10. Noah
noah
. . .
T he water from the shower turns cold in no time. It’s karma and not the shitty water system the practice facility has. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. Over the past few weeks, I haven’t been a good boyfriend, fiancé, teammate or much of anything. I let my own thoughts get in the way of what really matters, playing football and marrying Peyton. Stupidly, I let something out of her control dictate my feelings, and I took it out on her, making sure to avoid her as much as possible. Not because I’m mad at her, because I’m not. What the Rams did to her is inexcusable. I’m pissed because they used her to get to me. They dangled an enticing job offer out in front of her, let her believe they were interested in her, only to start coming after me. Which, honestly, makes no sense. Their QB is good and riding the pine as a back-up isn’t something I’m interested in, so why they would think this, is beyond me. More so, I’m angry that they made Peyton feel like I’m the only way she can get a job. Her abilities far outreach mine. I can throw a ball and read a defense. But Peyton, she sees the whole game. She’s better than I am. They would know that if they actually paid attention.
I fully expect Peyton to be gone by the time I drag my sorry ass out of the gym. There are a few fans waiting for autographs. I start signing as I walk toward the parking lot. It’s when I see Peyton, leaning up against our car, with her legs crossed at her ankles and her hands resting inside her pockets that I tell the remainder of the people that I’m in a hurry and to come back tomorrow.
Rushing the last few steps, I drop my bag and place my hands on her cheeks, pulling her forward until our lips are pressed together. I deepen the kiss, not caring about the onlookers. They can happily take pictures, and send them to me, I wouldn’t mind.
“Wow,” she says when we pull away. Our foreheads are touching, and both of us are breathless. I can’t believe I went weeks without kissing her like this, or that she allowed it after the way I’ve treated her. I hate to say it, but maybe some ground rules need to be set: If Noah’s acting like an ass, Peyton has every right to kick him where the sun don’t shine. That’s what she did this time, more or less.
“I’m sorry for acting like a dick.”
“I know you are,” she says, running her fingers down the side of my cheek. “Are you ready to go home?”
I nod and walk her around to the passenger side of the car. Once she’s settled, I stow my bag and climb in. “Peyton,” I say as I turn the key. “I called Allen.”
“Probably smart,” she says, although she has no idea why I called my agent. “It’s better to keep him informed.”
“It’s not that.” I pull out of the parking lot and into traffic, heading in the opposite direction to our apartment. I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her ring. I can’t wait to place her wedding band there, to seal our future with the vows I’ve written for her. “I asked him to look into possible baseball teams. Teams that might need a pitcher at the lower level.”
I can feel her eyes on me, but I refuse to look away from the road. Not only for safety reasons but because I don’t want to see her expression.
“Why would you do that?”
I half shrug. “To give you a fighting chance.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I turn to look at her, turning the wheel as I do. She hollers at me and clutches my arm until I’ve righted the car. I do what’s best for both of us and turn down a side street to pull over.
With the car idling, I shift in my seat to look at her. Peyton’s staring straight ahead, lips pursed, and fuming. I know I’ve insulted her, but that wasn’t my intention. “Hear me out, babe. I called Allen and asked about potential teams because I want you to follow your dreams in broadcasting football. It’s been your passion for as long as I can remember. When I wanted to quit, you’re the one who encouraged me to stick it out. As much as football means to me, it means more to you. I know this. I know that this is your way of hanging onto a piece of your father, and the last thing I want to do is take that away from you. And if that means I let it go, so be it.”
Peyton wipes at her cheek. Great, I’ve made her cry. That’s the last thing I’ve wanted to do. I push her hair away from her face and past her shoulder and try to guide her to me, but she’s stiff, unmoving. To say I’m in the doghouse would be an understatement. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I was worried that Allen would call or show up with some news, which would piss her off because I didn’t tell her. My reasoning for calling my agent though, that’s probably not the best.
“Peyton, I’m sorry. I thought I was trying to help.”
“It’s not that.”
Color me confused. “Okay, so what is it?”
She turns, her tear streaked face breaks my heart. I use my thumbs to wipe at the makeup running down her cheeks. “Logan Baker offered me a job.”
My hand pauses, my thumbs holding tight against her cheeks. “ My Logan Baker?”
She half laughs, half coughs. “Do you have something going on with Logan?”
I shake my head. “Lately, I prefer to stay far away from him.”
“I think he’s afraid to lose you. He offered me the same job and says it’s because of Alton Rennie.”
“Alton Rennie?”
She nods. “He knows Nick, and I guess Nick has a lot of nice things to say about me.”
I finally drop my hands as I have a lightbulb moment. “Alton… this all makes sense.”
“What does?”
“I couldn’t remember where I knew him from or why he was riding my ass so hard about my steps. It’s something Nick used to get on me about, taking too long in the pocket or getting too far away from protection. I don’t know why, but the five has always been my thing.”
“Because it was your dad’s.”
She’s right. I used to watch DVDs of him playing, long before I knew he was my dad. I wanted to be like the great Liam Westbury. Play like him, be him. “Nick used to harp on me. In high school, he brought in this specialist – Ren. They tried to change my footwork, but I refused.”
“Alton Rennie,” she whispers while I nod. “He told Logan to hire me.”
I sit back and look out the window. Peyton working for the Pioneers. I sort of like the idea. “But, why? Not that I don’t think you’d be amazing.”
“I don’t know. Logan didn’t say much, just that they can’t offer me the same package, but I’d have the same position. He said Alton told him he’d be stupid not to hire me.”
Finally, I turn and look at the love of my life. “What are you going to tell them?”
“How would you feel about me being there, every day? I’d be paid to point out what you’re doing wrong, where the defense is breaking down.”
“Remember it was just mini-camp.”
Peyton shrugs. “I notice everything, especially when you’re playing.”
“I think you should take the job.”
“Are you sure, Noah? This would mean we’d have zero separation. I’d travel with the team.”
I waggle my eyebrows at her. “I wonder if they’d let us share a hotel room?”
Peyton slaps my arm. “Be honest with me.”
Leaning over, I cup the back of her neck and pull her toward me. Our lips hover closely. “Take the job, Peyton.” I pull away, putting some space between us so I can talk to her. “You might as well get paid to tell me when I suck instead of yelling at me after the game. Besides, I can’t get mad at you this way.”
She looks at me confusingly. “Have you ever gotten mad at me before?”
Nope, she’s got me there. “No, I haven’t because you’re always honest and would never say anything that wasn’t true. Still, I think you should take the job.”
“And what if you get traded?”
I grin quickly. Being traded isn’t something I ever want to think about. “Then we commute, just like we would now if you were to take one of the broadcasting jobs.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m going to do it.”
A smile breaks out across my face as we meet in the middle. Having her at work with me every day is going to be an adjustment, but I’d rather it be her than anyone else. I like to think I’m easy to coach, but I know I can be stubborn. Peyton won’t take that shit from me. She’ll happily put me in my place and not think twice about it.
I put the car into drive and pull back onto the main road. We drive for a while, listening to sports talk radio, which I have to say, with Peyton is never fun. She yells back at whoever is hosting, pointing out how wrong, and sometimes how right, they are. And will go as far as to throw her hands up in the air when she’s completely frustrated. It’s comical, and her antics will undoubtedly make the ESPN highlight reel.
She’s going to have to let the stations down easily though. The last thing she wants to do is burn bridges. While she might like working for the Pioneers, broadcasting is what she went to school for, and I’d hate to see her pass up a future opportunity.
“I spoke with Maggie today. She says you asked Alex to be in the wedding?”
“Sort of. It was more like Alex asking who my best man was and when I told him it was Quinn, he said he was okay with that and preferred walking all the women to their seats. I couldn’t really tell him no at that point. Is that okay?”
“It’s your wedding too, Noah. Of course, it’s okay. I suppose we should figure out the rest of the party though.”
“We should have a massive reception.”
“Doable. Our families do like to party.”
“That they do,” I say as I turn into a parking lot. Peyton’s never been here, but I’ve talked to her about it. We’re at the top of Portland, overlooking the city. The sun is setting, making this moment just about perfect.
I get out of the car, rush to her side, and take her hand in mine. Together, we walk to the edge. With me standing behind her, I wrap her in my arms. “This is our city, Peyton. From here, we can see everything.”
“It’s gorgeous, Noah.”
We stand there for a while, me holding her. I want to tell her how much I love her, thank her for being my constant, my go-to, for being my best friend. I need to apologize for being a jerk to her for weeks on end, for avoiding the elephant in the room, for likely making her feel as if she’s done something wrong. It’s a Westbury trait, getting inside your own head, and it takes a really strong woman to help us see the error of our ways. That’s what Peyton did for me today when she showed up at practice. If she hadn’t, I don’t know where I’d be right now, probably wandering around aimlessly downtown, waiting for her to go to bed because I was too ashamed to face her with what I had done.
Peyton turns her head slightly to look up at me. I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose. “What’s on your mind?” I ask her.
“I’m really happy, Noah.”
“I am too, babe.”
“Then why have you been ignoring me for the past few weeks?”
I go to step back, but she holds on to my arms, digging her nails into my flesh.
“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t move, turn, walk or think about leaving until you tell me why. Is it because of the Rams?”
My head moves slowly up and down. “I got scared, Peyton. I thought I was going to lose everything and you at the same time.”
“How do you think I felt?”
“Probably the same as me. But the only way I knew how to cope with it was to work my ass off. I wanted everyone to see how committed I was to the team. I showed up at the facility before it opened and was there when the janitor locked up at night.”
“So, you weren’t waiting until I turned out the lights and was asleep before you came in?”
I lean back and look at her. “What? Hell no. I’d much rather be with you, but I didn’t, still don’t, want to lose my job.”
Peyton looks down and lessens her grip on my arms. As gently as possible, I lift her chin until her eyes are meeting mine. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“I thought you were avoiding me because of the Rams. It’s why I came out to see you today.”
“My beautiful, silly girl. You are perfect. You’re the love of my life. There isn’t anything you could do to make me walk away from you. Ever.”
“I’m sorry about the Rams, about everything.”
“Don’t. Don’t apologize for their arrogance. I love you, Peyton, and no job will ever change that.”