Savior

Twenty-Two: Wes

The first few days were awful. It was like my soul wasn't even in my body. Like I was just going through the paces of day-to-day existence. However, as much as it hurt, I knew Mia was right. I needed to learn to depend on myself. I had spent my entire life slipping into whatever mold the people around me needed me to be. I did it with my dad. I did it with Bill and his family. I did it with Channing and all the so-called friends I'd left in LA. And then I did it with Mia. She was absolutely right. I needed to do this on my own. I needed to be able to depend on myself, depend on the man I was without needing the crutch of someone beside me, holding my hand. Didn't stop the tormenting ache I felt in her absence, but there wasn't much that would. Besides, the pain only made me more determined.

Once I got into camp mode, I had an easier time being in my head. Suddenly every thought wasn't consumed by what I'd left behind. The vision of the future started clawing its way in. A happy future. A successful future. A new team, maybe a Super Bowl ring, and Mia by my side at the end of it all. I was going to fight with everything I had to make sure that vision, that blueprint for what was to come, became my reality.

Mia and I didn't really talk for the first month I was gone. We texted back and forth randomly, just checking in, making sure the other was still breathing I suppose, but it was all very surface. We both needed time, I think. We both needed a bit to breathe and recalibrate from everything that had happened in the end. I wasn't mad at her for wanting to take a step back, but I was hurt, and I was certain she felt the same. Our relationship started hard and fast once we finally allowed ourselves to give in. We probably should've slowed down a bit in retrospect, what with her being fresh out of things with Marcus, me having no idea how to actually date someone. I had focused all my energy on this girl and what we were and all the things about myself I needed to change to be "right" for her. I loved Mia, there was no denying that, but making my entire life, my entire being, centered around her? That was a bad idea in every sense of the word. That's not how a relationship should be. That wasn't how I wanted our relationship to be.

Toward mid-August, camp began to become actual practice, and in just one more week, pre-season would begin. I felt incredible. I had never been so focused on the game, not even my first time around. My stats were looking solid, even just in practice, and my team was more than willing to follow me into the fray. Miami was truly beginning to feel like home, which the more I thought about, I wasn't sure LA ever had. I was just comfortable there, but this city, this team... this felt like something that was truly mine.

My birthday was the same weekend as our first preseason game, and honestly, there was only one thing I wanted: to win. Well, okay, maybe two things: to win... with Mia there. So, it was time to tell the nerves to fuck off and make the call. If I wanted her there, I needed to tell her, belly full of butterflies or not.

The line rang a few times before I heard the click. "Well, hey you..."

That was all it took. No more butterflies, just sheer fucking determination. "Hi," I grinned. "How are you?"

She sighed. "I'm good. Busy. Your uncle's trying to make my life a living hell."

I chuckled. "More bratty athletes?"

"No," Mia answered. "Believe it or not, Instagram models are apparently worse."

"Really?"

"The latest client is twenty-three, rose to stardom because of TikTok and now is so deep in the party world, she makes Justin Bieber look like a goddamned angel."

I winced a bit. "That sounds awful."

"It is. I got called at three this morning to bail her out of jail and I've been fucking trying to clean shit up ever since."