Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Knights’ first home game is tonight, and tensions are high in the locker room as the team captain gives an inspiring speech about winning or playing their best or… something.
I’m not entirely sure, because I can’t stop my gaze from trailing to Ezra every fifteen seconds. I think to anyone who doesn’t know him, he probably looks like he’s just zoned in, listening to his captain, but I knew his tells ten years ago, and they’re still the same now.
He’s agitated, and nervous as fuck. I don’t blame him for being anxious, but I want to know what’s got his shoulders bunched up to his ears. He seemed fine Thursday at practice, but I haven’t seen him between then and now.
I was disappointed he didn’t ask me to hang out last night since he knew I didn’t have plans, but just because he said he wanted to spend more time with me, doesn’t mean we need to spend all our free time together.
He ended up texting me to complain that Kendall asked him to play wingman. I assume it worked out in his favor because I could hear him on the other side of the wall last night. Which I found strange because he was texting me for most of the night leading up to, and after his hookup.
He kept sending me updates about Kendall’s prospects, and how loud the bar was.
Then, he assured me neither of them were drinking anything other than seltzer water with lime.
Our conversation turned to random topics, and then he informed me at eight o’clock that Kendall was leaving with someone, and he was on his way back to get a good night’s rest.
I was already in bed by then, and I may or may not have paused the movie I was watching to listen for any indication that he brought someone home.
I felt a tinge of hurt when I heard the sounds on the other side of the wall, which was silly because Ezra is an adult and can do what he wants. Plus it’s none of my business.
And I’m not interested in him like that anyways.
When Elijah is done and the team breaks, heading to do warm ups, I weave through the players and snag Ezra by the arm. “Hey, can I talk to you real quick?”
“Sure.” He follows me out of the locker room and down the hall, away from the noise of the rest of the team. I want to take him to the athletic training room, but we don’t have time.
“Spill. What’s got you wound up?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” he grumbles, not meeting my eyes.
“Ezra, don’t bullshit me right now.”
He leans against the wall and rolls his neck a few times before he sighs. “I talked to my parents this morning. I don’t know why I thought they’d change their minds about coming, but I still hoped they’d surprise me. It’s stupid, and I shouldn’t be so upset, but…”
“But it still hurts.”
“Yeah,” he whispers. “It really fucking hurts.”
For a moment, the Ezra in front of me isn’t the twenty-six year old man who’s made a career out of the sport he loves, the one who’s honed his craft and worked his ass off to get where he is.
In his place is the fifteen year old boy I once found on the back porch, hastily wiping away tears after his parents told him rugby wasn’t a feasible career.
He’s the boy who only ever wanted the support of his people.
I swallow over the emotion lodged in my throat.
“You’re allowed to feel hurt, and you’re allowed to feel angry.
But don’t you dare let this put any doubts about your capabilities in your head.
Make them regret ever discouraging you by going out there, and playing the best damn game of your life.
You’re here because you earned it, and you need to remember that.
If you need reassurance, you have me. I’ll be there, on the sidelines, cheering you on.
Don’t let their wrong opinions spoil your love of the game. ”
Ezra takes a few deep breaths, composing himself and letting my words sink in. I wish I could do more for him. I wish I could smack his family upside the head, and tell them to stop being assholes and open their eyes to how much he’s accomplished.
To drive my point home, I step forward and wrap my arms around his waist. There’s no hesitation from him as he wraps his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tight like he’s trying to anchor himself.
“God, I missed you,” he murmurs into my hair.
A shiver runs down my spine at his gruff tone, but I don’t let it show. I break our hug and step back, smoothing down my polo. “I missed you too. Now, get out there and don’t do anything reckless.”
At the halftime mark, we’re losing 12-16. We still have another forty minutes to beat the San Diego Scorpions, but spirits are low as the team files into the locker room to rehydrate, change out of their soiled jerseys, and go over their strategy for the last half of the game.
Kendall got tackled particularly hard, and Dr. Kipp asked me to take him to the medical room and check him over to make sure he’s still okay to play. Kendall, being Kendall, hasn’t stopped flirting with me while I run my tests and tend to the small cut over his eyebrow.
“What do you think? Will it scar? I hear ladies love a scar.” He hisses and flinches when I spray the wound with saline.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but this will heal just fine. Your face will remain unmarred.”
“That’s alright. I would probably have too many women throwing themselves at me if I got any more handsome.”
“Wow, so humble,” I murmur, smoothing a bandaid over the clean cut.
“What can I say, Miss Brady? I know what I’ve got to offer.” The rakish wiggle of his eyebrows makes me want to snort. This man is too much.
“What’s that, Ken Doll?” Ezra says from the doorway, startling both of us.
“One night of memorable, incredible orgasms, of course.”
“Is that all?” I ask over my shoulder, packing up the medical supplies. “You’re good to head back to the locker room.”
“What do you mean ‘is that all?’ I think that’s a pretty good offer!”
“Maybe, but I can get that with a rechargeable friend that doesn’t talk or flirt with everyone in a ten mile radius.”
“Sometimes the talking is the best part.” Kendall winks before he saunters off to the locker room.
Ezra hovers in the doorway, looking like he wants to say something.
He’s been channeling the hurt he feels from his family into the game, and it’s paying off.
He’s made some very strategic tackles, two of which helped our team score a try.
His shoulders are still stiff with tension, but I can’t tell if it’s because of the game, or because of something else.
“You okay, Ez? Is your shoulder bothering you at all? You hit their hooker pretty hard.”
“No, I’m okay. I feel great, actually.” He clears his throat, crossing the few feet between us and leaning against the table. “I wanted to say thank you. I know it’s your job to be here, but seeing you on the sidelines helps. It reminds me that I’m not alone, you know?”
“Even if it weren’t my job, I would still be here. If, somehow, I’d figured out you were part of this team, I like to think we would have reconnected, and I would be in the stands instead of on the sidelines.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
His face softens, and he steps forward, opening his arms before rethinking his actions and wincing. “I really want to hug you, but I probably smell like a wet dog.”
“That’s a clean jersey, right?”
“Yes?”
I open my arms. “Then bring it in.”
Ezra doesn’t hesitate, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around my waist. He bends so I can wrap my arms around his neck, and when he lifts me slightly my face ends up in his shoulder.
When I breathe in, all I smell is the detergent they use to clean the uniforms, and something uniquely Ezra.
He should smell awful with all the running around he’s been doing, but he doesn’t.
His body is still warm from all the action, and I feel every bump and bulge of his muscles molding to the softness of my body. My nipples harden into points behind my bra, and a rush of need zaps up my spine.
I’ve never had a reaction like this to anyone.
The panic over my body’s reaction douses the lust coursing through my veins. I step back and glance at the clock on the wall. “Five minutes till kick-off. We better head back.”
Ezra nods, blowing out a long, measured breath. He hits me with a smile that isn’t quite as bright as his usual one, but still makes something flutter in my chest. “Wish me luck?”
“You don’t need luck. You’ve got this.”
“Thanks, Sutt.”
The clock ticks down to the last sixty seconds of the game. We’re ahead by three, but if the other team manages to get a try, they’ll win. The alternates are on the edge of their seats, holding their breath, and beside me, Dr. Kipp keeps muttering under his breath.
My line of sight lands on Ezra, a look of pure focus on his face as the other team’s inside center gets the ball and our team advances on defense. Rodney, the outside center, and Ezra close in on number twelve, predicting his route, even though he’s trying to goosestep them.
Number twelve attempts to pass to their fly-half, but Ezra catches their elbow, causing them to lose grip and the team scrambles into a ruck. Ezra pushes hard on their fly-half over their inside center, while our fly-half, Kyson, digs for the ball.
Kyson gains possession and launches the ball to the other side, right as the buzzer sounds, signalling the end of the game. There’s a brief moment of disbelief for the players before everyone starts cheering.
“They won!” Dr. Kipp pats me on the shoulder so hard I jolt forward. He doesn’t notice, and I don’t particularly care because the Knights won! I feel like a proud mom.
The players make their way off the field, and I line up to give them all high-fives. Ezra is the last to come by, and he surprises me by lifting me off the ground and spinning me around.
“We did it, Sutton! We won! Can you believe it?”
“Ezra! Put me down,” I say between confused laughs. I’ve never been picked up before, and I don’t know how I feel about it.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m just so pumped.” He sets me on my feet, and the grin that spreads across his face is brighter than the stadium lights.
“You did it! How are you going to celebrate?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m sure a bunch of the guys will want to go somewhere. Will you come, too? I—we couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I don’t know…”
“Please,” he begs, pushing his lips out into a pout. “I think Cap’s wife will be there, and Webby’s sister. I’d guess a bunch of the other wives and girlfriends, too.”
I’m not a wife or a girlfriend, though—I’m medical staff. I don’t want to make any of the players uncomfortable, or make them feel like I’m babysitting them or something. It’s also such a spontaneous decision. I’m not wearing the right outfit for going out, and this will mess up my bedtime routine.
Ezra must read the hesitation on my face, because his eyes soften. “I promise no one will be upset if you come. Very much the opposite, in fact.”
“Text me when you decide where you’re going, and I’ll let you know.”
“You got it.”