30. Chapter 30
Saint
It's been a week and a half since I made myself into a sacrificial lamb and offered myself as Ames' rebound. I'm sore from training and from how much sex she and I are having, but I do my best to keep myself focused.
Ames has been vocal about what she wants.
I agreed to the guidelines. No matter what my heart cries for when I hold her close at night.
Even if I wanted to beg for something different from the moment we talked the morning after.
She and I have an understanding, it's what I wanted before I knew she wanted me, and I'm supposed to be on cloud nine.
And I am. I really am. I've never devoted myself to someone like I am with Ames.
I've thrown myself into this time together, taking as much as she'll trust me with.
It may be my poor yearning heart, seeing things it wants to see, but I swear she's giving me everything.
I see it in her eyes. In the way she touches me, the things she whispers to me in the throes of passion, or in the quiet times before we sleep. Surrender. Abdication. Pleading.
It's bringing me to my knees.
She wants me .
She wants me.
She wants me .
The guy she's known for years. A man she's had a hundred platonic meals with. The friend she came to when she was in need.
But I'm dreading how quickly the days are adding up.
I don't want to think of the moment Ames realizes I'm not rushing to end things.
That despite accepting the role she wants me to play— the womanizer who will be happy to walk away from this fling— someone who can teach her how to give up on long term when things are not right for her— I am not ready to press the brakes on whatever this is we're doing.
We said right before or right after the big game.
The truth is, short of it slapping me in the face and pushing me out of the way, I'm aiming to buy us extra time. Even if it terrifies me to try.
Try what? I don't know. The teacher has no idea what he's doing.
Balancing our days and nights with the promises I made is always on my mind. Even while I'm on the phone with my sisters.
I sit on the terrace couch and watch the sun set behind Lake Washington. At ten years old, Aixa and Maribel are a hoot. They talk over me, too excited to let me properly respond, beyond a few chuckles here and there and a few rushed words.
They tell me about their school projects and anything else that crosses their mind, etching a persistent smile onto my face.
"We started collecting materials for the new board!" Aixa says. "You promised next year we could make it pink."
"I did say that," I concede.
Maribel speaks before I've finished. "Are you getting your ring this time?"
"Of course he is!" Aixa responds for me. "We talked about this, Mari."
She's exactly two hundred seventy four seconds older than Maribel, and takes her older sister role seriously.
"I'm not pressuring him!" Mari complains. "I'm just doing the math for his first visit. "
Typically, I go spend time with them right after the season ends, and once more after they finish their school year. Pre-season schedule permitting, I try to take them somewhere fun, too.
My time with them is precious. I've never lived with them, since they were born right after I started college. The relationship we have is the result of a lot of effort on my part. I try to be present from far away, reminding them I'm their older brother, and that I love them very much.
Time is flying past so fast, their eagerness to spend time with me may not last much longer. I'm making the most of it. I'll deal with the heartbreak later.
Funny, that this philosophy applies to what's between Ames and I as well.
Except with the twins, I know they can't actually get rid of me. With Ames, she could, and I'm facing an end I worry about. Planning to deal with that pain afterwards, somehow.
I shake my head and I take a chance during a small silent window in Aixa and Maribel's conversation.
"I'll let you know as soon as I have a date," I interject. "I'm not sure what I may have to do after the season ends."
"What do you mean?" Aixa asks.
The twins are highly sensitive, and read my tone easily.
I sigh. I'm not ready to talk to my sisters about the risk of a trade, but it's time.
I mull over my words for a second. In the space between my thoughts, I take comfort in the way Ames shows up on the terrace and asks to sit close.
I nod at her and let a few words fall from my lips. "Mom and Dad know this, so you can talk to them about it. Don't talk about it with anyone else, okay?"
"Of course," Maribel says. "We never talk about our famous brother with anyone."
"If they guess, it's not our fault," Aixa adds.
Ames cuddles next to me. My chest glows with the same tones of bronze and orange tinting the sky.
I smile. "It's never your fault, mis divinas. "
"Tan divino!" The twins respond in unison and laugh.
It's a Colombian expression of love and admiration for beautiful and amazing things. Calling someone or something divine . Every time I call them that, they respond the same way. It's a little joke we have with each other.
I gaze at Ames. I don't know if she knows what it means. The way she looks at me with tenderness makes me want to call her mi divina, anyway. I lean closer and nuzzle her hair. Herbal scents fill my lungs, and I sigh.
“Okay if I stay?” she whispers.
I nod, a pinch in my chest, because I'd say forever otherwise.
It's been exactly ten days since I offered myself as a rebound, making this thing with Ames my second longest relationship ever. The longest one was the time I tested myself to see if I was relationship material. That one lasted two weeks.
Any other time, I would have made a pie already. Now I refuse to even come close to my baking ingredients. Just in case it gives Ames any ideas.
I'm so, so done for.
"Hello?" Aixa says. "Are you there?"
"You have to tell us!" Maribel exclaims.
"Right." I clear my throat. "There's a chance I might get traded. If that happens, I'll have to move after the season."
Ames caresses my arm. The light of the setting sun paints her skin a bright amber. Her smile, until then free and summery in winter, cools down.
I grab the remote from the coffee table in front of us, and put the outside heater temp up a few degrees. The winter evening needs it, and so does she. And I.
"What?!" my sisters reply at the same time.
"Where would you have to go?" Maribel asks.
"Obviously he doesn't know!" Aixa's tone is severe.
"But maybe he knows what teams are interested!"
"Do you know what teams are interested, Saint?"
"I do." I have a blanket with me as well, and I wrap Ames and I in it. "Coach Clark told me last week. "
Under the knitted cover, Ames finds my hand and squeezes once. Twice. Leaves our fingers interlocked, tight.
"The Pythons have shown interest." I stare at the horizon. "The Brawlers, too."
"Both of those are across the country!" Aixa complains.
Maribel's tone, on the other hand, has a clear tinge of worry to it. "Does that mean you're moving even further away?"
"Not if I can help it." I infuse my words with confidence— for all our sakes. "My agent knows I'd rather stay here, and so does Coach Clark. It's the GM I have to convince."
"How are you going to do that?" Maribel asks.
"Winning is my best chance," I say. "Being named the MVP."
This game is so competitive, I have to be practically perfect to get the award. Breaking records kind of amazing. Otherwise they'll just give it to a QB.
The ring protects me from the fans' disappointment and their need for a scapegoat.
Winning the season and the title combined can protect me from a trade.
Why release a player who was pivotal to the biggest prize there is in our industry?
But it's not enough to aim for it. I have to get it…
or else. It's a razor-sharp line between success and failure.
Not getting the award but having an MVP-style season makes me desirable to other teams. It's a powerful card for a GM to play during the trading season.
Other teams would want a player that performed at that level.
Right now, I'm performing at the right level…
for either path to materialize before me.
I need the MVP award. And my first ring.
"You promised you'd invite us to the game if you made it to the final." Aixa's voice through the phone is clear and assertive.
"I need to talk to Mom and Dad about it. You're still so young."
So innocent. So free with their love. So trusting.
"We know!" Aixa says. "You don't want people following us or whatever."
"Or whatever, exactly," I say .
And growing up fast. I don't think my life will give me children, but the way I want to protect my sisters, I know I'd be an overbearing dad.
"But we're older now!" Aixa says. "And we want to be there."
"You promised, Saint," Maribel adds.
I sigh. "I did. I guess I have no choice now."
"You can talk to Mom and Dad…" Aixa leaves me in suspense for a second. "To plan the dates we're flying into the city the big game is at, and the hotel we're staying at, and how we're going to get to the game."
"Let me win the conference first, okay? Plans will lead us nowhere if the Strike loses that game. One and out, remember?"
"We know how football works." I can hear the way Aixa rolls her eyes.
"You'll totally win the conference game!" Maribel exclaims. "And we'll make pompoms! They'll be blue and purple."
"You can make pompoms in whatever color you want," I say. "I'll keep my word. You'll be there every time I go to the big game. Now it's time for dinner. I can hear Mom calling in the background."
They protest, but eventually we say goodbye. I throw my phone between Ames and I on the sofa, and turn to her with a questioning smile. I've never let anyone hear me chatting with Aixa and Maribel.