Chapter 24
COLE
MAGGIE: Seriously.
MAGGIE: If you don’t give me every single detail about who this chick is, I’m coming and will find out for myself.
MAGGIE: Your choice, bro.
MAGGIE: I gave you two hours. See you tomorrow. *Smiley face emoji*
ME: Sorry. I’m in a meeting. Chill. I’ll text you later.
MAGGIE: Chill?! Has the sun and salty air gone to your brain?
MAGGIE: You are dating someone. This is new, and I know NOTHING!
ME: It isn’t what you think it is. Call you later.
MAGGIE: My ass. I have eyes. I saw the pictures. AND YOUR SMILE.
MAGGIE: I’ve never seen you smile like that before.
MAGGIE: Thanksgiving or else.
______
I close my notebook on the empty page and shove my chair back.
“Don’t even need notes anymore?” Jenkins smirks.
My mind is everywhere except the one place I need it to be, and it’s irritating as hell. This isn’t how I operate.
“I. . . ” I run a hand through my hair.
“You all right, man?” he asks, clipping the pen to the front of his binder.
“I’m good,” I lie.
Nothing is good right now. I spent the last hour and a half listening but not hearing a damn thing.
“I’ll send these to you.” He shoves his notes under his arm.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” His notes will save my distracted ass.
He nods and turns to leave, but I stop him.
“How’s Rachel? I’m looking forward to seeing her at the fundraiser.”
Jenkins and his wife organize a fundraiser every year at the stadium to raise money for cerebral palsy research.
Most of the team and their families donate their time to interact with fans and help increase donations.
I’ve attended the past two years, and Ryder will escort me this time unless the person who enjoys vandalizing my car is found.
Everything about that thought stirs the agitation left over from last night.
Jenkins stiffens, pulling his shoulders back. “She’s in the hospital. She has an infection.” It comes out a little forceful, and I know it has to be difficult for him to watch his daughter’s constant health issues.
My tight muscles ease a little with the realization that I’ve been way too wrapped up in my own mess.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Is there anything I can do?”
He shakes his head. “No. She needs to get stronger. We’re on another waiting list for a new trial.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “She’s a fighter. I really hope the trial comes through, man. I’m looking forward to seeing her at the event.”
“Yeah. Just more waiting in line while others. . . ” He doesn’t finish his statement, his head hanging as we make our way to the locker room.
I don’t know much about trials or experimental drugs, but I see his anguish and his hope that one will help her.
“Hang in there,” I offer, having no idea what else to say but certain it doesn’t help.
He nods again, heading to his locker.
Ten minutes later, I step onto the field and into the sun. I toss a ball to a trainer, warming up and working to push thoughts of last night aside.
I don’t care about my car, but telling myself that hasn’t diminished the desire to beat the shit out of something, preferably the person doing this. If Ryder is right, it’s someone close to me.
I feel vulnerable, and that’s not a place I’m used to being.
I stretch, pulling one arm across my chest and then the other. I release my arms, circling them, but the tension creeps right back up my arms and into my neck.
All I see is Ryder’s face. Her hardened, exotic blue eyes as she pulled me off the dance floor and escorted me out of the venue.
I don’t understand what happened, except that once she saw the man Greg was talking to, that was it.
The woman I’d been dancing with was gone, and in her place was the Ryder who showed up at my apartment ready to do a job. Her sole purpose: take someone down.
But that woman and the Ryder I’ve gotten to know over these past weeks seem like two different people.
I want the Ryder who walked into the venue with me last night.
The one who trusted me enough to show me what goes through her mind.
The woman who laughed and joked and allowed me to hold her close on the dance floor.
Even in an overly crowded room, those minutes with her might be some of the best minutes I’ve ever had. But she left me there. In the blink of an eye, she was gone, and I haven’t seen her since.
“Let’s go, Matthews!” Ricketts yells. “Let’s see what you’re bringing today.”
He takes off and cuts right as I drop back and aim.
Ryder’s eyes begged me to stop asking questions, but now, I wish I hadn’t. I should have demanded to know what happened because, despite all professional boundaries and sound reasoning, Ryder matters to me.
I thrust my arm forward and let the ball fly.
I shove out a breath, desperate to ignore any and all feelings.
I know better. I always have. I’ve been careful never to let myself get distracted or too close to anyone.
But she’s beginning to matter more than I could have ever expected, and it feels more dangerous than whoever would like to remove me. Permanently.
Ricketts sets up again, and my fingers squeeze the ball.
I’m an idiot. Ryder is a witness to every detail of my life, except for my mom, as if she senses the fragility of the topic. Anything I’m beginning to feel for Ryder is one-sided. She made that perfectly clear, and it burns like hell.
Maybe it shouldn’t, but when she’s becoming my closest friend, it damn well does.
All I know is that somehow I need it all to stop, not to matter. I need her not to matter. The problem is, I can’t turn it all off and go back to giving all my time and energy to this game. My only constant and the one thing that’s never failed me.
I launch the ball over and over again, calling and practicing plays. The sun beats down, melting my intense aggravation. Eventually, my body falls into the comforting rhythm, and my mind settles into familiar territory.
After two hours, I peel the tape from my wrist, feeling more in control.
“What’s up with you?” Ricketts bumps my shoulder. “You were about to take someone’s head off out there.”
“Nothing. I’m just sick of sitting back while those jackasses prevent us from doing what we’re being paid to do.” I tip my head, gesturing toward T-Bone and his gang. It’s not a complete lie. “I’m done playing their way. If they don’t like it, they can come at me.”
He chuckles.
“Something funny, Ricketts,” I stop and stare at him, all my fucks about playing nice and team camaraderie having finally taken flight along with the cool, calm reserve I’ve held onto for far too long.
He rubs his jaw, trying to hide a grin but doing a shit job. “I’m just happy to finally see you have some balls. I knew you didn’t make it here by cowering and letting a bunch of assholes shit on you.”
I push out a heavy breath. “From now on, we’re going to win or at least play our asses off with every intention of winning.”
It’s the only thing I can control.
“This is a game, and there are far more important things, but I love it. I love everything about it. So, I hope you’re ready because we have work to do. We’re going to make up for those jackoffs not providing any help.”
He punches my shoulder. “Hell yeah! I’m ready! It’s about damn time.”
“Cole.”
I stop outside the locker room. Greg, my GM, leans up against the wall as if he’s been waiting for me. I join him as my team files past.
“I didn’t get a chance to catch up with you last night. It looked like you were having a good time.”
Something about his tone has my spine stiffening. I stare at him, wanting to ask him about the man he was talking to, but that look in Ryder’s eyes flashes through my mind again and warns me not to.
He pushes away from the wall. “You cut out early.”
“I have a strict schedule during the season, and we have a game to win.”
He runs a hand over his shaven jaw. “I appreciate that. How are things working with your . . . ” He glances down the hall before continuing. “Your protection agent.”
I don’t care for the condescension in his tone. “Fine.”
His head falls to the side slightly. “I want to be sure she’s handling things…properly.”
I have no doubt he saw us dancing, and I want to know exactly what he’s trying to get at.
Is this about the game or Ryder and me? Given that I signed the contract with Ward & Associates, I’d like to tell him it’s none of his damn business.
I stare at my general manager, all of my irritation reigniting. “I can assure you, Ryder knows what she’s doing. She’s not taking any chances. She’s looking at this from all angles.”
He nods. “Well, be on your A-game this weekend. We don’t need another loss, and you don’t need any further complications.”
Complications?
My shoulders burn as they contract tight, my head on the verge of exploding. Is he for real?
I choose my words carefully. “I understand how important the game is. It’d be nice to have a little help from the group that’s supposed to defend our position. I’ll give it everything I’ve got as I always have. No disrespect, but I can’t carry this entire team on my back.”
His stance eases, and I see I’ve made my point clear. His hand runs over his jaw again, and I can’t tell if I’ve pissed him off, but today, I find I don’t give a shit.
“You don’t need to worry about me, sir. Everything is being handled properly.” I use his words, turning for the locker room.
It’s the truth. One way or another, I’ll be on my game, and Ryder is all over this. By the way she threw herself in front of me and the person waiting for us in the parking garage, maybe even more than I want her to be.
______
I shower, letting the steaming hot water run over my head. Ryder picked me up from the practice facility and relayed what she gathered on this new attack, but that was it. I didn’t have much to contribute, so we rode home in silence.