Callan
I glance at my watch again, silently begging Coach Phillips to wrap things up.
I know it’s the week before our wildcard game, but I cannot be late for this dinner with Preston Hale.
Charlotte has confirmed it with me at least three times this week.
And even if she hadn’t, I know how important it is to her.
He’s her guy; the one she needs to secure the sponsorship deal she so desperately needs.
And even I have to admit, I’m a huge reason he’s interested in the Stallions.
But Phillips is still going over film, nowhere near the end of this meeting.
Despite the fine I could get if I’m caught, I slide my phone out, quickly typing a message to Charlotte telling her to go without me. I’ll make it if I can.
Forty-five minutes later, Coach wraps up, and I know there’s no hope. The dinner started ten minutes ago, and I’m still at least thirty minutes away with traffic right now.
“You okay?” Pitt asks as he stands from the seat next to mine.
I nod.
“Everything all right with Nan?” he tries again. “You’re usually a stickler about cell phones during meetings.”
I stand. “I was supposed to be at a dinner with Charlotte tonight.”
Pitty bumps my arm. “Take her out tomorrow night. She’ll understand.”
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t a date. She would totally understand that. This was a work dinner for her, and I promised I’d be there.” And I let her down.
The part of me that was grabbing on to the possibility of Charlotte and I becoming real has gone radio silent.
Not only did I miss her family dinner the night of the football game because everything ran so long, but now I’ve missed possibly the most important dinner of her entire year.
She might literally lose a huge deal because of me.
“Shit.” Pitty stops walking and takes in my face before slapping me on my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll buy you dinner. You can tell me all about it.”
I follow him. “We can’t go to the burrito place. I feel sick enough without adding intestinal distress to the mix.”
“Fine.” The look he gives me tells me he doesn’t believe the stomach issues are caused by his beloved burrito spot, but he lets it go. “We’ll hit up the drive-thru for Big Burgers. I’ll even buy you a milkshake if you promise to put out later.”
The rookie walking in front of us trips slightly at his words, and Pitty laughs. “I hope a rumor goes around that we’re lovers. Ooh. Maybe we’re both with Charlotte. That sounds fun.”
I fight back the possessiveness rearing its ugly head. “Shut the fuck up.”
Despite Pitt’s offer to drive, we climb into my pickup, and I’m hit with just how strange it feels to have someone other than Charlotte sitting next to me.
The car has become our place. It’s where we talk about anything and everything…
or nothing. Holding her hand and listening to music are among my favorite activities. Truly nothing I’d rather be doing.
“You want to talk about it?” Pitt asks five minutes later, his mouth full of cheeseburger.
I take a long drag of my vanilla milkshake.
“She’s not really going to be that pissed, is she?” he asks when I don’t answer. “I mean, I know women can get worked up about shit like this, but you are part of her team. Doesn’t she want you focused on the playoffs?”
“She won’t be mad.” She won’t. Just like she wasn’t mad I missed her family dinner.
But then she’d told me she’d missed me, and it was like a knife being driven straight into me, letting all the air out of my lungs and my vision of a future with her with it.
This is exactly why I don’t date. I don’t have the time.
I can never make anyone other than the team my priority.
And I know what it feels like to have someone love me but never put me first.
It sucks.
And I’ve never wanted to put someone in that situation. But then, when it was so easy with Charlotte, I thought it could work. That with her, it was doable. Perfect, even.
But it’s not.
I take in the neighborhood we’re passing by as I drive. “I didn’t realize how much it would hurt to let her down constantly.”
Pitty digs into his second cheeseburger. “It’s bound to happen with that microdick you’re sporting. If she’s stuck around this long, she probably doesn’t hate it too much, though.”
I flip him the bird. “You wish your dick was as big as mine.” I pause for a moment. “And that’s not what I mean. Football has to take priority. And that’s not fair to Charlotte.”
“There are plenty of guys on the team who have spouses and families.” He shrugs. “Some of them are happy.”
A wave of nausea rolls through me. I’m not sure whether it’s the greasy hamburger or the thought of how many of my teammates aren’t happy in their marriages.
Of how many search for something outside of it.
I could never do something like that to a woman I was seeing, and certainly not Charlotte.
My stomach rolls again. Definitely infidelity-induced, then.
I turn back into the parking lot, pulling up next to Pitty’s outrageous Hummer before confessing quietly, “I don’t know what to do.”
Pitt starts packing up his trash. “I don’t know shit about relationships, but I’d explain it to her.
See what she says. It’s just as unfair to her to assume she’s unhappy or upset with the amount of time she gets to spend with you as it is to assume she isn’t.
Maybe she’s glad to be free of your ass for a few hours. ”
I flip him off with both fingers this time. “Get the fuck out of my car.”
He laughs as he climbs out but leans his head back inside before he closes the door.
“I can tell how much she likes you. And I’ve never seen you like this with a woman in the seven years I’ve known you.
So, make it work.” He follows up that insight by slamming the door, leaving me alone for my car ride home.
The drive passes quickly, my mind swirling with Pitty’s advice.
As soon as I’m back, I take up residence on the living room couch, a place I rarely spend time.
But it’s the first room Charlotte will walk past when she gets home, so I’m waiting here.
I have no idea what I’m going to say, but I want to be close to her.
To give her a hug. I know that much for sure.
A garage door opens, and I glance at my watch. Shit. The dinner must’ve barely lasted an hour if she’s already home. My stomach sinks. That’s not a good sign.
“I’m so sorry.” I pull Charlotte into my arms the moment she walks into the house, guilt threatening to overwhelm me at her disappointed expression. “I couldn’t get up and leave. And I should’ve talked to Phillips about it, but I didn’t think it would be an issue. Team meetings never go that long.”
She hugs me back, her small body pressed tightly to mine. It fits in a way that shouldn’t work, but it does. “It’s okay, Callan. I understand. I told Hale you got caught up with the team and that, right now, football had to come first. He was fine with it.”
I gently brush the loose strands of light brown hair from her forehead. “What did he say when you laid out your sponsorship proposal?”
“He’d think about it.”
She lifts and drops her shoulder in a shrug, feigning a level of nonchalance I know she’s not feeling. I should’ve been there. But I can’t be two places at once.
And at this point in my life, football has to come first. Even if I want Charlotte to.