Sidelined: A Sports Romance Page 12

  I wrapped the towel around my chest and cracked the bathroom door.

  “You still here?” I asked.

  “I have two glasses of cold wine.”

  I padded across the floor and joined Sam on the couch. The gas logs crackled as if they were real. They were pretty to watch.

  I took the glass from him. “Thank you.”

  “How was the bath?”

  “Everything I needed. Even my leg feels better. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He kissed me.

  “How are you feeling? About the game.”

  He shifted back on the cushions. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s over. We lost. I can’t get that second back.”

  “I understand.” I stared in the fire. “I feel the same way about my accident.”

  “Then I guess I shouldn’t ask.”

  I shook my head. “No, I think I can talk about it now. I’ve wanted to tell you. It’s a big part of me, Sam, and I think you should know what happened.” I took another sip of wine. “It was during a performance. And not just any performance. It was opening night. My parents were there. Do you know how huge it is that both of them were in the same room to see me perform?” I spoke the words slowly.

  “I was prima ballerina. My father flew in from Paris. This was what all of us had been waiting for. Finally, after years of practice and fighting for that position—I had it. And they were so proud of me. Proud that all the work had finally paid off. The hours and the years of practice and pain had meant something.” The flames danced over the fake logs.

  I paused, remembering what it felt like to see my family’s faces in the audience. How the pride poured through me like a white light when I stepped on the stage.

  Sam took a sip of wine. “I think I can relate to that part, at least. My parents pushed me pretty hard to be a football player. At first it was all about being the quarterback, but after talking with a few scouts when I was ten, they decided I was going to be a tight end.”

  I stared at him, realizing each moment we were together we had more in common.

  “But tell me what happened. I want to hear.” He rested his hand on my knee.

  “I’ve gone over it a hundred times. A thousand times. Questioning myself. Questioning my partner. Did I mis-step? Did I drop his hand at the wrong time? Did my foot miss his palm? What did I do to cause it? I’ve asked myself every question possible.”

  I took another sip of wine and turned to face Sam. “And you know what I figured out?”

  “What’s that?”

  “That it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. If Charles had turned or I had turned. Or if the lights were in our eyes. Or the music was too loud. Or I was so nervous to see my mother and father sitting together. It doesn’t matter. Because I can’t undo the fact that I fell on stage from six feet in the air and that I tore my hamstring in so many places the ballet couldn’t keep me on.

  “I can’t make it not be true. It’s my story. It’s my history, Sam. The ballet let me go, and I did just enough rehab to join the Goddesses until auditions for the troupe next year. I hated myself for months for wearing those gold boots and slutty top, but I realized something about that too. Those boots are as important as my pointe shoes. That’s my story. I was a ballerina and now I’m a Goddess. And I have to be okay with it. I fell and destroyed my career.” I touched the side of his jaw, outlining the strong bones that made up the face I had fallen for. “So, what’s going to be your story? Are you going to let one night define who you are, or are you going to keep going?”

  “It’s not the same.” He leaned into my hand. I could feel the roughness of his stubble against my soft palm.

  “It is the same. Injury. Embarrassment. Letting other people down on the team. Having a theater full of people see your failure. Thinking you’ve lost something you can’t get back. Thinking the one thing you love more than anything is over. I know exactly what you’re feeling right now.”

  He traced my collarbone and my skin prickled. “When I’m with you, I’m not worried about all that noise, Natalia. I don’t care right now that I dropped the pass and let the team down. I don’t care that Wes is mad as a fucking hornet. That the only replay they’re showing on Sports Now is the end of our game. You know why?”

  I shook my head.

  “Because this is what I want. You are what I want. This is the story I want.”

  He loosened the tuck I had on the towel and it fell open. I gasped.

  “It is a good story,” I whispered. “I think we have the same story, Sam.”

  He nodded, sliding down the couch and pushing my knees wide. I forgot what we were talking about or that the night was slipping through our fingers. As soon as I felt his tongue press between my legs, all thoughts were gone. We were in our own world, in our own cabin where Sam was right. This was a fucking incredible story.

  Twenty-Seven

  Sam

  Each cottage had its own pier. I laced Natalia’s fingers through mine as we stepped onto the splintered wood for pier 11. The sun was low on the horizon.

  “We almost made sunrise.” She giggled.

  “Almost.” I took a sip of coffee and helped her drape a blanket we grabbed from the cabin as we settled onto the bench nailed to the end of the walkway twenty yards from shore.

  She snuggled against my chest and I felt the calm the nearness of her brought to my life. The world felt right. It felt quiet. I kissed the side of her temple.

  The only place to get coffee around here was from the cabin the owners had converted into an office. It was sort of a welcome center for the guests. I filled up two large cups for Natalia and me while she was in the shower.

  “It’s really beautiful here. I don’t want to drive back to Austin.”

  “I don’t want to drive back to San Antonio.”

  As long as we were keeping our relationship a secret, this was the way it had to be. I fucking hated it.

  “Maybe this could be our special spot, though. The place no one else knows about. Our hideaway?”

  I took a sip of coffee and nodded. “For now it can be.”

  As much as I was tired of sneaking around, I started to think about what it would be like once we were free to be seen together. I didn’t know if I wanted to share Natalia. I sure as hell didn’t want to share this place. It was getting harder and harder for me to go out in San Antonio without people asking for autographs. Kids wanted to take pictures with me. Dads asked me for advice for their sons. The newness of the attention had started to wear off. I wanted my own life. There was a cost for fame I hadn’t thought through when I signed with the Wranglers.

  I was tired of reading speculation about my love life. People weren’t satisfied with a single bachelor on the team. They wanted there to be a woman in my life. I couldn’t count how many times I was asked in interviews who I spent my free time with.

  I wrapped a protective arm around Natalia.

  “This kind of reminds me of a place I used to go fishing with my dad,” I told her.

  “Really? You fish too?”

  I laughed. “Of course. My dad and I fish, hunt, football—all that stuff.”

  “You’ve never really mentioned your family.” Her hand slid to my thigh and I felt relaxed. We fit together so well.

  “What do you want to know?” I asked.

  “Where are your parents now? Are they still together?”

  “Oh yeah. They’ve been married thirty years. Still going strong.”

  “Basically, the opposite of mine.” She looked up at me.

  “I think all marriages have their problems. The key is to find the person who can change with you. My parents seemed to have figured that out. Sometimes I don’t know how.”

  “And mine didn’t. I think my mom kept expecting my dad to move us back here eventually. And he never tried. She was homesick. She missed her family, and when my grandmother became ill, it was the last straw. She wanted to be home and he refused to leave France. He’s not a
very flexible person.”

  “And that’s why you moved to Dallas? That’s shitty. I’m sorry.”

  “I was asking about your family. Not talking about mine. Tell me more about these parents.” She changed the subject.

  The sun rose higher and I looked across the lake. There was an early morning boater headed in our direction.

  “There’s not much to tell. My dad played football and he and my mom met in college. She was along for the ride since the beginning. Football was her life too. I don’t know what discussion they had about me playing, but it was always understood that I was going to be a football player. She was all in. Still is.”

  “What if you wanted to be a doctor or an engineer? Or an artist?” She smiled slyly.

  I chuckled. “I don’t think my dad would have gone for that.” I stretched one leg out over the pier boards. “I never asked. I never thought about doing something else.”

  “I guess that’s like ballet and me. I started dancing when I was three and it was in my soul.” She squeezed my hand. “I can’t imagine being anything else either.”

  “Do you like Texas now that you’ve been here?” I wondered if she felt the same homesickness her mother did.

  “It’s not Paris, that’s for sure.” She giggled. “And when we moved, I was a senior in high school. There’s no worse time to have to change schools. Everyone already knew each other and they were applying for colleges. I didn’t even know what the SAT was. It was a miserable year. I missed my friends. I missed Madame Collette. I missed my studio. I missed my dad, even though he was a complete asshole.” She stopped to drink her coffee.

  “What was so different when you moved?”

  “I don’t know if it was all the big trucks. Or the hats. Or maybe it was how everyone said hey and y’all. It took a long time to adjust. Everyone was welcoming, much warmer than my friends in France, but it didn’t mean I understood it right away. Texans are unique. And my mom always seemed French to me. I never saw her in her home element until we moved to take care of my grandmother. Now I know she’s really a southerner at heart. She either changed a lot for my dad or changed when we moved back. I don’t know. But there’s a huge difference between living in Paris and Dallas.”

  “I can see that. But I’ve never been to Paris. Hard to compare.”

  “You should go.” Her eyes lit up.

  “Maybe some day.” I wondered what it would be like to walk through the streets with Natalia. She could show me where she lived and went to school. Maybe I’d pick up some of that dirty French she always whispered in my ear. I shook my head. I was getting ahead of myself.

  “All right, so you moved, and what changed things for you? Why haven’t you moved back?” For all I knew that could be her plan. Maybe she was saving up to get back to France.

  “My mom made sure I went to the School of the Arts and once I was there for college, I found my place. I made friends. It made Texas feel like home. Plus, she lives in Dallas, and I don’t want to leave her here with no family. It wouldn’t seem right after everything she’s done for me.”

  I didn’t think about my parents like that. I never felt as if I owed them a damn thing. I loved them—that wasn’t it. But my success was their success. I carried on the legacy of my dad’s name every time I hit the field. I didn’t owe him for that. Sometimes I thought it was the other way around.

  “What do you say we take a walk around the lake before we drive out of here?” I suggested.

  “Sounds good.” She stood and folded the blanket. It was starting to warm up now that the sun was off the horizon. “I’ll get this when we come back.”

  We left our coffee cups with the blanket.

  I felt her hand slide into mine as we started on the small boardwalk that lined the property. It only wrapped part way around the lake before it turned into a state park area that was all natural.

  The sun glistened on Natalia’s hair. I pulled my phone from my back pocket.

  “I have to get a picture of this.” I held the camera toward her and she smiled. The lake was bright blue behind her. “You look sexy as hell right now.”

  I looked at the picture I had taken. She’d never looked more gorgeous than she did like this.

  “What about one of us together?” she suggested. “We’ve never taken one. Is it okay, you think?

  “Of course.” I didn’t have any pictures of us together. I held my phone out and took a few snaps. She kissed me on the cheek in one and we were laughing in another.

  She pointed at my phone. “Guard those with your life,” she instructed.

  “Worried I’m going to post them somewhere?” I teased.

  “No. I trust you. But really, don’t email them to your parents.” Her arched eyebrows rose in perfect symmetry.

  “Yeah, I’m not bringing them into this yet. My mom would want to take you shopping and show you my baby book along with every damn football trophy I have. Besides, they’re in east Texas at a very safe distance.”

  “I like shopping and I like baby books.” She laughed.

  “Come on.” I tugged on her hand. “We have to get going.”

  Her lips pinched together in a pouty frown. “We do?”

  “I’m afraid so, baby.” I pulled her to my chest. I felt her curves align against my body. I leaned to brush my lips against her mouth.

  Her delicate fingers circled my neck, drawing me closer. “Let’s stay,” she whispered.

  “God, you’re killing me. I want to. You’re a fucking temptress. You know that?”

  She moaned, nipping at my lips. If we weren’t outside in the bright sunlight, I’d show her exactly how tempted she made me. But there were boaters on the lake and the owners were somewhere on the property.

  “Your temptress,” she purred.

  I closed my eyes. “Let’s get out of here, or this entire lake is going to see what we do best together.”

  She swallowed hard and blushed. “Sam, I don’t know whether to stop you or let you do it.”

  I laughed. “We still have the cabin for thirty minutes. Come on.”

  I would have rented the damn cabin for the entire week, but we both had work waiting for us. I’d take a beating in practice tomorrow and Natalia was preparing for a road game. We couldn’t shack up all week and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  I drove back to the city with the taste of her still on my lips.

  I had every intention of asking her to move in with me again, but I wanted last night to be about her. I wanted to show her another side of me. A side a beautiful French ballerina would want. Romance and attentiveness. I wanted to listen to her talk, and hold her while she came. I wanted to give her a perfect night, so she’d want more.

  I slammed my hand on the wheel. It was perfect. All my moments with her were.

  I pulled into the parking garage and took the elevator to my floor. I locked the door behind me. There had to be a way to get her here. She didn’t need Austin or the Warriors. I’d hire the best trainer. She would have her position back as prima ballerina. I could guarantee it.

  I walked into the spare bedroom in my apartment. I didn’t know if I could transform it into the same type of studio she had, but there was nothing stopping me from moving. We could have a bigger place. Somewhere that was ours that she could deck out with whatever equipment dancers needed.

  I picked up my phone and called the agent for my building.

  “Hey, it’s Sam Hickson. I want to talk to you about moving.”

  The agent sounded startled. “Mr. Hickson, it’s so good to hear from you.”

  “Thanks. What’s open in the building?”

  “We have a studio on the first floor.” He sounded as if he was looking through his listings. “There is a four-bedroom for sale above you, but that’s a lot of space for a single guy.”

  “I’ll take it.” I was quick to respond.

  “But you haven’t seen it. We haven’t talked price.”

  “Doesn’t matter.�
� I knew what was in my bank account and I knew the going rate for units in this building. I could buy it and list this one.

  “Would you like to see it?”

  “How about now?”

  “Yes, of course. Now works for me. I’ll meet you there with the keys. The owners have already moved out, so it’s vacant. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Even better. I’ll walk upstairs.”

  I hung up and grabbed my keys. I hadn’t worried about finding a bigger place because I didn’t need room for anyone other than myself. An extra room made my apartment plenty big. I usually met the guys at their places or the bars, and I either worked out at the team facilities or in the gym downstairs.

  I climbed the stairs to the next floor. Phil was waiting for me.

  “I think you’re going to like this place.” He jingled the keys in his hand.

  “Great.”

  He opened the door and I stepped inside. It looked like my model, only everything was bigger. There were two bedrooms grouped together, one off of the living room and the master suite at the end of a long hallway. I pushed the door open. I could see it. I could see our lives here.

  I turned and almost smacked into Phil. “When I can put in the offer?”

  “Today, if you want. I’ll get started on the paperwork.”

  “Do it.” I looked at the hardwood floors. They needed to be refinished. The kitchen needed new tile. “How soon can I close? I want to get a remodeling crew up here immediately.”

  “Uh, I’d have to check with the sellers, but I see no reason we can’t do it quickly.”

  “I’ll pay cash, so you don’t have to worry about a bank holding us up. And I don’t need an inspection. I’ll take it as-is. I have a lot of plans for the space.”