Chapter 36 – RHETT
RHETT
It’s been the longest week of my life. Well, maybe the longest three weeks.
We won our Sunday at-home game following our first loss, but after that, we’ve been on the road.
We played in LA and won—which Crew loved since it was against his former team—but we stayed out west because we play Seattle today.
It means I haven’t seen Quinn other than on FaceTime in ten days.
We’ve both had long, busy days of work, but nights have been tough. I was getting used to falling asleep beside her, feeling her hair tickle my face and chest. I miss waking up to the feel of her naked body and the smell of her skin.
We fly home tonight after the game, and it can’t come soon enough. Even if we travel to Buffalo on Wednesday for a Thursday night game. It’s going to be a monster of a week with a quick turnaround, but then we’ll have a Sunday game at home that leads us into the bye.
I never used to mind road games. Honestly, I looked forward to them. They were a break from my usual, dull routine. They’d make the empty nights a little less ordinary. But now all I want is to be home with my girl.
On top of that, Russel’s been off.
He’s been tense and edgy off the field. Some of his newfound polish and shine are wearing thin, and cracks are forming beneath his veneer.
When I asked him what was going on, he blew me off as he always does and simply called it stress and wanting to be perfect.
I did manage a dinner with him last week, but he spent most of it on his phone and barely talked to me.
He hasn’t mentioned his comments about Quinn or the photo montage that has circulated the globe.
Quinn hasn’t talked about it either, and I’m doing my best to go with the flow when going with the flow has never exactly been my style.
I’m on the bus with the other coaches and staff on our way to the stadium.
It’s pouring rain and cold. Not a light Seattle drizzle, but a waterfall tumbling from the heavens, coupled with high forty-degree temperatures.
It’s going to be a miserable, grueling game.
Lots of running, which Mason won’t love.
Not to mention, standing outside for four hours in it isn’t my favorite part of this job.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but when I see who’s texting me, there’s no stopping my smile.
Quinn: Hope you have a great game today. Missing you.
Me: Thanks. Missing you. Are you working today?
A selfie comes in of her in front of the OR.
She’s in blue scrubs, with no makeup on her smiling face.
Her red hair is tucked beneath a surgical cap that has snowboarders on it.
It makes me chuckle lightly. It’s so Quinn, and yet it almost surprises me she’s wearing that and putting it out there.
She keeps so much of herself locked away.
Me: Beautiful. Thank you. That made my day. I like your cap.
Quinn: Crew and Mason bought it for me after I graduated from medical school. They had it made specially for me, and on the inside are the Olympic rings.
Me: That’s pretty cool.
Quinn: It definitely is. I wear it whenever they play, and I’m working. This year is even better now that they’re both on the same team.
Me: I love how you love your family.
Quinn: They’re easy to love.
Like you, I think but don’t say.
Me: This winter you’ll have to take me boarding so I can see you in action.
Quinn: You ski, right? I remember you telling me that.
Me: I do. You can teach me how to snowboard as long as I don’t break a hip. At my age, they’ll put me in a home.
Quinn: *Eye rolling emoji* You’re not that old. And besides, I have a secret.
Me: What’s that?
Quinn: I like older men.
Me: All older men?
Quinn: Just one.
Me: Better be me you’re talking about, baby girl, or I’ll end up killing someone.
Quinn: Such a caveman.
Me: Only with you.
Quinn: Good. What time do you land tonight?
Me: It’ll be morning. Close to three, I think.
Quinn: Long day. But I’ll see you soon. Stay safe with the weather. *Heart emoji*
Me: I will. Have a good shift. *Heart emoji*
The game is an absolute slugfest. They also end up halting the game and delaying it for an hour due to lightning. Not to mention, we lose. Our second loss of the season, and no one is happy about it, least of all me.
We shower, do the postgame conferences, eat a meal, and get on the plane. It’s after seven Seattle time, and I spend much of the first hour of the flight working on game plans and sorting through all the things I want to focus on this week at practice, heading into Thursday’s game.
“Hey, Coach?”
My head quirks up to find Crew standing beside me on the aisle.
“Got a second?”
“Sure. Have a seat.”
I pan a hand to the empty one beside me, and he takes it, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Crew’s a big guy, but he’s definitely put on some muscle and weight since the start of the season.
“I wanted to talk to you about a few things.”
I pivot to face him, putting my back to the window. The plane is relatively quiet. Most of the guys are resting and anxious to get home. Especially after a frustrating loss. It’s a shitty way to end a road trip. “What’s up?”
“A couple of things, but I don’t want you to take one of them the wrong way.”
I give him a wry grin. “Go on.”
“I was wondering how you think I’m doing.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“You were a tight end. A very good one despite playing on an underperforming team with underperforming quarterbacks.”
I chuckle. “Thanks. Is that what you didn’t want me to take the wrong way?”
“No. I’m starting with the easy one first.”
I shift a little more and glance around. The row behind us is empty, and the guys in the row across the aisle have their noise-canceling headphones on and their eyes closed.
“Mason has my dad to talk to about quarterback stuff,” he continues.
“I played in LA because I wanted to make my own name for myself outside of my family and the Rebels. But my dad convinced me to come home, and truly, I love playing with my brother. And yes, I have a tight ends coach. But he wasn’t a player, and you were. ”
“I get it. I didn’t have that either, and I agree it can be helpful to have someone you can talk to who understands your position and what you go through on the field.”
His eyes brighten. “Yes. That. I know Russel has that with you, but—”
“Russel doesn’t come to me for a lot of guidance. But I’m happy to talk with you about anything you want.”
“Awesome. Thanks.”
For the next thirty minutes, we talk about how he’s doing, things he wants to work on and build upon, and techniques I believe that could help.
“You know, we don’t have field time tomorrow, but if you want to run some stuff one-on-one with me, I’d be happy to.”
“Um, yeah. That would be great. Let’s see how wiped out we are, if that’s okay?”
I lean back in my seat and scrub a hand up my face. Most of the guys are already asleep. “Probably a good idea.”
“I’ll let you get some rest.”
“Sure.” I stop Crew as he gets up to leave. “What was the other thing?”
Warily, he sits back down. “I debated saying something, and I haven’t gone to Mason or my dad about it. I’m trying to be a team player despite how I feel about him.”
“Crew, it’s late. Spit it out.”
“I saw Russel with his phone at halftime. He was coming out of the bathroom, and it was in his hand.”
I blink about a dozen times. “You’re sure about that?”
That’s a no-joke allegation. If it’s true, Russel could face a substantial penalty and an investigation into the integrity of his playing and our games.”
“I’m positive, Coach. He noticed I saw it and quickly shoved it into his pocket. He said his mother was sick and in the hospital and that he was just checking up on her.”
Oh. I honestly don’t know about that. I haven’t talked to his mother in years, and my life has been better for it.
“I’ll look into it,” I promise him. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“I’ll give him a pass. This time,” he adds.
I don’t say thank you because I don’t want him to feel as though he’s doing that for me or that I’m shirking responsibility.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest.”
“Night, Coach.”
“Night.”
Uneasiness settles on me. Russel is at the back of the plane, and I’m not about to go and interrogate him now. But tomorrow, my son and I are going to have a conversation.
The plane lands at three in the morning. Half awake, we shuffle off and get ourselves home. I didn’t sleep much. I never sleep well on planes, but my mind was too riled between the loss and what Crew said about Russel.
The closer I try to get to him, the farther away he pulls.
Asher only agreed to have him on the team because of me. He didn’t say as much, but I know it. It’s not only Russel’s reputation, it’s mine.
He told me he’d changed. That’s been his song and dance since he arrived. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. I’ll trust them until they give me a reason not to. But Russel’s been pushing lines, and I don’t like how it sits with me.
I unlock my door and immediately go upstairs, but the moment I enter my bedroom, I pause. A softness flitters into me, and a smile draws up the corners of my lips.
Quinn is asleep in my bed.
I strip out of my clothes, put my glasses on my nightstand, pull back the blankets, and slide in beside her.
She stirs as I pull her against me and kiss the corner of her lips.
She smells so good. Like home. Like this is the place she’s always meant to be, and her sleeping anywhere other than with me is madness.
This is madness.
But I love her. She’s not there yet. I know she’s not. She needs time, and time is fine. I’ll give her all the time in the world as long as she’s mine during it.
“Hi,” she says sleepily.
“Hi.”
“Hope this is okay,” she mumbles, her words slow. “I wanted to see you.”
Fuck it. I can’t hold it in.
“I love you,” I whisper, my heart shaking in my chest. Except she’s asleep again. Her breathing is heavy and even, and her body is dead weight against mine.
Probably for the best that she doesn’t know.
Because then what would we do?