The Fumble Of A Quarterback

Chapter 18: Trusts You The Most

The last conversation I had with him floated in my mind like a cloud. Maybe we had report, but I wouldn't say we were close enough for that kind of reaction.

"I think out of everyone here, he trusts you the most."

I scoffed. If he trusted me the most, the one that constantly fought with him, then what did that say about all of his teammates? Once again, it showed me this team was broken beyond anyone's realization. 

"No problem, Tad." I pulled out my phone and clicked on the address Tad sent, which was close to here. 

With that, I got into the car and drove off to his apartment.

I did not say anything to Everett on the drive. But I did occasionally glance over at him, making sure he was alright. He never laid eyes on me, instead, he looked at his slightly bloodied hands. 

I wondered if it was his blood that was on them.

As I parked in front of one fancy apartment complex on high street, I sighed. "We are here," I said as I opened the door.

He nodded as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car without a word.

"Have a good night." I started to get back into the car but stopped when I noticed as he struggled to open the front door. I bit my lip as I watched. As much as I wanted to go back home, I should at least get him to his apartment safely.

With a sigh, I locked my car and followed him to the door. "I'll just make sure you get in safely."

He nodded in silence as he unlocked the door and walked into the apartment lobby. We walked through the hall and up a set of stairs to the second floor where he walked down the hall and ended up in front of a wooden door.

<>

He fumbled with the keys but eventually, the door opened, and he walked in. I followed suit into his apartment as if his ghost. I didn't know why I walked in when I knew he was alright. Maybe it was to make sure he made it to bed safely. Or maybe it was the curiosity of stepping into his space, to see if I could understand more of him. 

He kicked off his shoes then closed the door behind him, not shooing me away.  

"Want me to help clean your face up?" I asked before letting my eyes sweep around the lightly furnished place.

It was tidy, tidier than I would have thought it to be. There was also a lack of personal touch to it. It was as if he just grabbed what was essential for sustaining life and left everything else. 

"Thanks," he mumbled, and made his way to the couch.

I followed him and spotted the open floor plan kitchen. "Towels are there?" I asked, pointing towards the kitchen.

"Yeah."

I walked into the kitchen and quickly found the paper towels by the stove and wetted a few of them down, then walked back over to him. Silently, I knelt down to stare at his bruised glistening blue eyes. My heart sped up the longer I stared at him. For this second, neither of us were fighting or arguing.

For the first time, I didn't look at him with anger, instead, I wanted to understand him. Behind his blue eyes, said something I couldn't quiet grasp. Maybe it was fear? Maybe it was a mix of emotions. Whatever it was, I wanted to know what he was thinking. 

With a sigh, I placed the paper towel on his face. He flinched away instantly, swearing under his breath. 

My cheeks turned hot. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"It's fine, it's just, your hands are freezing."

I smirked as I continued to dab again. His face looked like he just left a fight club, but yet he only commented about my hands. Did he not even feel the pain in his face? "It's my curse."