should snuff it out, I do the opposite. I cup that tiny flame between my palms and gently blow life into it.
“So if that’s the case, what should I do?” I ask. “Should I try to talk to her again?”
“Give her some time,” Miles says.
“Yeah, you’ve got to let her figure this out on her own and come to you,” Porter adds.
“And if she doesn’t?” I ask, hating the way my voice cracks on the question.
“It’s going to happen,” Foster says. “Like I said, she adores you.”
That flame of hope inside me flares brighter, and I give my friends a smile of gratitude for talking me off the ledge. I know in my soul they’re right. What Tessa and I share is real, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t just push those kinds of feelings aside.
It’s third and long, and the clock’s running down. But with a little time and patience, I might just win this one, yet.