Chapter 32 Camden
CAMDEN
We’re minutes away from our first game of the conference play-offs, and I haven’t felt so unsure about stepping on the field since my rookie year.
Outside of calling plays at practice, Erik hasn’t spoken to me directly since our confrontation two weeks ago, and although Nadine has tried to act as if she’s fine, she isn’t.
She’s kept her chin up, put on a brave face, but I know all this has gotten to her.
She’s worried her graduate school applications will be affected by the stories on the internet, and she doesn’t have many people to talk to who can understand her position.
I overheard her on the phone with Molly, but until Erik and I can work past this, they’re both stuck in opposite corners.
Same goes for the entire Rivera family, seemingly all at a loss for how to overcome the rift between Nadine and Erik.
In a last-ditch effort not to solve the problem but at least win this fucking game, I approach Erik in the locker room. “Hey, we need to talk.”
He keeps his attention forward, on the Founders logo on the wall across from him as he completes his pregame ritual—bending and extending each of his fingers ten times. “No, we don’t. We need to focus on this game.”
“Yeah, which is why I’m telling you we need to set aside all this personal stuff for—”
“It is set aside.”
“Not if you can’t even look at me.”
He slowly turns, looking at me. “We need to win this goddamn game, not have our heads clouded with distractions.”
Except the more we ignore this, the more it’s going to be a distraction. He should know this. He was the one who pushed so hard for me to talk to Pearce this season. He’s the one who practices mindful breathing and journals every morning. Where is all that happy horseshit now?
I’m not used to him being like this. Short-tempered and illogical. I can understand acting out of emotion and not the brain—I’ve been doing that for longer than I care to remember—but for once in my life, I’m attempting to be the problem-solver and peacekeeper.
He doesn’t care.
“Let’s just go out there and do our jobs,” Erik says, brushing by me before I can argue. He didn’t even finish his ritual.
But it’s too late now.
Time to play.
New England’s defense is a wall, but we fight for every yard. On our last possession before halftime, Reise kicks a field goal, putting us on the board, and we spend twelve minutes talking with coaches, aiming to reevaluate and readjust our game to try to take the win.
But the second half is as much of a slog as the first. New England scores seven in the third quarter, and we trail them until the end of the fourth.
Erik calls the play, a deep pass that’s risky, but I’m ready.
The ball snaps, and I’m off, sprinting down the field.
Erik’s perfect spiral for thirty-five yards that lands in Aaron Brown’s hands after I take out his defense.
A second later, the whistle blows, and we’ve got six more on the board.
With the extra point, we take the lead, 10-7, and with only two minutes left on the clock, our defense is able to hold New England back on their final drive.
We win.
By the skin of our teeth.
But it’s a win, nonetheless, and I approach Erik with a tentative smile, an olive branch. I hold out my fist toward him as we make our way to the tunnel, but he leaves me hanging, pointedly ignoring it and me as he walks ahead.
So much for setting it all aside.
I make it through the postgame press bullshit, feeding the reporters all my practiced lines about how there is absolutely no bad blood between the Founders’ QB and me.
That it has nothing to do with his sister, and that it is definitely not because he caught me doing something illegal.
As far as anyone knows, adrenaline got the best of me, and I lashed out.
Because I’m the asshole. I’m the one who swung.
I’m the arrogant bad boy with a record for breaking things, so why not add one more to the tally?
By the time I arrive home, it’s after midnight, and I assume Nadine will be in bed. But instead, I find her in the living room crying. She doesn’t notice me, obviously hasn’t heard me enter the penthouse, and the sound of her sobs shreds whatever is left of my beat-up heart.
I’ve been following the rules, not only this week, but this whole season. I’ve kept my head down. I’ve played my part, done exactly what the team and the PR company have wanted me to. I’ve practically been a choirboy, and yet it’s still not enough.
Not where she’s concerned.
Not when the love of my goddamn life can’t catch her breath, her shoulders shaking with every inhale, like it hurts.
Fighting Erik was stupid, but I won’t apologize for it.
I did it because I promised Nadine to always keep her safe, so I don’t feel bad about it.
Yet that one minute of my anger—whether it was called for or not—has only made her life harder.
In trying to do what was right, I hurt her.
I made her life infinitely more complicated.
I’ve broken the one promise I made to her.
The one thing I said I would do to make sure I deserved her.
If I can’t make it right with Erik, maybe I can still make it right for Nadine.
I knew all along she was too good for me. The whole world fucking thinks so. And it might be time to let her go. I could actually be the hero of this story, instead of the selfish prick of a villain.
“River,” I say quietly, and she turns, wiping her eyes.
“Hi. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Her voice is ragged, face red, and the pain in my chest moves up to my throat. Guilt and heartbreak rend me in two, but I can’t keep putting her through this. I can’t keep breaking her heart.
I inhale a breath, though it doesn’t make me any steadier, as I approach her, saying, “I thought you’d be asleep.”
She shakes her head, rubbing her nose on the sleeve of one of my hoodies. “I watched your game and then that interview you did. I…I feel so horrible about all this.”
“No, honey, no.” I kneel in front of her on the floor. “You have no reason to feel bad. None of this is your fault.” I swipe my thumb across her chin, under her wobbling lip. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I hope you know that.”
She sniffles and dabs at her bloodshot eyes before meeting my gaze, and I rip off the Band-Aid.
“Which is why I think we should break up. Before all this becomes worse. I don’t want you—”
“What?”
“I can’t stand to see you crying, and—”
“You think the way to make it better is to break up with me?”
Like the flip of a switch, there is no trace of sadness, only pure ire. It’s actually a pretty good imitation of her brother. How they can press a button for their temper, just like that.
I back up a few inches, explaining myself. “You know it’s only a matter of time before something else happens. I do something else that may hurt you and—”
“Your brain really is full of fucking straw, isn’t it? A corn-fed jock with the emotional intelligence of a scarecrow.”
“Riv, I—”
She huffs, cutting off my defense. Though I’m not sure what I was going to say to that kind of funny insult. If I weren’t confused, I might laugh. “This whole situation is my fault, and I’m trying to make it better, okay?”
“Oh yeah, okay,” she mocks, pushing me away so she can stand.
“This whole situation is your fault. Like Erik has nothing to do with it?” She points at me, shouting at me like I’m her brother.
Clearly needing to yell at someone. “He wasn’t the one who verbally attacked me and you?
He wasn’t the one who didn’t bother to listen to us and instigated the fight?
It was all you? He had his hands tied behind his back, and you whaled on him the whole time. Is that right?”
I hesitate. “Well, no, I—”
“You defended me, like you should have. You told him the truth. You stood up for yourself and our relationship. Yes, you punched my brother and your teammate, but he deserved it.”
“Yeah…” I mumble. That’s what I thought too, but it’s weird to have someone telling me that I’m right. That I did the right thing, and I’m…grateful? Concerned a little? Like we’ve fallen into an alternate reality.
“I was crying because your team might lose because of me. Because of the tension our relationship has brought to the team, and I feel bad about that because you deserve to win.” She closes the distance between us, the anger in her voice down to a simmer.
The icy river in her eyes melting when she loops her arms around my neck.
“You’ve worked so hard to get to this point, and I want you to have your comeback.
I was crying because I’m worried you won’t have it. ”
This time, I do laugh. “You’re so upset because you think we might lose? Riv, that’s nothing compared to me losing you.”
She smacks at my shoulder. “So then why’d you say you wanted to break up?”
I bend, smiling into the curve of her neck. “Because I’m a stupid man, and I’ve seen you cry too many times over this, and I don’t know what else to do.”
“You can start by telling me you love me.”
I kiss her throat. “I love you.”
“And that you don’t want to break up ever.”
“I never want to break up.” I nuzzle her temple. “I want to marry you.”
“Then promise to go out there and win this whole fucking thing and show the world what kind of person you are.”
I kiss her mouth. “I’m going to go out there and win this whole fucking thing.” Combing my fingers into her hair, I wrap my hands around the sides of her head, bending my knees to meet her gaze. “For you. I don’t care about the world.”
She blinks away the glassiness in her eyes. “If you give up, all of this—all of my PMS crying—will be for nothing.”
I wince, grunting. “I should’ve checked the calendar. You always get emotional before your period.”
“Yeah, I know.” She heaves a sigh, like I’m an idiot.
Which I am.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, embarrassed at my terrible idea. So much for being the hero.
But she merely shakes her head, a tired schoolteacher. “I can’t believe you thought you could third-act break up with me.”
“A what?”
“You need to read more.”
I tug her to me, lifting her up so she wraps her legs around my waist, and I carry her to our bedroom. “I’ve seen what you read, you little pervert.”
That earns me a giggle, and I kiss her, hoping to swallow the happy sound. By the time I reach our bed, her cheeks are no longer red from crying, but I hope to make them red for a whole other reason. “What was that I saw the other day? Something about dinosaurs?”
She helps herself to scooting backward on the mattress, shucking my hoodie to reveal a tank top. “A Jurassic Park fan fiction I found.”
I work her leggings down and off. “Jurassic Park fan fiction?”
She shrugs. “I was into monster romance for a while and then started wondering if there was something with dinosaurs. And I couldn’t find anything that rang my bell until someone pointed me in the direction of this Wattpad writer, and…
” She blows out a breath. “It’s basically erotica about a guy who can shape-shift into a dinosaur…
’cause science. He finds his human mate, who, of course, is trying to kill him. ”
I sink to the floor, wrapping my hands around her ankles to pull her toward me. “You really can find anything on the internet, can’t you?”