Page 14 of End Game
“With models or actresses?” I ask.
“Dating,” he laughs. “It’s just not for me.”
“I read a book once,” I say, stretching my legs out in front of me, “that said you’re supposed to date people that share your values. Like, if you’re super religious, find your guy at church. If you love to read, go to a bookstore. Blah, blah, blah. That’s my new angle.”
“I think I’ll just have to be single. Finn doesn’t do it for me.”
Not expecting that comeback, I can’t help but laugh. “Good, because Poppy would be tough competition for you this weekend. She’s just getting started.”
“Well, so am I . . .”
My gaze flips to his, and he snatches it like a flytrap. His pupils are dilated, his bottom lip combing between his teeth, as he rakes my libido over hot coals.
“Why are you guys so anti-monogamous?” I ask, clearing my throat to try to break the hold Branch has on me. “Brick layers can be monogamous. So can electricians and teachers?—”
“You had me until teachers,” he says, leaning up. “Have you seen what teachers look like these days? Shit, man. Some days, I consider admitting I cheated my way through high school and asking to be re-enrolled.”
“You’re an ass,” I chuckle.
Refusing to look his way, I keep my eyes on the water. His gaze is heavy despite the fact I won’t return it. It’s too deep, too hot, tooeverything.
“You should consider yourself lucky,” he says finally. There’s enough grit in his tone to make me look at him again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We aren’t the guys you keep around.”
“I’ve noticed,” I grimace.
He strokes his chin, watching me with a furrowed brow. “Guys come into this league off these huge college careers. They’re courted for everything and have shit thrown at them from all avenues—money, women, even men, if they want it. You get cars and clothes and your mom’s light bill paid if that’s what needs to happen. And then things get even worse. More money. More conniving women. Bigger egos. It fucks us up.”
“Are you fucked up?” I ask, the wind seeming to chill just a bit as it rustles across my skin.
“Probably.” He sits back in his chair and releases a sigh. “When I came to Chicago, I met this girl pretty quick. She wanted to be a photographer, but had this purity about her. Just salt of the Earth, if that makes sense.”
“I love that description.”
He smiles sadly. “Within a year, she’d changed completely. She was taking modeling jobs, being really hard on herself. She was in the spotlight so much with me that I think it got to her. We fought constantly over everything. She became really self-conscious. I looked at her at one point and didn’t even know who she was anymore or if she wanted me because she loved me or if she loved the money and opportunities,” he sighs. “It became so convoluted and she became a really nasty person.”
“What happened to her?”
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “She had a meltdown, rightfully so, over some shit she saw in a magazine. Packed her bags and left and that was that.”
“You didn’t call her? Go after her?” I ask. “At least check on her?”
“A part of me figured she was better off. Another part thought it would end at some point anyway. But,” he says, leaning forward, “what gets me now is that I probably did that to her. I was off doing rookie shit. Partying. Enjoying this newfound fame and money and being the guy everyone wanted to be around. It was a crazy, crazy time in my life. Hers probably got sacrificed as a part of that.”
I’m not sure what to say. It almost feels like a confession, like he’s telling me some truth I’m supposed to pay attention to. It’s nothing I don’t know, yet I feel sorry for him. This weighs on him, there’s no doubt. And whether his theory is right or wrong, it’s sad either way.
“I have checked on her on social media,” he admits, sitting back. “She seems to be doing okay.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“Yeah. I just wonder what would’ve happened to her had she not known me. She had the world at her feet, capable of so much. It was a rude awakening to both of us, I think.”
“A rude awakening to what?”
“To the reality, at least in my world. This is a culture, not just a team. There’s a reason some guys make it in the league and other guys don’t. You ever wonder why a certain guy with great stats coming out of college doesn’t get drafted or why he gets cut loose early? Coaches know he can’t take the culture. It’s that different. Don’t get me wrong,” he says, lifting his lemonade again. “I love my life. I wouldn’t trade who I am or what I do with anyone in the world. But I’m smart enough to know it for what it is and not fuck someone else up with it.”
