9. Rowan #2
“As your sister, I have to tell you to ignore your agent.” Troy opened his mouth like he was going to argue with his wife, but she cut him off with a withering glare.
“And as your wife, I’m going to advise you not to discourage my brother from finding happiness because of fucking football.
Otherwise, you’re going to find yourself very lonely tonight. ”
I snorted. “Kids in bed?” Raina only talked like that when there weren’t prying ears about.
Her children were, unfortunately, fond of repeating.
I’d contributed more than my fair share to the family swear jar when I’d lived in Fayetteville.
I had probably paid for a good part of their family trip to Disney the previous summer.
“Nope, they’re out for the night. Staying with Auntie Riley.”
I had a hard time imagining that. Riley was too much like me—abrasive and brash and not always the greatest with children. I wasn’t even sure she liked kids, outside of Troy and Raina’s pair.
Troy looked between his wife and the phone screen before sighing. “Tell me what happened with Milo. Maybe we can figure something out that won’t be a disaster for the team or your career.”
I started talking. I started telling my sister and best friend everything that had happened between me and Milo since I’d come to Tucson.
I told them about how annoying I’d found him when I’d first met him and how that had slowly shifted.
I told them about the night I found him sitting on the floor outside of his apartment and how that had been a turning point for our friendship.
I told him about the bar after our first victory and all the times we ended up in the gym together, and I ended the story with Ethel’s visit, brunch, Ray, and how I came to be kissing him in that elevator.
I wasn’t sure I’d talked that much in years, but Raina and Troy were a captive audience.
They asked the right questions that made me keep talking. They poked and prodded in the right ways, and every time I’d pause, they’d encourage me to tell them more.
“You need to talk to him,” Raina said when I’d finally finished.
That was the obvious answer, but not a helpful one. “Where do I even start?”
Troy looked pensive, tapping his index finger against his jaw the way he always did when he was deep in thought.
When I’d first met him, I’d thought he was exaggerating the movement to be humorous.
Once I’d gotten to know him better, I learned it was genuine.
After a few taps of his finger, he spoke again.
“Start by figuring out what you want,” he began.
“It won’t help either of you if you go in blind. ”
I nodded, and Troy offered a few other pieces of advice. Raina had her own words of wisdom, but in the end, it all boiled down to the same thing: I needed to talk to him.
I couldn’t find a time to talk to Milo the next day.
We flew to Roswell, New Mexico, and the team plane was hardly the right place to have that conversation.
Once we reached the hotel, I had to focus on getting my head straight for the game.
I locked myself in my hotel room, only opening the door for room service, until the next morning when we boarded the team bus and went to the Marauders’ stadium.
I’d like to say that the mental work I’d done the night before had helped, but I couldn’t get my head into the game.
There were times when I’d catch sight of the sun glinting off Milo’s platinum blond hair on the sidelines, forming a halo, at the most inopportune moments.
Like right before the opposing quarterback snapped the ball.
I missed a few tackles that should have been easy.
I’d misjudged one of their running back’s routes and let them get a first down and then some.
At half time, I was almost convinced that Coach Cal would pull me, but he didn’t.
Coach North pulled me aside though and gave me a quick talking to. It had to be bad to pull our defensive coordinator from the booth where he watched the games and called the plays from his eye-in-the-sky position. I felt like an ass, and I knew I had to do better and be more focused.
When I went back out onto the field, I refused to look at the sidelines.
I watched Milo when he was on the field, but I didn’t let my mind stray toward him once.
If I wanted there to be anything between me and Milo, then I couldn’t let this be a one-year deal.
I would need to prove to the Scorpions’ front office that I was worth a long-term investment. That had to start now.
My second half of the game was a lot better than my first, and it made a difference with the rest of the defense. Once we started holding back the offense, our offense kicked in. We never took the lead, but we got closer than I thought possible. In the end, we lost by four points.
Everyone on the bus back to the hotel was riding high on our near victory. Players sang out our fight song like we’d won. Plans were made for celebratory dinners and drinks. The entire time, all I could think of was one thing. I was riding high, and it was time.
My heart raced as the bus pulled into the hotel. Unfortunately, Milo rushed off with Jonesy and Liam. That wasn’t the right time.
I went to my room and took a shower. I changed into the jeans and tee shirt I’d packed for the weekend, and I made up my mind.
I was going to talk to Milo. Unfortunately, I saw him, Jonesy, and Liam boarding an elevator as I started toward his room.
I ate a quick meal in the hotel restaurant and went back to my room to wait.
Instead, I fell asleep.
We boarded the plane back to Tucson early.
Press was waiting to talk to a few players, and I was, unfortunately, included in that list. Milo wasn’t.
I was stuck at the stadium doing press and filming a few bits for the team’s social media for almost two hours after we got back.
The entire time, I was just waiting to be released.
I was going to talk to him.
I was going to do it tonight before I could chicken out. Before another week of practice and another game made it impossible.
When I got back to the condo, I dropped my stuff just inside my unit door and went across the hall to his. I drew a deep breath before knocking.
Milo answered in less than thirty seconds. He had changed out of his travel clothing into a pair of black Scorpions shorts and a tank top that fit his body perfectly, showing off the muscles of his arms and clinging to the definition of his torso. My mouth dried up at the sight of him.
“Rowan?” he asked when I didn’t say anything.
Right. I needed to speak. I had kissed him. We’d barely had time to speak until then, and now I was showing up at his doorstep. I had to say something. I took another deep breath.
“We need to talk.”
Probably not the best place to start.