Page 101 of For Emery

I stared at the ceiling as I lay in my silent room. I wished Emery was there with me. Abbott had been right. I did need her. And I had been less of a dick since she showed up on campus. But I didn’t want anyone with me as I stewed over not being able to play. I didn’t want her to see that side of me. She always looked at me like I could do anything—be anything. I didn’t want the pussy I felt like inside marring her vision of me.

That was the last thing I wanted to happen.

* * *

Abbott slammed the front door when he arrived home a few hours later. He was pissed. He should’ve been. The team sucked out there. The kitchen cabinets opened and closed with the same amount of force. He wasn’t only pissed, but he was hungry after the loss—and inescapable reaming out by Coach.

It became quiet. Abbott must’ve settled down on the sofa to watch the other college games, like we usually did together after our home games. He knew better than to check if I’d be joining him. He knew enough to leave me alone until I felt like talking.

“Dude!” Abbott shouted from downstairs.

The fuck?

“You need to get down here!”

I didn’t budge from my bed. “No!”

“Dude! You need to get your ass down here right now!”

“What the fuck?” I grumbled as I pushed myself up and swung my bare feet off the side of my bed. “I swear to God,” I called to him. “If this is some lame-ass attempt to cheer me up, you and me, we’re gonna throw down.”

“Hurry up!” he persisted.

Begrudgingly, I dragged my ass downstairs.

Abbott sat on the sofa with the remote pointed at the television. “You gotta see this.”

He had paused whatever it was he was watching, then hit play as I sat down next to him.

“These videos have been popping up all over social media today,” the sports broadcaster on screen said as a video of Caden Brooks played on the screen.

“I’m Caden Brooks and I stand against domestic violence.”

The next video played and Trace Forester’s face filled the screen. “I’m Trace Forester and I stand against domestic violence and those who commit heinous acts against women and children.”

Sabrina’s boyfriend appeared in the next video. “I’m Crosby Parks and I say no-freaking-way to domestic abuse and any violence against women.”

I was stunned as I watched professional athlete after professional athlete share similar messages about domestic violence.

“I guess these athletes are trying to send a message to the powers that be down in Alabama, where offensive tackle Jordan Grady was recently suspended due to an alleged assault against his girlfriend’s abusive stepfather.” The broadcaster smirked. “Well done, gentlemen. Message received.”

“Holy shit,” I said, my mouth hanging open. “What the hell was that?”

Abbott grinned. “I’d say that was your ticket back to the team.”

Emery

There was a knock on my door. It was so nice not having to worry about who might be on the other side when I opened it. I stood up from my bed where I’d been studying in my pajamas and opened the door.

Jordan lunged forward.

I gasped as he wrapped his arms around me and buried his nose in my hair.

“Thank you,” he said as he kicked the door shut and walked us into my room.

Elation swept over my body as I let him hold me, rejoicing in the feel of him. It had been days since I’d seen him. Since I felt his touch. Since I knew he wanted to see me.

He pulled back, but only enough to see me. “I know what you did.”

---