The Crush (71)

Emmett



“Do these look good?”

Davonte, one of our rookie receivers, looked over at my phone screen. “No.”

“What?” I scrolled through the pictures. “Why not?”

“Too much frosting.” He pointed at something beneath the picture I’d shown him. “See … that’s the shit right there. You gotta have the right balance.”

Josh—a veteran linebacker—slung his arm over Davonte’s shoulders. “How sad is it that we have to tell him why a cupcake looks good or not?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I don’t eat sugar.”

“No sugar,” Darius mumbled. “Saddest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Who’re the cupcakes for then?” Josh asked. “Didn’t you ask us about chocolate fruit or some shit last week?”

I ignored him. “So these are better?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

I clicked order and typed in the address for Tim and Sheila’s house. According to Molly, Adaline’d be there all week.

Once a week for the past four weeks, I’d sent something sweet to Adaline. To her office, or her parents when I knew she was there. Once, to her apartment so she didn’t have to share.

Maybe in the strictest sense, we weren’t in a long-distance relationship, but it was something. A tether, some small thing that made certain Adaline knew I was thinking of her.

And for the past four weeks, I thought over and over and over about what Isabel had said.

What would Paige Ward do?

First, it was a terrifying proposition because if I asked that question to anyone who knew my mom well, they’d either burst out laughing or wince.

There was nothing she wouldn’t do when it came to the people she loved. I’d heard my parents’ love story my whole life—and she knew almost immediately that my dad was who she wanted. He was more reluctant. He had more to lose. He was terrified of what she was capable of making him feel. And because of that, he’d held her at arm’s length until he couldn’t resist.

The parallels to my own relationship with Adaline were not lost on me.

Strangely enough, it was those parallels that helped.

I arrived back in Ft. Lauderdale with a clear head. Not because I was willing to sacrifice two years of my life to keep my position there safe. Because now, I knew what was going to build the foundation of the rest of my life.

And it wasn’t in Florida.

My first week back, I strolled into the weekly meeting between Coach and our GM, sat in the chair, and told them I’d leave them alone.

“Thank fuck.” Don sighed.

Coach eyed me. “What changed?”

“First chance I get, I’m going to tell Ned that he’s left me no choice but to walk away if he refuses to listen to trade offers before the window closes.” I met both of their incredulous looks unflinchingly. “He has until November second, right? That should be enough time for him to figure it out. Otherwise, you’ll play the last half of the season without me.”

I still wasn’t entirely sure that I was willing to do that, but this was me calling their bluff that I couldn’t get a meeting.

They sat in stunned silence for about ten seconds.

Then the explosion happened. Don was up out of his chair, yelling obscenities. Coach stood too but managed to direct his obvious frustrations at Don’s temper.

As they yelled at each other and yelled at me, I sat calmly in my chair and watched. After a couple of minutes, I stood, walked out of the office, and winked at Mary.

She laughed into her coffee mug. “See you next week, Emmett?”

I tapped the surface of her desk. “I don’t think so, Mary.”

Mary beckoned me closer. “Ned’s going to be back in town tonight. He’ll have VIP guests with him at all the training camp events.”

“All of them?” What a coward. If there was a crowd, he knew I wouldn’t approach him.

She nodded. “Every single one.”

My options were limited.

Every day in training camp, Ned waltzed through with his ugly sunglasses on, parading an endless line of celebrity guests along the field. He’d taken to using three security guards. The only good that came out of that was the locker room fodder it provided.

But I couldn’t come anywhere near him, and he knew it.

My agent was ready to have a meltdown because I refused to tell him what I planned to do.

So I kept my head down for those four weeks.

I did press. I practiced my ass off. I did endless hours of reps and routes with our new receivers and built the chemistry where I could. But in my head, there was a giant countdown clock over all of it.

Those were the moments I ordered things for Adaline.

She always thanked me as soon as she got them.

That tether to her, even for brief messages, kept me sane.

We were one week away from the season opener, and I thought I had all of it under control.

Or as much of it as I could, anyway.

Ned arrived at our last preseason practice before we’d travel to Green Bay for the first game of the season, but it was the first time I’d seen him without the entourage, without the fawning fans, without his full parcel of meatheads blocking anyone who came near him.