Evie heaves over the toilet bowl as I struggle to keep her hair from falling into the mess. The smell of rancid alcohol fills our little bathroom to the point I have to breathe through my mouth to keep from gagging.
“Baby, why did you drink so much?” If I hadn’t pulled her ass out of the Sig O house an hour ago, we might have ended up in the hospital tonight. I’m still not convinced we won’t.
“Had to,” she groans as she slumps against the porcelain, done for now.
“No, you didn’t have to do anything,” I grit, fighting to keep my temper in check. Now isn’t the time to argue about her increasingly dangerous behavior. Not only because she’s probably too drunk to remember anything I might say, but it’s just wrong to kick your girl when she’s down.
“The ADO sisters challenged the Wives to a shots contest,” Evie slurs. “I’m the president. What was I supposed to do? Say no?”
She says it like being a responsible leader is a foreign concept to her. While she’s really cleaned up the unofficial club, making it into more of a support network than a trial by fire, those women still hold far more power over Evie than I would have ever expected. Maybe she’s forgotten herself a bit in her need to fit in, but those days are behind me. I’m done trying to be like everyone else.
I’m captain of the team this year. First thing Monday morning in the locker room, we’re going to have a little huddle about this “Wives’ Club,” and what it really means for our girlfriends. When I’m through there, I’ll call a Sig O meeting to propose we cut ties with our sister sorority on campus. Fuck no can other girls come into our house and treat our women like that.
I bite my tongue as I turn on the shower and strip myself, then Evie. She hates to go to bed smelling like a party, and frankly, I’m hoping this will sober her up a bit.
She’s like a ragdoll as I pull her into the shower with me. Rather than risk her slipping and falling, I situate us on the bathtub floor, where she slumps against me.
“Mmm, that feels good,” she hums as I wash the puke out of her hair.
“It would feel a whole lot better if you weren’t numb with tequila.” We’d be having a much different shower, in fact. Wet, soapy, naked Evie is definitely one of my favorite versions, as evidenced by my sad, hard dick that knows it won’t be getting any extra slippery action against her toned stomach tonight.
“It wasn’t tequila,” she scoffs. “They had tequila. I had ouzo.”
“Was that your way of making sure you wouldn’t get piss-faced drunk? ‘Cause, I hate to break it to you, babe, but that game plan backfired on you.”
She shrugs, her soapy shoulders sliding against my chest. “Just imagine how much more I would’ve puked if it had been tequila.”
Well, great. Now I can’t get that mental image out of my head.
Evie groans.
I hold my breath, waiting to see if my imagination is about to become reality.
“I have to work tomorrow morning.”
False alarm. “Call off. Tell them you’re sick.”
“I can’t. Rent’s due next week. We can’t afford to be late again.”
I massage Evie’s shoulders, suddenly pissed at myself for being angry with her at all. “Maybe I can pick up your shift for you. How hard can it be to shush rowdy college students and re-shelve books?”
She laughs, then hiccups. “You have practice in the morning, then you have to meet with the athletic department to decide how they’re going to handle your nomination announcement. You can’t pick up my shift.”
Oh, right. My life isn’t my own. Which is why my girlfriend works at the campus library while going to school full-time, and I essentially mooch off her.
“Come on, baby.” I hoist us both to our feet. “Let’s get some water in you, then get you to bed.”
Evie hums to herself while I dry her off, carry her to bed, and tuck her under the covers. For being as sick as she was, she sure seems content. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I heard her sing. Music used to be such a huge part of her life. When did it take a back burner to everything else? And why haven’t I noticed until now?
She’s still awake when I re-enter our bedroom with a tall glass of water and some ibuprofen.
“You know what I love?”
“What?” I sit on the side of the bed, then hand her the pills and water.
She chugs half of it in one gulp. “You.”
“Wow. You really are drunk. Sober you would never have asked that question.”
She frowns as she swallows the pills, then finishes off the water. “You don’t think I love you?”
I can’t help laughing at her fuzzy thoughts. “No, I know you love me. But you would have asked, ‘You know whom I love?’”
Evie cocks her head to the side, taking way longer to think about it than she normally would before shrugging it off. “Whatever. Know what else I love?”
“What?” I smooth her damp hair back from her forehead, smiling as she snuggles down into the pillows. As soon as she falls asleep, I’ll bring the wastebasket from the bathroom and place it beside the bed. Just in case.
“I love our little apartment, and our crazy life. I love that everyone else sees what an amazing player you are, just like I always have. I love that you’re going to be nominated for the Heisman next week. I love being able to walk around our apartment naked. Everything’s so much better now.” Her eyes fall shut on a sigh, and she continues humming the same tune she’s been stuck on all night.
I gaze around our tiny bedroom, trying to see it through her drunken eyes. Admittedly, it’s nice to sleep in a queen-sized bed together instead of the singles from the dorms. But, the room is so small, the bed takes up most of the space. There’s barely any room for us to walk between the dresser we share, the bed, and the doorway.
A pile of shoes occupies the corner, to leave the closet free for when I’m traveling for away games and camps. The only reason Evie’s family agreed to let us live together off-campus is because they want her to feel safe and trust me to keep her that way.
I think Evie believed once Jackson was convicted and given an official stay in the state pen, she’d go back to the woman she used to be. She was shocked to discover our closet isn’t nearly big enough for her to sleep in. We never paid closet size any mind when we searched apartment ads together. Well, she didn’t. I didn’t want to burst her bubble of hope.
Just like I don’t want to burst it now.
Try as I might, Evie’s optimism isn’t rubbing off on me.
Looking around our shared bedroom, with framed photos of us together hanging on the walls, all I see is everything that’s still wrong.
She’s working and going to school, supporting both of us. She didn’t qualify for student housing this year, since that limited space is only guaranteed to freshmen, sophomores, and students on scholarship. She was adamant about not living in the Wives’ Club house on campus. I wasn’t going to complain about that one bit. My football scholarship would have covered my room and board in the dorms, but I declined it to stay closer to Evie. That money doesn’t transfer to off-campus housing and grocery store vouchers.
A little over a year, and I’ll give her everything she’s never dreamed of, yeah. But, I want to put a ring on her finger now, and I hate that I can’t afford to. The remainder of my inheritance from Pops is carefully doled out every month to cover my cell phone and car insurance. Hell no am I letting Evie pay for those things. She would be happy with a plastic ring from a vending machine; she’s told me as much plenty of times. Nothing but the biggest diamond the NFL can buy will ever be good enough for her hand, though. So, it’ll have to wait.
The blankets and sheets are rumpled from our private post-victory tradition. While I might be able to make her moan and whisper my name in any number of ways, I still can’t force myself to take that last step. Evie never pressures, always assuring me we’ll get there in our own time, but I see the look of disappointment dull her eyes for a split second each time I don’t follow through and push inside her.
It’s ironic that seeming to get out of the trial scot-free has brought me more guilt than ever. I can’t bear to fuck up that unexpected gift by hurting her again.
I just can’t do it.
It’s not even about being terrified I’ll be selfish and get too lost in my own pleasure anymore. It’s knowing our first time is going to hurt her.
Years ago, full of myself and more egomaniacal than I realized, I believed all my research meant I could take Evie’s virginity and feel like I’d done my due diligence. I was prepared. I wanted it. I just had to wait for the right opening.
Now that I have all the clear routes in the world, those years of preparation and knowledge mean jack shit.
On more than one occasion, I’ve honestly thought about having the “waiting until marriage” discussion with her. Part of me rationalizes if we take sex off the table altogether, it won’t be a stressor to our relationship. The logical part of me calls it for the bullshit it is, and I know damn well Evie would, too.
We’re living together for Christ’s sake.
Our usual weekly orgasm tally completely negates that line of reasoning. We haven’t technically been virgins for years. Trying to preserve said nebulous virginity is just stupid at this point.
Lying to the world is one thing, but lying to each other is something I refuse to do. Lying to myself seems less and less appealing the longer this goes on, but stopping the cycle seems beyond my reach.
I just can’t win. And when I lose, Evie loses, too.
She breathes in and out evenly, her naked breasts shadowing the movement of her lungs. Lost in sleep, she doesn’t react when I trace her scars with the tip of my finger. Not a day goes by I don’t appreciate being able to freely touch and look my fill like this. Evie’s trust has never been easy to earn. The day she showed herself to me might as well have been the day she said, “I do.” Somehow, as surely as I know my own name, I know she’ll never bare herself to anyone else. I don’t take that gift lightly.
Patch hops up on the bed, startling me out of my thoughts. She nudges against me on her way to her favorite spot near Evie’s side, purring and turning in circles before settling against Evie’s warm body.
Having our cats here definitely makes me feel less guilty about the times I can’t be. It’s stupid, but I feel like Patch and Felix guard Evie when I’m gone. They obviously don’t make her feel secure enough to stay in bed when I’m away, but at least she isn’t completely alone.
I don’t get much time to wallow in self-doubt because an insistent knocking on our front door at this time of night after a Sig O party can mean only one person.
Mike.
As much as I appreciate his love for Evie, he’s so far up our asses lately I can’t think straight. It’s not that I believe he’s confused his brotherly love for her with something more, but without a girlfriend of his own to dote on, the guy just has no clue what to do with his free time.
Someone really needs to clue him into the changing of the guard where Evie’s welfare is concerned.
Personally, I vote for Alex to be the messenger.
Gritting my teeth, I slide on a pair of shorts and run to the living room before his racket wakes up Evie. So much for my plans to climb in bed, too. And double damn him because naked sleeping nights are few and far between. She might trust me with her scars, but she doesn’t like to see them herself very often.
“She okay?” He raises his eyebrow at me when I swing the door open.
“Yeah.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “She’s asleep.”
Mike pushes his way past me like he has every right in the world to invade Evie’s and my sanctuary. In all fairness, Evie invites him over so often he probably does feel like this is his second home. It doesn’t help we live in the same apartment building as him and Alex. Easier access to drop in whenever they feel like it.
“You put up a tree?” Mike eyes our decorated Christmas tree like it’s the most unnatural sight in the world in a living room in December.
I close the front door, resigning myself to his late-night visit and the usual interrogation over whether I’m treating his dear “sister” well enough. “You helped me bring it here. What did you think we were going to do with it?”
He shrugs, staring at the Miners-themed decorations and lights with glassy eyes. “I figured it was for some charity thing.”
Is he drunk, too? “Number one, why would I bring a live tree here if it was for charity? Number two, we’re visiting the children’s hospital as a team next week to spread some holiday cheer. Remember? You’re one of the team captains. You have the schedule, and you damn well better show up.”
He turns his gaze on me, unreadable thoughts written in his brown eyes. “You and Evie aren’t going to adopt a disabled orphan baby next week while we’re there, are you?”
I blink several times. What the fuck? Evie tags along with the team for most of our charity events, sure, but that’s a bizarre question, drunk or not. “Uh, no. Why would you even ask me that?”
“Just seems like you’re having a real good time playing house here. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t lost sight of reality.”
I roll my shoulders and crack my neck, hoping to keep my rising temper in check. Where is all this coming from? Mike always keeps me on my toes where Evie is concerned, but he’s not usually this much of an asshole about it.
He collapses onto the couch with less finesse than his athletic build is capable of. Still gazing around the room like he’s never seen it before, his focus lands on the framed picture of me, Evie, and our families on the field after last year’s National Championship win.
“You gonna pop the question already or are you waiting for an invitation?”
No, I’m waiting for enough money to buy the kind of ring she deserves, and he damn well knows it. “Are you jealous, Mike?”
He startles a bit, but meets my gaze. “No. Evie and I have never been more than friends. You of all people know that.”
I do know that, and I’ve never once questioned it. Been jealous of their close relationship? Sure. Thought it might be something more? Nope. I sigh, taking a seat beside him on our worn, second-hand couch. “You could date again, you know. No one’s stopping you but you. You don’t have to go home to an empty apartment every night. I get you’re not like Alex. He’s living it up as a single guy, getting all the tail he can manage, and that’s not your style. Are you just waiting to see where you’ll get drafted? You don’t want to start something up you might have to abandon next year?”
His answering laughter is so loud, Felix bolts from his new favorite spot under the tree. “You got lucky with Evie, man. She’s a good woman, not a jersey chaser who’s only in it for the fame and money. She takes care of you. So you better fucking make sure you take care of her in return.”
“I do.” Hell, the first one to beat my ass if I didn’t would be Mike, and I sure as fuck plan to spoil her rotten when I get drafted. That’s one of my motivations for not giving up when my body screams in agony. I push through the pain to reach the next level, to be the best, so I can give my girl the best. “What’s going on with you tonight? Why are you acting this way? Did something happen at the party after I brought Evie home?”
He cuts his sharp gaze to me, frowning. “Why did you let her get so drunk, anyway? That’s not taking care of her.”
I recognize a reroute when I see one. Mike’s almost as good at diverting topics as Evie is. Although, I figured the whole reason for his visit was to bust my balls about this, so I can’t say I’m too surprised at the turn in conversation.
“You routinely tell me you know my girlfriend better than I do. So, please explain to me why you think I could either tell Evie what to do or would want to.”
“She’s out of control, lately,” he mutters almost as if he doesn’t want to admit it out loud. “I don’t know if she’s sowing her wild oats because she was so straight-laced in high school or what, but it’s getting out of hand, Rob. It was one thing for her to put her game face on for the rest of the world, but lately she does it when it’s just us, too. I can’t remember the last time I saw her without makeup all over her face or wearing sweatpants like she used to all the time. This party-animal, WAG persona isn’t her, and it’s starting to worry me.”
I can’t argue with any of that. It’s been worrying me since her transformation freshman year, but Mike doesn’t know everything. As much as I dislike Evie’s behavior and am waiting for it to bite us on the ass, I know damn well she’s hiding in plain sight. She’s keeping her scars and her pain hidden by showing everyone what they want to see: a beautiful woman who’s enjoying life to the fullest. She’s so good at slipping on masks for her own protection, I’m not even sure she knows she’s doing it anymore.
My main goal for the past four years has been protecting Evie from anyone who might hurt her, including me. I have no idea how to save Evie from herself. I’m not sure I even have that right. We all cope however we can. God knows I’m not exempt from that.
“Listen.” I don’t want to fight with Mike or dismiss his concerns, but he’s gotta start trusting me to do right by her. And fuck no can he judge her. “I appreciate your concern, but…” I take a deep breath, intent on making clear this man-to-man discussion is long overdue. “You can’t come into my house, our house, and act like-“
A loud thud from the bedroom sends us both to our feet.
I cover the distance of the hallway with my heart in my throat, imagining the worst. A burglar, Evie being overpowered again right under my nose; an overturned chair and her feet dangling above the floor, because she couldn’t take the stress anymore. Stopping short inside the doorway, I find Evie sprawled face down on the carpet, the sheets twisted around her legs.
“Baby?” I’m at her side in an instant, hauling her into my arms, but she’s out cold. “Baby?”
“Jesus.” Mike’s standing in the doorway, his eyes trained on Evie’s naked breasts.
“Get the fuck out of our bedroom!” I grab the sheet, draping it over her body, having completely forgotten in my panic he might see anything.
Evie moans with my thunderous volume.
“Baby, wake up. Talk to me.” I caress her cheek, wondering if I should have just taken her to the hospital straight from the party. “Evie.”
Her eyes flutter open. “I had a nightmare. You weren’t here…”
“I’m here. I’m here. I’ll never leave you.”
“I had a nightmare,” she slurs. “I tried to get to the closet, but I tripped.”
“You don’t have to sleep in the closet. It was a home game this weekend, remember?” Evie is my number one priority, but I’m all too aware we have an audience we shouldn’t have.
“I just want to hang onto the good,” she whimpers. “I don’t want it to be bad anymore.”
I hug her tightly against me, rocking her back and forth, knowing full well there’s not enough comfort in the world to give back to her what she’s lost. “I’ll be your good. Hang onto me, honey. I won’t let you go.”
She snuggles closer, trying to push the sheets away. Evie always feels hot when she’s had too much to drink.
“She has nightmares?” Mike doesn’t avert his eyes like he should; simply continues staring at what Evie inadvertently reveals. “How is that possible if she doesn’t remember what happened?”
I haul myself to my feet, Evie still tucked safely in my arms, then make my way to the bed, where I climb in, never releasing my hold on her. The comforter is balled at my feet, but somehow I manage to pull it up around us. As much as I want him to just fucking leave, I know Mike won’t go until his questions have answers. “She’s been having them since the trial. I think it’s her mind’s way of trying to make sense of everything, since she didn’t really get any closure with his last-minute plea deal.”
He sits on the edge of the bed, further invading our sacred space. “So, you have nightmares about what you can’t forget, and she has them about what she can’t remember. What the fuck are you doing, man?”
If Evie weren’t in my arms, needing me, he’d be pinned against the wall as I strangled him. “Get out, Mike. We’re fine.”
He gestures toward us with a broad sweep. “This isn’t fine, Rob. This isn’t okay.”
Picking up the conversation from the living room where we left off, I meet his gaze, tucking Evie under my chin and adjusting her the way she likes. “You don’t get to come into our house and tell me what to do with my life, with hers. You might have been there that day, but you have no idea what we went through. What we still live with every day. Get. Out.”
He nods slowly, his eyes roaming over her body in a manner that makes my skin crawl in a way it hasn’t since immediately after the attack. “She’s disfigured, Rob. If you’re only with her out of guilt or pity…you need to get out now. You’re practically a Heisman nominated quarterback. You can do better than this.”
“Fuck you,” I spit. “She’s not disfigured. She’s strong, brave; the fiercest fighter I’ve ever known. She’s a survivor, and her scars prove it. She’s the woman I love. My wife in all but name; the mother of my future children. I see the most beautiful woman in the world when I look at her. I can’t help what you see.”
He nods again, rising from his position. Without a word, he moves on silent feet to the closet, where he picks up the pillow and blanket from the floor.
“You can’t take those out of there. She needs them when I’m away.” Fuck no can he come in here and change our coping mechanisms when he doesn’t know half of what we deal with.
“I’ll put them back in the morning. I’m gonna crash on the couch.”
“You need to leave.”
He faces me with a pitying smile that curdles my stomach. “She needs you there with her. If she needs anything else, I’ll be here. To get her more water, aspirin, a puke bucket, whatever.”
“Mike,” I grit, fighting for calm with my world in my arms. “I’ve got this. She isn’t yours to take care of anymore. She’s mine.”
He heads to the door, his posture more relaxed than when he first came into our little apartment. “You’ve got her back, and I’ve got yours. I know my place. I just needed to make sure you knew yours.”
Damn him and his mind games. There’s a reason Mike’s major is psychology. I just wish he’d quit using it to test me.
If he can’t see I’m in this for the long haul, then that’s his problem. Not mine.