Page 84 of The Right Player
“Then, he’s out,” Zach finished for her.
My stomach sank, and as the Bears offense jogged out onto the field after the kick-thing, I noticed that Makoa wasn’t with them this round. The screen cut to commercial, and I stood, throwing my hands up.
“Wait, so they’re just not going to play him anymore? That’s bullshit. It was one mistake!”
“One mistake that cost them a turnover and a touchdown,” Zach pointed out.
I frowned. “Whatever. They should put him back in.”
“They might later, but… they could also sit him for the rest of the game, if coach thinks he’s off.” Gemma touched my arm. “It’s okay, he’ll—”
“This is all my fault,” I murmured, shaking my head. “I haven’t talked to him all week, and he’s probably all up in his head thinking he’s lost me, and that I hate him, and he probably can’t sleep or eat just like I can’t and…”
“Has he lost you?” Zach asked.
I rolled my lips together, still shaking my head as my gaze fell to the ribbon in my fingers. “I don’t think he ever could.”
Gemma and Zach gave each other a knowing look, and Gemma stood to stand beside me. “I knew you’d pull your head out of your ass.”
But I couldn’t congratulate her on her rightness, because I was too busy fuming at the stupid coach for pulling Makoa out of the game. “I need to get to New York.”
“What? Why?” Gemma asked, but I was already across her condo and pulling my shoes on.
“I need to get to this game and tell him I love him so he can play and not fuck this up.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Gemma said, pulling me to a stop once my other shoe was on. “First of all, this game is in New Jersey. Secondly, there’s no train or bus or plane that can get you there before this game is over.”
I swallowed, standing in her grasp for a minute before I reached for my phone. “Fine. I’ll just call him.”
“Babe,” Gemma said, putting her hand over my phone before I could unlock it. “His phone is put away in his locker. He’s not going to look at it until this game is over.”
My shoulders deflated. “But… I have to get to him. I have to talk to him. I have to turn this around.”
“He’s going to be okay,” Zach assured me. “Even if this isn’t his best game, there are still two more to go.”
“Exactly. There’s nothing to be done right now, okay?” Gemma agreed, but then she smiled, squeezing my hand. “But if you want to go over what you’ll say to him when he gets back… well…” She glanced at Zach, who smiled at me, too, when Gemma turned back to me. “We’re all ears.”
My eyes flicked to the screen, heart squeezing at the fact that I couldn’t do anything to help Makoa.
“I don’t know where to even start,” I confessed. “How do I make this right?”
They shared another look — and I was beginning to think those two had their own secret language that never had to be spoken, just like Gemma and I had.
Then, Zach sat back down on the couch, patting the spot next to him. “I think it’s time the three of us made a game plan of our own.”MakoaIt was late by the time the team bus pulled up to Halas Hall after our loss to the Giants.
We’d all shuffled out of the stadium in New Jersey with our heads down, and every step of the way home, we’d been silent — from the bus ride to the airport, the flight, and then the bus ride back to our own training facility.
I’d tried to sleep, but found myself unable to, and spent most of the time replaying the horrendous turnover I’d had or staring at past text messages with Belle and wondering if she’d respond should I send her one now.
My bet was that she’d already blocked my number by now.
I knew Colby was right. I knew I had to find a way to let her go — preferably before the next pre-season game so I could save my chance of securing a spot on the team.
But after how I played today?
I wasn’t so sure I had a chance at all.
There was a chorus of groans when the bus parked, all of us starting to really feel all those tackles we took on the field. We were slow going, throwing our duffle bags over our shoulders and slugging off the bus one by one. It didn’t matter that this loss wouldn’t be on our record for the season — any loss hurt.
And when you were a contributor to that loss, the way I had been, it hurt even more.
Gerald stopped at my seat on his way off the bus, waving his hand so I could go in front of him. I slipped into the aisle and as soon as we started walking, he leaned forward, nudging my back.
