Page 138 of The Hot Shot
Jake leans past me. “Manny’s girl has decamped to New York, and he’s depressed. But he doesn’t want to talk about his feelings.”
“Fuck me.” I groan, ducking my head under the pretense of putting my bottle down so no one can see my grimace.
“Your girl left you?” North sounds surprised.
I don’t know why, since he all but pleaded with me to see the light and concentrate on my career. Since I really don’t want to fucking hear that again, I simply blot my face with a towel and speak past it. “We’re thinking things through while she’s on a job.”
Every man knows that when a woman has to think about things it isn’t good. North is no exception. “Sorry to hear that, man.”
“You?” An incredulous snort escapes me. “Seriously?”
He gives my thigh a slap before he stands. “If her absence is responsible for that dull look in your eyes, then yeah.”
“Told you,” Jake says. “Dead eyes.”
North shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in me. “When did I ever say anything about being miserable? If she makes you happy, then work the rest out.” With that, North trots off.
I stand as well, wanting to pace. No, really, I want to chase after North and smack his head. But I don’t. I put my hands low on my hips and pretend I’m watching the clock count down. “That fucker lectures me about focus and nowhe’ssorry.”
Jake gets to his feet and mimics my pose, all smiles and “we’re fucking owning this game” on his face. Then he turns, his shoulder pads blocking out the rest of the room.
Sweat and water bead on his face, his eye black is smeared. “Screw North. He doesn’t know you for shit. And you’re right; I don’t want to talk about this, either. I’d rather be exchanging high-fucking-fives and or spewing a ‘Win one for the Gipper’ speech. Because we’re here. In the playoffs.”
He leans in, his voice low and intense. “The fuckingplayoffs.”
He doesn’t have to tell me what that means. Every football player understands where this road leads. I open my mouth to talk, but he doesn’t let me. “You should be ecstatic. Instead, you’re a walking sack of misery.”
His words hit like a physical blow to my gut. I grit my teeth against the urge to yell.
Not just yell, but to scream and rail. Because fuck it all, I’ve done everything I could to get to this moment. Including letting Chess go, and this is what he has for me?
Jake faces my rage without flinching. “I’m not trying to bust your balls.”
I glare, unable to keep my happy face. I don’t trust myself to speak.
“Call her,” he says. “Plead, beg, whatever the hell you have to do to get her back, so you can snap out of this funk from hell.”
My reply comes out so sharp, it’s almost a shout. “She thinks...” I take a breath and lower my voice. “This isn’t on me, all right? She made everything complicated when it should have been easy.”
“Easy?” Jake makes it sound like a bad word.
“Yes, easy. She’s worried about the future. That we’ll eventually want different things. That one day I’ll resent her and want some model wife instead.” I throw up a hand. “As if I’d want anyone else but her.”
Jake’s brows lift. “Wife, huh?”
Heat flushes my neck. “When you know, you know.”
“Doessheknow you know?”
I blink back at him.
Jake huffs, glancing around to see if we have time, before zeroing in on me again. “Did you say, ‘I don’t give a rat’s dick about having anyone else’?”
“A rat’s dick?” I choke on a laugh.
He rolls his eyes. “Did you tell her you love her, you moron?”
Behind us, Coach yells for guys to huddle up.
