“Again, Westbury, and maybe this time you’ll try hitting Cunningham,” Coach yells, even though he’s standing right next to me. Standing behind the center, Alex Moore, I call out my cadence.

“Louder!”

I start over, increasing the octave of my voice per Coach’s instructions. “Set, set, hike,” I holler. With the ball in my hand, I step back and stumble over my own feet before falling to the ground.

“Goddammit, Westbury.” Coach picks me up off the ground by my facemask. He’s yelling so hard, spit is flying into my face. He’s asking me what's wrong. He wants to know if I’ve suddenly forgotten how to play.

“No, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.” He pushes me toward the sidelines. Normally I would stay and prove to him I’m exactly the player he drafted, but my mind is not on the game. Every part of me is in Chicago, and he knows this. I don’t know if this is some mental tough love thing or what. If it is, it’s not working.

I forgo the sideline and head right to the locker room. I need the quiet so I can think and reflect on my on-field performance. Mentally, I should be stronger. I should be able to block what’s going on with Peyton out of my mind and focus on my job, but I can’t get over the fact that I want to be there with her.

My phone sits on the top shelf of my locker. I pick it up and press the home button. Each notification is from Dessie. Since our fight and subsequent break-up, she’s been calling and texting non-stop. Most of them I ignore, especially because it’s easy to tell when she’s angry, which usually means she’s been drinking. Her messages range from being sorry to offering to share me with Peyton, telling me that she doesn’t care whether or not I used her to pass time. Where she came up with that idea, I’m not so sure. Subconsciously, I think that’s exactly what I’ve done.

When I first met Dessie, I was attracted to her. There’s no doubt she’s beautiful. She was wild though, and I’ve never been one to play around in the party scene. My body is my temple sort of thing. I caught her once snorting coke, and threatened to leave. Dessie promised it would never happen again, and to my knowledge, it hadn’t until I left for Chicago. Thinking back though, we’re not with each other when we travel, so how the hell do I know if she’s doing it or not. Either way, I can’t tolerate it. I refuse to.

I undress as quickly as I can and hit the shower. I’d love to go home, but leaving before Coach has another opportunity to ream me out wouldn’t be wise. I deserve the ass chewing, but he knows where my mind is right now. I warned him.

As soon as I’m out of the shower, I hit the trainer’s room. He motions for me to hop up on the table, and once I do, he starts giving my aching muscles a rub down.

“I heard what happened out there,” he says as he works the kinks out of my calf.

“I have a lot of shit going on right now.”

“You know I used to be a bartender so I think there’s some underlying rule in place that allows you to open up.”

I chuckle and sigh. “My best friend was the passenger in the car accident Zimmerman was in. She’s in a coma back in Chicago and I’m stuck here.”

He pauses and looks like he’s about to tell me something important. Everyone knows about Zimmerman’s accident, it’s the talk of the league right now. “I saw a press conference, I think she’s awake or improving.”

I bolt upright, startling him. “What did you say? When?”

“Yesterday, I think it was. They said she’s…”

He doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence because I’m running from his room back to the locker room. Grabbing my phone, it falls from my hand as my other one desperately tries to keep my towel cinched at my waist, which is near impossible. I drop the towel as I bend to scoop up my phone and sit on the cold leather chair.

I press my mother’s number. Voicemail.

I try my father. Voicemail.

Quinn is next. Voicemail.

Pressing Elle’s name, the phone rings on the other end. She answers on the fourth ring. “Hey, Noah.”

“Hey, Noah? Is that what you have to say to me?” I ask her.

“Um…”

“How about, ‘Oh shit, Noah we forgot to call and tell you Peyton is awake!’” I scream so loudly my body temperature rises. “How could you not call me?”

“I thought someone else would’ve called. I mean your parents--”

“Right. I’m sure it never crossed your mind to find out if I knew. Instead, I have to find out from my trainer.”

Elle sighs. “You know what, Noah? Not everything is about you right now. Yes, someone should’ve called you, but our sister woke up and we’ve been trying to make her feel better about herself. When did you become so damn selfish?”

Tears drip down my face. Both out of excitement because Peyton is awake, and also out of anger because Elle is right. I am selfish. Everything going on with Peyton isn’t about me. I’m not the only one who loves and cares about her. “You’re right, I’m sorry, Elle. I’m just--”

“You’re just like us. You’re worried and scared, and I’m sorry no one called. But yes, Peyton is awake. She actually woke up twice yesterday and I missed both times. Once was the middle of the night and the other time was when I was picking Ben up from the airport.” I’m not shocked Ben is there. He’s been Elle’s best friend since high school. They have a similar relationship to what Peyton and I have or had up until recently. It makes me wonder what’s changed between us, aside from Dessie.

“Who was with her?”

“Quinn. He actually hasn’t left her side.”

I clear my throat. “How is she?”

Elle sighs. “Honestly, not good. It seems that the doctor was so sure she wasn’t going to make it he didn’t cast her leg or arm. We’ve been moving her arm so much that we’ve likely caused more damage. Her leg… well, he has to go in and re-break it so it can set right, same with her arm,” Elle pauses and tells someone she’s speaking with me. “He also has to fix her stitches. God, Noah, this asshole--”

“Your parents will take care of him, Elle, you focus on Peyton. Keep her spirits up. When’s her surgery?”

“I don’t know, they haven’t said.”

“Are my parents still there?”

“No, they left this morning. Along with Jimmy and Jenna. The girls have to get back to school.”

“I’ll be there on Sunday, after my game.”

“Where exactly are you going now, Westbury?”

I turn to find Coach standing behind me. I half smile, half grimace and tell Elle I’ll call her later. I stand up and my coach cocks his eyebrow at me. I quickly cover my junk with my hand, which is also holding my phone.

“My friend, she’s awake. I need to go back to Chicago.”

“My office, now,” he says as he walks out the door. “Put some damn clothes on,” he yells before the door shuts. I do as he says and hustle down to his office and take the seat in front of his desk.

“Look, Coach. I know my head isn’t in the game. I told you this the other night, and I’m sorry. I’m letting you and the team down, but she’s awake and I feel like a thousand pounds has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“That’s all fine and dandy, Westbury, but I need a committed and focused quarterback who can lead the charge not only on Sunday but every day in practice, on and off the field.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I need to be mentally stronger.”

“You’re not the only one who has lost someone in the league. Many athletes perform the same day as a tragic loss.”

I nod. Normally, I think I would be okay if I didn’t come to the harsh realization that I’m in love with Peyton and haven’t been able to tell her. Not knowing whether or not I’d ever be able to talk to her or feel her arms wrap around me again, really did something to my psyche.

“Your commitment is to this team, and if you can’t be here--”

“I will be,” I say before I realize I interrupted him. I shake my head and sit up straighter in the chair. “Sir, I know my actions these past couple of days haven’t been up to standards.”

“I feel a but coming on, Westbury.” He leans onto his immaculate desk and glares at me.

I slink back as far as I can in the chair under his penetrating gaze, feeling about two feet tall. “After Sunday’s game, I’m asking that I be allowed to miss practice until Friday.”

Coach threads his fingers together and taps his lips with his clenched hands. “I’m in a position to say no, that after today’s performance, you need all the extra reps you can get, but I’ll make a deal with you. If we win on Sunday, you can have the week off.”

I stand and extend my hand. He shakes mine, squeezing with enough force to remind me he can make or break my career. “I’ll do my best.” Sometimes my best isn’t good enough, but I’m going to try. I leave his office and head back to the locker room. The guys give me shit about being in trouble. That’s one thing about sports; the childish antics never change.

“I’m fine. Rough day.”

“I heard Dessie left his sorry ass,” Alex says.

I don’t know how he would’ve heard, unless she’s posted something on social media, but it’s not her style to air dirty laundry.

Jessie McAvoy, our right tackle, slaps me on the back. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that fine woman of yours.”

“She’s too much for you, McAvoy.” I move away from him and head toward my locker. Julius is standing there, looking confused. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you wanna grab some dinner?”

“I do,” Alex says, putting his arms around the both of us.

“Is this going to be a gossip session where we talk about our feelings and go to the bathroom together?” Julius asks.

“Pretty much,” I tell him.

Alex claps his hands together. “Yes, Moore is gonna get him some tonight!”

I roll my eyes and finish putting my stuff in my bag. Alex thinks women flock to him when he’s being emotional. Julius and I have told him repeatedly it’s because when he walks into a place everyone suspects he’s a pro athlete by his size.

Before leaving the locker room, I pull out my phone and send a text to Peyton. I have no idea if she even has her phone, is able to look at it or what, but I want her to know I’m thinking about her.

I’ll be there in a few days. I miss you.

And against my better judgment, I look through the many messages from Dessie.

I love you

I’m sorry

Call me

Can I see you tonight?

We need to talk

They’re endless and remain unanswered by me. I can’t imagine what we have to talk about. I lied to her. She lied to me. That alone puts us in an unhealthy relationship neither of us needs right now. Dessie needs to focus on her career and getting clean if she has a drug habit. And I need to focus on what I’m going to do about Peyton and my feelings for her. Not only do I need to tell her, but also her parents. I think they have a right to know I plan to pursue Peyton if she’ll allow me.