27. 27 Nathan
27: Nathan
M ae and I fuck anywhere and everywhere. At halftime during games. After practice. Evenings off. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, and it fucking sucks that I have to pretend she’s nothing more than a friend when we’re around other people.
As Bennett said, I’m not great at acting.
Whenever the Missarali Storks win a game, she’s the first face I want to see. The first person I want to hug, and it takes all my strength not to turn to her and wink whenever I score a touchdown.
The media would undoubtedly eat that shit up.
I’m tired. So fucking tired. Football drains me, and I know everything would be so much easier if I were to retire. But we have to win. My mother wanted this for me. I need to do this for her.
“You look like shit,” my sister says, and her gaze shifts to my phone on the counter, which has pinged for the seventh time in the last fifteen minutes since she arrived at my house.
It’s our father. The Missarali Storks had another press conference, and he specifically told me that I looked like I wanted to drop dead.
Apparently, there’s no passion behind my eyes anymore, which concerns him. I think he’s worried I’ll fly off the handle, but I’m not sure why he’s only just bringing it up now. My passion for football died long ago.
My phone pings again.
“Is that him?” Poppy narrows her eyes and snatches my phone from my kitchen counter before I can stop her. She reads the messages aloud, cursing. “Jesus, Nathan. Does he always use language like this with you?” She grimaces in revulsion. “You know, it would be so easy for me just to call him up and—”
I shake my head. “What would that accomplish? I don’t want you on his radar, Pops.”
“Nathan, you’re my brother.” She gives me a I don’t give a fuck about him look.
“It won’t change anything. He’ll be snapping at my heels until we win. And I can’t quit until we do.”
“Because of your mom.”
It feels like someone’s just punched me in the gut. Poppy and I don’t speak about my mother often, but she knows everything she needs to about the situation.
“Look, Poppy, my relationship with my parents is and was complicated. I don’t—”
I’m cut off by someone knocking on my front door.
Either Bennett and Evan are here to pester me, a fan has discovered where I live, or Mae’s here.
I inhale deeply.
“Who’s that?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as my sister gestures for me to open the door, raising her eyebrows at me questionably.
“Are you gonna answer that or sit there like a frozen woolly mammoth?”
I scoff at the analogy before staring at the door. I don’t have any other choice.
I pull it open.
Mae stands on my porch with a bunch of ingredients in her arms, and she strolls in. “I bought some stuff to make some carbonara, and then I was thinking we could stop by the shelter and take Radish for a—oh.”
She gazes at Poppy wide-eyed, and my sister’s mouth hangs open. She shuffles off her stool and laughs out loud. “So, she knows the code to your gate, huh?” A loud hum fills the room. “I see.”
“Poppy, it’s—”
“Don’t try and tell me it’s not what it looks like.” She’s grinning ear to ear. “Renee would have a meltdown if she knew about this.” My sister doubles over as she laughs, bracing her hands on her knees. “I had my suspicions, but I love this.”
Mae rolls her eyes and dumps the ingredients on the counter. “Poppy, okay, I’m not even going to try and deny it, but you seriously can’t tell anyone.”
My sister fake scoffs. “What do you take me for? My mother didn’t raise no snitch.”
“Right,” I say, bracing myself against the kitchen island. “I know you love gossip, but please keep this to yourself. I’ll buy you a new laptop for school if you promise not to say anything.”
“I can’t believe you’d even try and bribe me into silence, and just because you did, I’ll take that laptop as payment.”
I cock an eyebrow. I’ll buy her the most expensive one there is. “Done.”
I want nothing more than to announce to the world that Mae is mine, but then I’ll have to kiss the Missarali Storks goodbye. Those boys are my life. They keep me—mostly—sane. And if I’ve come this far just to fall at the last hurdle, I don’t know how I’ll feel.
I also know Mae doesn’t deserve to be thrown into the limelight. She doesn’t deserve to be part of some scandal. Not when she’s working so hard to find a vet practice that’ll take her.
Poppy shrugs on her coat. “Well, I should get going.” She shoots Mae a wink. “Please wait until I’m off the premises before you start fucking. As much as I love you both, it’s the last thing I want to hear.”
I release a strained chuckle and walk my sister out, making sure she is indeed off the premises before I throw Mae over my shoulder and onto my bed, sinking into her and making her come over and over again for me.
The way she smiles at me with adoration when I clean her up reminds me how much l love this. How much I want this.
But it’s always the things I want the most that I can’t have.
The girls have just finished practice, and we cross over as ours is about to begin. My father’s been calling me nonstop today, but I haven't picked up. I’m usually good at putting up with him, but with my head feeling as frazzled as it is, I don’t have the patience to deal with him today.
I should be excited about getting closer to the Super Bowl. But I know that one step towards it means another away from Mae.
She appears dead behind the eyes as I cross her in the tunnel. She tries to force a smile, but it doesn’t fool me. It’s the way she looks whenever she leaves practice with her mother.
Defeated.
She may get over it quickly, but I can’t help but feel infuriated with Renee Bexley. Her words hurt her daughter, and even though I know Mae’s learned to enjoy cheerleading now, her mother doesn’t make it easy for her.
I attempt to catch Mae’s gaze again, but Sophia’s already slung her arm over her shoulder and is asking if she’s okay.
Poppy catches my wrist as the others head to the locker room. “Renee was extra hard on her today. Said some things that were just plain nasty. Just so you know.”
My eyes shift to Renee straightening her tracksuit—because even the tiniest crease disgusts her—and I release a sigh of frustration.
“Thanks, Poppy.”
My protectiveness flourishes. No one is going to make Mae feel less than perfect, especially not her control freak of a mother.
“Wanna tell me what your problem is today, then?” I ask Renee as I waltz over to her in the middle of the field. No one else is around.
She scoffs. Even the fact that I’m talking to her doesn’t sit well with her. “Do I look like I have a problem?”
“Sounds like you do.”
A small smile of realisation appears on her face, and she nods, rolling her eyes. “How I speak to my cheerleaders is none of your business. I give all my girls constructive criticism. Why do you care?”
I sigh. I don’t know how to get my point across without giving away that I see Mae as more than a professional partner. I’m really trying to bite my tongue here.
“Sounds like it’s a little more than a constructive criticism. In fact, I’ve heard out of everyone on the team, you treat Mae the worst. Want to tell me why that is?”
Renee’s face contorts. “And you’re speaking to me like I’m a child because…?”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “You got something against your own daughter?”
She‘s silent.
“Cat got your tongue now?” I shake my head, reminding myself I need to be nice. “Listen, Renee, I’ve got to know Mae a little since we’ve been partners. She’s become good friends with my sister, and I don’t understand how you have it in you to treat her the way you do.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Nathan Slater.”
“And I don’t want to,” I respond. “But the way you treat my sister’s friend,” it pains me to refer to Mae as that, “is not fair. Do you know how lucky you are to have a daughter who tries with you after all you’ve done?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
But I do. I know about Mae’s father. I know the effect his PTSD had on the family. I know Renee feels alone. I know she projects her inner turmoil onto other people.
“I don’t need to. You’re pushing her away, which will only hurt you more in the long run. She’s your flesh and blood. You probably don’t care, but I don’t have a mother. I wish I did, but I don’t. You don’t realise how lucky you are to have a child, or two for that matter, that stick by you. I’d do anything to be in their position, so stop taking family for granted because they’re all you've got.”
She’s stunned.
“That’s coming from someone who wishes their mother was still around. Things can change in the blink of an eye. Don’t waste the time you have with them by being… well, you .” I turn and walk away without another word.
I want to tell her I know it all. I know everything there is to about Mae, and I see the good things in her that her mother refuses to.
If she won’t support her daughter, then I will, and I’ll do it without complaint because caring for Mae Bexley is no skin off my back.
“There’s the star of the NFL!” Emmanuel hollers as I walk into the store. He rushes over to me, gripping my shoulders. “Your last game was incredible. I’m so proud.”
“Thanks, Emmanuel.” I nod a greeting to his son, who’s unloading boxes. “How are sales going?”
The man’s face drops as he sighs. I can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about the situation in front of his son, but Emmanuel’s store isn’t doing well. “Not as good as I would like. We’ve sold one bottle today. One. Profit is barely over ten dollars.”
I’ve offered Emmanuel financial assistance countless times, yet his pride stops him from accepting. I get why. He created this business from the ground up and doesn’t want me rescuing him. Even when I’ve tried to boost his sales by buying wine, he refuses to sell it to me, knowing I don’t drink and won’t have any use for it.
The store was a booming business when it first opened.
One: because my mother was one of his top customers when we moved.
And two: because people were excited about something new.
But now that the store’s old and outdated, it blends in.
It’s no longer shiny and new.
People would prefer to purchase from a billion-dollar company rather than a man trying to make a better life for his family. If Emmanuel’s store doesn’t get the footfall soon, though, he’ll be forced to close it. And I can’t bear the thought of him losing everything he’s worked so hard for.
It’s why I come and help him. I know he can’t afford to hire staff to restock the shelves and clean the floors, so I will. For free. Because it’s the least I can do for him.
I don’t care how many times he protests.
Grabbing the mop from the utility closet, I fill the bucket with soapy water in the break room. I ignore Emmanuel’s glowers, working on the floor coated with muddy footprints.
His son snickers behind the tower of boxes, and I throw Emmanuel a humoured smile before ducking my head down.
The bell rings, and I whip around as that sweet, fruity scent I adore so much smacks me in the face.
I blink in shock. Mae beams at me before turning to Emmanuel. “Hi, I’m looking for a few bottles of wine.”
I told her about Emmanuel’s store a little while ago. About how I’m concerned he’ll be forced to shut because of lack of customers, so here she is, purchasing from him even though I know for a fact she needs all the money she can get.
I don’t interrupt. Instead, I get lost in my thoughts, smiling to myself.
How does someone so effortlessly good exist in a world that doesn't deserve it?
Mae’s not doing this for my approval. My praise. She’s doing this because she knows what Emmanuel means to me. What his store means to me.
I marvel at how perfect she is. How perfect she is for me . But she doesn’t wear perfection like most people do. She’s perfectly imperfect . Authentically herself. Her humility is quiet. But clear as day to me.
“These are perfect,” Mae says as Emmanuel suggests a few options. She clutches three bottles in her hands and waltzes up to the counter.
She works hard to make her money. She doesn't have it sprouting out of her ears like some, and I know this wine will put a dent in her bank account.
But she’s an independent woman who can make her own decisions. If this is what she wants to do, who am I to second-guess her?
Emmanuel doesn't seem to recognise Mae from months ago, or if he does, he decides not to say anything. I see joy spiralling in those grateful eyes of his, and after Mae pays and leaves—shooting me a wink—he turns to me and says, “Well, things are looking up.”
I watch as Mae drives away in her rental car, which looks like it’s going to fall apart any day now. My lips tilt into a smile. “Yeah, they are.”
Who would have thought that the cocky and impenetrable Nathan Slater would melt like butter for a girl?
Not me.
And yet, here I am.