Chapter Twenty-Five
Emily
“I felt like a fraud,” I admitted with a sigh, referencing the podcast Claire had arranged for me to be a guest on.
I stacked a piece of cheese and salami onto a cracker before taking a nibble.
Even though I had slight use of my right arm and hand now, it was still a difficult task to manage with mostly my non-dominant one.
“They should have asked someone else to do it after…”
I didn’t finish the sentence, just gestured with a wide wave of my hand once I’d popped the rest of the cracker into my mouth.
The truth was, I’d walked into that studio determined to prove I still belonged. I had my chin up, shoulders back, smile locked in place like it was game day. And I’d performed.
The hosts had been warm. They’d laughed at all the right moments, nodded along like everything I said mattered. And for a second, sitting there under the bright lights with a large mic in front of me, I’d almost believed it, too.
Like I was still her. Still that girl they’d picked.
But every question about the team, about performing, about being on the field had twisted something sharp in my chest. I’d answered anyway. Smiled anyway. Played the part like I always did.
And maybe that was the problem.
I played the part, but I didn’t quite believe it myself.
“Don’t say that,” Darcy pleaded, her big doe eyes all soft and hurt. “You’re just as much a member of this squad as you were that last day of auditions when they called your name.”
“More so,” Marcus chimed in. “And you haven’t missed a single practice or game or community event — even with your arm in a cast.”
I shrugged, swiping my glass of wine off the table and taking a sip.
What I really wanted was an edible, but I was trying to lay off cannabis for the rest of the season.
Even though it was legal in Washington, I’d signed a contract that said I wouldn’t partake while I was a part of the Seahawks organization.
And now that I breaking one rule, I figured it was probably best not to add to it.
Then again, I likely would have — if this was the me before I’d met Braden. I’d smoked a few times since we started hooking up. But now, my brain was in overdrive, pestering me to be careful.
That sweet, caring, rule-following hunk was rubbing off on me.
“I don’t know. I just… I answered every question honestly and proudly. I smiled and laughed and played it off. But it felt a little disingenuous to be representing the team when I’m not even actively participating.”
It was the perfect night to stay in and hang with Darcy and Marcus — cold and rainy and we all needed a break. The Seahawks were playing in Los Angeles, and none of us had been asked to attend this game. It also meant Braden and whoever Marcus was fooling around with were out of town.
And so, we made the most of our free night. Marcus whipped up the most magical charcuterie board spread that was straight out of a Pinterest board dream, and Darcy splurged on two fancy bottles of wine. I, being useless at the present moment, just brought the vibes.
Except I was doing a shit job at that currently with my Debbie Downer mood.
“I will say, one good thing about the podcast is that it got me a free ride to next week’s away game. Apparently, the hosts were glowing in their post-recording check-in with Claire, so now she’s sending me for media in Minneapolis.”
“I’m sure you were amazing,” Darcy said. “Can you tell us anything about the pod? Anything they asked about?”
“It was a lot of the usual stuff — what’s it like to be around the players all the time, how often do we practice, how do they decide who’s in the calendar.
But there were some good questions, too — like how we train and take care of our bodies, what it means for women empowerment.
” I gave Marcus a pointed look. “Don’t worry, I talked about how important men in cheer are, too. ”
“My girl,” he said with a nod of approval as he tipped a handful of cashews in his mouth.
“It was good,” I said with another lift of my shoulders. “I doubt it’ll get much airtime — cheer gets the short end of the stick in women’s sports, as we all know. But I’m glad I did it. They asked about our pay, too, and you both know I have plenty to say about that.”
Marcus whistled. “Careful. Claire will have your ass if you said anything even remotely negative.”
“It wasn’t negative. It was true,” I defended. “And if she, or anyone else in the organization, is embarrassed by what they pay us? Well, they should be — and that’s on them for choosing to do so, not on me for choosing to be honest when asked about it.”
Darcy tilted her wine glass toward me. “You are such a badass. I hope to be half as fearless as you one day.”
“And I hope to be even a tenth as sweet as you.”
We cheersed, tilting the glasses to our lips.
“Speaking of being fearless… any update on Boss?” Darcy pried with a smirk.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I hedged, but it was with a wicked grin of my own.
“Oh, please. Darc and I are not nai?ve enough to think you left that man alone — contract or no contract.”
“And what makes you so sure?” I defended.
“It sure as hell didn’t stop me.”
Darcy and I laughed at that. “Okay well you first, then,” I said. “Tell us who he is.”
Marcus’s mouth slanted, and he sat back into the couch with a long sigh. “I would, but this is about more than just a silly no fraternization clause. I don’t want to lose my position on the squad, but truth be told… I would. For him.”
Darcy melted into a ball of goop. “Oh my gosh, that is so romantic.”
“If you like a tortured sort of romance, I suppose,” Marcus said, tracing the rim of his glass.
“It’s so much more complicated than just being together for us.
There’s the contract, sure. I’d probably lose my spot.
He’d likely just get a slap on the wrist. But…
we’re talking about a pro football player admitting to the entire world that he’s gay. That’s a big—”
He cut himself off, like even saying it out loud felt heavier than he expected.
“Thing,” Darcy finished softly.
Marcus nodded, eyes dropping to his drink. “Yeah. A big thing.”
Silence settled over us for a beat, and I reached for his hand, squeezing it to let him know we were there.
“It shouldn’t be,” he added quietly. “But it is.”
It killed me, watching the way his shoulders had tightened, like he was bracing for an inevitable car crash.
“Football is not exactly the most forgiving environment,” he said, huffing a sad laugh.
“Not when it comes to stuff like this. I mean… I dance on the sidelines every Sunday in front of thousands of people, and somehow, I’m still treated like I exist adjacent to the game, not inside it.
I’m visible, sure. The League can point to me when they want to talk about inclusion.
But in the locker room? In the culture? It’s still very much one way of being.
One kind of man. And anything outside of that gets… handled.”
Darcy’s grip on his arm tightened.
“Sure, we can call it a win that they made me the first openly gay cheerleader in the calendar,” he went on.
“The League can put out all the statements it wants, teams can run their campaigns, fans can wave rainbow flags in solidarity, but when it comes down to it?” He glanced between us, a raw vulnerability in his eyes.
“You’re still the first. Or the only. Or even if you’re neither of those things, you’re a headline.
” Darcy hopped up from where she’d been sitting cross-legged on the floor and took up the seat next to Marcus, threading her arm through his and laying her head on his shoulder.
“It would change everything for him,” Marcus went on. “How his teammates look at him. Whether they trust him in the locker room. What jokes get said when he’s not around. What sponsors decide he’s suddenly too risky. What fans decide he doesn’t belong anymore.”
My chest tightened. “Fuck them. Fuck anyone who feels that way.”
“It’s easy to say that when it’s not you in the crossfire.”
I nodded, understanding even though I hated it.
“So yeah,” Marcus said, squeezing my hand and leaning his head against Darcy’s. “It’s more than just sneaking around and hoping we don’t get caught. It’s… deciding if we’re ready to blow up both of our lives just to be honest about it.”
“That’s not a small thing,” Darcy said softly.
“No,” Marcus agreed. “It’s not.”
He glanced between us, something hopeful returning to his expression.
“But he’s worth it,” he said, almost like a confession. “I’m willing to keep things quiet and take our time. For now. Until we’re both ready.”
“Thanks for sharing that with us,” I said. “And for trusting us with it. We’re here.”
“Always,” Darcy echoed.
“Love you both.” He kissed Darcy’s head and then turned to me with an arched brow. “And now, you can repay me by spilling all the dirt about Braden Lock.”
I barked out a laugh, picking my wine back up.
“Okay, that’s a fair trade — but this has to all stay here,” I said, making sure I connected eyes with both of them.
“I mean it. We agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone, and if this leaks, it’s…
well, it’s like you said, Marcus. I could lose my spot on the team, which would suck but wouldn’t be the end of the world, but he…
he can’t lose his contract. He can’t have any negative press.
” I swallowed, thinking of his sister, his family. “There’s too much at stake.”
Darcy blinked, her eyes wide with horror. “Okay, now you have to explain what the hell that means!”
I reached for another piece of cheese and an olive before I launched into my story, telling them about Braden, his family, how we’d had instant chemistry but he’d fought it so hard.
I told them about the time he almost broke, about how he was there for me after the accident, and finally, about how we’d both given in.