5. Chapter 5
Saint
Another win for the books, and I can breathe a little easier. Nothing is settled yet. To win the championship, we need to play with near perfection. For me to be the MVP, I need to break records. Still, getting a great score that I helped with in an away game, means I'm on the right track.
Finally in the parkade under my building, I turn off my car. I sigh and check my phone.
Dom : Dammit that was a long flight back. Everyone made it home?
Damián : Yeah. At least we won again.
Bear : Recovery tomorrow will be hell. My whole body is a bruise. You ok, Logan? You got sacked pretty hard too
Logan : I'll be fine. I'm in the hot tub right now. Let's rest tonight and deal with everything in the morning
Bear : Let's go out tomorrow night. Relax at the club, plan ways to make sure the GM doesn't play with Saint's contract
Saint : Yeah, let's plan, but I can't go to the club tomorrow.
Dom : Wait. No club tomorrow?
Saint : You're all welcome to go to the club without me this time. I won't be too offended
Damián : The fomo will kill you, Santiago.
Saint : I'll live. Staying home for once might be good for me. Maybe
Logan : Is Ames still at your place?
Dom : I guess that means you won't be alone at least
Saint : I'm not allergic to being alone, guys. I've never found a reason for it, that's all. AND I won't be alone.
Bear : How long has it been since Ames has been with you?
Saint : It's been a bit over a week and yeah, she's staying with me at the moment
Logan : Interesting.
Bear : How is she doing?
Saint : Better than I thought tbh, but with ups and downs as far as I can see. Stays in her room a lot.
Damián : Is she eating enough?
Saint : I make sure she does. But we were gone for the weekend, so I want to check on her
Bear : Makes sense. If anyone asks at the club, we'll tell them you're alive and healthy, and no need to send the search and rescue team
Dom : Nobody has to panic that you're not there to take someone home. We promise he's alive and he'll come back as soon as he can
Logan : Brunch on Tuesday may be a good idea. It will be proof of life for those concerned
Saint : Now you're making jokes, funny guy?
Logan : Good night, everyone
Saint : Brunch on Tuesday it is.
When I make it home, Ames is nowhere to be seen, and her door is closed. I leave early on Monday for a long day at the TD, where we spend our time in recovery and reviewing tape.
Finally home again, I take a shower under cool water. After, in my loose pajama pants and a shirt, I make my way to the kitchen, then to Ames' door .
I usually only wear my boxers to sleep. Even if Ames has seen me in those now, some modesty is called for.
Light shines from under her door, and I knock. She calls me in.
I open the door and lean on the frame. "Want a drink?"
I'm carrying two glasses with vodka, soda, and lime.
She's on the bed, a book closed next to her. Her smile is subdued, and the curve of her shoulders tell me she's tired.
This isn't the same vibe I've come to know and… enjoy about her.
Pablo and Ames seemed to get really close after their parents divorced. When he and I lived together, Ames stayed in the dorms but visited us often. I got many chances to watch Ames do her thing through the years.
Ever since I met her, she's had this way to fill a room with her presence. She's quick to join a conversation with a tease or with an argument— whatever the situation calls. She has a deeply thoughtful side but, when she gets sarcastic? Damn, it makes me want to sit back, smile, and watch the show.
An immediate pull took over my chest whenever she was around— something I had never felt before.
It was her beauty, too, of course. The gentle waves of her hair, those dark eyelashes, and those large, pretty brown eyes.
The confident dips and curves of her generous body.
Ah, to feel the weight of her on me as she rides m—
I shake one of the glasses in my hand, until the ice clinks in an inviting manner. Like jingling keys to distract a baby, only I'm trying to distract myself from the image of Ames naked on top of m—
Shit.
She nods and sits up. I gulp and give her one of the drinks. Sitting at one corner of the bed, I gaze at her.
Today she's still beautiful, of course, but her humor is muted.
"How are you doing?" I ask.
She gives me a despondent shrug. "It's like I can't make up my mind about what to feel. "
"What if that's not something you decide? I think feeling is something you… do."
"Then I would be feeling a lot of different things, all at once."
"How long were you and Aidan together?"
"Four years."
I nod. It scared me, back when we met. What I felt for her. I was no one yet, except her brother's friend. She had a boyfriend. Fuck, she's always had a boyfriend. Even when she didn't, I knew she wouldn't look at me that way.
I had already been a serial casual dater back then. It was easy to keep going as usual. Let it help me forget, that the one person I felt a true spark for felt nothing of the sort for me.
"Then it makes sense you're feeling a lot after moving out," I say.
It hits me again. She's single and, for now, living with me. It's a scenario I would have dreamed of back in college.
I sip a sobering taste of my drink. None of this changes the story between us.
"He'd been cheating, Saint, and I don't understand it.
I thought we were good. He went to work the night before with an 'I love you' and a kiss like every day.
When I caught him— he was too busy trying to keep me quiet so his friends and coworkers didn't notice the spectacle .
That's what he called it. He couldn't even deny it! "
Now I gulp again for a different reason. Shame on me, for thinking about my old feelings and her being in my condo, and not why she ended up here in the first place.
She shakes her head. "When I first found out, I grabbed onto my anger. It felt better, you know? But now that I've had time to think about it, well… I'm unraveling. Not going to lie— my confidence is pretty low at the moment. If I at least knew why he did it, I'd know where I messed up."
"You didn't mess up. He's the one who wrecked things."
"I just want to learn where we went wrong, so I don't have to go through this again. There has to be a way to get my happily ever after with someone, right? "
My heart crumbles somewhat, but I manage a small smile. "For sure. You'll have it, Ames. I have no doubt. You may not be confident enough to believe it right now, but I am positive. Borrow from my conviction all you want."
That gets me a small smile back from her. "I'll try."
"Has he reached out?" I ask.
"No. Most of my things are still in his condo. I think he's waiting to see what I do."
"That cowar— well. I shouldn't…"
I gaze away and around the room. She's been settling into it. A couple shirts are folded on top of the dresser, and her suitcase is nowhere to be found. The bathroom door is ajar. Through the shadowed door, the shapes of a few bottles line up on the counter.
It gives me warm feelings I don't focus too much on.
"Were you going to say he's a coward?" she asks.
I press my lips together. "Yeah, sorry."
"Don't apologize."
"I don't know what's okay to say about him. What if you're getting back together and I called him names?"
She gives me an incredulous look. "Would you go back to someone who cheated on you?"
"I don't think so. But it's not like I understand what it's like to be with someone for a long time."
"Maybe I don't, either, because it still failed somehow.
We had a routine, we were comfortable— or so I thought.
We didn't fight. Ever! We were so… soft , together.
Smiles and gentle touches all around. And we had plans.
We were buying a house. We'd have a music room for him and an amazing kitchen for me.
Maybe in a few years, we'd elope. We were too busy so one thing at a time made sense.
We barely had time to sit and chat these days, but I thought that was just the stage of life we're in.
He's always got something going on for the late show he plays for, and his album, and the poetry book he was writing— "
She sighs and shakes her head. She sips from her drink and I mirror her.
Confusion and anger rest heavy on her. Her eyes have lost their shine. And yet, she doesn't seem too sad. Curious.
As far as I could gather through the years, Aidan was exactly what she looked for.
An artist through and through, elegant and smooth.
Always polished and unruffled, and utterly charming.
I could never imagine him wearing joggers and a hoodie and cackling with his friends.
In my mind, he can only wear tailored suits, and every word he says is measured and effective.
Not that I thought of it often, but I imagined he would read poetry to Ames at night. Stanzas he wrote about her beauty and his undying love for her. And she would sigh because, right after he made tender love to her, they'd philosophize about love and life deep into the night.
Ever since college— she always went for guys like him, never for the jock. And Aidan had fame and money to back it up, too.
"What I'm hearing is that I can call him names," I say.
She chuckles, but doesn't take me up on my offer. Pity. I would have enjoyed it.
"I was busy, too," she adds instead. "Catering for the network was a big chunk of my day.
It kept the business running, so I could get creative instead and try new recipes to keep you guys happy.
It was great. I was finally getting close to doing what I like to do best and cook —but I have to stop that again.
I can barely make it into your kitchen these days, I'm so frustrated. "
I put a hand on her knee and rub in a comforting pattern. No wonder she looks worried. There's no time to be sad.
She sighs. "I should be busy trying to find a new client. Go back to my business and reassure everyone that I'll do everything I can to keep things afloat. Instead, I'm spending most of my time in your bed, trying to figure out what went wrong."
"If you'd spent any time in my bed, we'd both know it, Ames."
The words escape me before I know what I'm saying. I freeze. She does, too .
I watch her, carefully tracking for any signs. Why the hell would I say that at this time? Damn my flirtatious nature.
She lifts her eyes at me. The line of her lips stretches slowly, so slowly into a smile. It pushes a button inside, and I let myself grin. Friendly dimples to the rescue. Playing them up to claim innocence has always worked well for me.
"I mean this bed, Gael." She laughs. "Your guest bed."
My first name on her lips is a tease, because she knows I prefer my nickname. It's her version of scolding me.
Fuck. Do I want her to scold me?
Double fuck, because I shouldn't be thinking about that.
I should be supporting her as she figures out what comes next. I should be thinking of a way to make sure I stay with the Strike. All of my focus should be on winning and being named the MVP.
And yet, I make a small offer.
"We'll find a way to get you out of this trouble, Ames."
I know what I'm good at. I'm good at football.
I'm the receiver they call the catcher, cheekily pointing out at my fame and my dating habits.
I'm the easy-going guy who you call in case of an emergency.
To my dates, I'm a fun time and a wonderful lay.
It's not a long list, but it's plenty for my friends.
She nods. "I'll start by going back to the office. Look at the numbers. Draft an initial plan."
"You got this, Amelia."
Ames is heartbroken and seeks something I don't have. All I can offer is friendship. I will be good to her anyway.