Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
The past week and a half has been equal parts exhausting and exhilarating.
It’s been easy enough to learn the medical history of the players, and I’m starting to pick up on their little quirks.
I’m lucky that Dr. Kipp did a thorough preseason examination, and the previous AT took extensive notes, otherwise I would be feeling a lot less prepared.
I know each player’s medical histories like the back of my hand, from their scrum-half’s history of broken noses, to their captain’s tendonitis.
It surprised me to learn Ezra hasn’t had a single concussion throughout his career.
As a center, I would have assumed his injury list would contain more than a few minor joint dislocations and scratches.
I’m still getting over the shock of learning my ex-fiancé’s brother is on the team. Seeing him on my first day had a swell of memories washing over me, things I’d pushed far out of my mind so I could move on from my first heartbreak.
Watching the team practice this week has made me feel seventeen again, sitting in the stands of Ezra’s games.
I cringe every time he takes a particularly hard hit, and more than once I’ve found myself clutching my clipboard with a white knuckle grip wondering if today is the day his lucky streak ends.
Reconciling the Ezra I knew before, with the Ezra he is today, has been… difficult. He’s no longer a lanky, awkward, sixteen year old boy who’s unsure of himself and his abilities. He’s filled out, grown a few inches, and he carries a confidence he didn’t ten years ago.
He’s all man now.
His personality hasn’t changed much, from what I can tell.
He’s still the nicest guy in the room, and his smile still crinkles the corners of his eyes.
Every time he sees me, he greets me with a fist bump and asks how I’m doing, and I’ll admit it’s one of the best parts of my day.
I see the way he jokes around with his teammates before they run drills, and how he locks in as soon as the whistle blows.
We haven’t been able to chat outside of a few minutes before or after practice, and I feel bad I haven’t gotten back to him about dinner, but we’re both stressed about the game this Friday.
Tensions are high for everyone on the team since we’ll be playing our first game against Las Vegas, a team that’s one of the oldest in the league.
I settle back in my bubble bath, trying to not think about work for the rest of the night.
Today is Valentine’s Day. It’s the first one in two years I’ve been single, and I was prepared for it to hurt more than it does.
I thought being single on a day where love is the focus would have me sobbing, so I bought a nice bottle of Pinot Noir to have with my steak and mashed potatoes.
Now, I’m having a second glass, in a candlelit bathroom, while I enjoy a soak in the tub.
Last Valentine’s Day with Jace was the day before one of our scheduled date nights. I naively thought he would show up, with a bouquet of flowers or chocolates, and we’d spend the night together. Instead, he came over the next night and didn’t mention the holiday at all.
I kept waiting for him to apologize or bring it up, but we simply went through our usual routine. My night alone watching a sappy romance movie is better than having an almost-orgasm only for it to be ripped away because he was finished.
After rinsing off in the shower, I slip on a set of cozy pajamas and settle into bed with my journal and planner. I write my talking points for therapy tomorrow, and triple check my packing list for the away game.
Then, the moaning starts.
With a heavy sigh, I grab my headphones and crank up the volume on my favorite classical music playlist to try and drown out the noise.
I should have assumed this would happen, but it’s already closing in on nine o’clock, so I figured I was safe from hearing someone receive the pleasure I so badly crave.
I’m not jealous.
I’m only slightly upset and bitter that I’m alone today. Besides, would it kill them to be a little quieter about it?
Okay, maybe I’m a little jealous.
And horny.
Not because I want my neighbor, but because it’s been almost a month since I felt the touch of another person, and even longer since I felt the satisfying touch of anyone.
Silicone it is.
At least my vibrator’s never let me down.
Friday morning, I take two pain killers with my morning coffee, hoping my headache will be gone by the time I get on the plane. The last thing I need on top of my anxiety is a headache from crying last night.
Yesterday, I had therapy, and afterward, I spent two hours sobbing while I scribbled in my journal all the feelings I’ve been keeping locked away.
My therapist, Rebecca, is the most patient woman I’ve ever met.
I’ve been seeing her virtually for about three months, but only in person for three weeks since I moved here.
Apparently, I wasn’t being as forthcoming over our video calls as she wanted me to be.
She’s excellent at reading body language, and I feel we’ve made more progress the past three weeks than we did in the months before.
It’s my fault for not opening up to her the way I should have, but in my defense, I didn’t realize I wasn’t being totally honest.
After Jace and I broke up, Rebecca gently started to pry more, and open up more boxes filled with childhood trauma. I know it’s for the best, and I’ll be a better version of myself for it, but reliving trauma is a bitch.
My therapist doesn’t pull any punches either.
She’s not afraid to ask the hard questions, or tell me things I don’t want to hear—like how one reason I stayed with Jace so long was because of how my mother treated me.
Opening up to her about how I felt like he was the best I could do, and I didn’t deserve to be picky about my relationship, was worse than getting my IUD inserted.
Then unpacking why I felt that way, was just as difficult.
Who knew growing up as one of seven kids, and having parents uninterested in my well-being, would result in unhealthy views on love and relationships?
I’m not generally the type of person who overshares about my life. With the exception of Dakota and my cousins, I don’t let people see beyond the surface. Dakota is the only other person who knows about the scheduled sex with Jace.
Rebecca knows everything.
She listened to me word-vomit about my fear of change, how I like my schedules but want to try new things, and my anxiety about failing at anything new. She calmly told me growth comes with uncomfortable changes, and sometimes the only way to get over the fear of failure is to sit in discomfort.
When I told her I was embarrassed to try new things by myself, she suggested I make a list of all the things I want to try, and find someone to go do something with. Even if it’s something as simple as trying a new restaurant, or going to a different grocery store.
Easier said than done, but I didn’t tell her that.
I could ask Dakota to go with me, but after seeing how exhausted she was at our brunch last week, and hearing how busy her schedule is, I won’t ask her to add more to her already full plate.
I want to find a way to make her life easier, not add more stress because I’m too chicken to try new hobbies.
In the last ten minutes of our appointment, Rebecca asked me if I had considered getting back into the dating scene. I told her no, because the possibility of another relationship, where I have to beg for crumbs of attention, fills me with dread.
Unless the perfect man falls into my lap, I’m going to be single for the foreseeable future.
As I’m gathering my purse, there’s a knock on my window. I turn to find Ezra standing outside my car, waving at me with a boyish grin on his face. He looks handsome in his navy blue suit and royal blue tie. He opens my door for me and then steps back so I can get out.
“Good morning, Sutton. Need any help with your bag?” He motions to the small weekender bag in my passenger seat.
“I’ve got it, but thank you. I wouldn’t want you to damage your shoulder before your first game.”
“Unless you’re packing bricks, I doubt your bag would cause serious injury. Besides, it’s your job to fix me anyway, so it cancels out.”
“I think if I caused an injury, I’d be fired since that’s the opposite purpose of my job.”
“Then I promise not to get you fired. We haven’t had a chance to catch up yet, so I don’t want you to go anywhere.”
A pang of guilt hits me. He hasn’t been pestering me about catching up, and I know he’s just as busy as I am, but I still feel bad we haven’t yet. I want to know what his journey to the major league was like and how his parents, and siblings are.
“I’m sorry I haven’t found the time, Ezra. Maybe we can plan something for next week?”
A bright, boyish grin spreads across his stubbled face. “I’m not upset at all, I swear. Next week sounds good.”
His response is so genuine it immediately makes me feel better.
“In the meantime, do you want to be my seat buddy?”