Chapter 19
BECCA
I put the car into park, looked up at the house for a whole five minutes, pretending I wasn’t avoiding this. My hands gripped the steering wheel while I stared at the stupid porch light that he had intentionally left on, knowing I would show up.
I dropped my forehead against the steering wheel. I still couldn’t believe I walked over there and confronted those girls like a jealous lunatic.
I told myself it was because he looked uncomfortable and had nothing to do with the ugly twist of jealousy in my chest. There was something about seeing that blonde fawn all over him that caused my brain to act irrationally.
Jesus.
I pulled the visor down, staring at my reflection, and making sure I didn’t have any lipstick on my teeth.
Before I could chicken out, I grabbed my bag off the passenger seat and walked up the front path.
The door swung open before I had a chance to reach the landing.
All six-foot-two-inches of annoying perfection greeted me with a smirk. Nate didn’t look surprised to see me. Not even a little.
Smug bastard.
He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, barefoot, with gray sweats and a black T-shirt that fit him in a way that pulled my attention to a place it had no business going to.
“I was wondering how long it would take you.” His eyes flickered down to my bare legs, taking in my black T-shirt dress and jean jacket.
I went home after the game, changed into something comfortable, and took my sweet-ass time. I knew he was expecting me, and I wasn’t quite ready to face whatever that meant.
“You didn’t leave me with much choice,” I said, in case he forgot that he basically threatened me. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but he made it clear what would happen if I didn’t show up.
His mouth curved slightly. “You always have a choice, Becca.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. “Are you going to invite me in?”
He laughed and stepped aside. “Of course I am. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I bet he has.
I slipped my shoes off by the door, hating how nervous I was.
I just saw him less than two hours ago, for Pete’s sake.
I crossed the threshold and walked into the family room. The lights were low, candles were burning, and music played somewhere in the background. He was setting the mood, that was for sure.
I set my bag down and dropped my butt onto the couch, making myself at home. “You’re awfully confident. I almost didn’t show up, just out of spite.”
He chuckled, loud and deep. “I’m glad you did. It saved me some gas money.”
I rolled my eyes. “You said you wanted to talk tonight. So, here I am.”
“How did your conversation with your boss go?” he asked, getting straight to the point.
I looked down at my lap for a second. “It went better than expected.”
He sat down in one of the brown leather recliners across from me. “Did you tell her everything?”
My eyebrows lifted. “Not everything. She doesn’t need to know that you interrupted my bubble bath.”
His lips twitched. “It’s probably best that you left that part out.”
Understatement of the century.
“I told her things between us were getting complicated, and I wanted to know what my options were.”
He leaned back casually, folding his arms loosely across his chest. “What are they?”
“Well, if we were to cross a line, I couldn’t continue to cover you. So, I agreed to keep things strictly professional until the article is finished. The minute I turn it in, it goes to editing, and I’m finished with the assignment. After that, what I do is my personal business.”
He leaned back, watching my face for a second. I could practically feel his brain working overtime, like he was already ten steps ahead of this conversation. “All right. Let’s finish it.”
Relief hit my shoulders. “Okay.”
I reached into my bag to pull out my calendar.
“Tonight.”
He couldn’t be serious.
My fingers paused, and I blinked up at him. “Excuse me?”
“I want to be done tonight.” He leaned forward, planting his forearms on his knees. “I don’t want anything hanging over us. I’m done waiting.”
“You just finished your game two hours ago. Don’t you want to rest?”
How was the man not exhausted? If I walked off the football field after playing four quarters, getting hit, and running plays, I’d be in bed with an ice pack.
“No. What I want to do is speed up this process so we can stop pretending that this thing between us isn’t happening.”
I set my notebook on the coffee table. “I don’t want to rush this, Nate.”
“There’s no rush. We have all night.”
I leaned back against the couch and sighed.
Of course, he wanted to finish tonight. That was something a professional athlete with a busy schedule would want to do.
It was efficient, logical. It made sense.
We would go with that excuse and not the obvious one.
Like how there would be no more professional lines to hide behind. No more questions. No more pretending.
I rubbed my temples, trying to shift my brain into reporter mode.
“Okay.” I clicked my recorder on, hating the way he was making me squirm. “Let’s finish this.”
My fingers were shaking as I opened my notebook and focused on the first question. “If you weren’t playing football, what would you be doing?”
He leaned back and stretched his arm along the cushion. “Probably something competitive. I don’t like to sit still, so I would need to keep busy.”
“No kidding,” I said sarcastically. “Can you be more specific?”
He shrugged. “Maybe coaching or broadcasting. Football has become such a big part of my identity. I couldn’t imagine sitting behind a desk all day and doing office work.”
I wrote that down. “So, you always knew you wanted to be a football player?”
He laughed, scratching his head. “Not exactly. When I was ten, I was fascinated with World War II. Our neighbor down the street was a local congressman. We went to Washington one summer, and he took us on a private tour of the Capitol. I was fascinated by history and politics, and I told my mom I wanted to be a history teacher when I grew up. But then I realized being a teacher would be way too much studying and sitting still for my liking.”
We both laughed. “Are you saying that football was a second choice?”
He pointed at me. “Now, I never said that. Don’t go putting words into my mouth.
As I mentioned, I’ve always been a competitive person.
Growing up, I developed my work ethic and discipline by watching my parents set a good example.
They were both hard workers and always made sure our family was financially secure.
Those traits stuck with me. But I can tell you the exact moment that football clicked with me. ”
I leaned forward. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
He grinned. “I was playing basketball with a group of neighborhood kids. My buddy, Richie, was getting pissed because I kept scoring on him. He told me that while I might have been able to dunk a ball, I could never throw a spiral like him.” Nate started chuckling at the memory.
“I have to admit, I had no idea how hard it was, but I knew I had to prove him wrong. So, I attended quarterback camps, watched YouTube videos after school, and practiced hard. Because not only was I going to show him, but I was going to do it better than anybody else.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. “That does not surprise me at all.”
He was such a jock, it wasn’t even funny.
“Told ya I was competitive.” He winked. “Now, fast forward to junior high, where I made starting quarterback and Richie didn’t.”
“Ouch.” I laughed. “Do you ever keep in touch?”
He nodded. “To this day, Richie is still one of my best friends. I wouldn’t be here today, doing what I love, if it weren’t for him.”
I looked up, meeting his eyes. “And what does Richie do now?”
He coughed into his hands. “He’s a high school principal.”
I shook my head with a smile. “Okay, next question. You mentioned that football has become a big part of your identity. Do you ever think beyond it?”
He rubbed his jaw. “I’ve always known this won’t last forever. I’ve seen what happens to guys who don’t prepare for life after playing the game. I will never become one of them.”
I glanced around his modest house, his simple lifestyle, and it all started to click.
Nate was humble and a hard worker. I remember reading once that he bought his first car with money he made from mowing lawns.
He understood the importance of financial planning and hard work.
A lot of times, these young kids come out of college, get signed, collect their checks, and end up with more money than they know what to do with.
That often led to making really bad decisions, and the next thing they knew, they were as poor as a church mouse.
Listening to Nate talk about his future made me realize how grounded he was.
I flipped to the next page, even though I already knew what was on it. “Do you ever see yourself settling down and starting a family?”
I tried to pretend that this was just another question. The truth was, I wasn’t asking as a reporter trying to finish the story. I was asking as a woman who cared a little too much about the answer.
His gaze stayed on mine long enough that heat crept up my neck.
“I would like that if I ever find the right person. I see my friends, my teammates, and their kids. I hear about how happy they are to go home to the people they love every night. Maybe someday that will happen for me, or maybe it won’t. ”
It was such a simple answer. The kind any athlete would say in an interview, but my mind, or maybe my heart, was getting the wrong idea. Like maybe… nope. Absolutely not. Let’s not go there, Becca. He was talking in general—some hypothetical woman, not you.
“What does that person look like to you?” I asked, crossing one leg over the other, trying to get my shit together. Thank God, I only had a few questions left.
“She’s smart, independent, strong, knows how to laugh, and keeps me on my toes.”
It felt like the universe was challenging me. This was exactly why reporters shouldn’t get involved with their subjects.