CHAPTER NINE
Blair
I’m curled up on the somewhat comfortable armchair in our unnecessary home office, when my phone vibrates across the desk.
I jump, startled, dropping my book as I stand.
JENNA: Thank God you rejected me because look at this hunk of junk
A photo comes through of a gorgeous specimen of a man, and a laugh escapes me, a weightlessness taking over.
Yesterday she was on a date with a hot young businessman from New York, and the day before she met a beautiful redhead when we were out for a walk. I don’t know how she keeps up. Some days I struggle to keep up with Nathan.
JENNA: Should I take him home?
Smiling, I sit back on the chair, typing my response. She’s trying to distract me after I told her about Nathan’s game against Zane. She’s been doing it all week
BLAIR: I’m tired just thinking about your dating life…
BLAIR: But if you’re not… Go for it
JENNA: Done. Thanks girl
BLAIR: Anytime
JENNA: Get ready for all the juicy details
I snort out a laugh and my mood lifts, once again owing it to Jenna. It’s been two weeks since we first met, but I swear my life has changed color. She’s bringing me out of my shell and forcing me to stand tall, when I really want to cower, providing support when I’ve been feeling so lost.
The best part—she has no connection to my life back in Jacksonville. And for the first time, I’m free.
“There’s that smile again.” Nathan brushes my arm as he walks in, his own smile wide. “I think someone likes California.”
“It’s growing on me, sure.” I offer a nonchalant shrug and he laughs.
“Either way, it’s good to see you happy again. It’s been a while.”
My smile drops as I frantically shake my head. “What? No. I’m happy. You make me happy.”
“Oh, I know. But you’ve been down since you saw—”
“Nope.” I throw my hand up between us. “Not talking about the past, remember?”
“Because that’s healthy.” Nathan raises an eyebrow and I can’t help but laugh.
“I promise, I’m good. And it’s nice having a friend.”
“Ah yes, the elusive Jenna. When am I going to meet her?”
“This weekend? She said she’d come out after the game.” My chest tightens at the thought of Nathan’s game against San Francisco, but I don’t mention it. We’ve had a big talk about the fact that he’ll be playing against Zane, and decided it was best not to mention it again.
“Speaking of…I got you your usual seat in the front row. But if you’d prefer not to go…” He trails off and I have to wonder if for the first time, he’d prefer I wasn’t there.
“I promised I’d come."
“I know, but—”
“No buts,” I cut him off again. “I’ll be there. Rain, hail, or shine.”
“It’s October in Los Angeles. I think you’ll get the shine.”
“If you jinx it…” I pause, reaching for his hand and giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m not going to be happy.”
“I thought it didn’t matter?” He stifles a laugh while I growl.
“I lied. My hair hates the rain and I want to look nice.”
“You always look nice.”
“Thanks.” He squeezes my hand back, a lot more gently than I did his, walking away with a bounce in his step.
My brows draw together when he’s gone, and an uncomfortable twinge has me rubbing my chest. “You always look nice.”
He tells me that often, but this time it feels like he’s talking about the weather instead of trying to make his girlfriend feel better about herself.
Nathan’s a great guy and he looks after me. He always has. But he’s not big on descriptive notions of love. Does he like my eyes? Does he think I smell nice?
I have no freaking idea.
Until Jenna told me I was beautiful, I hadn’t realized I was missing out. Now I can’t help wondering, if a stranger can tell me that, why can’t he?
Ignoring the tension itching to send me spiraling again, I release a slow breath and focus on my book. Nathan and I have been together for years. He makes me happy. There’s no reason to be questioning that now.
So why am I?
Despite Jenna’s many successful distractions, I’m still a mess when Sunday come around, but I promised Nathan I’d support him. Just like I always do.
Faking a smile, in the hope that I can convince myself I’m okay, I reach for my new Los Angeles jersey, running my fingers over the letters printed on the back, the feeling making my skin prickle.
Coincidently or not, Nathan gave it to me last week. Before then, I was unnamed, and now, the weight of the jersey feels heavier in my palms.
“I’m leaving, babe,” he calls from downstairs before the front door creaks open. “I got your black heels out of the closest; they’re in the hall. I’ll see you in the stands.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there,” I call back, hearing his distant “love you” as the door slams shut.
My eyes drop to my outfit, taking in my designer black jeans and finest silk bra. The perfect attire to pair with my patent leather black heels.
Counting down from five, I pull myself out of the resistance toward his name and slip the jersey over my head, letting it mold to my body before I check myself out in the mirror.
There she is. Nathan Morgan’s other half.
Putting on a smile, I pull my thick, curly hair high into a tight ponytail and touch up my makeup. Ensuring I’m picture-perfect with Nathan’s name on full display.
And my insides squirm. What the hell is that about?
I know the drill. This has been my life since Nathan turned pro and yet today it feels wrong.
But why?
Ignoring my thoughts, I spin on my toes and head downstairs, making sure I’m ready for the weekly call with my brother and dad. We’ve had this standing catch-up since I moved away for college, and if I miss it, I’m likely to have one of them banging down my front door come morning.
My family lives and breathes football. Always have. My dad was an incredible college football player, destined for the pros until he snapped his Achilles his senior year. If he wasn’t such a positive man, it would have destroyed him.
My grandfather, on the other hand, was an NFL great. He played through to his retirement and went on to coach at a D1 college, and he was still coaching when my dad played.
While I wasn’t expected to play like Cade was in high school, I was expected to learn everything about the game, and I was expected to watch.
Because of that, I’m what you’d call a die-hard fan. Of the Florida Sting Rays. Nathan’s previous team. The team I grew up supporting. The same team my family supports.
The only saving grace about Nathan moving to California is that at least the two teams are in different conferences, so I can tell myself I have a favorite for each.
I’ve just poured myself a glass of water when my phone rings, blaring the video tone I set for my brother. Staring at the screen, I watch it ring until it stops—because that always pisses Cade off—then I call him right back, a smile dancing on my lips.
“You’re a little shit, you know that?” he says as soon as I answer, his lips cocked in a grin.
“And you need to watch your language,” Dad calls out in the background, making me laugh.
“Hi, Dad.” I wave even though Cade’s not facing the phone his way. “And hi, Bro.”
“How’s Cali life treating you, Little B?” He uses my old nickname and I cringe. It’s been years since he’s used that name and I’ll bet all my money—which is sweet fuck-all at the moment—that he’s using it now because he’s got Zane on the brain.
Ooh, that rhymes. I smile to myself and Cade raises a brow.
“I’m guessing life is good. I haven’t seen you smile like that in a while.”
“Actually, if you must know, I rhymed in my head and was a little pleased with myself.”
“God, you’re a nerd sometimes.” He shakes his head, until the phone’s ripped from his hand.
“I love it when that happens,” Dad cuts in. “What did you rhyme?”
Dammit. “It doesn’t matter. How are you, Dad? You’re looking good. But that’s about to change after a day with Cade. Please tell me you’re not watching the game together?”
“You bet we are. Wouldn’t miss it.”
“The Florida game, right?”
I cross my fingers and hold my breath, only releasing it when Cade calls out, “The price is wrong, B,” quoting his favorite movie without annoying my dad with his language.
“Of course, we’re watching LA and San Francisco,” Dad confirms. “I’ve kept up with Zane’s career and it’s his first game back after…” I close my eyes, my chest constricting at the mention of Zane’s name, and it takes me a second to realize Dad stopped talking.
I open my eyes and wince. He noticed.
“Sorry.”
“No, Blair. I’m sorry. It can’t have been easy seeing Zane again.”
The tightness in my chest thickens. It’s odd hearing Dad talk about him again after spending so many years avoiding the topic.
“I promise, I’m good,” I lie as convincingly as I can. “Let’s talk football. What are we thinking?”
Dad barely hesitates before launching into his thoughts about the games this weekend, with Cade and me offering our opinions. And when we get to the game of the moment, Dad and Cade pause.
“How was Nathan feeling when he left and during the week?” Dad asks, his expression so serious that I laugh. “Come on, Blair. We need to know… Was he confident?”
“He’s always confident; you should remember that from his Florida days.”
“You’re right. Okay, well, I think—”
“Wait,” Cade interrupts. “What Dad really wants to ask is…did the dick mention Zane?”
“Cade!” both Dad and I yell at the same time.
“Sorry, I’ll rephrase my question. Is Nathan freaking out about going up against Zane for the first time since his freshman year in college?”
My muscles tense but I fight hard not to appear affected.
“If he is, he didn’t mention it.”
“Hmmm. Okay.” Cade brushes his chin with his fingers. “I’m going to say San Francisco for the win. 24 to 14. Zane to score the first touchdown.”
“Wai—”
“That’s close to what I was thinking,” Dad speaks over me. “I’m calling it at 27 to 10 and I think it’ll be Wilder that gets the first touchdown but Zane will dominate in the second half.”
“Yes!” Cade snaps his fingers. “I like it. What are you thinking, sis?”
I groan, no longer able to hide my pain. It was so much easier when they supported the team my boyfriend played for. “Well, obviously I’m picking LA for the win.”
“Really?” Cade frowns, his expression making me laugh.
“Why is that so hard to believe? They won their first game and—”
“They got their asses handed to them last week. I’ll bet their confidence is down. Especially considering how well San Francisco has been playing.”
“I’m supporting LA.”
“We know. We can tell by your hideous jersey.” Cade turns up his nose, and I roll my eyes. “That wasn’t the question.”
I glance at Dad, hoping he’ll save me but he looks away.
Four years of birthday celebrations, Thanksgiving lunches, and Christmases.
Four years of Nathan proving that he’s a good guy and that he loves me.
And my parents still don’t like him, because Cade and Zane got in their heads.
It was a football rivalry that turned personal, but it was years ago. They all need to move the fuck on.
“I think LA will win. 17 to 14 But I think Cade’s right that Zane will score the first touchdown.” As much as it pains me to admit it out loud.
“Okay. I think you’re lying about the LA win, but you do you.”
“Cade,” Dad warns. “She gave her answer and we have to respect that. Remember when you were convinced that New York was going to beat Philadelphia in the Super Bowl, and we all thought you were crazy, but chose never to tease you about it?”
“You’re teasing me about it now.”
“After the fact is fine. Feel free to call Blair tomorrow and gloat.”
“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the support.”
“Any time, Princess. So, next is Washington versus Minnesota. What are you thinking?”
We move quickly through the rest of the games, but by the time they hang up, I’m running late. And I can’t be late. Nathan hates that.
Skipping lunch, I book an Uber, my heart trapped in my throat until it finally arrives.
By some miracle, we’re blessed by the traffic gods and I settle my ass in my seat just as the San Francisco players run out on the field, ready for their warmup.
And damn. I wish I’d been later.
It takes all of ten seconds for my eyes to lock on Zane, and my heart jolts. I’ve seen him play over the years, but seeing him this close…
He smirks to his teammate, and my mind drifts to the cocky smile he used to bestow when he’d wink at me in the stands, the memory so vivid it makes my pulse spike.
It’s like nothing has changed, and yet as he said when I first saw him in the hospital, everything has.
Still, it’s hard to look away.
Even in a warmup, he owns the ground he walks on. He was always like that. Always had a presence. Always destined for greatness.
Unlike my dad and brother, I’ve tried hard not to keep up with Zane’s career since he left home. Unless I was being slapped in the face with news about him and his career, then I was none the wiser. And I was okay with that.
But when he was lying in that hospital bed, looking more innocent than I’d ever seen him, I admit I was worried. Especially when news broke of the possible charges against him.
It broke my heart to think this moment may never come. That he’d never have the chance to play again.
But he’s back, and I can’t help but be a little happy for him.
I’ll never say this out loud, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure that Storm is going to win. And I hate to admit it, but I kind of hope that they do.
God, I’m a horrible person.