Page 2 of Bad Call
“My wife,” he whispers into the kiss, making my heart skip a beat. Love flows around us, pure and true, and I wish I could bottle this moment up to keep forever—although now that we’ve said our vows, that’s exactly what we are.
Forever.
And absolutelynothingwill tear us apart.
ONE
EMMETT
“Hell of a game, bro,”my quarterback, Maddox Dane, says as we trudge into the locker room after our closest game in eleven weeks. Our defense held the Pittsburgh Ambush to just one touchdown, but the offense struggled to pull away from them on the scoreboard. I was able to break out of double coverage one time during the third quarter, resulting in a forty-yard reception, and our only points of the day. Their field goal with just seconds on the clock sealed the deal, and we lost by a score of seven to ten.
“Thanks,” I grunt, pulling my jersey and pads over my head. “Sorry I couldn’t get open for you. Renner and Johnson are so fucking fast—they weren’t giving me an inch of space.”
He scoffs. “Not your fault, man. The fact that those two are on the same team should be a crime. We’ll get them next year. I’m sure Mr. Grant is planning on adding some more receivers to our roster in the upcoming draft. At least, I hope so.”
The Rock City Renegades are the newest professional franchise in the National Football League, and by far the least well-rounded. As an expansion team, we’re completely comprised of players given up by the other thirty-two organizations. Our owner, Mr. Grant, and general manager, Tony Rivisi, had their work cut out for them when they drafted this team. We all have different levels of experience, but at the end of the day, we’re still a bunch of misfits who were thrown together as a foundation to build on.
We got off to a very rough start after our veteran quarterback, Austin Baker, was injured during the second week of the season. The hit he took left him with several broken ribs, a punctured lung, torn rotator cuff, and a long road to recovery. Maddox stepped up immediately, having never evenseenthe field beyond a handful of preseason games. It took us a few weeks to settle in, but eventually, we started winning. Now, at about the halfway point of our very first season, we’re holding our own against some of the better teams in the league. As difficult a challenge as it’s been, I really feel like I’m finding my place here with the Renegades.
My journey in the league has been rocky, at best. I was drafted by the San Antonio Diamondbacks at twenty-one, and I did my best to connect with my teammates, even though I had absolutely no desire to create new relationships, on the field or off. But I know football is a brotherhood, reliant on the bond between men who go into battle next to one another each week, so I went out of my comfort zone and built real, genuine connections with myguys. And I’m glad I did, because it paid off in spades when we were able to play together so seamlessly that I broke several receiving yard records my second year. But just like everything else in my life, it came to an abrupt end—one that I didn’t want.
Being traded to Minnesota during year three really did me in. Realizing I’d be moving to a new city where I knew absolutely no one—spending my days playing football with a bunch of strangers before going to an empty rental home every night—wasn’t appealing in the slightest. I shut down, doing what I had to do to meet the requirements of my job, yet refusing to go any further. I knew the loneliness and isolation I felt while I was there was my own fault, but at the time, it seemed a hell of a lot easier than letting people get too close, just to be traded again and leave them behind. That outlook and behavior ended up being the exact reason Minnesota was willing to put me up for the expansion draft. They knew I wasn’t giving my all to my teammates on a personal level, and they were ready to replace me with someone who would. Playing them earlier this season made me realize just how badly I fucked up, since not a single Graywolf bothered to approach me after the game. That hit me pretty hard. I knew then that I needed to do better.
Luckily, I’ve been given another chance with the Renegades. A fresh start to fix the mistakes I made in the past, so I can make the most of the remainder of my career. Football is all I have, and I know that if I don’t give this team one hundred percent, my life will be emptier than it’s ever been. That’s why I made a vow to myself—to digdeep and find the Emmett Hayes I used to be. The guy who existed before his entire world was turned upside down, and he was left wondering if he’d ever be whole again. I’ve been doing my best to get to know some of the guys, and even though the conversation is still just surface-level, it’s better than nothing.
I finish removing my uniform and head toward the showers. The locker room is quiet, an imaginary black cloud blanketing the entire space as we process our loss. I swear, the closer ones are harder to swallow than the blowouts. I can’t help but blame myself a little bit for some of it. If I had been faster—if my cuts had been tighter—maybe I could’ve put another touchdown on the board and given us a better chance. As much as I know football is a team sport, I understand what’s on the line if I can’t prove myself to be valuable. I could end up starting all over yet again, or even worse, becoming a free agent with no guarantee that I’ll get picked up somewhere else.
Making quick work of washing my body, I wrap a towel around my waist and head back to the lockers to get dressed. Thankfully, I wasn’t chosen to do any press conferences or interviews, so as soon as my clothes are on and my duffel bag is packed, I’m out the door. It was a rough day, and I don’t think any of us has the energy to pretend we want to be here any longer than necessary, so we’ll just have to wait for our weekly team bonding meetup at Club Tilt later this week to hang out.
The drive back to my apartment is quick—normally about ten minutes from the private lot behind the stadium that only players and staff have access to. I’m expecting the city streets of Cleveland to be at a standstill with fanstrying to get to the highway, but luckily, my building is in the opposite direction, so I’m home with my ass planted on the couch in no time. The second set of televised games for the day is already in progress, so I flip on the TV, hoping I can distract myself from the way everything went down today. But as it always does, loneliness settles in, reminding me of everything that’s missing from my life.
It wasn’t always like this. I had parents who seemed to give a shit. They made sure I had every opportunity to succeed, pushing me to be the best so I could live my dream of being in the NFL. It wasn’t until my whole fucking world was crumbling around me during my freshman year of college that I realized their love for me was conditional. Sure, I was already making a name for myself on the field at UCLA, but when my marriage—that they so vehemently disapproved of—began to fall apart, and I looked to them for comfort, all they gave me was a giantWe told you so. Cutting off contact with them was like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet hole. It felt good to know I wasn’t giving my energy to people who didn’t want me to truly be happy, but it didn’t change the fact that Stella was gone. There were nights when I felt so alone, I wished I could just disappear. The only thing that kept me going was the hope that someday, the universe would bring her back to me. That she’d achieve all her dreams and realize that there was still something missing. But here we are, over seven years since she left, and I’m so full of resentment toward her for the way things ended that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fully move on. I’ve tried. I’ve dated. But every time I feel like I’m ready to give my heart away, something pulls me back. I hate herfor that, yet her face is still the last thing I see before I drift off every night.
One day, I’ll wake up and it won’t hurt so badly knowing that the former Mrs. Stella Hayes is out there somewhere living life without me. In the meantime, I need to focus on football…and salvaging the one good thing I have left in this world.
TWO
STELLA
“I swear,tape guns were invented by Satan himself,” I mumble as I attempt to drag the not-nearly-sticky-enough strip across the top of the moving box. I just finished my most recent contract—thirteen weeks in Charlotte, North Carolina—and I’m packing up to head back to my hometown of Tinsville, Pennsylvania, to figure out what I want to do next.
Don’t get me wrong. Ilovebeing a nurse. There’s nothing more rewarding than helping a patient through the recovery process, knowing you truly made an impact. I’ve spent the last seven years of my life learning and growing, so I can give the best possible care to the people who need me, and it’s been worth every minute. But the traveling? Moving from city to city every few months, living out of suitcases and making friends just to leave them? I thought I’d enjoy seeing all kinds of new places and working in different environments, but at the risk of sounding ungrateful…I’m not completely sure it’s for me. Imiss having a home to go to every night—one that was mine, not rented for three months at a time.
A year ago, travel nursing seemed like a dream come true. When I arrived at the Cleveland Clinic for my very first assignment, I was full of hope and excitement. At first, I barely even noticed how lonely I was, because my job kept me busy. By the time my days off rolled around, I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was sleep. I fell into a routine of staying in, binging on junk food, watching trashy reality television, and only leaving when the refrigerator needed to be restocked or I ran out of toilet paper. By the time I took the other nurses up on their offers to hit the clubs for some fun, my time in the city was ending, and I was moving on to another. That’s been my life for the past twelve months, which is why I’ve decided to take a small break. I need to step back and consider what I really want going forward.
I stand, lifting the box from the floor and carrying it out the front door toward my SUV. It’s full of my signature colorful scrubs, so it’s easy enough to load up by myself, thankfully fitting perfectly beside my other belongings with plenty of room to close the trunk. I mentally high-five myself for going with the full-size vehicle, because it’s made the moving process a lot easier.
Returning to the house, I make one final walkthrough to ensure that I haven’t left anything behind. I wish I could say I have a bunch of memories I’ll be taking with me from my time in this adorable two-bedroom bungalow, but that would be a lie. The connections I made with my fellow nurses and other staff members at Carolinas MedicalCenter never went beyond the walls of the hospital, which is my own fault. I could’ve done more, but knowing any friendships I created would soon be long-distance made the idea seem daunting and pointless. I already have that with my best friend, Arden, and it sucks. She’s currently playing professional volleyball in Florida, where she lives with her two professional baseball player boyfriends. I’ve known Jackson since we were kids, but Hawk is practically a stranger to me because I haven’t been able to meet him in person yet. Between me traveling for work and all of them traveling with their teams, our schedules haven’t matched up, but I’ll definitely be planning a trip to Daytona Beach after I’m settled in at home. If it means getting a break from my parents, who are still a bit overbearing of their grown-ass twenty-six-year-old daughter, consider my flight booked. I love them, but I give it a week before my mother starts crossing boundaries and inserting herself into my business like she always does.
Certain I’ve left the place exactly as it was when I moved in, I remove the house key from my keyring and place it on the kitchen counter per the landlord’s instructions. Saying one last goodbye to the comfy sofa that’s seen me at my best and worst over the last three months, I’m startled as my phone vibrates against my ass. I reach into the pocket of my denim shorts, pulling it out to find Lauren’s name and a silly photo of us from the nurses’ station of the Intensive Care Unit. She was my supervisor in Cleveland, and the only co-worker I still talk to on a regular basis. She never treated me like an outsider and was always eager to learn every tip and trick I had. She’s aworkaholic like me, so we just clicked—and now we spend at least one night a week drinking wine and complaining about our pathetically lonely lives via FaceTime.
“You caught me just in time,” I say in greeting. “I was about to get in the car and start that spicy audiobook we talked about. Just me and my new fictional soulmate for the next eight hours.”
She laughs. “You can’t have him. I finished reading it first. Therefore, I get dibs. You’ll have to find another six-foot-five hockey player with a secret tattoo. Sorry.”
I scoff playfully. “Not everyone can pump absolute filth through their earbuds on the job and keep a straight face. Some of us have to wait until we’re at home, where we can make all the slutty faces and noises without fear of judgment from people like Doctor Resner, who very clearly hasn’t felt the touch of a man since Beanie Babies were a thing.”
“What can I say?” she quips. “It’s a gift. Anyway, that’s not why I’m calling. I know you said you’re taking a break right now, but something came up and I immediately thought of you. It’ll be the easiest job you’ve ever had, and the highest paying. Plus, the patient has a guesthouse, so room and board are included. I’d take the position myself if I could, but he’ll need someone to be available around the clock for about six to eight weeks while he recovers.”
