Chapter 37
MATEO
“Emmie?”
“Mateo!”
The medic standing at the door was all but shoved aside as a familiar redhead barged her way in. I struggled to sit up as Emmie barreled her way closer.
“Oh god. Are you okay? Is something broken? Do you need a hospital? Where is the doctor?” The words flew from her mouth as her hands hovered over my bare chest. Her green eyes were frantic, face pale and taut.
I struggled to comprehend that she was here. Did those pain meds have some sort of hallucinogen, or did I have a brain bleed?
“Em?” Her eyes finally met mine, glossy like she could cry at any moment. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw what happened. Are you okay?”
When she glanced at the ice strapped around me, a giant bruise already forming, she winced.
“Just a few bruised ribs.”
She saw it? That meant she was watching.
“I tried to get here sooner but the traffic was insane, and then the idiots at the front wouldn’t let me in. Thank god I had my pass with me,” Emmie rambled. I was torn between being happy she was here and upset that she showed up now after not speaking to me for a week.
Before I could say anything, Coach stepped through the door. The only indication he was surprised to see Emmie was a raised eyebrow.
Emmie moved around to my other side, arm reached out like she was going to grab my hand, but at the last second, she brought it back to her side.
“So, the doc tells me its bruised ribs,” Coach said.
“Seems like it.” I shifted, grunting a little.
“Well, your main focus is to rest and heal. Johnny will be taking over as starting quarterback the rest of this game and next. After the bye week, we can reevaluate.”
“And Jennings?”
“A meeting with the owner is set for tomorrow. If I have anything to do with it, he’ll never step foot in my locker room again.” Coach’s tone was low, but the anger beneath it was unmistakable.
“Good.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Emmie look back and forth between us, confused and out of the loop.
“The team is about to head out for the third quarter, change and then go home,” he instructed. “The press has been ordered to stay away from the back lot.”
“I can stay—” I started to say, but he cut me off.
“No. I don’t want you anywhere near this stadium.” He looked over at Emmie. “Make sure he gets home and keeps that ice on.” His voice left no room for argument. With that, he turned on his heel and left.
“Do you need help getting up?” Emmie asked, her voice soft.
I didn’t know how to act. All I wanted to do was pull her into me and breathe in the smell of her perfume. A smell that slowly started to disappear from my bed sheets. I wanted to kiss her until I forgot the pain, but her words of us being a mistake still rang in my head.
She was only here because I got hurt, not because she wanted to fix things. Or maybe she did want to fix things.
I didn’t know. All of it felt overwhelming. I needed to change and get out of here, the rest could wait.
“I think I got it.”
Knowing it would hurt, I heaved myself out of the bed in one motion, a pained grunt leaving my lips as my hand reached out to steady myself. Instantly, Emmie was there, a hand gently on my stomach.
“Please let me help.”
I was weak when it came to her. All she had to do was look at me, and I’d fall to my knees begging. Even after what happened a week ago, I’d still do anything for her.
I gave her a nod, letting her drape my left arm over her shoulders, that hand still on my stomach and careful of the ice on my right side. I always towered over her, but more so now with my cleats on. Despite that, she fit perfectly under my arm, like she belonged there.
The two of us made our way to the locker room, my cleats clicking against the pavement as we stepped through the doors to an empty room.
Even though we were a good distance from the field, I could hear the fans cheering.
It pissed me off that I wasn’t out there doing my job, but I also knew I was too distracted today.
If I hadn’t gotten hurt, I probably would still have lost us the game with how I was playing.
I headed for my cubby, hoping the pain meds kicked in soon since every step sent a shock wave of pain up my side. Emmie slipped out from under my arm as I glanced down at my cleats and pants, wondering how I was going to get them off.
“Okay, I know things are awkward and tense between us, and we have a lot to talk about, but I need you to let me help you change. Can you do that?” Emmie stood there, hands on her hips, that no nonsense attitude I love about her coming out.
I was hurt and angry, but right now wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not when she looked at me like that. Because no matter where we stood, if she asked, I’d always say yes.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I can do that.”
“Good,” she said, already stepping closer. “Because I’m not asking nicely twice.”
Before I could argue, her hands were at my waistband.
“Easy,” I huffed, wincing. “Buy me dinner first.”
“Don’t make this weird.” She warned as her fingers wedged my pants down my hips.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one taking my pants off, Em.”
“Want me to leave and have you do this on your own?” She squatted down between my knees and glanced up at me. The sight of her was enough to make heat stir in my bones. Do. Not. Get. Hard.
“N-No,” I stuttered, earning a smirk.
I took as deep of a breath as I could, willing my cock to not get hard with her right there.
I tried to stay as still as possible as she tugged and yanked my football pants down my thighs.
It wasn’t an easy task, thanks to the pads underneath.
The uniform pants were meant to keep the pads in place, but it made them a bitch to get off.
I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the metal border of the cubby. Anything to keep my hands occupied so they didn’t reach down on their own and touch her head.
“Lift,” Emmie murmured, tapping my left calf. I did as instructed and lifted my foot so she could slide my cleat off. She repeated the process on the other before working on my pants.
When she reached for the pads strapped to my thighs and waist, I should have been a gentleman and done it myself, but instead, I just stood there. I blamed the pain for messing with my head.
I caught the tips of her ears turning pink, and I knew if she shuffled back a little I’d see her face flushed. I bit my tongue to stop any retort from leaving my mouth. I was with it enough to know making a dirty remark would not go over well.
Thankfully, Emmie was quick. In no time, I was in my boxer briefs.
Before it could get any more tense, Emmie twisted on her heels to my locker, rifling through for my pants.
I stood there, looming over her. A different image came to mind, one way dirtier than what was before me now.
One where Emmie dug her nails into my ass as she took me in her throat.
I willed my cock to behave, praying to anyone who would listen to make sure I didn’t pop a boner. I had no idea where we stood, and the last thing either of us needed was me being turned on. That would not help the situation.
In no time, Emmie had my athletic pants around my ankles and pulled them up. I couldn’t help but feel smug, noticing her eyes lingering on my crotch before she pulled the pants all the way up to my hips.
When her eyes met mine, whatever breath I had in my lungs escaped. God, I missed her. I missed talking to her, seeing her, hearing her laugh. Every little thing that was her, I missed. Right to the marrow of my bones.
Clearing her throat, she started to rise. Since I was still hunched over, she grazed my chest on the way up until her face was inches from mine. She was so close all I had to do was move just a little and our lips would touch.
I could see the way her pupils dilated, tension in her shoulders like she, too, was trying to hold back.
“Ready to go?” she asked, breathless. I almost said no. It was right there at the tip of my tongue, but I knew we needed to get out of here before the press went against Coach’s orders and tried to follow us out.
“Yeah.” With extreme willpower, I straightened to my full height. Emmie turned around and started tidying up my cubby. She folded my pants and put them on the bottom shelf, along with my cleats.
“Anything you need to bring with us?”
I stuffed my feet into my slip-ons, grateful I didn’t have to leave the stadium in my usual suit.
I pointed to my duffle bag on the ground. “Just need to grab that.” I went to reach for it, only for her to slap my hand away.
“I got it.”
“Not to sound sexist or anything, but I’m not sure you’ll be able to lift it.”
“Yeah, that is sexist.” She reached down and grabbed the straps. I tried, and failed, to stop my lips from twitching at the way she heaved the duffel bag up onto her shoulder. I wasn’t lying when I said it was heavy.
She stumbled to the side, off balance from the weight of it. I reached out and gripped her waist, holding her steady. “You good?”
“Yep, I got it.”
“Well, then lead the way Ms. Incredible.” I didn’t bother with a shirt—there was no way in hell I was getting one on—and gestured toward the doors.
I chuckled under my breath, more like wheezed, as Emmie headed for them while she leaned to one side.
“I can hear you laughing behind me.”
“It wasn’t a laugh, it was a wheeze,” I countered.
“Wow, that makes it much better.”
I grinned despite myself. “It was a supportive wheeze actually. Very encouraging.”
Emmie snorted. “Uh huh, I totally believe you.”
“I’m fighting for my life back here, and you’re judging me?” I joked as we worked our way down the hallway in the direction of the back parking lot.
“Oh, I’m judging. I’m judging hard.”
I wheezed again, clenching my side. My chest ached at how easily we fell back into our banter. Nine days passed since we actually had a real conversation, yet it felt like years. Time moved differently when your heart was ripped from your chest.