Page 70 of Gridlocked on the Gridiron

She collapsed onto her bed, groaning. “Damn you, Colt. I’d just stopped crying about it when you came up. Tell me something happy now. Tell me about you and Lucia.”

He cleared his throat, wanting so badly to come clean to her about his situation but knowing it wasn’t the time. “What do you want to know?”

“How did you know you wanted to be with her?”

Colton thought for a moment. Maybe it was the text she’d sent him of The Abominable Snowmonster of the North, with just three words: look, it’s you. Maybe it was the way she stood in a room full of men—no, in a profession full of men—confident and self-assured. Maybe it was the fact that she was quite possibly the most intelligent person he’d ever met. Maybe it was those damn pantsuits and heels he loved seeing her in so much, her hair tumbling over her shoulders. Maybe it was the noises that left her beautiful mouth as he fucked her. Maybe it was every little thing about her.

“I don’t know, really. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about her. My whole life—I mean, shit, you know how it was with Dad. My whole life, I thought the only way people would ever love me was if I was the best at something. And with football, I was the best. I was the best, and everyone in high school and college loved me because of it. Everybody in South Carolina has loved me since I came here, especially last year. Because I won. And then I met Lucia, and she showed me that not everything is about winning.”

He shrugged, meeting Maya’s eyes. “She was the first person who made me believe that I could be cared for even if I’m not the best quarterback in the league. Even if I never play again. She makes me think that there are others in the world who might like me for me. She made me feel like I’m enough as I am. And that’s not something I’ve ever believed. So, yeah, I guess I realized how I felt about her when I realized how important and cared for she made me feel.”

It was all true. Every word of it was true. She’d planted roots in his heart, deep and unrelenting, and every beat was a reminder that she was there. That his heart now beat for her. It was a terrifying thought, especially because he knew it was entirely unrequited. But there was nothing he could do except love her completely, utterly, unequivocally, irrevocably.

Maya’s arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tightly. “I love you, football or not, Just so you know. So, there are at least two of us.”

He leaned against her. “Thanks, Mai. I’m not sure Luc loves me.” When he felt her looking at him questioningly, he continued, “Not yet, at least.” And likely not ever. She’d said as much in his house when she’d told him relationships weren’t for her. Not after Clark and her mother ruined love for her.

Turning away the painful thought, he asked, “So what’s his name, where does he live, and what does he love most in the world?”

Chapter twenty-five

Lucia

Lucia had never minded spending the holidays with only her father. It’d been years since she’d even seen her mother, and she’d long since forgotten what it was like to spend Christmas with both of them. Her father’s parents were somewhere in Italy, so they were usually unavailable as well.

This year wasn’t especially different, though she hated seeing that look in his eyes that accompanied yet another heartbreak. He’d gotten back from his cruise, tan, happy, and in love. Then, apparently, only days later, the woman he’d gone with had decided she no longer wanted to be with him.

Lucia hadn’t seen him in so long that she hadn’t expected the first thing she saw to be the lowered shoulders, knitted brows, and deep sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t new, though. This was how he’d been for the nearly twenty years her mother had been out of their lives. Strung along by woman after woman, heartbreak after heartbreak. He never seemed to take the hint that the universe hadn’t forecasted love for him.

But Lucia did. It was all the confirmation she needed to remind herself to rip out the butterflies that kept flitting around in her stomach, throw them in the trash, and set them on fire. She wasn’t about to play the fool again.

Her dad had tried to tell her that frozen meals were satisfactory for Christmas, and she’d gasped comically. She went to the store and picked up ingredients for a salad and her dad’s favorite pasta. She was sure all he had been eating were frozen meals, casseroles, and lasagnas his neighbors brought him every once in a while. She wondered when he’d last eaten a vegetable.

She got to work cooking for him as he lay on his couch, staring at the ceiling blankly. She hated to say that this was standard, too. How many times had she had to find her own way in elementary and middle school because he’d been so focused on his pain? How many times had she asked him to come to her track meets in high school, only to find him on the couch, blankly staring at the ceiling when she got home? It was like she’d gone back in time to when she was still a kid looking for guidance. Any indication of where she should go, what she should do next.

“Dad, come help me. It’ll be a good distraction, I promise. We can talk about whatever you want.” She was only home for three nights, and she couldn’t stand the thought of them spending the rest of their time together in this tragic silence.

He stood like a zombie, grabbing the peeler she handed him and getting to work on the potato. She willed him to say something, anything. Another moment of silence and she might’ve combusted.

Finally, he spoke. “What’ve you been up to, sweetie? I feel like we’ve hardly spoken these past few months.” She heard the hurt in his voice and knew she should’ve called him more. She’d thought about it, had really wanted to, but every time she’d picked up the phone to do it, she’d remembered this. The way he stood, bent over like everything good in the world was gone. The permanent crease between his eyebrows. The unkempt stubble along his jawline. And then she’d gotten mad and put her phone away.

“I’ve been working really hard for the Sabertooths. I’m hoping if they do well during playoffs, they’ll sign me for a few years. I might be able to work my way up to head analyst if I’m in one place for a while.”

“Have you thought about trying to work with the Eagles?”

There it was. The dreaded question. Why don’t you move back to Philly? Be nearby? She didn’t want to be in Philly. She’d had a hard enough time trying to get out of Philly. The moment she’d set foot in California, she was a new person. All of her past hardships had been shed, and the Philadelphia Lucia was gone. Life had almost been easy.

She didn’t want to become Philadelphia Lucia again. But she couldn’t say that. So, instead, she said, “Maybe. But I have a reason to be in Charleston now.”

“Right. I saw that in the news, about you and the Sabertooths’ quarterback. Why didn’t you tell me about him?” She’d been talking about her new friends and the fact that the other analysts were finally listening to her, finally recognizing what an asset she was. But she supposed Colton fit into the equation somewhere. As a friend.

“We were trying to keep it quiet,” she lied. “I wanted to wait until there was something to tell before I let you know. Didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

He peeled the potato and set it down on the cutting board, going back to lie on the couch. She sighed, too tired to try to coax him back off. When she finished cooking the meal, she put a plate out for him, then watched it get cold as she ate. She washed her dish, set it on the drying rack, and watched the rise and fall of her father’s chest a few more times before she trudged to her childhood bedroom.

She loved her father, but this was not the future she saw for herself. She had plans for her career. Lying on the couch and wallowing for months at a time, ignoring all life’s responsibilities, was not in the cards. She would not make the same mistakes as her father.

Texts between her and Colton had been sparse since she’d left Charleston. They’d taken to sending pictures of unusual things to each other and writing “look, it’s you.” It’d been a good way to pull her from the intense sadness that seemed to overwhelm her every time she went back to the house she’d grown up in.

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