Page 89 of Catching Feelings

I nod and jog to my spot on the line.

I miss the block. Walker gets taken down having only gained a yard.

Coach calls me off the field and I rip off my helmet as I find a seat on the bench. This is where I deserve to be. I’m fucking up everything in my life and I don’t know how to fix it.

Nash takes a seat next to me and rests his elbows on his thighs, lowering his head. A position we all take when we don’t want the cameras to read our lips.

“I’m not gonna pry because I hate talking about shit when I don’t want to talk about shit, but if you’ve got shit going on and need someone to listen to your shit and don’t want stupid dumb ass shit of advice, I’m good at listening. The advice part, not so much.”

“That’s a lot of shit coming out of your mouth for a guy who doesn’t talk shit.” I smile, the first real one in over a week.

“Yeah, and for the record, I’ve caught more balls than you today. You gonna do something about that?” Nash gets up and jogs onto the field.

He’s right. He had an interception and a twenty-three-yard run. I have jack shit.

Coach chews our asses during halftime. We’re down by ten and playing like amateurs. At least it’s not just me who’s off their game. And fuck me for even thinking that. Instead of rooting for the team, I’m a self-centered bitch.

This isn’t me. I’m fucked up in so many ways.

The rest of the game doesn’t go our way, no thanks to me. I know a team doesn’t lose because of one player or one error. It’s a series of fuck ups. And all I’ve done today is fuck up.

I anxiously watch the play clock tick down and am relieved when the game is over. Losing Rowan hurts more than our sixteen-point loss to Tennessee. My heart wasn’t in the game, and I’ve never felt as defeated as I do right now.

The flight home is silent. This is usually when I annoy my teammates with my stupid humor, but for the first time, I understand why some people find me annoying. Fine. Most people. All people from time to time.

If some asshole dumped a truckload of dumbass jokes my way, I’d tell him to fuck off just as my teammates have told me for the past ten years. It never bothered me before because I knew deep down they appreciated me lightening up a dark moment.

Humor is what got me through the worst times in my life, but I didn’t even struggle this much when I lost my mom. Her death was way more serious than a breakup, but I was young and didn’t feel it as deeply as I do now.

I couldn’t comprehend how deeply losing my mom at my dad’s hand would impact me as an adult. Back then, I had my aunt to love me like a son and fill that void.

There’s no one in my life to fill Rowan’s void, and I don’t want anyone else to. I want her. I need her. Even if she doesn’t take me back, we still need to talk. Losing her completely will destroy me. Her friendship and her happiness are the most important things to me.

Somehow, I need to make this right.

***

Rowan never returnedto her apartment last week, and she didn’t drive to work. Unless she took the week off, but I can’t see her doing that. I didn’t sleep on the plane or when I got home, so instead of wasting time tossing and turning, I cross town to her office building and wait for her to arrive.

I’m still in my travel clothes, sans the tie, and pace the parking garage for forty minutes before I see her car. I make my way to her, opening her door before she realizes I’m here.

“What the—” She freezes when she looks up at me. Color drains from her cheeks and she quickly turns her head, reaching across for her bag on the passenger seat.

I step back and hold out my hand to help her out of the car. She ignores it, pockets her keys, and closes the door.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

She’s fifteen minutes early, but I don’t call her on it.

“Rowan.” My hand reaches for her, and when her eyes grow round with nerves, I drop it to my side. Even with the purple smudges under her eyes, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. “Can we talk? Please?”

“I have to work.” She twists the strap of her purse on her shoulder and avoids my gaze.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you. When I made an account on the app, it was supposed to be my way of asking you out. But—” Fuck. But then she opened up and told me things she didn’t want me, Miles Buckingham, to know.

“It’s fine, Miles. I just...I’m not in a place where I want to be in a relationship. No hard feelings.” She pats my arm and moves past me.

The fuck?It’s fine? No hard feelings?“Rowan.” I follow her to the street. “Will you let me explain?”

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