Page 51 of Gridlocked on the Gridiron

“It means, why the fuck are you calling me? Why are you still texting me? We’re done. You made sure of that the minute you went out with that woman.”

“Amelia has nothing to do with this.”

Amelia. She had a name. And what a way to find it out. Like he still spoke with her, intimately. Sure, she could admit she was relieved that their relationship had ended, but that didn’t change the sting of knowing that he’d preferred someone over her. Suddenly, her whole body felt heavy, drained and exhausted.

“Please stop calling me. Unless you have something important to say, please leave me alone.” She hated how the words sounded so weak, like she was pleading with him. She should’ve blocked him, but even still, something inside of her wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Is this important enough? Your boyfriend is the biggest asshole on the face of the planet. He’s going to ruin you. You’ll come crawling back to me soon. And by the way, the next time my name comes out of his mouth, I’m serving his ass. You let him know that.”

Tears pricked Lucia’s eyes. She’d told Colton that the only valid reason she’d had to leave him was the infidelity, but more and more, she hated herself for not seeing the abuse as reason enough.

“Like I said, unless you have something important to say to me, please stop calling.”

“Lu, I do. I do have something important to say to you, okay? I’m sorry, baby. Look, it was a mistake, and I know that. Let’s talk it out. If it’s what you want, I’ll stop calling after you let me explain myself. When you’re not with him.”

She knew she should just say no. She knew she’d probably live to regret it, but wasn’t this what she’d been waiting for? For him to want to talk it out and apologize? And she’d had enough realizations about her relationship with Max that she no longer felt like a conversation with him would lead to her going back to him. Even if she didn’t necessarily believe he’d leave her alone, it was worth a try.

She dropped her voice, not wanting Colton to hear her relent. “Fine, but I’m busy with the season right now. I’ll let you know when I have some time. Give me some space until then. And you and I will just be talking, Max. Nothing more than that.”

“Of course, baby. Just tell me when.”

The word, which used to be a comfort, only made her skin itch.

“Goodbye, Max.” She clicked her phone off, walking back into Colton’s room. His head turned from the TV, eyes fixed on her face, concern written in every groove of his face and every shift in his chest.

“Luc…” So oddly tender.

She shook her head, climbing onto the tall bed and sinking deep into the warmth of the sleek sheets. She felt a gentle hand trace up and down her waist, lulling her into sleep’s clutches.

It was hours later when she awoke, the TV still humming softly, lights off, a strong, muscled arm tight around her, pressing her back into a solid chest. She thought about trying to leave but remembered the cold, depressing ride she would face to get to her floor and instead nestled closer, thankful for Colton’s presence, more and more an anchor in the raging waters of her life.

Chapter eighteen

Colton

There were a few NFL rules that Colton wasn’t a fan of. But the one he truthfully didn’t understand was the concept of being able to lose in overtime without his offense having the chance to touch the ball. His success on the field was ultimately a testament to how hard he worked, so to lose on the road to a team who'd started overtime with the ball simply because of a lucky coin toss? That just felt wrong. He hated how powerless it’d left him. At the end of a hard game, he didn’t even have a chance to get on the field to try to win it. If he were a cartoon character, he’d have had smoke coming from his ears.

The moment the ball had found Dallas’ wide receiver in the end zone and the stadium erupted in cheers, Colton had tossed his helmet to the ground. He’d tried so hard, and it felt like the loss erased the seven wins they’d managed.

He tried to be cordial as he shook the hands of each of his opponents, clapping some on the back who he was on semi-friendly terms with, but what he really wanted to do was take his anger out on the refs for enforcing a dumb rule. Yeah, he recognized it wasn’t their fault, but all he had was the messenger.

The familiar tightness in his chest only tightened further as reporters swarmed around him like vultures in the tunnel. He could hardly hear them as they talked over each other, though none as loud as the disappointed voice in his head.

He had a few minutes to shower and change before the press conference, so he dodged the questions and ducked into the locker room. He let the steam clear his mind, scrubbing at his skin until it felt raw. Pulling on a Sabers sweatsuit, he tossed his stuff into his overnight bag and pushed his way out of the locker room. He wasn’t in the mood to hear Coach Turner’s lecture, as enlightening as it might’ve been.

He hadn’t expected Lucia to be standing there in one of her sexy, green pantsuits he had started to love, nor had he expected the tension in his body to halve just by being in her presence.

“Moretti? What’re you doing here?” Usually, the analysts packed up and hopped on the bus early. He knew because he always looked for her as he and his teammates filed into the big, air-conditioned units.

He hated the look of pity on her face but couldn’t find it in himself to be upset with her for it.

“I…I just wanted to check on you before the press conference.” She moved further down the hall, putting some distance between herself and the locker room, clearly wanting Colton to follow her.

When she turned back to him, her brows were knitted and she was wringing her hands. She didn’t look away from his eyes, opening and closing her mouth as if figuring out how to say what she wanted.

“Overtime rules are fucking awful,” he said, hoping it would help her find her words.

She laughed, nodding. “Yeah. They really are. Glad you’re doing well enough to joke.” She fiddled with her ring like she always did when she didn’t know what to say, or when she was nervous. Colton reached a hand out to clasp hers.

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