When Haley ran out of the locker room, I knew I’d made a mistake.

I put it out of my mind as I got dressed. The pain in my ankle had already started to fade. Alternating hot and cold packs on it had reduced the swelling significantly.

Dressed in loose fitting jeans and a grey Brown’s sweatshirt, I made my way back out on the field.

Coach Harris walked over with a scowl on his face. The wind had whipped his long stringy hair all over the place. He looked like a homeless man just scraped off the street.

Just the way he likes it…

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Just letting you know I’m fine.”

“You’ll hurt that ankle. Get home and stay the hell off it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Coach.”

I looked up at the rapidly emptying stadium. I didn’t have to ask what happened while I was downstairs. When the home team wins the party goes all night. When things don’t go your way, people are quick to get the hell out of dodge.

We lost. The evidence was written in the stands.

“What the hell are you still doing out here?” he yelled when he saw me.

“That photographer…”

“The bitch who damn near broke your ankle and cost us the game? What about her?”

“You’re not going to get her in trouble, are you?”

“That depends on how you’re feeling tomorrow. Now get the fuck home and rest before I have somebody cart your ass off the field.”

“Will do, Coach.”

He stormed over to the assistant coach. I glanced at a few of the players on the bench and could see their heads hanging low.

When I arrived at the private parking lot, I carefully walked to my forest green Maserati shining on the opposite side of the small lot. It wasn’t the most expensive car down here, but I loved it all the same. A smile spread over my face as I slipped behind the steering wheel and tapped a button to start up the engine.

My phone rang as I pulled out of my parking spot. I glanced at the screen mounted in the dash and saw my ex-wife’s name.

“Ignore call,” I said. “Pandora on.”

The car obeyed my will, taking me far from the city. I let some classic jazz fill the car as visions of Haley danced through my head.

Breaking up with her was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I couldn’t even bring myself to do it in person. After what I’d overheard her saying to Billy, there was nothing left but anger and pain.

But that was a long time ago… and looking back, maybe I owed her more than a shitty text message. I could have given her a chance to explain…

It was too late then, and it was too late now.

But… maybe I was wrong. She came to the game. She had to know I might recognize her.

Did that change things? Probably not, considering the way I’d acted down in the locker rooms.

Hell, she was probably married to Billy and had two and a half kids running around by now. I should have checked to see if she was wearing a ring…

I turned up the music and hit the gas pedal, going fast enough that I had no choice but to push her memory away and concentrate fully on the road.

* * *

Back at my house, I pressed my palm against a glass plate next to the door. It clicked, then opened on its own. I loved all the modern conveniences money afforded me.

“Welcome home, Toby,” came a soft robotic voice from the table. Alexa was the little gadget that ran my smart house, but on nights like this, she made me feel a little less alone.

“Hey, Alexa. I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, Toby. What can I do?”

“Search the internet for any photos taken by Haley Harrison and send them to my laptop.”

“I’m working on that now, Toby. Is there anything else?”

“That’s all for now, Alexa. Thank you.”

I knew the artificial intelligence would struggle with my request, but that wasn’t going to be a problem. I’d paid an unreasonable amount of money for the highest tier of customized service. Somewhere in India, my voice would be playing into a headset and a whole team of people would be working hard to find pictures from Haley Harrison as quickly as they could type.

I walked into the living room and slumped onto the comfortable Italian leather couch. I’d bought it after my divorce. Jessica hated leather.

Jessica and I had met my Sophomore year at Ohio State. I was still in pain after breaking up with Haley and Jessica managed to weave her way inside my life. I guess I was desperate to let someone in, even if Haley was on my mind every single fucking day.

Jessica stuck with me through college, but by the time I got my first pro position, she’d changed.

Or, maybe I finally started seeing her clearly.

It was the little things at first. Demands for thousand dollar purses and shoes that cost more than my first car. I had endorsements rolling in and I didn’t think twice about buying her nice things, but the price tag kept right on growing. My teammates were quick to point out that she was a gold digger, but I didn’t want to believe it. When I finally tried to cut back on some of the spending, she hit me with divorce papers so fast it made my head spin.

It was never about love to her. She saw me as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she took full advantage.

I guess I should have seen it coming.

“Television on,” I said ignoring the twinge of pain that shot from my ankle. It used to feel strange to walk into an empty house, but I’d grown to love the solitude. It made life a hell of a lot easier.

“ESPN.”

The giant curved flat screen came to life, showing a sports anchor – Terrance Henderson – talking about the game. I listened as he began talking about my sub-par performance. They had shots of me walking back out after the game, and there were questions about whether or not I should have been pulled off the field in the first place.

“Your photos are ready now, Toby,” Alexa said in a pleasant voice.

“Thank you,” I replied.

Haley’s face flashed in my mind, and there was a familiar stirring deep inside of me. I’d felt it when I saw her crouched on the sidelines like a deer blinded by headlights. I’d felt it again when I’d stepped out of the shower and come face to face with the girl who got away…

I placed a pillow on the bamboo coffee table I’d picked up in Peru. After grabbing my laptop, I relaxed and lifted my leg, elevating it to relieve the swelling. The coach was right, I needed to rest. The last thing I needed was a season-ending injury. My contract was coming up for renewal and missing a few games could make me a liability.

In football, liabilities get traded away. Spend too much time on the bench and you’ll go from hero to zero, no matter how fucking good you are.

I lifted the lid of the laptop. After a few clicks, I saw a gallery of photos Haley had taken.

She’s talented, I thought, remembering the way she was staring at my naked body. Maybe I should have let her take a picture. From the looks of things, she would have done me justice…

Each one of her photos were special. I’m not an expert on photography, but I could almost feel her standing behind every shot. I shook my head to chase the thought away.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I didn’t really have to ask. I knew exactly why I was feeling like this. It was Haley, the girl who’d shattered my heart carelessly. Haley, the girl who never failed to throw me off balance.

Fuck, I thought, anger spreading through my veins. My cock twitched at the same time, pissing me off even more.

I couldn’t lie to myself.

Every cell in my body responded to her tonight. My cock had been throbbing ever since I’d left the stadium. I’d been ignoring it, waiting for it to go away, pissed that my body would betray me.

Fuck!

I sat there wrestling with myself before making a decision.

“Hey, Alexa. Get me the number to the newsroom at the Cleveland Press.”

“Sure thing, Toby. Would you like me to make a call to this number?”

“Yes.”

I sat quietly while the sound of a phone ringing filled the space.

“Press newsroom, how may I help you?”

“Yeah, I’d like…”

“If you would like to hear this message again, please press one.”

“Wait, this isn’t a person?”

“I’m sorry. I did not understand you. Which department would you like to reach? Please say your choice again.”

“I want to talk to someone in the photography department.”

“Did you say footology department?”

“What the hell is a footology department?”

“I’m sorry, there is no such department. Would you like to reach another person at the Cleveland Press? Please say the name of the department you wish to reach?”

“Alexa, can you find me another phone number to the Cleveland Press?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, Toby. This is the only phone number I can find for the Cleveland Press.”

“You said, wedding department? Did you mean classified ads?” the robotic voice coming from the call replied.

“No!” I shouted. “A human being. Please let me talk to a human being!”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand what you said. Please hold while I connect you with an operator who can help.”

“Thank you,” I said, exhausted by the phone conversation with the sub-par answering software.

“Newsroom, this is Jack,” someone answered.

“I need to talk to someone in the photography department.”

“Hold on, I’ll kick you over to the automated system.”

“No, wait…”

“Thank you for calling the Cleveland Press. Please say the name of the department you wish to reach.”

“PHO-TOG-RAPY DEPARTMENT!” I shouted back in frustration.

I let out a sigh of relief as music from the eighties sent through an elevator grinder played in the background.

“Cleveland Press, photography department, this is Scott, what can I do for you?”

“Yes, Scott, I need to speak to…” I began.

“Hold, please,” he said.

What the hell?

A full minute later, he returned.

“Sorry about the wait. If you would like to place a classified ad…”

“I do not want to place a classified ad!”

“I’m sorry, our computer said…”

“Listen, this is Toby Jenkins. Star running back from the Cleveland Browns? The guy who twisted an ankle dodging one of your photographers?”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Jenkins. I’m very sorry about that,” he said. “I can promise you that the photographer in question will be finding herself a new job soon enough. That’s all I’m willing to say, but you can talk with our legal department if you’d like. Give me a second and I’ll throw you back over to the automated system...”

“Wait!” I shouted, stopping him before he could kick me back to that godforsaken system. “I’m not looking to get her fired. I feel bad for almost running her over, and I was a bit of an asshole when she came to see me in the locker rooms.”

“She didn’t say anything about that,” Scott replied, “but I’ll be sure to pass on your apology.”

“I want to do more than apologize. I’d like to bring the Cleveland Press in to do a special exclusive photo shoot with me and the rest of the team. Do you think you can set that up?”

“Uh… Absolutely!” he replied, his voice climbing an octave or two.

“Can you put me on with Haley Harrison, please?”

“Haley? Are you sure? We have better photographers, men who are much more skilled than Haley.”

Men? Fuck this guy.

“The offer is for Haley. I’d like to talk to her, please.”

“Okay, hold on one moment, Mr. Jenkins. Nice to talk with you.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a bit of venom in my voice.