25. Ivy
My life felt like a dream. It was almost too good to be true. Esme and I attended girls’ night with Callum and his friends, who were amazing. I felt like I’d known those girls longer than a few weeks. Esme even loved them, and she was just as much of an introvert as me.
Then came the I love yous. I’d never imagined hearing those words and saying them back would give me so much joy. Every time I said it, Callum would get this smile, this little giggle on his face, and I wanted to keep it. I made him happy, and it was evident.
Fact: your body reacts when you’re around someone you love. He was always my safe person, but now he was more than that, and it felt… amazing.
“You’re grinning like an idiot. An idiot in love and I kind of dig it.” Esme nudged my shoulder with a sly smirk. “I never thought I’d say this, but Callum has been good for you. He’s brought you out of your shell, and you’re smiling more. I never thought I’d forgive him for making you sad the last three years, but the way he is around you—” she kissed her hands “—chef’s kiss, Ivy. Not that you needed mine or my brother’s approval, but you have it.”
“What brought this on?” I smoothed down my polo and adjusted my hair. We had a big game against Michigan today, and my butterflies had butterflies. I was excited for Callum and for me. Henry said one of the trainers from Chicago would attend not only as a former alumnus of the school but to chat with me.
The interview was Monday, and the conversation was today, Saturday. How is this my real life?
“You going to party with Callum after the game? If not, my brother and I are going to head to my cousin’s place near the hockey house. You guys can totally attend, but you might want to celebrate alone.” She wiggled her brows and hit my hip. “You’re glowing right now. You look so happy.”
“Don’t make me blush.” I shoved her hand away and cleared my throat. “Callum didn’t mention any plans, but I’m happy to spend time with you.”
He might want to hang with his teammates. They were super close and often did guys-only nights, which I thought were great. Team dynamics were essential, and he did such a good job uniting them all.
“Figure out what your man is doing, then let me know. Oh, wait.” Esme pulled out her phone and grinned. “Mack and I hit it off, and she texted that the girls are going to the football house, and I’m invited.”
“Esme.” I squeezed her wrist. “I love that. Yes. Let’s go to the football house.”
“I love keeping my circle close, but it’s also been fun making new friends. Is that dorky?”
“No. I know what you mean.” I exhaled, and my chest about burst with love and appreciation. “I’m not used to trusting or letting people in that much, but since Callum returned to my life, there are all these people.”
“I can almost hear the disbelief in your voice.” She cupped my face, her dark eyes narrowing as she squeezed my cheeks. “Do not for one second doubt what’s happening. You are a beautiful pessimist sometimes, and this is not the time to let that come out. We’re both getting new friends, which is awesome, and you’ve fallen in love with someone special. Now, get to your internship and impress the dude from Chicago.”
“Mr. Allpress.” I shivered. “He’s one of the head trainers and runs the internship program. He graduated here fifteen years ago, and his dad was an athletic trainer for a team out east.”
“Don’t recite stats for him though when you meet him, okay?”
“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed my keys. “Are you coming to the game?”
“Yes. Me and Enrique are. We got good seats!”
“You even know how to cheer for football?”
“No, but dudes are in tight pants, and we’ll root for you.” She laughed and shoved me out the door. “Go be a badass.”
I waved and made my way toward the stadium. The air was charged. Something vibrated with energy, like there was gonna be a storm tonight. The feeling unnerved me, like there’d be a full moon or some cycle was off. Sports were highly superstitious, and even a slight change of routine could set off the mental resilience of a player.
Despite not being an athlete, I followed the same path toward the offices. I stepped on the same tiles I always did, following a pattern that had garnered success in previous home games. Even being two hours early, the stadium buzzed with what-ifs.
What if tonight was the night we broke a record? Or the moment Romano solidified his path to getting drafted round one?
The potentials were amazing.
“Looking serious today, Emerson.” Princeton Charming walked up to me with a high five and a big grin. I slapped his hand.
“You rest that arm all week?”
“Nah, I mean, I took care of it, but I didn’t rest. Don’t even understand the word.”
“Stretch it well and take care of yourself. Injuries this part of the season would be brutal.”
“I know. You’ve been on my ass all season, Emerson.” He held a fist, and I hit it, but the movement was off, and I tripped. “Shit, you alright?”
He gripped my forearms and righted me.
My ankle throbbed hard, and I did my best not to wince. “Yeah, totally okay.”
“Ivy.” His voice changed as his fingers moved from my bicep to my forearm. They outlined my scar, and he sucked in a breath. “What—this is wicked. What happened?”
It was silly. It was a normal question. But my face heated. This felt intimate even though it wasn’t. The concern on his face was evident as he dragged his finger over the bump once, then twice. Insecurities blasted through me knowing he saw the scar.
“It’s an old injury from childhood.” I pulled my arm against my chest, shame clouding my vision. I’d done nothing wrong, but Princeton touching me caused an awareness to go off.
I didn’t want to upset Callum.
“It looks serious. Are you sure you’re alright? Your face is red, and you’re breathing like you’re in pain?”
I shook my head just as goose bumps broke out on the back of my neck. I knew that feeling. Callum. “I’m alright, Charming. Have a good game, yeah?”
Callum woke up in my bed that morning, his sleepy smile greeting me, but when I glanced at him now, his eyes were dark and his face serious. His jaw flexed as he moved his attention from me, to Charming, then back to me.
A dark, angry expression crossed his face before he masked it to nothing. No smirk. No smile. No acknowledgement.
My heart thudded in my throat. It was just a blatant ignoring. My gut soured, and my insides churned. He saw Charming talk to me, touch my arm, and he was pissed. I promised him I was loyal to him, but it could’ve seemed bad if he walked down the hall at that time.
My heart raced as I swallowed a ball of emotion the size of a sock. My eyes prickled as I stared at Callum’s back. He wore his pads, not quite in uniform yet, as he walked with one of the defensive coaches. He glanced at me like I was nothing, and god, that hurt.
All week, he’d smirked or winked at me, but this icy stare hurt my chest. That’s why you never assume things are going well.
Anytime I was happy or feeling like things were going my way, something would happen. It was a terrible mindset to have, and I fought it hard, but the negativity and worry won.
I admitted I loved him, and it terrified me, and the first sign of concern caused me to get dizzy.
Fact: you could be jumping to conclusions.
Fact: you might be nervous because Mr. Allpress is here.
Fact: you might still be worried he’ll ghost you again.
No. I forced my sheer will to push the concern to the side. Mr. Allpress was here today, and I wanted to impress him. That came first. That was three years’ worth of grit and hard work, so nothing like pesky feelings would get in the way of that.
Okay,my gut feeling earlier had been right. Something was in the air because the game was brutal. The guys hit hard and played dirty. Two fights broke out. Two players were ejected from the game, and my heart hadn’t stopped racing. Callum’s defense was top-notch, but after his second sack in the third quarter, the vibe shifted.
“O’Toole is a beast today! Let’s go, boy!”
I clutched the water bottles, ready to squirt into the players’ mouths when needed, but my hands couldn’t move. It seemed like Michigan offense was targeting Callum. He could be a shit talker when prompted, and the rough plays and dirty shoves riled him up.
Loyal to a fault, the second someone on the other team talked smack, he’d retaliate. He was so fucking smart and witty, and no one could keep up with his banter. My heart ached at the unease growing all day.
He’d nodded at me and thanked me with a monotone voice during the first quarter, but that was it.
Not the time.
It was third and two, and we were down by seven. Plenty of game left to make a difference.
Michigan’s quarterback had the ball, dodged left, then right, then smack. Callum tackled him, causing the ball to fumble. Callum picked it up and took off. Holy shit.
He’d scored a few touchdowns in his career, but this was massive. This was on live TV. There had to be tons of NFL scouts at this game between Central State and Michigan. Oh my god.
He’s gonna score.
Abe grabbed my arm as he muttered, “Oh shit. Oh shit. Yes. This is happening!”
“Touchdown, Central State Wolves!”
The sound of the crowd was unreal. Like a pack of howling wolves combined with the force of a tornado. Goose bumps exploded down my body as breath left my lungs. My Callum caused a fumble and scored.
“O’Toole with the sack and touchdown, bringing the game closer.”
I watched as we scored an extra point with the touchdown, unable to function or move, or breathe really, as we tied the game.
“This might be the best moment of my life.” Abe fanned his face and grinned. “Ivy, how are you so fucking calm?”
“I have no idea. I’m not sure I’m breathing.”
“Okay, that tracks.”
The teams switched out, and I scrambled as players needed water. My gaze only sought one person, but he stood down the line, gripping the sides of his pads. Look at me, Callum. Please. Give me this.
Dean came up to him and bear hugged him, then pulled him in a deep conversation. It was selfish of me to want this reassurance from him in the middle of a game. I asked him to be distant and didn’t quantify how much—we could talk about it after. Yeah. That made sense.
For the rest of the quarter, I busied myself with whatever I could to not think about Callum. But then everything changed at the start of the fourth.
Defense was out there, Callum’s calm and efficient demeanor contagious on the field. The play started, the familiar sounds of grunts and pads and cheers. But instead of Callum breaking through, they caught him.
It played out in slow motion, almost like an old-fashioned TV show. Two of Michigan’s O-Line hit Callum right in the chest. He flew back, his head snapping as he landed with a dull thud.
I gasped and dropped the water bottles. My feet were wet, I thought, but wasn’t sure. The oxygen left my lungs as a second player landed on top of Callum’s leg. Oh no.
“What the fuck?”
“This is bullshit!”
“Get off him, what the fuck!”
Fact: a panic attack can feel like you’re dying.
My pulse roared in my ears like a train as sweat beaded my entire brow. Callum wasn’t moving. Flashes of blue and orange blurred in my vision. Henry was on the field, I thought. Maybe Abe. The guys on our team yelled, each voice distorting in my mind.
Callum had to be okay. I loved him. We were together. He has to be okay. I had to get to him. I could push my way through the crowd, even though my strength wasn’t the same. I could help him. Make sure was okay. But I was frozen to the ground, unable to fucking move. He had to be. I refused to believe any other outcome.
Their coach yelled and threw his headset on the ground, pointing his fingers across the field. Spit flew out of his mouth.
I was a narrator of my own life, a total out-of-body experience. The guys on the sidelines roared insults at Michigan as the intention of the other team was clear: take no mercy.
My heart stopped beating until Callum lifted his head. If he didn’t get up, I had no idea what I’d do. Not breathe again? I stood frozen in time, rooted to the field in utter agony. I clutched my stomach, terrified of even breathing. I had to get to him. Fuck this job. I lunged forward, but Luca held out an arm to stop me.
“He’ll be okay.” Luca stood next to me, his face grim with his signature glare. “That dude has enough pettiness that he’ll get up just to talk shit to the other team.”
“He’s not moving.” I sniffed, tears falling down against my will. My throat felt like I’d swallowed shards of glass. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. He has to be okay.
Oh my god, he has to be okay.
“He’s not moving.”
“He is. See?” Luca pointed and leaned closer to me. “He’s hitting his left fist on the ground over and over. He’s pissed.”
Oh thank god. Callum wasn’t knocked out cold then. But he still wasn’t getting up. I sucked in air, choking like I’d swallowed a gallon of water, and Luca frowned at me. “Hold it together, Emerson.”
“Sorry, I can’t… this is…”
“We all love that idiot. I get it.”
Never thought in a million years that Luca Monroe would help ease my stress after watching my boyfriend take a hit. I snorted, but my tears fell harder. “He’ll be okay.”
“Yes, he will. He’s getting up! That’s it, O’Toole!” Luca cupped his mouth and kept shouting.
Callum gripped Henry’s shoulder with one arm, his other holding his helmet as he stared at the ground. He lifted the helmet, and everyone screamed loud. It was a collective cheer of relief, and when Callum’s gaze landed on me, he nodded.
I’m okay.
I closed my eyes and swayed, causing Luca to right me. “Thanks.”
Henry, Callum, and two other guys who worked with Henry walked Callum off the field, and it was like he took my heart with him. He seemed so defeated. The way his brows cinched together and his eyes had lost their spark.
It gutted me. A fresh wave of tears fell down my face, and I wiped them. I never wanted to see that sad look. Callum was created to smile and make jokes, so to see the opposite worried me.
Luca jutted his chin toward the tunnel. “He’s gonna need you.”
Are you sure?
I didn’t get a chance to ask though. Luca ran back out on the field, and it was pure pandemonium. Our team was fired up and ready for revenge. Michigan underestimated the connection these guys had and how much Callum mattered to them. If we were playing rough before, it was nothing like now.
Every second away from visiting Callum felt like an hour. Was he upset? Hurting? Freaking out?
Did he wish I was there, was he let down I couldn’t be?
I was choosing my internship over him, and fuck, that sucked. That wasn’t the right choice, and my stomach churned. I could sneak down there, check on him? But how could I explain that to Henry? If anyone else on the team was hurt, I’d remain on the field.
I chewed the hell out of my hangnail to the point it bled by the time the game ended. The retaliation post-Callum was incredible. We scored three more times and obliterated any chance they had at getting near the goal.
Each heartbeat had me questioning my choice of not being with him. He could be upset with me, and I’d understand. I hoped we had enough trust and love built up that he understood and would forgive, and after this, I’d never put him second.
I made my way back toward the training rooms, my ears straining for any sound array. With a typical injury, the guys were to stay on premises to see Henry before going to the hospital if it required more care.
It felt surreal, walking toward the recovery room to see Callum propped on the table. His right knee was bent up, but his left leg was straight and bent at a terrible angle. My throat tightened. My gut said this was a severe fracture, which would be twelve weeks before mobility and six months to get back to normal.
Six months.
His jaw flexed as he stared at a wall, and he looked so damn sad. I wanted to crawl over him and comfort him, to tell him inside jokes just to see his smile for a second.
I swallowed as I tapped on the window. He didn’t glance at me and didn’t even react to me. After glancing down the hallway, no one was near us as I walked in the room. I was shocked he couldn’t hear me just by the beat of my heart. “Are you okay?”
He whipped his arm off his face and glanced at the window, then me. His eyes widened, and he barked, “Get out of here.”
“Callum.” I stumbled back, the sharpness to his words hitting me in the chest. His tone was so unlike him, so harsh. “Your ankle.”
His eyes widened. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I had to make sure you’re okay. I couldn’t…” My voice wobbled as Callum’s mom walked in with Henry.
“Callie, oh honey.” Mrs. O’Toole ran toward her son and pulled him into a hug. He closed his eyes and sighed, but when he opened them, he narrowed them at me. “What do you need? What are they saying?”
“Tell Ivy to leave.”
“Ivy? Ivy Lee?’” She spun, and her face twisted from joy to worry. “It’s good to see you, honey. I have questions, but I need to respect my son. He wants you to leave.”
My mouth hung open, questions firing off one after another, but I remained quiet. Heartbroken. Why was he doing this? Didn’t he realize my soul almost left my body when he was hurt?
“Oh.” I took a step back and hit the wall, flinching at the pain. I rubbed my elbow as my face flushed. This was horrible. Gut-wrenching. My eyes filled as Henry strutted in.
“Emerson, Allpress is waiting for you in my office. Once you’re done chatting, can you take lead with the interns? We need basic ice and tape. The guys are riled up, so it’ll take some power. You up for it?”
I nodded, finding a steel rod for a spine. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Good.” His expression softened. “Hey, I know you and O’Toole are childhood friends, but something to learn about players. When people get injured, it changes them for a little. Don’t take it personally, alright?”
“Yes, sir.”
I would know. My injury altered me. He had to be hurting so badly right now. He had to be pissed and upset, his career possibly ending because of it. And even though he swore he didn’t want to play in the NFL, making that choice yourself was different than being forced out.
With my throat tight and my eyes on the verge of tears, I gave myself ten seconds to feel pity. He needed time, probably, to grieve and figure out what that meant to him.
I didn’t know what this meant between Callum and me. I hated that I gave my heart to him, and he just… broke that trust. Yes, I wasn’t going to run up and hug him, but he could’ve talked to me. Told me what was going through his head. But to have his mom make me leave?
Fuck.
Enough.
I’d go talk to Mr. Allpress and focus on my future. It was what I had done the last three years and what I’d continue to do. I just had to get it together. I knew I was easy to leave. My parents had shown me that, and Callum had shown me that. As Esme once said, as long as I liked and took care of myself, that was the only person I could count on.
So that was what I’d do. Even if my heart was breaking more and more by the second.