Playing against Boston is always like a grudge match. Both teams play fierce and without mercy. It doesn’t matter if it’s the first game or the last, winning is all that counts. Today adds a new level of pressure, even if it’s only on him and me. He ruined something precious, my relationship with Mia, and he needs to pay.
As luck would have it, we arrive at the stadium at the same time Boston’s team bus pulls up. I could sit here and wait for them to enter the stadium before exiting the car, ignoring Casey until the game starts. Or this could end right here, right now.
I choose the latter.
“Stay in the car,” I tell Mia before getting out and striding over to the bus to wait.
The doors open with a hiss and players start to file out. Some stare at me with confused expressions, others greet me like an old friend, but I’m waiting for one man.
The last one to exit.
“Are you the welcome wagon?” Casey smirks when he sees me.
“Yeah,” I answer with a gruff tone.
My hand flexes into a fist, ready to strike, but a large hand lands on my shoulder. “He’s not worth it.” Edmond whispers in my ear. “Let’s go.”
I allow him to lead me away and then walk back to the waiting SUV. One of the back passenger doors opens and Mia steps out. “I thought you were going to punch Casey in the face,” she says, slipping her hand against mine.
“I was but my voice of reason stopped me.”
“Remind me to send Edmond a fruit basket or something.”
“Hey Mia!” Casey’s voice calling out to my wife makes us both stop. “Your ass looks amazing in those jeans. Can’t wait to see them on my floor later.”
A growl rumbles in the back of my throat and I start to turn, ready to go after him, but Mia stops me. “Save it for the game,” she reminds me.
We walk through the player’s entrance and after a lingering kiss, go our separate ways. In the locker room with my teammates, I regain my focus. I have one job to do today. Get my guys the ball. No mistakes.
I strip off my suit, place my pants, shirt, and jacket on a hanger, and begin putting on my uniform. My mind is all over the place. I need to focus but the sounds of my teammates preparing for the game is almost deafening. I sit down on the bench, stare at my locker, and breathe.
I’m hit by a wall of my last remaining memories; the stubborn ones hidden until now. Each scene flashes quickly until they form one complete memory of the moment I asked Mia to forgive me. I almost sob with relief but instead, the feelings of that day hit me. Embarrassment, shame, and guilt. I was stupid to let Casey get to me, to allow him to create doubt in my mind. How could I not trust Mia and believe Casey? The evidence was convincing, and their past made it somewhat plausible. The words I said to Mia the day I asked for a second chance still ring true. I didn’t feel worthy of her, and to some extent, I still don’t. My selfishness allowed me to take, take, take, and never see Mia’s sacrifices. I thought my talent and career deserved everything it brought into my life, including Mia’s love and devotion. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to believe Casey over Mia. One day, my career will be gone, and I truly believed Mia would leave too. The likelihood of this scenario was a fictional truth I told myself to justify ending things a month before our wedding.
So, when I walked up to her apartment door that day, I felt ashamed and embarrassed because I allowed my own insecurities to dictate my life.
“Everything okay?” I look up to find Coach Watson next to me, his arms crossed, a concerned expression on his face.
I nod. “Hindsight is 20/20, right coach?”
“Sure,” he answers. “Doesn’t answer my question, son. Is your head on straight? Are you ready to play?”
“Yes, sir.”
Eleven
Mia
Football games make me nervous, especially this one.
Maverick is the last one on the field and the roar of the crowd is deafening. Goosebumps pebble along my skin when I see him, helmet in one hand, the other hand over his heart, and the biggest smile on his face. He’s never been a cocky player. He knows he’s talented, knows he deserves to be the starting quarterback for this team, but he’s never taken his fame and fortune for granted. He’s tried to remain humble over the years, despite the accolades and riches heaped upon him. And it shows tonight as he returns to the field with fans loudly welcoming him home.
I notice a bit of tension during the pre-game coin toss. Maverick doesn’t acknowledge Casey when the team captains run out to the middle of the field and exchange pleasantries. And when it’s over, Maverick bumps Casey’s shoulder as he jogs back to the sidelines.
Every time these two teams meet, there is always tension, and it boils over onto the field. Maverick and Casey’s rivalry infiltrated their teams, and it shows in the way they play tonight. More than once, the referees need to break up some heated exchanges between players. Maverick’s teammates are protective of him, and to an extent, me. They know what Casey did, and they’re punishing him tonight.
The score is close but, in the end, the home team wins. The sound of a sold-out crowd celebrating victory reverberates through the stadium. Down on the field, Maverick and Casey finally meet, and seem to swap heated words. Their teammates gather around them, ready to defend or protect.
Maverick’s hand forms a fist and I gasp, watching this all play out on the television in the suite where I spent the entire game. “Please don’t do it,” I murmur. “Please, Maverick.”
