Chapter 15
“Hi, Mom.” I smile as I answer the phone.
I’ve been missing my parents a lot lately, and haven’t seen them since last Christmas when everything was going to shit.
“Hi, honey. How’d your move go?” My mother is fiery and straight forward, but she’s also soothing and so wise.
“I’m still getting some furniture delivered, but aside from that everything has been really smooth. It’s nice having my own place.”
“Well, you know we worry about you living on your own.”
“I have pepper spray and a mean right hook.”
“Ay Dios mío, Demetria,” she says with a soft sigh.
I can hear my dad in the background.
“What’s Dad up to?”
“Oh, your father.” She hums. “He’s doing okay, stubborn as ever still.”
My parents have been married for decades. She’s lively and he’s the one grumbling in the corner as she’s salsa dancing in the middle of a restaurant, but he never shies away from telling someone she’s his wife.
Telling them I was getting a divorce was probably one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to do. I’d expected them—specifically my mom—to talk me into staying. To see if we could work it out. Or even to tell me that maybe I should change my mind on certain things and give Brandon what he wanted.
But she didn’t.
She told me I could come home if I needed to. She asked what I wanted to do and if I wanted to stay with him. When I told her I had no intention of staying married to him, she smiled on FaceTime and simply said okay.
Truthfully, moving back to Arizona where I grew up was appealing. The weather, being close to my parents again, the amazing food, and close proximity to mountains if I was feeling athletic and wanted to take a hike, were all things that briefly—very briefly—crossed my mind.
“But he’s doing good. I’m making some empanadas, and he’s in the other room watching a show.”
“Tell him hi.” I smile to myself.
“Oh, I meant to tell you, I saw MJ’s mother at the grocery store the other day. I think she’s going to be moving back to Phoenix. A bad breakup, apparently. You should text her. You two were so close growing up.”
MJ was my childhood friend. We were close as kids until her family moved, causing her school district to change and we kind of lost touch.
“Hmm, maybe I will.”
“It’s been so long…you should make sure she’s okay.”
My lips pucker as I breathe out. “Yeah, I’ll see if I still have her number,” I say, staring out my sliding glass door. The view here is so calming, even being downtown.
“Your empanadas sound so good right now.” I groan, missing my mom’s cooking. My abuela too. Between the two of them, I hit the jackpot in the food department.
She lightly chuckles into the phone.
“The offer to come back here for a while still stands, although I know you did just sign a lease.”
My lease is for six months. I wanted to give myself the freedom to choose after this football season. Do I want to stay in the city? Buy a house somewhere else? Plus, if I get this promotion I’ve been eyeing, that means I can stay here if I want to or move. The choice is mine.
Mine. And that’s what I focus on.
“Yeah, I did,” I say.
“Well, honey, I’ll let you go, I just wanted to check in. I know you’re very busy keeping those athletes in check.” She sighs, and I laugh.
“I love you,” I say, smiling.
My mom is my best friend—she has been for years. I didn’t have a ton of girlfriends growing up. MJ was it for a lot of my childhood, then came high school where I met Brianna.
Bri and I clicked immediately our freshman year in English Honors. One of the guys tried to pull a “name five players” on her when she mentioned being a hockey fan and she rattled off over two dozen with a few years of Stanley Cup winners included.
It was at that moment I knew I found my person. For four years we were inseparable. I know people talk about soulmates as a romantic partner usually, but I’m pretty convinced my best friend was mine.
The sound of Walt breaks up the silence after I end the call.
I still find it hilarious Liam named the random bird that bangs on the building.
I peek my head toward the window, trying to see if I can get a glimpse of him, but I’m distracted when I notice a hand on the railing of the balcony beside me.
The curve of my balcony doesn’t allow viewers—I asked Marcus before I signed—but I didn’t think to ask if I could see anyone else’s balcony from my window.
I recognize the hand right away from the gold ring on his pinky finger.
It’s Liam. He moves closer to the railing, his abdomen right up against it, and I avert my eyes away.
It feels invasive looking at him shirtless standing on his own balcony.
I’d hate it if someone were staring at me like that.
I have to give him the same courtesy I’d want, right?
Sometimes I wish I hadn’t met Liam the way we did when I first started here.
I enjoy working with him, but my first impression of him was as a kind, stupidly handsome stranger at the charity dinner who made me laugh.
I often wish I would’ve met him the same way I met the rest of the offense.
In a conference room as they were scarfing down food. I really think that would’ve helped.
Because Liam’s a playboy. He’s the league’s hotshot who gets pretty much whatever he asks for in terms of perks and royalty. But knowing he’s also kind and caring is really a pain in my ass.
My eyes betray me as they lift back to the window, and I watch him stand oddly still. Like statue-type still, actually, and it’s freaking me out a little. I almost want to tap the window to see if he moves like he’s in some kind of zoo enclosure and I’m the child on the other side of the glass.
But I notice his breathing. And then he digs his fingers into his eyes before shaking his head.
I wish I could see his face clearer. He runs a hand through his hair roughly, it makes me concerned he actually yanked some out.
His body language doesn’t say mad, though.
I feel my body relax as I stare at him. He inhales before his head dips and his elbows hit the rail, holding him up.
Pain stings at my chest—is he crying? The shake of his shoulders seems to answer my internal question, and right then and there my heart breaks for the hotshot quarterback, who appears to have it all, but it’s so clear he’s struggling too.
And it makes me feel like absolute fucking garbage thinking of our coffee outing, where I was less than compassionate in assuming he lived a perfect life.
But it’s inappropriate to be staring at him, especially in this private moment, so I pull myself away from the window and drag myself to the kitchen. On the counter is a basket of muffins from Marcus—a welcome home gift—and I take the biggest bite from a chocolate chip one.
Seeing Liam in that moment, however brief it may have been, made him seem a little more human.
He almost seems too good to be true usually, but emotions like that looked real and raw.
While I don’t know exactly what he was upset about, maybe I needed to see it.
Maybe just to remind me that we’re all going through something.
The sidelines are filled with rookies this evening, second and third string players all trying to secure their spot on the roster.
Liam isn’t in uniform, he’s wearing a pair of athletic shorts, a hat, and a long sleeve dry fit shirt with the Knights logo.
Similar to the other starters who are also sitting back tonight.
Fans pile into the stadium, although it’s less than a regular season game—much less.
But the smaller crowd still brings as much energy as possible to preseason.
It’s a good chance to see what the new rookies have to offer, and it’s definitely a time that helps the coaches see what everyone brings to the table.
I watch as Liam lingers on the bench with the other quarterbacks, he’s got his hand on one of their shoulders, and I assume that’s the guy who is going to start the game in seven minutes.
It looks like he’s giving him a pep talk of sorts, and I stare harder than I should at his body language.
He’s encouraging, even without hearing a word he’s saying I can tell in his mannerisms. He taps the rookie’s shoulder, smiles at him, and claps the moment he begins to back away.
It’s so clear he wants everyone to do well, he’s not at all threatened by someone else coming in and competing for his job and it’s—against the part of my brain that knows better—hot.
This first half is flying by when I somehow hear my name through the crowd.
“Demi!” I’m standing close to the tunnel watching the game when I look in the direction it came from, I see Abby, Ford’s wife, waving to me from the stands.
Her field access badge swings from her neck under her long brown hair, and I wave back.
“Hi, why aren’t you down here?” I shout, and she leans closer to me as the sounds of the game nearly muffle her voice.
“I was down there earlier. I almost didn’t come at all since Ford isn’t playing, but I didn’t want to sit at home alone.”
“No Summer or Mia tonight?”
Abby tilts her head sweetly, smiling with her pretty green eyes. “Kids,” she says. “They’re with the kids and don’t usually go through the trouble of finding sitters for preseason.”
I nod. “Well, you’re welcome to come down here if you’d like.” I shrug, pointing to her pass. I’ve never actually hung out with her, but she’s always so kind whenever she sees me.
Within a few minutes Abby is tiptoeing toward me. Her slender frame is swallowed by one of Ford’s jersey’s that she’s wearing like a dress with a pair of Converse.
“You’re allowed to be here,” I say, giggling at her attempt to be stealth.
“I know. This handy thing grants me all kinds of access.” She points to her pass and smiles. “I’m just never down here during the game, but it’s kind of cool.” She wiggles her shoulders and then yells with the rest of the fans to make noise on a third down.
“How have you been?” I ask when things calm down.
“Good, you know, gearing up for Ford’s busy time of year, but I know this doesn’t last forever, so soaking it in. How about you?”
I nod. She’s so right. “Good too. Finally settled into the new place.”
“Oh, you moved?” She raises her voice to speak over her own clapping.
“Yeah…” My reply is hesitant, I’m a little surprised she doesn’t know. “I actually just moved into Liam’s building.” I sigh. “Right next door, to be exact.”
“Oh my god, you’re kidding.” There’s genuine surprise on her features and there’s no way she could be faking this reaction. “Bet he loves that.” She smiles. “But it’s a great place. I’ve always loved his apartment.”
“Kind of shocked he didn’t tell the guys, considering I’m pretty sure he’s pulling some strings to have me live there.” I know there’s a hint of sarcasm in my reply and I quickly adjust my face to make sure I don’t look as snappy as I just came off.
But Abby doesn’t seem to notice—or care if she does—and just grins at me as the two-minute warning for halftime stops the game.
“Liam’s not really in the business of sharing other people’s business…even if he probably wishes he could run through the halls screaming that you’re his neighbor.”
My head turns from our conversation over to the sidelines, but Liam is already walking toward us to head into the tunnel for halftime, and I need to do a quick interview with Coach Aarons before he heads into the locker room.
Every time I learn something new about who Liam truly is, it makes my soft spot for him grow, and I haven’t figured out if that’s a good thing yet or a bad one.