Chapter Twenty Four
Saint
The energy in the stadium doesn’t just vibrate.
That’s the thing people don’t understand about being in the trenches.
Eighty thousand people screaming … yeah, I can feel it in my teeth.
I can feel the bass of the hum through the ground, and it feels like it moves through my body, settling in my bones. It’s intense, but it also amps me up.
It’s our first regular season game, and my lungs feel like they’re lined with glass. No matter how many miles I run during the offseason or how many sprints I do when I’m training … nothing prepares me for the sheer, violent exhaustion of a regular season game.
We’re in the fourth quarter with two minutes on the clock. I line up, my cleats digging into the grass.
I can smell the copper of blood, mine or someone else’s, and I can see the fatigue in the eyes of the offensive lineman that I’m about to bury.
The quarterback is barking signals, his voice raspy from yelling the whole game, and he’s definitely feeling the pressure of a three-point deficit.
Down. Set.
I don’t wait for the ball to move. I push off at the snap, staying low, my shoulder pads explode into the lineman’s chest with a crack. I feel him buckle, and sweep my arm over his shoulder, shedding the block when he tries to take me down with him.
Then I see the quarterback step into the pocket.
I don’t think, I just launch. Two hundred and thirty pounds of momentum colliding with him just as he releases the ball.
We hit the ground hard, the air leaving him in a whoosh.
I stay on top of him for a second longer than necessary, letting him feel the weight of the loss.
I look toward the ball and see it flutter, then fall to the ground just out of reach of the receiver, trying to keep the play alive. The crowd roars from a hum to an explosion.
Game over. Titans win.
By the time I make it through the tunnel, shower, and dress, my body feels like one big giant bruise. But the second I step into the family waiting area, the pain recedes.
“Uncle Saint!”
I don’t have a chance to brace myself before Remy and Rhyan hit me like missiles. I catch them, one in each arm. They smell like popcorn and cotton candy.
I put them both down because Remy is bouncing in my hold, like he might just bounce right out of my grip. “You hit that quarterback so hard! He fell like a tree!”
“I know,” I laugh, my voice a little rough from shouting on the field and sideline.
I look up when Presley enters the room. When I walked out of the locker room, she was still working with one of the players who got injured during the game.
She nods her chin when she sees me, but beelines to her sister. Alie has a hand on her stomach. Sera is going to be a big sister soon, and the glow on Alie’s face reminds me of my sister’s each time she told me she was pregnant.
I watch Presley as she hugs her sister. She’s so beautiful. She’s wearing her Titans work uniform, her hair is pulled back, and I can see on her face how tired she is. But still…she has a soft smile for Alie.
Rhyan tugs on my arm. “The room we were in was the best, Uncle Saint! Mimi and Poppy have the bestest room here. There was a whole table of food—sliders, chicken fingers, and cookies with M&M’s!”
“Mimi and Poppy, huh?” I look over at Presley, who’s watching us with a grin.
“Oh! And we met Aiden!” Remy shouts. “Aiden Griffith! He’s so cool.”
“Aiden was here?” I ask, surprised. Sure, he comes to Aston’s games when he can, and I guess he’s not in season for another few weeks, but he missed Liam and Alie’s wedding.
Alie, Presley and Sera walk over to us.
“Yeah, he slipped in last minute. Apparently, things are a little sticky with his team captain right now. Some kind of drama, I guess. So he said he needed a break and made the quick trip here to see Aston’s first game of the season,” Alie says.
“Is he okay though?” I ask.
“I don’t really know him well enough to answer that,” she says with a small laugh. “ But he was really sweet with the kids.”
The room is filled with the sounds of our family and my teammates.
It’s a little hectic and loud with the kids running around, but I feel like this is exactly how life was supposed to be.
And for a minute, I forget that my marriage is just an agreement.
Because it feels as real as the grass burn on my elbow.
“You okay?” Presley asks, stepping into my space and brushing her thumb across a small cut on my cheek. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m good,” I say, catching her hand and kissing her palm. I don’t miss the way her breath hitches, or the way she looks at me. “Let’s get these kids home. I’m exhausted.”
“You got it,” she says. “Okay, anyone who lives in the St. Clair house, let’s head out.”
Remy and Rhyan bounce up to her, and I follow behind them. She’s got Remy’s hand on her left, and Rhyan’s in her right. Those three people in front of me are my entire world.
Presley and I drove separately to the field today. She needed to be here before me to meet with her trainers. And both kids wanted to ride home with her, so my drive home was quiet, which I don’t mind because it helps me decompress after a game.
I pull into the driveway behind her, and we get the kids inside to get ready for bed. We run through their nighttime routine quickly, because the adrenaline and the sugar rush are fading, and Remy almost falls asleep brushing his teeth.
Presley is getting Rhyan in bed, and I just got Remy settled in his. As I walk toward our room, I hear soft murmurs coming from Rhyan’s room, and I stop to listen outside the door.
“Presley … ” Rhyan’s voice is small and sleepy.
“Yeah, Ry?”
“Are you … are you my mom now? Because you and Uncle Wyatt are married and he’s kind of like our dad now.”
I hold my breath, my heart thudding against my ribs.
There is a long silence before Presley speaks.
“Rhyan … ” Presley’s voice is soft, with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. “Your mom will always be your mom. No one can ever take that place, okay? She’s in your heart, she’s a part of you.”
“But you live here,” Rhyan says. “And you take care of us. And Uncle Wyatt loves you.”
“I am always here for you. Always,” Presley says. “I’m like … an aunt. Or a really close best friend. Your uncle and I are a team, and we’re here to make sure you and Remy are taken care of and happy.”
Listening to this feels like a blindside hit to the kidneys.
“Are you and Uncle Wyatt gonna have babies?” Rhyan asks, her voice drifting off. “Sera’s getting a baby brother or sister. I want a baby sister.”
I wait because I want to hear Presley say someday. I want to hear her say maybe.
“Uncle Wyatt is my very best friend, Rhyan,” Presley says, her voice sounding strained like she’s being very careful about what she’s saying. “And I love him very much. But right now, we’re focusing on you and Remy, okay? Go to sleep so you can conquer kingdoms tomorrow.”
I don’t wait to hear any more. I turn and walk down the hall. Every step feels like I’m wearing lead boots.
Best friend.
I walk into the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. I’ve spent months convincing myself that lines were blurring. That the sex, the way she looked at me, the way we handled the kids together … that it meant we were building something that was more than best friends.
But to her, I’m just her best friend. A teammate. A partner in a legal agreement.
I don’t even hear the door close before Presley walks by me toward the bathroom. She’s smiling, the soft, sleepy smile that makes me want to pull her into my arms.
“She’s finally out,” she says from the bathroom. “I think the stadium food caught up with them. I swear, Remy was snoring before he got his shoes off.”
She walks back into the room and around to her side of the bed.
I don’t lift my head. “Are you in love with me?”
The silence that follows is telling. I don’t feel her get into the bed, so I turn my head to look at her. She’s standing on the side of the bed with the comforter in her hand, like she’s pulling it back to get in.
“What?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
“It’s a simple question, Presley. Are you in love with me?”
She fumbles with her words, and I can see the flush creeping up her neck like it does when she’s nervous or turned on. Definitely not turned on right now.
“Saint … of course I love you. You’re my best friend, the most important person in my life.”
“That’s not what I asked,” I interrupt, my voice flat. I stand up and walk to her until I’m standing right in front of her. I know I’m looming over her, but I can’t help it. “I didn’t ask if you love me like a friend or teammate. I asked if you are in love with me.”
“Where is this coming from?” she stammers, sitting down on the bed.
“Because I have always been in love with you,” I say, the words raw.
“From the moment we made the pact, I thought maybe if I waited, and you chased your dreams, that maybe you could feel the same about me. And I know this wasn’t the best way to enact the pact, and for all I know, you’ll be out of here once you get that last check from your trust fund.
But I’m done pretending I’m not in love with you.
I heard you with Rhyan. I heard you tell her that I’m your best friend. ”
“I was trying to explain it in a way she could understand, Saint. I don’t want to confuse her, especially about her mother.”
“It wasn’t just about Savannah,” I snap. “It was the way you maneuvered around the questions about us. About a family. Babies.”
Presley looks like I just slapped her. “Babies? Saint, we have never talked about that. We did this … we started this as a way for you and the kids to stay together, to provide stability.”
“And don’t forget the money for your foundation,” I mention.
She looks like I just slapped her, but I continue anyway.
“I guess I never gave it much thought before either,” I say, pacing the space between the window and the bed.
“But watching you with them, I realize I do want to grow our family. I want a wife who looks at me and doesn’t just see a best friend.
I want someone who wants a future with me that’s not defined by a contract or agreement … or a pact we made in college.”
“Saint, you’re catching me off guard,” she says, voice shaking. “This is a lot to process. I … I need to think.”
“Think?” I laugh humorlessly. “What is there to think about? You either feel it or you don’t. You either want me, want this … all of this … or you’re just playing the part we agreed on.”
“I’m not playing a part!” she cried. “I care about you more than anyone! But having children of our own? That changes everything.”
I stop pacing and look at her. Really look at her. She looks scared, and that’s pretty much all the answer I need.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “It was never part of the plan. But our plan isn’t enough for me anymore.
It’s not fair to either of us to stay married if you don’t love me the way I love you or want the same things I want.
And I won’t spend the rest of my life like this while we sleep in the same bed and pretend I’m not starving for something real. Something more.”
“Okay, just wait a second,” she says, reaching for my arm. “Let me just think about all this. Please. You’re throwing a lot at me after a very long day.”
“Take your time,” I say, gently pulling my arm away.
“Take all the time you need. We have a year marker on this agreement, remember? So you can get your money. And if we get to that year and you realize you can’t move forward with me as a husband, then I’ll give you a divorce.
I won’t fight you. And I won’t beg you to want me the way I want you. ”
Presley’s face pales. “Divorce? Saint, what would we even tell the kids? I’m just going to, what? Go back to my apartment and not be here? After everything they’ve been through? You’d just let me walk out of their lives?”
“I won’t let you disappear, but I guess this is also something we should have talked about before we followed through with getting married,” I say.
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a fist. “You’ll stay in their lives. But I can’t do this. I can’t live in a house with a woman I’m in love with while you treat me like a … roommate with benefits.”
I walk to my side of the bed and grab my pillow.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“I can’t sleep in the same bed with you right now, Presley,” I say. “Every time I look at you, I’m going to be wondering if you’re searching for a feeling that isn’t there.”
“Saint, don’t do this. If the kids see you in another room tomorrow morning, they’ll be confused.”
“You sleep in here,” I say, walking to the door. “I’ll go stay in the guest room down the hall.”
“And what if they see you?” she whispers, eyes filling with tears.
“I’ll tell them I didn’t feel good after the game,” I say, my hand on the doorknob. I don’t look back at her, because if I have to watch her cry, I’ll cave. And my heart can’t afford it anymore. “They’re kids. They’ll believe me. But I’ll be up before them anyway, so it’ll be fine.”
“Saint … ”
“Night, Doc.”
I step out and close the door behind me.
The click of the latch sounding as final as a whistle at the end of a quarter.
I walk down the hall, past the kids’ rooms, past the photos of us and the Harts we’ve started hanging on the walls among pictures of Savannah and Chris.
Then I shut myself into the empty guest room.
We may have won the game today, but as I lie here in the dark, in the silence of the house, it feels like the biggest loss of my life.