Game On

Chapter Fourteen Ella

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ella

The ride home is quieter than I expect. Hudson’s truck is an old manual, and every now and then my attention drifts to the way his hand moves on the gearstick, then to his side profile—sharp, handsome, focused, with a small mole accenting the edge of his jaw that I’ve never noticed before.

“Do you ever think about what it would have been like if you’d never gone back?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence. “To football?”

“You mean if I’d stuck with cheer?” he asks. “Came to Whitland and joined the squad?”

“I suppose, yeah.”

“Not really. Just never seemed viable in the first place.” He shrugs. “I do, though, think about what it would have been like if I’d never given it up in the first place.”

“You mean because of your dad?”

He gives a humorless chuckle, the sound rough around the edges.

“Sure, yeah. Where would I be if my daddy never left me? In the grand scheme of things, probably a little less bitter. Less obsessive and guarded. But football? If I’d never let him take that away from me, maybe I would have tried to go pro. ”

“You still could, couldn’t you?” The question slips out, tinged with curiosity and a strange sense of hope.

“That’s not where my dreams lie now.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going for a Master’s in Classics. Actually, there’s a program at Oxford I’m applying to.” He says it casually, as if it’s not a huge deal, but his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

I kind of scoff, more out of habit than anything. “Well, good luck.”

“Don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Davies.” He casts a quick glance my way, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “My grades are damn good. Extracurriculars? I’ve got those in spades.”

“It’s not that.” My words catch slightly, choked by a mix of pride and a stubborn ache that’s hard to shake. I trace the leather seam of the passenger seat. “It’s just … there’s a lot of bureaucratic shit that goes on there.”

“You got in,” he says pointedly.

“Yes, but I had to fight really hard for it. It wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination.”

In fact, it was a miserable slog. Oxford is wrapped in so much red tape it could strangle you. It’s an institution built on politics and legacy; traditions so entrenched that they sometimes seem more like barriers than pathways.

Despite my family’s good standing now, my parents came from nothing.

There was no long lineage boosting my application, no golden ticket hidden in my past. Blood, sweat, and tears—those were the currencies I traded for my admission.

Not just my own, but those of my parents, who had worked their guts out to make a better life for themselves, a life where their daughter could dare to dream about places like that.

“Good. I don’t like easy,” Hudson says, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Beg to differ,” I counter, a wry smile playing on my lips.

He raises a brow, a curious tilt to his voice. “You … are not easy. Far from it.”

“That night, I—”

“That night, it was right place, right time,” he cuts in. His tone is casual, almost dismissive, as if he’s trying to simplify something that feels anything but simple to me. “The Oedipus of it all. That’s it.”

His words hit like a quiet sting, making me pull back a little. It’s not a full-on rejection, but it feels like a brush-off. I can feel my defenses rising, instinctively protecting myself from whatever comes next.

My eyes go wide as I try to control my reaction. “Oedipus? Like, killed his father, married his mother? That Oedipus?”

He laughs then, truly, deeply, as if the absurdity of the comparison has just hit him too. “Oedipus, like, you have your destiny, and you have the choice to fight it. But in the end, fate wins out.”

“Good Lord. That is not a favorable explanation.” I shake my head, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.

He shrugs again. “It is what it is.”

We both laugh, a real, shared laugh that lights up the cab of his truck until I’m cupping my warm cheeks, trying to soothe the stretch from smiling too wide.

As we pull into the curb in front of my apartment building, the laughter fades, replaced by an uneasy silence. It’s dark, the sparse streetlamps creating only dim circles of light along the pavement. My pulse quickens when I spot a familiar figure sitting on a bench outside the building.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Hudson’s voice cuts through the tension.

“That’s … Jamie,” I say in a whisper.

“Your ex.”

“Yeah.” My stomach knots as I watch Jamie sitting there, clearly waiting for me. He hasn’t noticed the truck yet. Hudson follows my gaze, brows skyrocketing.

“What is it?” I ask him.

“I just—I guess I expected some dweeb in a polo,” he says. “That guy is …”

“Very conventionally attractive. Muscular and built. The type who—”

“Alright, Ella, I get the picture,” he cuts in, a slight edge of annoyance in his voice. “I’m walking you up.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, eager to handle this myself. “He’s not dangerous or anything. I just—I have nothing more to say to him.”

“I don’t care how big he is.” Hudson says, ignoring my comments. “I guarantee I can make him leave with a snap of my fingers.”

“Really, Hudson, I can handle it,” I insist, reaching for the door handle.

“Alright. If you’re sure.” His knuckles blanch as he grips the steering wheel, the tension in his jaw unmistakable. “I’m close by if you need me, though. Please call if you do.”

He doesn’t like the idea of me being alone with Jamie, that much is clear. But I’m not worried about it. I can stand up to my ex, brush him off without needing a bodyguard, and carry on with my life. Despite how much he hurt me, I’m strong enough to do that alone.

“I will,” I tell him.

“Seriously, El.”

“I swear, I will.” I cross a finger over my chest. “And thank you for the ride.”

“Thank you for the … For letting me practice with you,” he says softly. “It was good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I give him a final nod, forcing a smile as I step out of the truck.

I wait until his taillights disappear around the corner before giving myself a mental pep talk.

Then, I walk up to Jamie, who’s now noticed me and stands up from the bench.

Jamie Baker, with his dark blond mop of hair, and an ego that’s a little too big for the tight Hugo Boss trousers he wears.

He’s an attractive man, sure, but he no longer makes my heart pound. Other than warning me not to flinch, it barely skips a beat.

As I approach, the memories, the good and the bad, swirl around my head. Jamie’s presence, once so familiar, now feels like a book I closed a long time ago and have no desire to reopen. And yet, here he is, and I have to face him.

Since we’ve been apart, I’ve realized how poorly matched we were.

I loved him because he was familiar, comfortable, and he was usually kind to me.

But the more time passes, the more indignant I feel.

His kindness only extended to me when it suited him—and that’s not good enough anymore.

He’s not the only person who exists in this world.

How you treat others is just as important, if not more.

It’s simple, really. Jamie’s smarmy attitude doesn’t fit with the life I want to carve out for myself.

He could be charming when he wanted to be, but I’d seen the way he’d brush people off, talk down to waiters, or treat my friends like they were beneath him.

All with a smile on his face. Not anymore.

“So, who’s the guy?” Jamie asks when I reach him. His gaze darts to the empty space left by Hudson’s truck, a questioning look etched across his face. “You moved on already?”

“As if that was your business,” I say matter-of-factly. A part of me, a very exhausted part, wants to walk away without another word, but here I am, rooted to the spot. The nerve of him, acting like he has any right to question me after how he left things. “What are you doing here?”

I contemplate telling him exactly what I think of him for the way he dropped me. Five years ended via a short phone call. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since the breakup, but there’s nothing like distance to give a girl some much-needed perspective.

I don’t need to yell at him to feel better, though. He doesn’t deserve even that from me. We’re never getting back together, so rehashing it now would be pointless.

He rocks back on his heels, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. “Came to see you,” he says, his voice laced with a casualness that feels out of place now.

“Why?” I fold my arms across my chest, an instinctual barrier against whatever his answer might be.

“Classes started this week. It’s been a few months since we left home. I wanted to see how you were faring.” His tone is soft, almost cautious. “Didn’t expect you’d be out with some guy.”

I scoff. “Did you enjoy your wonderful single summer in America, and now you’re bored, Jame?”

Hurt flickers in his blue eyes. “Where the hell did you get that idea from?”

Well, now I’ve struck a nerve. “I’m not going to bother answering that. Goodnight. Thanks for the visit. Maybe I’ll see you around campus.”

I turn on my heel to leave, but his voice stops me. “Ella!”

“Bye now,” I call over my shoulder, not bothering to look back as I hurry into the safety of my building.

Inside, the adrenaline that fueled my sharp tongue begins to ebb, leaving behind a bone-deep tiredness.

I trudge upstairs, each step heavier than the last. Gabi is there, sprawled on the couch, speaking rapidly in Spanish.

She must be talking to her family back home in Puerto Rico.

She’s animated, happy, and I don’t want to interrupt her call with my drama.

But as I drag myself into the living room, she looks up anyway. Her brows knit in concern. “ Dame un segundo ,” she says before pulling out an earbud. “What’s wrong, Ella?”

“Just a whirlwind of a day.”

“Was Skylight bad tonight?” she asks. “Tuesday nights are always a toss-up.”

“No, it … I, um, if you don’t mind, I just want to decompress in my room. You can finish your call. Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”

“Okay, sweetie. Here if you need me,” she says with a warm smile, plugging back into her own world as I shuffle towards my bedroom.

Once inside, I fall onto my bed. To everyone else, Jamie was just my boyfriend, but to me, he had become the very fabric of my life, woven into my days like family. When he walked away, he took pieces of my future with him, pieces I’m still trying to reclaim.

I need to rebuild myself before letting anyone get that close again. I can’t afford to let my heart get tangled up, not when I’m still stitching it all back together.

I stare at the ceiling, my mind spinning.

After lying there for what feels like hours, I slide off the bed, reaching for the stack of textbooks on my desk.

Reading usually helps me to decompress, but tonight each line blurs into the next, nothing sticking, my brain too scattered to latch onto anything substantive.

In a last-ditch effort to find some distraction, I reach for my phone and ring Molly. It’s quite early in the morning for her, but she picks up anyway, her voice bubbling over with excitement.

“Ella! Thank God you called,” she says. “You will not believe what happened!”

I sink back onto the bed, pulling my knees up to my chest as I listen to her ramble about some fantastic news—she was just accepted onto a prestigious research team.

She’s been studying molecular biology since our first year at Oxford.

It’s a long, competitive application process, and I’m so pleased for her.

Molly’s excitement is usually infectious, but right now it just makes me feel more adrift. Here’s my best friend, stepping into this bright new chapter of her life. Meanwhile, I’m tangled up in the past.

I had planned to tell her about Jamie, about Hudson, about how complicated and messy everything feels. But hearing her so joyous, I can’t bring myself to weigh her down with my problems.

“That’s amazing, Mol. I’m so happy for you,” I manage to say, my voice a tight wire of strained cheerfulness.

“Thank you! I knew you’d be thrilled. What’s up with you? How are classes? How’s Whitland’s squad?”

I hesitate, then force a smile even though she can’t see it. “It’s all good. Really, just the usual hustle and bustle. It’s been intense learning how to do things differently. But it’s fun in its own way. Classes are … well, they’re classes.”

Molly laughs, her voice crackling with warmth. “You know if you ever need to vent or just scream into the void, I’m here, okay? I miss you.”

“Thanks, Mol. I miss you, too. And I might take you up on that soon.” I press my fingertips to my temples, feeling the start of a headache. “Actually, if it’s okay, I think I’m just going to try to catch some sleep. Long day.”

“Of course, El. Get some rest. We’ll talk again soon, okay? Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

I hang up and toss my phone aside, guilt sitting heavy in my stomach. Molly would have listened, would have offered her fierce, no-nonsense advice like always. I know that.

Next to Jamie, Molly has always been part of my found family.

With my parents so distant, I had to create a home for myself in the people who truly cared: my friends, my partner.

But being here now, without that foundation, without someone by my side who knows me inside out, it’s like I’m missing that part of myself.

I like the people I’ve met so far. They’re driven, full of ambition and light, and it’s been good to be surrounded by their energy.

It keeps my mind from spiraling. But at the end of the day, it’s the quiet moments I miss the most. The ones with people who love me, who fill the gaps that new friends just can’t reach.

For the rest of the time that I’m here, I won’t have that. I won’t have anyone to share those quiet moments with. And as much as I want to reopen my heart, to let someone else in, it doesn’t make sense to build something here when I’ll have to leave it behind anyway.

So tonight, like the many nights still ahead of me, I guess the quiet will have to be enough.