Chapter 18 Colton
Chapter eighteen
Colton
There were a few league rules that Colton wasn’t a fan of.
But the one he truthfully didn’t understand was the concept of being able to lose in overtime without his offense having the chance to touch the ball.
His success on the field was ultimately a testament to how hard he worked, so to lose on the road to a team who'd started overtime with the ball simply because of a lucky coin toss? That just felt wrong. He hated how powerless it’d left him.
At the end of a hard game, he didn’t even have a chance to get on the field to try to win it.
If he were a cartoon character, he’d have had smoke coming from his ears.
The moment the ball had found Dallas’ wide receiver in the end zone and the stadium erupted in cheers, Colton had tossed his helmet to the ground. He’d tried so hard, and it felt like the loss erased the seven wins they’d managed.
He tried to be cordial as he shook the hands of each of his opponents, clapping some on the back who he was on semi-friendly terms with, but what he really wanted to do was take his anger out on the refs for enforcing a dumb rule.
Yeah, he recognized it wasn’t their fault, but all he had was the messenger.
The familiar tightness in his chest only tightened further as reporters swarmed around him like vultures in the tunnel. He could hardly hear them as they talked over each other, though none as loud as the disappointed voice in his head.
He had a few minutes to shower and change before the press conference, so he dodged the questions and ducked into the locker room.
He let the steam clear his mind, scrubbing at his skin until it felt raw.
Pulling on a Sabers sweatsuit, he tossed his stuff into his overnight bag and pushed his way out of the locker room.
He wasn’t in the mood to hear Coach Turner’s lecture, as enlightening as it might’ve been.
He hadn’t expected Lucia to be standing there in one of her sexy, green pantsuits he had started to love, nor had he expected the tension in his body to halve just by being in her presence.
“Moretti? What’re you doing here?” Usually, the analysts packed up and hopped on the bus early. He knew because he always looked for her as he and his teammates filed into the big, air-conditioned units.
He hated the look of pity on her face but couldn’t find it in himself to be upset with her for it.
“I…I just wanted to check on you before the press conference.” She moved further down the hall, putting some distance between herself and the locker room, clearly wanting Colton to follow her.
When she turned back to him, her brows were knitted and she was wringing her hands. She didn’t look away from his eyes, opening and closing her mouth as if figuring out how to say what she wanted.
“Overtime rules are fucking awful,” he said, hoping it would help her find her words.
She laughed, nodding. “Yeah. They really are. Glad you’re doing well enough to joke.” She fiddled with her ring like she always did when she didn’t know what to say, or when she was nervous. Colton reached a hand out to clasp hers.
She cleared her throat. “Just remember that a loss isn’t just on you. That this season is still salvageable. But most importantly, remember that you’re more than your team’s record and your stats. Don’t let them make you think otherwise, okay?” She squeezed his hand.
And just like that, the rest of the tension in his body was gone.
It’d taken her a few sentences and a squeeze of his hand for her to ease the stress of the game.
He couldn’t believe she’d ever thought that she was only an analyst when her mere presence comforted him more than anything or anybody else.
He wanted to beg her to never leave so he could always feel so at peace.
Instead, he asked, “See you on the plane?”
“Can’t very well stay here, can I?” She grinned, squeezing his hand once more before heading in the direction of the team busses.
When he’d asked Lucia to come over to hang out and watch a movie the next night, he’d thought he would get more resistance.
He knew he had agreed with her stupid rule not to fraternize outside of work, but he didn’t care for it one bit.
He was chasing the feeling he’d had in his grasp that night with her at his house.
Hell, he was chasing the high he had been feeling since the moment she’d walked into that damn boardroom.
He’d known he was attracted to her from the beginning.
But this was something else entirely. This was making up reasons to see her.
This was finding ways to touch her. This was trying to spend the little bit of free time that he had with her, even if it meant being more tired than he was used to the next morning.
Though that could’ve been because of the thoughts about her that kept him up at night.
Having her pressed against him—like he had in his hotel room a few nights before, held tight to his chest until his coach had woken them with a loud bang on his hotel door—was decidedly his new favorite way to sleep.
He knew he was only digging himself a deeper hole, knew he was only biding his time until he inevitably got hurt, because she so obviously didn’t feel as strongly for him as he did for her. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
If this was all the time he’d get with her, just until the beginning of January, he would try to make it count as much as she’d let him.
His phone rang, and he answered, entering the pin to let Lucia up his driveway.
His heart was beating faster than normal as he tidied around the couch Maya had helped him find, along with all the rest of his decor.
He set out a blanket, trying to create the illusion of comfort his sister always seemed to talk about when she visited.
He walked to the tall door, taking a breath after the second knock before opening it.
Lucia stood there in a pair of black sweatpants—likely from her time with the Vipers, but he had no way of confirming that—and the Sabers sweatshirt he’d given her.
She was weighed down by two bags of…Were those groceries?
“I want to make it abundantly clear that, yes, I am breaking my rule about not hanging out with you outside of work, but it’s only because I feel bad about the overtime rules and I know how grumpy you are about the loss.
And there were reporters outside, so really, this is for Tessa.
And also, you’re my only friend here.” A lie, but he’d let her get away with it.
He was starting to think he’d let her get away with anything.
He took the heavy bags from her. “What’s all this?”
“Oh. That. That’s because I rarely see you eat anything but pizza, and I think it’s high time you eat something healthy.”
“You’re…You’re cooking for me?”
“Think of it as ‘I’m here despite knowing I shouldn’t be, and if I were home, like I’m supposed to be, I’d be making this for myself.’ So you just happen to be with me on a day I’m actually cooking. But don’t think you’ll just be sitting around. I’m putting you to work.”
And, boy, did she. He chopped all the vegetables for the salad as she worked on the pasta and chicken. He’d never had much time to learn how to cook, so he rarely did so for himself. Landon and Maya were the chefs of his family, and it was probably best that way.
They worked in silence, the sounds of chicken sizzling and water boiling mixing with the smells of Italian food.
After a while, she spoke. “Okay. In exchange for this lovely and delicious meal, you have to tell me something.”
He chuckled. “I knew you weren’t doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Never.”
“Shoot.”
“The first day I was here, you mentioned something about having my best friend sleep with your tight end to win our rivalry game. Explain.”
Colton sighed. He didn’t want to talk about it because he didn’t even know what to believe. On the other hand, he owed her an explanation, especially if he’d been wrong.
“Isabella and Vinny were together around the time of our rivalry game.”
“Yeah.”
“After Lincoln won, Clark found me on the field. He told me about how Vinny had been talking to her about our plays, and that’s how you guys beat us. I confronted Vinny, and he denied it, but I just thought he was trying to save his skin.”
After a few years had passed, Colton didn’t think too often about what’d happened.
He had only relived the loss of the national title when the Sabers played the Vipers.
But it had replayed more often in his mind when Lucia started working with him.
Where before he’d felt angry and powerless thinking about it, he now only felt tired.
It had been so long ago, and he didn’t care as much, especially now that he’d learned it probably wasn’t true.
Lucia set down the wooden spoon in her hand and turned to face Colton. “I can swear to you on my life that Isa was not interested in your playbook. She was just hooking up with Vinny. I…” She sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Max just said that to piss you off.”
Colton nodded, having realized as much over the past few months. He owed Vinny an apology. “I think so too. But I didn’t realize that until recently. I just believed him, and that fueled my hatred for him, and for you, for years.”
“Well, you guys hated each other long before that game.”
“Yeah, but not like that. I wanted to go to the board about it. I had never been so mad. We were supposed to make playoffs that year too.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Colton. I really am.”
“I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that I was so sure of how good we were that I believed him, or the knowledge that you guys won because you were better.”
She resumed stirring the pasta as it started to boil over the pot. “I know this might not be the right thing to say, but who cares? You won the championship last season. He has yet to do that. And if we’re being honest, you’re a far better quarterback than him.”