Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Reid
She’s not here. I’ve asked her every day since the day we had lunch together if she would come, and every single time, she told me that it’s not a good idea.
It wasn’t a no, so I kept asking. I’m trying hard not to be salty about it.
I understand where she’s coming from. I genuinely do, but how am I going to prove to her that I’m not her father if she doesn’t let me?
And dammit, I wanted her here today. I wanted her to get to know my friends.
I know the girls have been texting her, and they’re planning on getting together while we’re away at training camp.
I’m glad she’s going to be hanging out with them.
I’m also man enough to admit that I’m jealous as hell that they get time with her.
“What’s going on?” Foster asks. He takes the lounger next to mine, stretching out his legs.
“Just taking it all in,” I tell him.
“You’re sitting over here in the corner all by yourself, moping.” He’s not pulling any punches, calling me out on my shit.
“I tried to get her to come today, but she refused.” There’s no need for me to elaborate about who I’m talking about. They all know I could only be talking about my dream girl.
“Ah.” Foster nods. “You’re really into this girl, huh?” he asks.
I laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Foster doesn’t speak for a long time. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable as we watch Knox, Corie, Rowan, and Landry play a game of chicken in the pool.
Sloane is the self-appointed referee, while Baker has Camden in a floaty, tugging him around the shallow end.
Camden’s laugh has my lips tilting in a grin.
I love that little dude something fierce.
“If you want her, you have to keep trying,” Foster says, breaking the lull of silence. “You have to keep showing up.”
“You sound like you know something about that?” I ask.
There’s something from his past, something he holds tightly to his chest. We don’t pressure him about it.
He knows that we’re here for him when he’s ready to talk about her.
Because sometimes there’s this pain in his eyes, and it could only be caused by a woman.
Ironically, I’m placing some of that pressure on Bellamy.
Not because I’m an asshole, but because I know my dream girl, and I want to help her over this fear of getting too close to an athlete.
I’m not that man. I have my work cut out for me, and that’s fine.
Hard work got me where I am today, and what is it that they say? Nothing worth having comes easy?
“Maybe,” he says, not really committing. “What I do know is that if you don’t keep trying, if you don’t know that you’ve exhausted every effort to fix whatever this is between you, then you’ll live with that regret for the rest of your life.”
“Who is she?” I ask him. It’s a ballsy move on my part, but if he’s going to offer his words of wisdom, I should know if he truly understands.
“She’s in the past, but I have those regrets, Reid. I didn’t fight hard enough, and that’s something I have to live with. I don’t want that for you.”
“I’m not giving up on her. She’s different, you know?
She sees me, but this is a first: a woman refusing time with me because of my career.
She doesn’t care about fame or my bank account.
And I crave her company,” I tell him. It’s more than that.
I crave the feeling of her soft skin against mine, the taste of her on my tongue, and the feeling of her wrapped tightly around my cock.
I miss the conversation, the laughter. Fuck me, I just miss her.
She’s the entire package, and I’ll be damned if I let her slip through my fingers.
“Maybe it’s not too late for you,” I tell him. “Maybe you didn’t fight hard enough then, but you can now.”
“Nah, my time has long since passed.”
“But you want her?”
“With every breath I take,” he says. He clears his throat and stands.
He’s said too much, gotten too close to his past, and he’s running from it.
“Don’t stop fighting, Reid. Trust me on this one.
” He nods, as if his words are the final say in my life, and walks away.
He settles on the edge of the pool and starts talking to Baker as he pushes a still-laughing Camden around in his floating baby innertube.
I watch everyone for a while, but the ache of her not being here is too much. I need to hear her voice. Grabbing my phone, I dial her number and place it to my ear.
“Hello?” she asks, sounding weak.
“What’s wrong?” I’m immediately on alert.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Bellamy.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just ate some bad food. I had leftover Chinese for lunch, and it’s not agreeing with me. I think it might have been bad.”
“Do we need to take you to the hospital to be checked out?”
“Reid, I’m fine. I’m just feeling blah, so I’m holding down the couch, watching trash TV.”
“Do you need anything?”
“I’m good,” she assures me.
“Now, I feel like a dick.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m sitting here at Landry’s place for the cookout, moping because I wanted you here with me today, and now I find out you’re sick.”
“Just a little blah. I’m fine, and you’re not a dick. I kind of wish you were a dick. That would make my life easier,” she says.
“How so?” I ask her, ignoring everything around me and focusing on our conversation.
“Contrary to what you might think, I don’t hate you, Reid. I hate your job. I hate your connection to the game and my father. I hate that you’re the first man to make me feel anything, and I can’t have you.”
“You can have me,” I tell her. “I’m right here waiting for you.”
“I can’t have you. It was hell, the way he walked away. I can’t risk that happening.”
“That’s him. Not the job,” I remind her.
“It’s the same to me. I know that might sound irrational, but I don’t know any other way to feel about it. I’m sorry, Reid.”
“Let me show you,” I tell her. “I’ll show you that you come first.”
“We barely know each other. It’s hard for me to believe that you’re all in after one night.”
“One incredible life-changing night, Bell.”
“I should let you go. You’re with your friends.”
“I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. No, that’s not true. I’d rather be holding you while you’re sick, but talking to you will have to do. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure,” she replies, her tone soft.
“Will you call me if you need anything or if you start to feel worse?”
“Probably not,” she admits. “You’re busy, and I’m just going to lie here and watch mindless TV, then go to bed. I’m not going to bother you when you’re busy.”
“Please?” There it is again, me begging for more from her. There’s a knot in my gut thinking about her sitting in her house all alone when she might need me.
“Fine,” she concedes, but we both know she’s lying. She’s agreeing to humor me.
“I’ll call you in a little while to check on you. Will you answer?” I ask her.
There’s a long, silent pause. “Yeah,” she finally says. “I’ll answer.”
“Get some rest.”
“Okay.” There’s a slight pause, and it feels as if she wants to say more.
“Thank you for wanting to check on me. Bye, Reid,” she says, and the line goes dead.
She ends the call, not giving me a chance to rejoice in the fact that I feel her thawing.
She wants this, wants us, and slowly, I’m scaling those walls.
It’s a good thing, because this was starting to shape up to be one of those “you hang up, no, you hang up” teenage situations.
I didn’t want to end our call, but she’s not feeling well, and hanging on the phone with me is the last thing she wants to do.
Standing, I shove my phone into my pocket and join my friends. Foster’s right—I’m moping, and that’s not me. I’m not that guy. I sit next to Sloane on the edge of the pool, and help her ref the game of chicken, which is more laughter and ribbing each other than actual game play.
“You doing okay?” Sloane asks.
“Yeah.”
“She still avoiding you?”
“She had lunch with me earlier this week, but I pretty much begged her to come with me today, and she turned me down.”
“She’s scared, Reid. She wants you, but it goes against everything she ever claimed she would steer away from. It’s going to take her some time to adjust to that.”
“I know, and I’m going to be here when she figures it out. I wanted her here. I just talked to her, and she’s not feeling well. So now, I feel like an ass.”
“Then go to her.”
“I don’t know where she lives. I can’t go there, and I can’t ask her to meet me when she’s not feeling well.”
“Okay, watch them.” She points to where Rowan and Corie are still going at it, trying to knock the other off their husbands’ shoulders. Sloane pulls out her phone, taps at the screen before placing it to her ear. “Amanda, hey, it’s Sloane, how are you?” she asks.
My head whips around to stare at her. Sloane rolls her eyes and points to our friends, telling me I’m not doing my job. Turning back, I stare at our friends, but all of my attention is on Sloane and the conversation she’s having. Amanda, that has to be Bellamy’s best friend, Amanda, right?
“Hey, so I need some advice,” Sloane says.
She pauses. “We’re all at Landry and Rowan’s place for a cookout before the guys have to live, eat, and breathe training camp.
Anyway, Reid’s bumming that Bellamy wouldn’t come.
He called her, and she’s not feeling well.
He wants to go check on her, but he doesn’t know where she lives. ”
Another long pause. “He cares about her, and honestly, he’s stressing out about training camp.
He’s not going to be able to pursue her like he would like, and he’s worried about losing any momentum that he might be making,” Sloane says, reading me like a damn book.
She listens again, then nods. “Sure, hold on.” She hands the phone to me. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Hello?” I ask, my hands suddenly sweaty as I grip the phone.
“What are your intentions with my best friend?” Amanda asks.