Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)(96)

If I’d seen Luce kissing some guy, her eyes glassy with booze, and his arms around her body, I’d have been enraged. And maybe if I’d had the same past as hers, the same fears, I would’ve been done, too.

So I forgive Ace for burning the cord tying Luce and me together because I lit the match.

I leave Ace then and turn to Fozzy and present my hand to him. He knocks it away and lifts me in his arms.

“I love you, brother,” he shouts. My ears ring for hours. There’s a round of handshakes and bone-breaking backslaps and even a few more hugs before we get back to the basics of football—strength and conditioning.

On the ride up to the hotel in some Podunk town in Illinois, about an hour west of Chicago, Hammer peppers me with questions about Luce. He says it’s because he’s concerned. Privately, I think he’s doing research on another article.

“How’re you going to approach this? Like, are you going to say sorry first or are you going to make her say it?”

“What do you think I should do?” I parry because I have no f*cking clue what to do. I’ve never been in this situation before—chasing after a girl who’s rejected me more times than she’s said yes.

“What does she want?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Then you’re not winning her back.”

Thanks for nothing Hammer. “I told her that I loved her.”

“There’s your problem.”

“What’s my problem?”

“Your belt’s gotta match the shoes,” Hammer says.

“What the f*ck does that mean?” I grind to a halt and put my hands on my hips.

“Means your actions gotta line up with your words. You gotta do the love stuff if you mean it.”

“Did you read that in your women’s magazine?” I ask suspiciously.

“No,” he perks up, “Do you think that’s an article I should suggest? Top ten ways to show her you love her?”

My lips quirk up in a half smile. “Yeah, that’s probably a pretty good article.”

“Shit, I should have written it for Valentine’s Day instead of the ‘Best Ways to Give a V-Day Blowjob.’” Hammer slaps me hard on the back. “Don’t worry. I know you’re going to win her back.”

And Hammer’s belief in me actually fills me with relief. I am going to make this right with her. I did it with the team, and I can do it with her as well.

Failure is no option here.





35





Lucy




“I have a cold coming on,” Heather says ominously as she pulls into the hotel parking lot after dinner. Even though she hates her old man, she doesn’t mind the things he buys her. The Mercedes coupe is so luxurious, I nearly cried when I took a seat the first time.

“Tell the cold to stay away. Believe it away, Heather.”

“You mock, but deep down you know I’m right. We rocked today.”

We did rock. We’ve rocked all weekend and now we have only one match left before we can crown ourselves Midwest Regional champs and claim our spot in the national tournament next month.

“We were pretty awesome,” I admit. I roll my neck from one shoulder to the other. Despite our wins, I’m still tense. You would have thought I’d be euphoric by now, but I’m not.

Heather puts the car in park and then pulls down the mirror to inspect her face. “Do I look pale to you?” She turns to me.

“No, but if you don’t feel well, you should lie down.”

“I feel sick.”

“It’s called nerves,” I explain wryly. It’s somewhat heartening that Heather has some. For a time there, I felt like she was impervious, a hardened shell built up as a defense against her dad’s careless neglect. “Tomorrow’s the Championship round, and you’re feeling what commoners call anxiety.”

“Could be.” She looks doubtful. “I think we should do something to really psych ourselves up for the big match.”

“You just said you felt a cold coming on? Shouldn’t a good night’s rest suffice?” I sounded like a fifty-year-old mother already. I should’ve bought a pair of orthotic insoles at the drugstore along with some menopause medication.

“No, because we’re in Chicago, duh. Or—” She snaps her fingers and smiles brilliantly—evilly almost. I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “We could go on a road trip.”

I know immediately what she’s talking about. “No.”

“I heard a certain football team is having a retreat an hour away.”

“No.” Except this time my no isn’t as firm because I miss Matty so much. I want to see him, but I figured I’d get the tourney out of the way and then throw myself at his feet and beg for him to take me back.

I’m not sure of my reception, and I didn’t want to suffer a crushing “no” blow right before competition started. If I’m lacking confidence, that wouldn’t be the way to go about gaining more.

But, as Heather knows because Hammer waited for me outside of our last practice—does everyone know my effing schedule?—Hammer thinks Matt would forgive me in a heartbeat. Since then Hammer’s been texting me.

Hammer: Matty’s a good guy.