Chapter Twenty-Eight

Maverick’s Playbook

If you get sacked—pull your head out of your ass and figure it out!

Coach insisted Maverick stop by his office after he showered. He didn’t have a clue what it was about because they’d had a meeting two days earlier. He’d played well in his last game, even though his life was a pile of steaming shit. He’d fucked up bad with his girl, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Coach Romero’s assistant, Carla, hung up the phone. “He’s ready for you, Maverick. You can go on back.”

“Thank you,” he said, striding through the office decorated in sports memorabilia.

Coach sat in his chair behind his oversized cherry wood desk. “Thanks for stopping by. Take a seat.”

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you the very same thing. What’s going on with you? Everything all right?”

Was he for fucking real? Sure, his life was shit, but his game was exactly where it needed to be.

“Everything’s fine. Is there a problem?” His tone came out harsher than intended, but he wasn’t sleeping well, and he didn’t want to talk about his personal life, or lack thereof.

“I’m not attacking you, Maverick. But after two years of working closely together, I know when you’re off. And son, right now, you’re off. And I’m not talking about the game. You’re playing well, I have no complaints. But your head’s not in it. You aren’t leading the team right now.”

Maverick scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d survived a tongue lashing from Gigi yesterday. She’d been ever so happy to point out all the mistakes he’d made in his relationship with Elle. The last thing he needed to hear was how he was failing the only area in his life that didn’t suck right now.

“I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.” He let out a long, frustrated breath. What the hell did Coach want from him? He showed up every day, pushed himself as hard as he could, and put the ball where it needed to go ninety-nine percent of the time. What was the fucking problem?

“Listen, Maverick, I’ve been around a long time. I’ve coached a lot of athletes over the years. You’re special. You’ve got the talent and you’ve got the heart. It’s a rare combination. You aren’t just a player on this team, son. You’re the leader of this team. You led us to the Super Bowl last year, and we have the potential to do it again this year. But it doesn’t work without you. If you want to be a stubborn ass and pretend everything’s fine when we both know it isn’t—then it’s on you. This is me offering my ear. We’re a team, remember? This is what you do for family, and I consider you part of my family.”

He wasn’t prepared for an emotional talk. Jesus. Everywhere he turned people were trying to get him to talk. Well, with the exception of the one person he was desperate to speak to. Peaches wasn’t taking his calls. And of course, Peyton wouldn’t help him. She’d slapped him in the goddamn face when she thought he’d had a woman stay the night at his house. Peyton apologized and insisted she would make sure Elle was brought up to speed on who Mandy was. Like he said—his life was a shit show right now. He closed his eyes for a minute. Tried to sort out the mess he’d made of things. Didn’t want Coach to see what a pussy he was when it came to Peaches.

“Just going through some personal shit. I don’t mean you any disrespect by not talking about it. I don’t like to bring my baggage to work,” he said, locking onto Coach’s hard stare.

“Well, I think you’re about to find out you don’t always have a choice. Life is messy sometimes. Tell me what’s going on. You’d be surprised what a wise old man I am,” he said with a chuckle.

Maverick ran a hand through his hair, stretched his legs out and crossed one ankle over the other. He’d need to get comfortable for this. “Okay, Mr. Wisdom. Have you ever fucked up really bad with Beverly?”

“You’re making this far too easy. Yes.”

“Well, I think our ideas of fucking up may be different.” Maverick leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Were you unfaithful?” Coach folded his hands on his desk and his gaze turned serious.

“No. Of course not. I’m an idiot, not a douchebag.”

The older man laughed and blew out a breath. “Good to know. I think everything else is fixable. What did you do?”

“Accused her of being unfaithful because I was jealous. Turned my back on her when she needed me most.”

“I agree with you. You definitely behaved like an idiot. Have you apologized to her?”

“She left town and blocked my calls. I can’t reach her.”

Coach Romero leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. “Do you know where she went?”

“Back home. Her stepfather had a stroke. He’s in the hospital. Her best friend, Peyton won’t tell me anything more. Elle won’t speak to me right now, and there’s not much I can do about it from here.” Maverick’s chest tightened.

It all made sense once Peyton gave him an ass kicking. Peaches looked devastated the day he’d stormed in her apartment. She’d just found out about Winston, and she’d needed to lean on him. But he’d been so caught up in seeing Edward in the lobby, he’d come in with guns blazing.

“Come on, Maverick. People have been messing up long before cell phones were invented. Just because you can’t call her doesn’t mean you can’t apologize.”

“And how do you suggest I apologize? I can’t fly across the country in the middle of the season,” Maverick said.

“Agreed.”

“Okay? Then what are you suggesting?”

“Well, what do you do when you can’t get the ball down the field. Or you’ve been sacked, and you can’t seem to get away from the other team’s defense?”

“I get pissed and make sure it doesn’t happen again. And this helps me, how?” Maverick didn’t hide his frustration. This conversation wasn’t helping, which was exactly why he didn’t like to talk about it.

Coach raised a brow and shook his head. “You get mad? Being mad gets the ball down the field? Being mad buys you time before a four-hundred pound man takes you down? Think, Maverick. You aren’t one of the best players in the League because you get mad all the time.”

He leaned back in his chair and thought about those moments in recent games. He wasn’t sure how this had anything to do with what they were talking about, but he’d play along.

“Well, I get pissed, and then I come up with a new plan.”

Coach’s fists hit the desk, causing Maverick to jump in his seat.

“Bingo. You come up with a new plan. You don’t get sacked and stay down. You fight. You figure out a way to make it happen. Relationships are no different. It’s called the game of life. You can sit on the sidelines or get your ass in the game. You don’t strike me as a guy who likes to sit the bench. And right now, you’ve been sacked.”

This piqued his curiosity. “Do you have any new plays in mind?”

Coach chuckled. “If you can’t reach her by phone, and you can’t fly there—think of something else. Come up with a new plan. You’re a smart guy—figure it out. On top of apologizing, you best show her how sorry you are for acting like a fool. And make sure you don’t do it again.”

“Okay. Maybe you’re onto something.”

“You’re not a guy that gives up easy, or you wouldn’t be the quarterback for the San Francisco Miners, would you? How important is she to you?”

“She’s the most important person in my life.”

“Well, then, start acting like it. Stop sulking and fix it,” Coach said.

****

“Tell me why you think you behaved the way you did.” Dr. Sparrow said.

He’d been there for forty-five minutes, and this wasn’t his first visit. He’d come three times in the last week and a half. She really took her time getting down to business. Dr. Sparrow was in her late thirties, tall and lean, dressed in a navy pantsuit. Her dark hair was pulled in a bun and red reading glasses hung from her neck—exactly what he pictured a shrink to look like. She didn’t appreciate the word shrink, and she told him so on the first day. Dr. Sparrow didn’t mince words.

“If I knew the answer to your question, I probably wouldn’t be shelling out the big bucks to see you, now would I?”

She gave him half a smile and studied him. He noticed this each time he came to see her, and she continued to do it today.

“Do you always make jokes when you’re uncomfortable?” she said, her head cocked to the side.

“Why do you think I’m uncomfortable?”

“You’re deflecting. Let’s stick with my original question. Why did you accuse the woman you love of being unfaithful, when you’ve repeatedly told me you trust her explicitly?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Damn, he hated this. Hated thinking about why his life was so fucked up. “The hell if I know.”

“Listen, if you don’t want to be here, no one is forcing you. But if you want to figure out why you pushed away the only woman you’ve ever loved, and why you wake terrorized from something in your past, then you are going to have to take this seriously. Or it’s a waste of our time.”

“I want to figure it the hell out. I think I accused Elle of being unfaithful because Count Asshat got under my skin.”

“The ex-boyfriend you spoke to in the lobby? Does he have an actual name?”

“Come on, Doc. I’m meeting you halfway, can’t you give me this one?” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out, crossing one ankle over the other.

“Fair enough. When Count—Asshat,” she gave him one simple nod, “when he gets under your skin, what do you feel?”

“It feels like…he’s trying to take what’s most important to me. It feels like a threat.”

“All right, good. What is he threatening to take from you? Elle?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think she wants to be with him?”

“No. She can’t stand the guy.”

“Then how could he take her away? Do you think he’d physically take her? Against her will?”

He thought about the ridiculous question and rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t think he’s going to kidnap her.”

“Then how could he take her away?”

“I don’t know. I know he wants to. And for a minute I guess I believed it was possible.”

“You think she was dishonest with you?”

“No. She’s one of the most honest people I know. She doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body.”

“So—then I’ll ask you again. How could he take away someone who doesn’t want to go?” Dr. Sparrow said.

He leaned forward and scrubbed his face with his hand. “Jesus. This is going nowhere. I don’t know.”

“Don’t get frustrated, Maverick. This is how we get to the root of the problem. I’m sure you experience frustrations when you’re playing football, but you don’t just give up because it’s not working, do you?”

For fuck’s sake. Did everyone have to throw football in his face every time he got frustrated?

“No. Maybe for a second I thought I’d been wrong about her. That maybe she was blindsiding me. It can happen when you love someone, and I love her so damn much. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s how I felt in the moment.”

“Good. It’s an honest answer. Has Elle given you any reason to think she isn’t who she said she is?”

“Never.”

“When was the last time someone blindsided you?” Dr. Sparrow pressed.

“I don’t get blindsided.”

“Interesting.”

“Why is it interesting?” he said, irritation coursing his veins.

“Because you thought it. About the woman you love. The woman who you say doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body. The woman you claim to love more than you’ve ever loved anyone. No one has ever blindsided you, yet you doubted the most important person in your life?”

He was fucking agitated. And Dr. Sparrow remained completely calm. It was as if he was watching this whole conversation go down from an outside seat. Something in him always shut down when he discussed his biological mother. And he knew this conversation was going there.

“I didn’t say no one ever blindsided me. I said I don’t get blindsided now,” he hissed. Surprised by his own anger.

“Does talking about this bother you?”

“Yes. I prefer not to talk about it.”

“And how’s that been working for you?”

A bitter laugh rolled off his tongue. “I’d say not so fucking well.”

“I’d agree.”

He sat in silence for a moment, processing her words. Not ready to share more yet.

Dr. Sparrow broke the silence. “Do you think your mother blindsided you when you were a child?”

His head tipped back, and he looked up at the ceiling. Three. Two. One. “I don’t know Doc, I’d say dragging your kid around with you when you’re a fucking prostitute and then dying in front of him would fall under the definition of blindsiding someone, right?”

“Yes. But why do you say dragging your kid instead of dragging me? Or blindsiding someone instead of blindsiding me? We are talking about you, aren’t we?”

“Of course, we’re fucking talking about me.”

“And those memories, from when you were young—tell me how they make you feel?” Dr. Sparrow said.

He let out a long sigh. “I have terrible pieces of memories. Like little flashes of things happening. It’s sickening. Scary. Lonely. Unsafe. The list goes on and on.”

“Good, Maverick. I know it isn’t easy to talk about, but sometimes getting it out is how you start the healing process.”

“I don’t like dredging it up.”

“Dredging it up often allows you to deal with it and then put it away. The hope is to stop it from haunting you. Most of the issues you’re dealing with are all connected,” she said.

“I don’t really see how it connects to Peaches.”

“Well, let’s review what you’ve shared. You avoided sleepovers your entire life up until you started dating Elle. So, your past was impacting you pretty early on. Elle’s also the first woman you’ve ever loved, and from what you’ve shared, it sounds like a deep love.”

“It is.”

“Maverick, your first experience with love was not a positive one. As a child, you instinctually attach to your mother, your father, your caretaker. You had only a teenage, single mother, who was living a pretty dark life. You were dragged into her world, and it wasn’t a safe one. Though you got out at a very young age and were able to start over with a wonderful family, you can’t erase what you did live through.”

“I understand. But how does it affect me and Peaches?”

“You’re an adult now, and you’re finally ready to truly love someone. It can be scary for someone who’s had their guard up most of their life. Sure, you love your family, you’re a social guy on the surface. But what you have with Elle is different. You’re putting a lot of stock, a lot of trust into one person. It can be a powerful thing, Maverick. And when you feel there’s a chance of losing someone who means so much to you, well, it can stir up a lot of those fears inside you. You need to deal with the past so you can move forward in the future. Separate them. Losing your mom was out of your control, and out of hers, in all honestly. She was a young girl who didn’t know anything different. She most likely did the best she could with you considering her circumstances. Elle is not an addict nor is she a teenager. She is educated, strong, and successful, and she has given you no reason to doubt her. You need to change the way you react to situations. Your instinct is to fight and attack and hold on tight. It’s probably what you did as a little boy to survive. But this situation is different. Am I making any sense?”

He took a minute to digest her words. It did make sense, but it pissed him off. Made him feel weak. “Yeah. How do I fix it?”

“It’s kind of like football. You work hard and you try different strategies. But Rome wasn’t built in a day. This was a lot today. Let’s have you sit with this for a bit and meet up again in two or three days.”

“All right. I have to fix this, Doc.”

“Well, when you have something motivating you to do so it’s easier to work at it,” Dr. Sparrow said.

“Agreed.”

He’d do whatever it took to make things right. Because Elle Fiore wasn’t something—she was everything.