Page 5 of Bad Call
As soon as the ball leaves the center’s hands, I’m off the line like a rocket, pushing past the linebacker and blasting down the field. It’s an in route, so I cut toward the middle, trying to stay open as long as I can. I see the Vortex cornerback in my peripheral vision, doing my best to stay focused on my quarterback as he fires a bullet pass in my direction. It’s a beauty, hitting me right in the chest just as a set of arms wraps around me in an attempt to bring me to the ground. I manage to break the tackle, high-stepping out of his grasp and running at full speed towardthe end zone that’s still about thirty-five yards in front of me. Laser-focused, I hit my stride, knowing the only way past the safety is through him, since he’s one of the fastest and most agile in the league. But before I get a chance to lower my shoulder to brace for impact, Jett comes out of nowhere, throwing a perfect block and giving me a wide-open lane to score. I break the plane into the end zone, roaring out loud in celebration. The home crowd goes wild, their deafening cheers filling me with pride as my teammates jump on me in excitement.
“That’s how you do it, Hayes! Fucking proud of you, bro!” Maddox shouts, slapping the top of my helmet. My chest swells at his words. This team is unlike my last in so many ways, starting with the way that we build each other up. We had to check our egos at the door when we were drafted here, everyone knowing that the road to each victory would be a tough one. We aren’t like the other teams in the league—ones that have existed for decades, perfecting their systems and building around key players. We were a clean slate mere months ago, starting at the very bottom as strangers. But that’s hardly how it feels now. Whether we like it or not, this is a brotherhood—a group of men who are ready to go to war together every Sunday to prove to the rest of the world that we’re more than just a bunch of unwanted outcasts.
“Thanks,” I reply, turning just in time to see Jett running up on us. “Nice fucking block, man. Where the hell did you come from?” He laughs, lifting a noncommittal shoulder in response, because I’m pretty sure evenhehas no idea how he pulled that one off. Not that it matters. We got the touchdown, and we’re meshing like ateam that’s been together forever, instead of just a handful of games. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen in all the years I’ve played the sport. The Renegades actually have a fighting chance at making the playoffs, which is completely unheard of for a brand-new franchise. As much as I hated the thought of being drafted here at the beginning, now I’m pretty damn grateful to be making history with my teammates.
Our kicking unit takes the field, sending the extra point right down the pipe and putting us up by twenty-one. The game is all but over as the defense heads out to do their job, the clock hitting zero before the Vortex has a chance to dig themselves from the hole we’ve buried them in.
It feels good to dominate like this after such a rocky start, and the energy is high as we walk back to the locker room. With the way we played, I can’t imagine that Coach Hendricks will keep us long. I’m sure he’ll have us tweaking a few things during practice this week, but for now, we’ll get an opportunity to celebrate without delving into the small mistakes we made.
“How’s Baker doing?” Theo asks from his locker next to mine as we undress. “I tried to make it over last week, but a pipe burst in my basement, and I was ankle-deep in water. I’m headed back there after this to meet with a contractor to assess the damage. Not gonna lie, being a homeowner kind of blows so far.”
I huff a quiet laugh. Theo has big dreams of being a family man, except the only thing he has going for him right now is the giant house he shares with his rescue dog, Boner. He’s an interesting guy—or maybeoddis a better word—and I’m sure there’s someone out therewho will match his energy, but so far, he hasn’t found her yet.
“Actually, I wanted to stop by last weekend, but he was moving his new home-care nurse into the guesthouse, so we decided to reschedule. I’m going to drop by this evening to see if he needs anything, since he’s still pretty fucked up from his surgery.”
He nods, undoing the belt on his chest protector. “Let me know how it goes. Maybe we can all hang once he’s feeling up to it. We’ll get Dane and Kingsley to join, too.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I reply, lifting my chin in agreement as I hit the showers. I’m feeling good, a little lighter than normal now that I’m allowing myself to form bonds with the people around me. It’s been a long time since I really let anyone in, and just like I knew it would, it’s been translating onto the field. Plus, it’s kind of nice to not be alone anymore. Keeping to myself was a choice I made in the past, but now that I’m settled in Cleveland for what I hope to be the rest of my career, I don’t want anyone, myself or any of my teammates, to feel the way I did. Which is exactly why I’m taking the time to go see Austin. The guy has no family, and as far as I know, he’s really only been hanging out with his nurse since she moved in. I’m sure the last thing he wants is to feel smothered by someone who is there to take care of him, so hopefully, my stopping by for a visit will be a welcome distraction. Especially since we have no idea what the future holds for him. With any luck, his recovery will go smoothly, and he’ll be back on the field with us next season. But if not, he’s going to need friends to motivate him to keep going.
I shower as quickly as I can, then pull on mysweatpants and Renegades hoodie to combat the cold Northeast Ohio air. Tossing my backpack over my shoulder, I say a few quick goodbyes to my teammates before heading to my pickup truck. Thankfully, most of the fans have cleared out of the stadium already, giving me easy access to the freeway that leads to Austin’s house. He lives in a beautiful suburb right outside the city, with the types of homes that I always imagined I’d be raising my children in. It seems like just yesterday that my entire future was laid out, but those days are long gone. I’m much better off putting all my energy into football and helping bring a championship to Cleveland with my guys. It’s the only thing in my life that’s always there…that’s never let me down.
I finally feel like I’m on a path to something good for the first time in what feels like forever. I just hope I can keep my eyes forward and focus on what’s important.
SIX
STELLA
“Motherfucker, that hurts,”Austin says as I clean the three-inch-long incision that runs along his shoulder. As much as the doctors were hoping the surgery on his rotator cuff would be minimally invasive, they ended up having to clear out more scar tissue than expected once they got in there. He’s in a lot of discomfort and has a long road ahead of him, but the first couple of weeks are always the hardest. He just needs to take it easy for now to avoid any setbacks.
“I know,” I reply with a cringe. “I’m sorry. Just let me get it covered, and we’ll be all done. Then I’m going to need you to eat before you take your meds, so you don’t get sick again.”
He rolls his eyes, and I raise a brow, because I already know what he’s thinking. That he doesn’tneedanything for the pain, even though I’ve already explained to him that it’ll help with the swelling, as well. As amazing as Austin is, he’s also one of the most stubborn men I’ve ever met. Lauren definitely made the right choice byrecommending me for this position, because a softer, more people-pleasing nurse would let him get away with not following the doctor’s orders. They’d back down to avoid rocking the boat because he’s a famous, rich, professional football player. But I’ve been around athletes all my life, and I know how to handle them. Austin learned pretty quickly that I have no problem going toe-to-toe with him when he’s being hardheaded to his own detriment. And now, less than a week after his surgery, he’s starting to see that I only want the best for him—even if he hates it.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of bossy?” he quips, a coy smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. I’m actually loving his playful tone, because a few days ago, he was in much worse shape. So, if he’s in the mood to banter, I’m here for it.
“All the time,” I reply. “It’s my most redeeming quality. Anyone ever tellyouthat you have the insults of a third grader?”
He scowls up at me from his spot on the couch as I affix the bandage to his skin and stand to my full height. “I’m off my game, Stell. Give me another week, and I’ll knock your socks off with witty comebacks.”
“Mhmm,” I hum in response. “I won’t hold my breath. You’re too nice to hurt anyone’s feelings. I bet you’re one of those people who let cars merge in even though they had signs for miles telling them that the lane was going to end.”
He pauses, his lips pulling to the side as he considers. “Okay, fine. You got me there,” he says, making me chuckle. I fluff the pillow behind his head, shove the gauze wrappers into the pocket of my scrubs, and head towardthe kitchen. But before I even get out of the room, the ring of a loud doorbell fills the air around us.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask, my brows pulled tight in confusion. I’ve only been in the main house for a couple of hours on and off today, because he was all set up on the couch watching football and didn’t need me. But I’m sure he didn’t mention having company. Otherwise, I’d have taken care of his dressing change earlier. I doubt he wants me hanging around while he has visitors.
“Yeah, sorry,” he replies. “One of my teammates texted after the game and asked if it was a good time to drop by. I already rescheduled with him once, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to hang out for an hour or two. Would you mind letting him in, so I don’t have to try to get comfortable again? It took me about twenty minutes to find a good position earlier.”
I swallow thickly, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I figured if I stayed out of the way and only left the guesthouse when Austin needed my help, I wouldn’t be around if anyone came to see him. I was delusional to think I’d be able to do that, but I figured I’d at least know when to make myself scarce. But here we are—a Renegade at the door, and me with no way out of answering it. Let’s just hope it’s not the one person I absolutelydon’twant it to be.
“Umm, sure,” I say quietly as the bell rings again, spurring me into action. Blood pounds against my pulse points, sweat beading on the back of my neck even though there’s a chill in the house. I tell myself it’s going to be okay—that there are over fifty men on a professional football team. More, if you count the practice squad. I’m sureit’s one of them, and not the only person I’m trying my hardest not to see. All I have to do is let them in, point them toward the living room, and fuck back off to the guesthouse.
Stopping at the door, I take a deep, soothing inhale, pasting on a smile as I pull on the knob. But it immediately falls when my gaze locks onto the familiar face in front of me. My throat constricts, and I can’t seem to take a breath, the sheer beauty of him rendering me frozen where I stand. I’ve seen him on television, so the way he looks shouldn’t be a shock to me, butfuck—it is. His hair is slightly shorter than it was in college, his soft curls a perfect mess sticking out from under his backwards cap. His jaw is more chiseled, his shoulders so much broader than they were the last time I saw him. I thought he was a grown man then. But now? He’sperfection.
“Emmett,” I choke out quietly, unable to say anything else. His deep brown eyes—the same ones that used to look at me with all the love in the world—go completely blank, confusion gradually building behind them as the seconds go by.
“Stella?” he rasps, his brows pulling tight. He scans my face, surveying my features as though he can’t believe I’m really in front of him. His chest heaves rapidly with each forced inhale, his expression hardening the longer we stand here. His jaw clenches so tightly, I can practically hear his molars grinding, and I watch as his fingers curl into fists at his sides. Any semblance of hope I had that he’d somehow be happy to see me if we ever came face-to-face again vanishes into thin air as he spits his next words like venom. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Breath whooshes from my lungs as though I’ve been physically struck, tears pricking at the backs of my eyes, because he’s never spoken to me with such vitriol—except for the day I blindsided him and said I wanted a divorce. I can’t blame him for that, though. He was desperate and frantic as I blocked out every one of his pleas, only letting me go when he realized I had drawn my line in the sand.
