Page 70 of Nailing Heat
“They must have really liked your wife, then.” She plays with a strand of her hair and shifts uncomfortably, making me think she’s uneasy about how I might answer her.
I chuckle. “No, they didn’t. They didn’t like her at all. My sisters are great and wonderful loving people. They work regular jobs, shop at Target and Old Navy. They enjoy a good trip to the bookstore and a day at a fall festival. Things my wife never really enjoyed or did. They were different women and sometimes my sisters questioned why I wanted to be with someone like Elise.” I say her name for the first time and watch Amelia for a reaction. Thankfully, there is none. “Elise was more into material things, designer brands and spa weekends. Those were the kinds of things that she enjoyed. And it was what she grew up with. The things my sisters like, she always said was so cute. They took it as an insult. I always said she didn’t mean it that way, but I guess she could have.”
“I can’t picture you with someone like that,” she says softly. “I think you’re too kindhearted and good for someone like that.”
“Thank you.” If she only knew what I had done to Elise to make her hate me so much, I wouldn’t be thought of as good or kindhearted.
“So, what happened, why are they mad at you for the divorce?” Amelia asks the questions that I’ve been dreading. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. She speaks again. “You don’t have to share if it’s too painful.” She says it with so much tenderness in her voice that it makes me want to bare my soul.
But I don’t.
“Let’s just say that it’s my fault. I crossed some lines that you shouldn’t cross and in the end it hurt her. My sister’s know that I was raised better than that. And they are right, I was. But in the end it didn’t matter.” My voice trails off, and I study my half-eaten dinner.
“Ah, well, you don’t have to say anymore. But for what it’s worth, from what I see of the man sitting in front of me, it can’t be all that bad. You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.”
I look up and meet her chocolate eyes, “Thank you, Amelia. That means a lot to me.”
“Well, I have you here to care for me, means a lot of me. So now we’re even.”
I smirk. “Sure, we are. I think I still owe you a sponge bath or two.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her, and she throws a pillow at me.
“I think I’ll pass on that one for right now.” I feel a little deflated but then she adds. “We wouldn’t want to wreck whatever it is we’re building with something moving a bit too fast. You’re newly divorced, I don’t want to scare you.”
“You couldn’t if you tried,” I reply.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m quite the freak.” She delivers the line so smoothly and with a straight face that it makes me laugh hard, breaking our moment.
I think she planned it that way. No sponge baths or stripping her curves out of those clothes tonight. Because someone like Amelia is worth waiting for.
Chapter Twenty-Five
~AMELIA~
It’s the day that I’ve been dreading since I got injured. The very first home game of the season where I cannot play. I knew this was coming. The fridge has a game schedule on it and this particular date, this particular game against the Seattle Reign has been haunting me. To the point where I almost do not want to go.
But I have to.
When I saw Coach Watts yesterday, I promised him that I would be there. He told me that I could sit with him on the bench if I wanted to. Jase made a similar offer. I have no idea where I’ll be sitting, I know it’s going to be hard watching the team go up against the Reign and not be out there fighting with them, where I belong.
I dressed in my Blaze warm-up pants and jersey. Tampa is experiencing a bit of a low in temperatures. Right now, it’s only getting into the low seventies, which is a nice break from the recent humid and hot temperatures. I’ll take it. My uniform since I’m injured is a lot more comfortable this way.
Of course, Dex had to drive me to the stadium. I told him I could do it, but he insisted. So now, I’m waiting on the sidelineswhile the team is warming up and the coaches are in a huddle, going over game strategy. I’ve heard them mention on more than one occasion that it may take two players to fill my spot. One starting out and then eventually getting subbed to allow for another one to take over. It makes me feel good to know that it takes that much to replace me on the field. But the guilt of not being available to help my team is still there. I wonder if that will ever go away. Or if I should reach out and speak to the therapist that August has mentioned on more than one occasion.
“Amelia,” I hear Jase call to me. “Is it easier for you to come here? Or should we come to you?”
“I can come to you. It’ll do me good to stretch a bit.” I rise and grab the crutches to begin my scoot over to where they are all standing. There’s a whiteboard that they are all standing in front of, moving the pieces around to set a proper lineup for tonight’s match. I’ve haven’t ever seen them put this together. Normally, I’m warming up when this occurs and my spot doesn’t ever change, so I never pay too much attention to it.
“We’re looking at Felicia and Ariana to cover the Center Back position. What do you think?” Watts asks me. “Do you think they can handle it?”
“Umm, yeah, sure. I think.” I look at the board and see that no other changes were made.
“You doing okay?” Andie asks me, coming over to stand at my side. “Do you want me to give you a job during the game?”
I shake my head, feeling like a small child. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m going to sit on the bench and watch.”
“You’re welcome to sit with the coaches,” Watts reminds me.
Although, they don’t sit a lot. It’s not that our coaches are directing us and playing joystick soccer, where they continuously tell us where to send the ball. The yelling is a bare minimum too. Only a few words of direction if they see something that is drastically off, or praise when we do something well. But they never sit.I feel like it might be nerves. So, I know sitting with them is pointless. My view would be blocked most of the time.
