Chapter 9 Lucia #2
She followed the rest of the partners back through the tunnel, then found her way to her box.
For the first time, the rest of the analysts acknowledged her, some of them smiling, others waving.
During the first half, they listened to her both times she spoke up.
They even let her proof the numbers during halftime before one of the interns ran the data to the coaches and broadcasters.
She was thankful to finally get the respect she knew she deserved, but hated that it was only because of who they believed she was dating.
It was infuriating, especially when she knew she probably worked as hard as, if not harder than, all the men in that room with her.
She stewed during halftime but forgot all about it in the third quarter.
Colton was taking sack after sack. His o-line was completely disrupted, giving him no time to find a receiver. Even when he handed the ball off to his running backs, they were getting stuffed at the line.
She could see how tense he was getting, could see the frustration in each of his throws.
She didn’t know when she’d keyed into his movements so distinctly, but it was as obvious to her as the sun rising over the horizon on a clear day.
He was pissed, and it was affecting his motion. He looked like he had during preseason.
The fourth quarter wasn’t better. Colton threw a pick, took two more sacks, and ended the game with far less yardage than their past three games.
The team was deflated, and Colton was there at the center of it, yelling at the sky as fans filed out of the stadium dejectedly.
The energy in the box was just as dim, and she excused herself.
Only as she walked toward the press conference room did she see the texts from Max.
Max
This little game of yours is getting pathetic, Lucia. Stop messing around.
Max
This is ridiculous. If that kiss was for my benefit, you're acting like a child.
She was so sick of the tone in these texts. As if he wasn’t the reason their relationship had ended. She finally broke the radio silence she’d been giving him.
Lucia
Fuck you Max.
She knew it was immature, but she was still angry, and maybe it was time for her to stoop to his level.
Lucia
Hope you’re enjoying the blonde.
She put her phone on Do Not Disturb, tucked it into the pocket of her green pantsuit, and continued her walk.
Colton had asked her to be at his press conference after the game, though he’d been in far higher spirits when he’d made the request. When he finally entered the room and the cameras began rolling, his eyes met hers, and she could see the disappointment in them.
She was sure all he wanted to do was jump into an ice bath and sleep off the aching in his muscles and tightness in his chest he’d once told her accompanied a loss.
The moment he sat down, the questions began.
“Tough loss today, Colton. Can you walk us through what happened on that crucial interception in the fourth quarter, and what you might have done differently looking back?”
He paused to think. “Yeah, I mean, I saw the coverage and thought I had a window to make the throw. I should’ve recognized the pressure from the defense and scanned the field for another option.”
“It seemed like the offensive line had some struggles today, allowing multiple sacks. How did that impact your ability to execute the game plan, and do you think protection is an area that needs improvement?”
“I think we were struggling as a unit, but the blame is on me. I need to do better at scrambling when the time is right.”
She had to stop herself from scoffing. He needed to stop taking responsibility for things that weren’t his fault. His offensive line had been shit all game, and he’d been scrambling well until the last quarter.
As if he sensed her thoughts, he met her eyes again. “We talk about protection every week. It’s always an area that can use improvement.”
Her chest constricted as she watched his shoulders droop a bit.
She realized he’d completely internalized the loss as his fault, just like the preseason losses, as if he were a one-man team.
When the Sabers lost, it was his fault. When they won, it was a team effort. No wonder he was the team captain.
“You've had some great moments this season, but today was a setback. What's the team's mindset moving forward, and how do you plan to bounce back from this disappointing loss?”
“Absolutely, today was a setback, but our mindset remains positive and determined.
We've had great moments this season, and we're fully aware of our potential.
We'll go back to the drawing board, study our mistakes, and use this loss as motivation.
We're not defined by one game, and our goal is to bounce back stronger and more focused for the next challenge.”
“Thanks, Colton.” The journalist turned to Coach Turner. “Coach, tough loss. What will you be focusing on this week during practice?”
Lucia tuned him out as she watched Colton stand and walk out of the room quietly.
She left from the other door, meaning to catch him before he went home for the night.
At first, he didn’t notice her in the shadows as he stalked toward the exit that led to the facility.
His jaw was tight, his lips pressed firmly together.
He finally saw her, pausing in front of her. His eyes were dark, swirling with all kinds of emotions she couldn’t place, but she knew he was mad. She knew it from the set of his shoulders and the dip between his brows.
Lucia didn’t know how to make him feel better. All she was good for was numbers, and that was the last thing he needed. She stepped forward into the light, and his eyes tracked her movements warily, fixating on the hand that raised slightly at her side.
Before she knew what she was doing, heart pounding, she’d placed her hand on his stubbled cheek, the way he had when she’d seen that dreaded headline a week and a half earlier. He leaned into it, just barely, just for a moment.
Then the moment was over, and his large hand was clasping hers, gently pulling it away from his face. He squeezed it once and disappeared out the door, leaving a very confused and very warm Lucia.