Page 79 of The Right Player
“I don’t think it’s that simple, man.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if this would have been months ago, and you would have gone to her and told her everything, yeah, I think it would have been sort of laughed off and then you both could have moved on. But… you dug a deep hole for yourself the longer you kept the charade up. And especially knowing her past, and the way that guy led her on…”
My fists clenched around the steering wheel at the thought of him.
“You hit her soft spot, dude. The one thing that scared her most was that you could possibly lie to her. And then…”
“And then I did.”
Silence fell between us, and the light turned green, allowing me the opportunity to take out my frustrations on the gas pedal as I peeled out onto the street.
“I’m losing it, man,” I said, eyes blurring a bit with the admission. I sniffed, shaking my head. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t fucking catch a ball or run a route to save my goddamn life.”
“You’ve got to let her go.”
I shook my head even more violently. “I can’t.”
“You have to. Look, you poured your heart out that night, right? You told her everything. You explained, you asked for forgiveness, you did everything you could. But, Mak, if she doesn’t want to forgive you, if she doesn’t want to be with you anymore… you can’t force her to.”
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. “I just… there has to be a way.”
“Trust me, man. The best thing you can do right now is give her space. If she changes her mind, you’ll find out soon enough. But if you go back to her right now, if you blow up her phone or show up on her doorstep, you’re only going to remind her of every reason why she’s upset, and the more she sees you in that headspace, the the wedge is going to drive.”
My shoulders deflated. I could still remember the look in her eyes that night, the way she watched me like she didn’t know who I was at all.
With one stupid omission, I’d lost all her trust.
Colby was right. It wouldn’t matter what I said now, because I gave her no reason to believe me.
“I don’t know how to just… let her go. How do I pick myself up and move on? How do I just walk away?”
“Don’t think about all that. Right now, you’ve got a game to focus on. Okay? Listen to me,” he said, and I could picture the way he used to lean forward, grabbing my shoulder, leaning his helmet against mine when we were down in a game. “You’ve worked too hard, for too long, for this opportunity. Chicago needs a receiver, and we both know you’re the man for the job. So, right now, don’t focus on how to get over Belle. Right now, focus on the game.” He paused. “Just… put on your pads, lace up your cleats, and pretend like nothing else exists in this world other than that pig skin. You hear me?” He paused again, and when I didn’t answer, he said, “Football, Mak. That’s where your head needs to be.”
I nodded, swallowing down my urge to argue with him as I turned onto my street. “Thanks for picking up, Colby.”
“Always, brother. I look forward to watching your game on Sunday.”
That makes one of us.BelleOn Friday night, Gemma swiped at the tear that leaked free from her left eye, doing it as slyly as she could like I wouldn’t notice. But her sniff gave her away, and I pegged a Milk Dud at her.
“Are you seriously crying?”
“What?!” She threw her hands up, not bothering to hide the next few tears. “It’s Queer Eye. How do you not cry?”
I smirked, pretending like I was going to throw another Milk Dud at her before I popped it in my mouth instead. “I still can’t believe this is your bachelorette party,” I said, gesturing to my messy condo. It’d been a mess all week, thanks to the disaster state of mind I’d been in. But Gemma had insisted this was what she wanted to do for her bachelorette party — a classic junk food and guilty-pleasure TV night.
She feigned offense, pressing her hand to her chest. “Are you saying this isn’t the most glorious bachelorette party you’ve ever been to? I mean, look at us,” she said, waving her hand over herself. “We’re in our PJs instead of heels and some obnoxiously tight dress. We’re on the couch instead of out at some bar we don’t want to be at. We have enough chocolate and pizza to feed a high school, and the wine is much cheaper when we buy it from the liquor store than at the bar.” She held up her glass to cheers herself on that one, taking a sip before she smiled at me. “Besides, we did the whole pink penis straw night out on the town thing the first time I tied the knot, remember?” She wrinkled her nose then. “And that marriage did not turn out the best.”
