One Year Later

I’m not impressed one single fucking bit. I’ve avoided this girl for the last year even though she consumes my thoughts every single second of the day. We shared a few kisses and several private moments, but I was never man enough to go for what I wanted, and that was her and only her.

Football has always been my life and will forever be. Two world collegiate titles to my name and slated to be a first-round pick in the NFL draft should be enough for any man. The word ‘should’ is an evil bitch.

“I’m so glad you made it.” Momma Pete reaches over and pats the top of my leg. “Miss seeing you around with the rest of the boys. You know just because your college football is over and you’re going into the NFL, you are still family, Ryder.”

If only she knew the hunger I had for her daughter and the way I hurt her.

I nod politely tamping down my frustration. “Thanks.”

State elbows me then sends me a death glare. My best friend knows me all too well. He can read my internal dialogue as if I had a microphone to my lips spilling it to the universe on the World Wide Web.

My choice was one with little deciding factor after Baylor, State’s wife, became best friends with Shayne Peterson. It didn’t take the two of them long to form the bond. It was natural and automatic. They were two lost souls in the world and found comfort in each other. I’m the only chicken shit in this scenario.

It made the whole sneaking around thing damn near impossible.

Didn’t want to piss off the coach by dating his daughter. We shared several stolen kisses in complete private and sworn to secrecy. Team dynamics is one thing I wasn’t willing to risk. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself over and over. Pissing off the coach would have done just that.

No matter how much pushing and shoving State and Baylor could muster up over the last year, I stayed away, only showing up to important events that couldn’t be weaseled out of.

“How’s Shayne’s ACL?” Baylor’s question breaks through my thoughts.

I glance over to Momma Pete to see her only shrug and then grimace. “She’s strong and will be just fine.”

“No Coach Pete?” Baylor asks another question.

I have to hand it to the girl, since reuniting with State she’s grown a pair of balls and isn’t afraid to put them on full display. It’s not a secret that Shayne and her father don’t see eye to eye and it’s left up to Momma Pete to referee the two of them on a constant basis. Coach Pete is one hell of a football coach, hell, the best in the nation. I idolize the man. He’s more of a father than my drunk ass sperm donor ever has been.

But it’s all about football in his world, and he has no time for anything else including his own daughter. It was just another dagger to her heart when I wasn’t man enough to step up to the plate for her when it came to her dad.

I chose football over a person that lit up my world. She stormed into and out of it. Nothing has been the same since. I’ve given a whole new meaning to the world hollow.

“He’s busy today.” Momma Pete waves her hand in the air. “Spring meetings and all that jazz.”

I focus my vision back down on the mats watching a collegiate gymnast balance on the beams. This shit is foreign to me. I eat, sleep, and breathe the emerald turf, pads, and pigskin. It’s my life.

Universities from all over the nation have gathered here today for the National finals. Our school is hosting the event. I cringe at the thought knowing this makes it that much harder on Shayne knowing her own father, who is a God on this campus, isn’t here watching her. It’s her final performance of her senior year. To her, it’s the damn Super Bowl. The final end game.

She used to it, and that fact is sad and sickening causing pain to strike deep in my soul. He has never shown up to one of her collegiate matches because of…football. Hell, the man even gave her a boy name since he wanted one so damn bad.

I have no right to feel anything anyway since I never claimed her. Our attraction was immediate. I’ve never been able to rid her taste and smell from my system.

“She’s leading the all-around. She needs to nail down the beam and floor routine. If she can place in the top two in either of those events, then she’ll nail her dreams.” Momma Pete clutches her chest in nerves.

Baylor leans over squeezing her to her side. “She’s worked her ass off. Our girl has this one in the bag.”

Our girl.

Who knew two words could slice open a grown-ass man so brutally and deeply. I rise to my feet fast needing to get the fuck out of here. I try to escape not offering up any explanation. I hear Baylor say something right as I make eye contact with the prettiest baby blues eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re an identical image of the ones that haunt my dreams nightly. A reminder of what’s missing in my world…her.

It only takes Shayne a quick moment to realize from the floor that I’m leaving. It devastates me. I slowly sit back down in my seat and feel the whole word click into place when a relaxed expression covers her features. I offer her a slight a nod from the front row, and she ignores it focusing back on her coach.

The girl is a spitfire, strong-willed, determined, and takes no bullshit. She’s not one to hide or back away from a challenge. She refused to be my secret. Deep down that made my chest swell with pride. Too bad I was the pussy then.

I study her as she peels out of her gym pants and hoodie. Her dark blue leotard hugs her body perfectly. The pristine temple my hands roamed only a few times. The same body that’s burned my palms making it impossible for me to touch any other girl.

My girl.

Her name is announced over the speaker, and she prances to the mat. Shayne is all finesse and business as she begins her routine. I knew from the second I saw her face I was in love. It was quick, but at this moment as she takes the beam I know it’s going to be even faster making her officially mine.

There’s a score that needs to be settled. I don’t lose.

I’m not sure how I don’t pass out when Shayne begins to fly across the beam in back handsprings. I have to remind myself to breathe. Every single one of my muscles flexes and I’m strung taut sitting in a damn chair watching her. I don’t miss it when she lands one of her big moves on the beam while nursing her right knee. She masks the pain on her face with perfection, but I don’t miss her tiny dent in that armor she wears so well.

“God, this is it,” Momma Pete says.

Shayne’s perfect body springs from the beam contorting into twists, flips, and spins and all kinds of shit. The air between her and the mat is unreal. Baylor slaps her palm over her mouth right when Shayne nails her landing with ease and perfection.

Her two arms fly up into the air gracefully with her head held high ending her routine. The gym goes wild with cheers and screams. Everyone is up on their feet congratulating their hometown girl. I cringe on the inside feeling the pain she’s feeling. I’m an athlete and know all too well when something is wrong. She’s hurt.

Once the applaud dies down, Shayne limps off the mat to the sideline. Her coach meets her halfway helping her off the mat. There’s a hushed muffle that floats around the gym when the spectators take it all in.

“She’s fine,” Momma Pete says over and over trying to reassure herself.

As Shayne nears the sideline making it closer to where we sit in the stands I know, it’s not fine. There are a few tears accompanied with pain painting her face.

“It’s my knee.”

I hear her say. The rest of the gym watches the next few competitors. Her mom leans over the railing talking and listening to her coaches. Shayne peers up into the stands while her coaches and assistants help her get dressed.

Momma Pete sits back down with tears rolling down her face. She digs through her purse like a snake ready to strike with poisonous venom. The three of us watch her as she dials someone.

“I hope your damn meeting was worth it. She’s hurt. Our baby is injured and has one more routine, and you’re an asshole.”

I reach over and take the phone from her ear. From all my years in high stake situations like this one anger has no place. It’s my job to lead a team to victory. I’m the quarterback, leader, and glue that holds shit together. It’s time to fucking step up.

“Coach.”

“Who the hell is this?"

“Ryder.”

“Uh?”

“I’m here with your wife, and she needs you. Your daughter needs you. Man up.”

Six months ago I only dreamt about being brave enough to speak those words to him.

“Excuse me? Boy, you better back the fu…”

“I respect you. You’re like a father to me, but with all due respect Shayne needs you right now.” I pause steadying myself for the hail mary of a lifetime. “You also need to know I’m in love with Shayne and I’m going to make her mine.”

I end the call not waiting for his response. Three sets of eyes bore holes into me, and I couldn’t care less.