Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eventually could be a long fucking time.
And space was nebulous and infinite.
Gavin was so over both, but as he sat waiting in the empty exam room, his phone found its way to his palm. Since he’d recently become a masochist, he lifted it and reread Julie’s singular communication with him since the day after Christmas.
That was all she’d said. New Year’s had come and gone, and still, nothing.
“You’re officially cleared,” the INC doctor said. The club physician had cleared him as well, but these days, that was only one part of a five-step process. The Independent Neurological Consultant—or INC—was unaffiliated with any team, and until his say-so, no player could return to contact practice or compete in a game.
Gavin waited for the excitement. The elation.
Anything.
Instead the hollow pit in his chest continued to eat his emotions and regurgitate more emptiness.
Yesterday, the team doc joked about how good his masseuse must’ve been and declared they should come work for the Stangs and make her job that much easier. When Gavin didn’t chuckle along, concern crinkled Dr. Morrison’s forehead, so he’d summoned up a laugh that sounded as fake as everything else felt lately.
During last weekend’s game, Gavin had stood helpless on the sidelines as he watched the newbie cave to pressure. Not his fault by a long shot. No, it was Gavin’s for getting injured and not being around more to guide the kid. He’d been in Mann’s position before, and regardless of how many intense college games any QB at that level had played, it was just different when it came to the NFL.
Add the Mustangs’ second place position in the AFC South, an upset no one had expected during the other game that day, which meant they’d had to win to ensure a playoff spot, and it was like playing with a stone weight around your neck. Mann had been sacked at the end of the first quarter, and it’d gone downhill from there.
The loss meant they now had to play a wild card game, but at least they weren’t out of the running. With Gavin’s shoulder fully rehabbed, his sole focus should be winning the next game.
But all he could think of was Julie.
He thanked the neuro doc, Coach Bryant was informed, and congratulatory texts poured in from the team over his upcoming return. They also promised an especially brutal practice to make up for the ones he’d missed.
Which was delivered as promised, and as Gavin gasped for breath on the field, he rejoiced, because it was difficult to think about much of anything during training drills.
Later that night, he ended up on Jason’s couch, his muscles pleasantly sore. Originally, he’d declined the invitation to hang with the guys. But then he’d decided that the best way to get past everything that’d happened over Christmas was to throw himself back into his life here in San Antonio.
When the video games hit a lull, he automatically pulled out his phone and tapped on Julie’s name.
Surely it would be okay to tell her he’d been cleared to play, in part because of the magic she’d worked with his muscles, and before she heard it on ESPN. He composed the text and read it over an absurd amount of times.
“A text? You don’t send that kind of news in a text,” Jason said from behind Gavin’s shoulder. “That’s the kind of news that deserves a call.” The guy lunged over the back of the couch and tapped the Facetime button.
“Damn it, Holt. We need to talk about boundaries.” Gavin debated hanging up, but if there was the slightest chance Julie would answer, how could he not snatch it up?
Each inhale and exhale burned his lungs, and just when he was sure she wouldn’t answer, her image popped onscreen. Her blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail, her fringe of bangs hit the top of her plastic goggles, and at the sight of her, his ragged nerves came completely undone.
If he didn’t have an audience, he’d get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness. Hell, he might still do it, observers be damned. “Jules,” he rasped out.
“Julie!” Holt yelled, the rambunctious greeting swallowing up Gavin’s raw one, and Smitts’s baritone voice joined the melee. The rest of the guys crowded around, and his heart went on hiatus, afraid to so much as beat, despite it being, you know, vital to life and shit.
The color drained from her features, and her lips flattened into a tight line. While the happiness he hadn’t experienced in eight whole days bobbed its head, not one ounce of joy showed in her expression. Without it, she hardly even seemed like his Julie.
He supposed he’d lost the privilege to call her “his,” and that sufficiently snuffed out his elation at seeing her face.
“We have some great news.” Holt clapped Gavin on the back, waking him up from his pity party. “Tell her, Frost.”
“Tell me what? That you don’t understand what space means? Or that you have so little respect for me that you don’t care?”
Awkwardness coated the air, the shift in mood as drastic as on the field when the ref overturned one of their touchdowns over some bullshit call.
While he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, he could feel his teammates’ stares boring into the back of his skull. “I do care. About you, about how you’re doing—about what’s going on in your life. I’m sorry, Julie.” Having an audience was damned inconvenient, but at this point, he couldn’t care less what they thought of him. As long as he could make things right, he’d suffer through however much humiliation it took. “For everything.”
“You can’t just call, say you’re sorry, and expect my feelings to magically bounce right back to normal so we can be besties again. Did you think having the guys there would change my mind? Or would keep me from saying how incredibly hurt I still am?” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, and he felt two feet tall. “You were wrong on both counts.”
Gavin opened his mouth to insist she had it wrong and continue begging for forgiveness, but she stretched out her arm and then the screen went blank.
Much like his soul. All he could find as he searched inward was stark nothingness, and his throat grew painfully tight. Misery surged, filling him head to toe and leaving his limbs too heavy to move.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Holt had moved around the couch and crossed his arms as he stared him down. “You hurt Julie? Now I might have to kick your ass.”
“Go ahead. I deserve it and then some. At this point, I don’t even care.” Gavin slunk back against the couch. The prick in his chest morphed into a caustic sensation that leveled and destroyed, and he welcomed the destruction.
Up to this point, he’d done his best to convince himself that things would return to normal. What became crystal fucking clear when he saw Julie’s face was that normal paled in comparison to the one amazing night they’d had, and that he’d been deluding himself when he’d convinced himself it was just sex.
Nothing with Julie was just anything. She was everything—sunshine and laughter, intelligence and energy, the best part of his childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. And he missed her so badly that he’d lacked enthusiasm over everything he used to enjoy.
Football used to be his refuge, but today on the field, there’d been no solace. Life in general had turned gray, blah, and monotonous.
The guys looked at one another, and under any other circumstance he might laugh at their utter confusion. Smitts circled around to stand beside Holt, and the churning inside Gavin turned deadly calm. Holt could find miniscule holes and bob and weave like nobody’s business, but as a nose tackle, Smitts’s home setting was destroy.
“Go ahead.” Gavin jutted out his chin. “I won’t even block.”
Holt glanced at Smitts and the other guys and sighed. “Well, this is pathetic.” He flopped on the couch next to Gavin and shoved his ankle off his knee, the punk. “Starting to understand why you’ve been such a buzzkill. I thought it was your injury and our loss, but this is much worse…”
Why were they all staring at him as if he had the IQ of a cucumber?
“Someone finally realized they were in love with their best friend,” Holt finished.
Gavin opened his mouth to say close, but not quite. Then that gaping hole in the very core of who he was throbbed with a vengeance. Had he honestly been so fucking blind?
As half of his heart lurched one way, still doing its best to deny he’d gone so far as to fall in love with her, the other side flooded with memories of Julie. After a painful tug-of-war, the organ that’d been causing him nothing but trouble as of late ripped in two, echoing the feeling he’d had since leaving Crystal Springs only half a person.
He’d been so busy clinging to his stubbornness and flawed logic because of a failed relationship that’d been rocky before the big move that he hadn’t taken into account the many ways his relationship with Julie differed from the one he’d had with Kristin.
For one, Jules called him on it when he acted like an ass—and just had in front of his teammates. The two of them had been through more ups and downs than a season of football, lots of victories along with a few hard losses. And yet, even during the times they’d been upset with each other, they’d always found a way to boost each other up and be a team.
Julie didn’t make or accept excuses. No one could hold her back or prevent her from doing whatever the hell she set her mind to. If they had to work as hard at their romantic relationship as they both had at their careers and keeping up their friendship combined, so be it.
Regret flooded him as he replayed their exchange in the living room. Instead of holding back her emotions until they burst, she’d been so straightforward. She’d let him know exactly how she was feeling and told him she was allowed to change her mind.
And he’d thrown it in her face.
He’d been so afraid he might ruin what they had that he’d preemptively destroyed it. As if that would keep them both safe from future pain, when the truth was, all he did was hurt.
The despair he’d done his best to smother and pretend didn’t exist seeped out of the jagged edges, flowing and dripping until it’d infected him head to toe.
“That face says it all,” Smitts said, perching on the edge of the coffee table, and Gavin swore he could hear the furniture groan with his weight. All three hundred and twenty-five pounds of force and muscle. As if he weren’t intimidating enough, he’d also shorn his tightly coiled hair into a mohawk a couple of inches tall. “You’re a goner, bro.”
Holt pivoted, reclining his back against the armrest of the couch. “Told you, dumbass. No one listens to me. They see brawn and good looks, and don’t realize I’ve got a big ol’ brain, too.”
Gavin rolled his eyes, and a couple of the guys snickered, but when it came down to it, Holt was right. “Shit,” he said, and his buddies nodded. “I’m in love with Julie.”
Unfortunately, Dad had been right, too, about Gavin not realizing what he had, and he was afraid he might’ve already lost her.
“You saw how upset she is, though.” Gavin glanced from face to face, desperate to find one with the answer he sought. “How do I fix it?’
Silence followed. Oh, sure. Of all the times they choose not to be loudmouthed know-it-alls, it’s now.
Holt ran a hand along his jaw. “You’d better do something. Your team is counting on you to get your shit together so we can win this upcoming game.”
Since the guy had led him to a giant revelation that affected his entire life, he bit back his Thanks, Captain Obvious comment.
About the time Gavin’s angst reached record highs, DeAndre Smitts locked eyes with him and said, “This calls for drastic measures. I think it’s time to call in the big guns.”