Page 114 of Nothing Less Than Everything

I sniffed. “I don’t really have a choice anymore.”

He cradled me against his chest, gently rocking as I tried to steady my nerves. “I’m sorry, Wren.”

I dabbed at my eyes, careful not to smear my meticulously applied makeup. “I’m not. It hurts right now, but growing pains usually do.” Laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, I added, “I got to fall in love with my eyes wide open. And I didn’t miss a goddamn second of it.”

Tatum chuckled.

“And if the next six months are anything like the last six, it’s going to be worth it. You’re worth it.”

The door opened and Tatum’s teammates filed out. I couldn’t get a read on their solemn expressions, but it didn’t look good.

When Tatum and I walked into the conference room, we were shocked at the seats that had been filled. Sam, Tatum’s agent, had a thick stack of papers in front of her. She was scowling at the rest of the table.

Derek Tyson—the offensive coordinator—was to her right. Tatum looked just as surprised to see him. A team of suits, most likely lawyers and compliance officers for the league, were grouped together. We took our seats and let fate have its way.

* * *

“Well?”Heidi asked as she grabbed a beer out of Tatum’s fridge and passed it to Gideon.

The CoreFour, plus Heidi and me, had met at Tatum’s condo to catch everyone up on the verdict. It was part commiserating, part them making sure Tatum was okay after the scare on the field, and part housewarming party. Well—a housewarming that happened five months late.

“I got fined,” Tatum said, fiddling with the cap on his water bottle.

Theo grimaced. “How many Civics?”

“Two.” Tatum held up two fingers. “Two Civics.”

I had only recently learned from Heidi that the boys referred to their league fines in the value of cars. Particularly Honda Civics. Apparently, twenty-three grand was a pretty common number to slap a player with.

“Jesus,” Seth groaned. “Forty-six thousand for having a girlfriend?”

“Fifty,” Tatum muttered. “But ‘two Civics and a transmission’ doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Theo looked at me. “What about you? Still with the team?”

My mind floated back to this afternoon. The team lawyers and compliance officers had called my behavior “self-serving” and “detrimental to the league.” Catherine Trumble had said it was “not becoming of a Red Cocks cheerleader.”

Sam had called bullshit and provided date and time-stamped proof that Tatum and I met and went on a date before his trade to the Reds was made public.

Coach Tyson spoke up on my behalf and reminded the room that it had been the team pushing the two of us to do interviews together. They were the ones who told us to lean into the chemistry and narrative of a video that was heavily edited.

To my absolute shock, Abigail Elias, who had seen Tatum and I at the Elias Estate for their season opener dinner party, cited nothing but professionalism throughout the entire evening from both of us.

The evening he fucked me in a coat closet during said dinner party.

I had to kick Tatum under the table to keep him from laughing.

I sighed. “I got a two-game suspension. It wasn’t said in so many words, but they let me off easy. I don’t think I’d be allowed back on the team next season even if I wanted to be.”

Tatum squeezed my hand as he kissed my temple.

Sentiments of “that’s bullshit” were tossed around by the group.

“It’s okay, really,” I said. “I knew I was done back in July. I don’t have another season in me after this. I just wanted to go out on my own terms. Not because of my knee or punishment from compliance officers. I’m sad it ended this way, but I’m glad it happened.” I looked up at Tatum. “It brought me you.”

“Wait,” Heidi said. “The cheerleaders don’t travel with the team for away games.”

Seth frowned. “What’s your point?”

Gideon and Theo looked at each other.

Catherine’s subtle smile as the meeting adjourned jogged my memory.

Heidi grinned. “The next two games are away. The last game of the season is a home game.”

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