Page 84 of Scoreless Nights

I stayed quiet, getting more and more agitated that he was there. He had the nerve to go to the kitchen and make himself a drink before sitting back down next to me. His leg started bouncing, and he was sighing heavily like I was bothering him somehow.

“What?” I finally snapped, sitting up to face him.

“I didn’t say anything,” he shrugged.

“I’m sorry we missed the playoffs because of me, but I don’t regret leaving to find her.” Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he was pissed I’d screwed up our season.

“I haven't exactly had an award winning season. Between me, you, and whatever the fuck Tripp has himself wrapped up in, we were doomed.”

True. It wouldn’t have come down to a crucial game against Los Angeles if it wasn’t for his own off the field drama. We tag-teamed the demise of our season—a group effort.

Another few minutes of silence passed before Rhys stood up to leave. “I guess I’m done here.”

“That’s it?” I laughed. “You came over here to stare at me and drink my shit?”

“It was my turn to check on you, but we all agreed to just make sure you were alive. I’ve overstayed, really.”

“We all? Who?”

“Coach, Erin, Tripp, your mom. We started a group text.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I stood up and followed him inside, almost laughing at what he had just said.

“We all care about you, but we had to take shifts because you’re a handful. We’re gonna have to recruit Ash as our fifth if things don’t change soon.”

“Tell them I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“If we were babysitting you, we would bring you food.” I raised one eyebrow at him, ready to argue, but he held a finger up. “Your mom doesn't count, she can bring you food because she’s your mom.”

I rolled my eyes then waited for him to leave, but he turned back toward me and got in my face. “Things don’t have to be this hard,” he reiterated. “Figure out what you want andthentell us all to fuck off.”

I stayed in that exact spot long after he left. Somehow he made no sense at all, but made it sound so easy. Like I could just have, and do, whatever the hell I wanted. But my actions had consequences, my decisions weren’t the ones that mattered.

Not to mention, I was pissed.

Then there was the fact that Lily didn’t want me to be in her life forever. Not like I wanted her. She smiled at me and said it was okay right before I left, but it wasn’t okay. Nothing had felt okay since that moment.

All of her things were still in my extra bedroom, and even though I had only peeked in a few times, I decided to sleep in her bed that night. In the morning, I was going to pack everything up and ship it to her, then cleanse the place of her smell, toss out anything she bought or had added that would remind me of her. It wasn’t being childish or petty, it was being an adult and taking care of my own well-being.

When my head hit her pillow, I closed my eyes and immediately thought about the morning I woke her up. The temptation I had to open her legs and slide myself between them was overpowering. At the time, though, I just thought it was lust, something I always knew I had for her.

Flipping over to face the window, I made a mental note to have my housekeeper get new pillows because not only were they uncomfortable, but they would forever smell like Lily. I tried tucking my arm up to give myself some support and when I did, I felt something hard. Lifting up the pillow, I noticed something tucked away inside the pillowcase. Pulling it out, my eyes widened when I saw the sketchbook that Lily had stashed away, not wanting me to see it. She had told me her drawings were like her diary, private, and from her heart.

Everything in me told me not to invade that privacy–again–but what did it matter?

Opening the book, I realized every picture was dated, and started while she was in college. There were sketches of classrooms, trees, roads, and lakes. A few were of people smiling, and I imagined her sketching them across the park without them even knowing.

Then I saw myself. A picture of me in my uniform when I played in the World Cup. It was two years ago, but she must have drawn it from an image on TV. A few pages further, there was another one of me, a sketched version of a picture that had been online.

“She saw me,” I mumbled, realizing that even though we didn’t see each other for years, she still saw me. She cared enough to draw me, and they were perfect. Every detail was there.

I flipped to a few more recent pictures, and saw us on the pier eatingLa Primada BaracoaBars. Her image was staring at me while I looked out into the water. But that picture was all wrong, because I remember keeping my eyes on her every second I could.

Another picture was of my mom's restaurant. Even one of my mom, with her face lit up smiling. My heart loved seeing my mom from Lily’s eyes.

The last picture in the book was a heart. Not like one you would draw in a love letter. It was an actual heart, with arteries and veins. Coming out of the arteries were lilies, similar to the one I had tattooed. But when I looked closer, I could tell there were small patches on the heart with the number one barely noticeable. I may have been misinterpreting, but it felt like something she drew when she felt I was fixing her heart.

“Did I fix your heart?” I laughed at myself and set the book down, rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands.

---