Coach Vaughn had texted me Sunday morning if I was available for an earlier quarterbacks' meeting in preparation for the upcoming game against USC, so I rescheduled my post-game workout with Greg the trainer for shortly after our meeting. While she drove Harper and Mr. Reynolds to the airport, I texted Ellie so she knew my plans and she responded a few minutes later.
Ellie: Okay, thanks. I'll go to the grocery store then.
I actually liked our grocery store trips. We bought more food than two normal people, obviously because of my high calorie intake, but the domestic trips were low-key fun. Ellie always went in with a definite plan and list of ingredients and, week after week, our kitchen hadn't stood a chance when she got back and cooked up a storm.
me: I can go with you after, if you want?
Ellie: I'll be okay. Take a nap.
me: Who's going to get stuff off the high shelves for you?
Ellie: 😒
Ellie: Shouldn't joke like that with the person responsible for your food supply.
me: Husky card is on the table.
I chuckled at my phone, then turned it off and slipped it into my back pocket. After I changed into my workout gear and slipped a pair of athletic pants over my shorts, I left my Husky debit card on the dining room table like I'd promised Ellie and stepped out of the apartment.
My head shook a few times at Charlie and Wes' closed door and what happened the last time I was in there courtesy of Harper Reynolds.
Period cramp simulator. Only Harper.
None of me had also wanted to go to a party, especially one at the football house, but I went for Ellie. Once inside, I largely ignored the stares and whispers at me and Ellie, just offered a few fist bumps to the guys after our 4-0 start then pinned myself to Ellie's side like a gigantic, uncomfortable accessory.
I hadn't heard what Emmitt said to her but the sappy, heart-eyed look on his face at her, even the way he looked at where she stood outside on the front porch gnawed irritation into my stomach. His eyes were so transfixed on Ellie that he barely noticed when Harper reached out and squeezed his ass. By the way Harper's eyes locked on mine before her hand grab, I assumed she pacified the situation in her own, Harper-like way.
Tough shit for Emmitt. He's just going to have to look at Ellie like the one who got away because she's mine now.
A short drive later, Husky Stadium loomed over my truck's front windshield. Even though the parking lot was largely empty, I parked in my usual spot and walked up towards the locker room area. I reached out for the door handle when a deep, familiar voice boomed down the cement-walled hallway.
"LT!" Coach Vaughn called out to me. I turned around and caught his flashed smile of bright white teeth, even in the darker hallway.
"Hey Coach," I greeted him with a grin.
"Great work against Montana." He stuck out a hand, which I shook roughly. "Gotta bring even more against USC though."
"Yeah," I agreed, dropped his hand, and adjusted my bag's strap on my shoulder. "I want to take advantage of their switch to zone defense this year."
At least according to the internet reports I'd skimmed over last night before I passed out on Charlie's couch while the girls prepped for the party, last year the Trojans had gotten a new defensive coordinator. Their learning curve was steep and their unusual underperformance defensively had definitely caught my eye.
Under a zone defense, the defenders spread out the field and each was responsible for their own designated 'zone,' whose size and location depended on how many backfielders - mostly linebackers but also the safeties - dropped back and their starting defensive formation.
"They've mostly been playing an umbrella cover-four." Coach Vaughn's forehead tensed as he drew his eyebrows together and palmed his hands onto his hips. "But every now and then they throw in a cover-six."
My grin spread wider across my face at that news, since that meant the two inner backfield players stayed further back while the outer two started closer to the line of scrimmage. The extra coverage in the backfield meant more defenders against deep passes but -
"Short yardage plays for the win," I replied. "Hooks and curls."
"You got it." He returned my grin and slapped a palm onto my closest shoulder. "Sorry it's not going to be as pretty and they've beefed up a lot during the offseason. Seventy-seven, Darrell Harris, packed on twenty-five pounds during the offseason and it's not from eating twinkies."
"Great," I gritted out since just the suggestion that I was sacked by a 290-pound defensive pile of pure muscle was the last thing I wanted in my mind.
"Set your stuff in your locker, Castle's already in the film room," Coach Vaughn nodded at the door still in my hand. "USC's dominated us, even at home, but don't worry. We'll strategize so this year we'll have a different outcome."
I just silently nodded in response because just about every fan who followed UW and USC knew how lopsided their rivalry was. USC in particular rode into Seattle this weekend on an 8-0 lead in wins over UW at Husky Stadium. Given both teams were 4-0 this seasons, the buzz going into the game, at least from the initial game previews, were that our undefeated season had met its end.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
My brain was turned into mush after two hours of film study where Coach Vaughn, Coach Donovan the offensive coordinator, me, my backup Andrew, and third stringer, a freshman walk-on named Jordy, shredded apart every one of USC's zone defensive plays - both successful and unsuccessful - in their first four games of this season. The Trojans by far were the toughest defensive team we'd faced so far. Just like in high school, Jake's offensive was, in my opinion, stoic and predictable yet efficient and effective.
Ten minutes after Coach concluded the offensive film review meeting, I pounded my body in the post-game's lighter version of our workout. Greg stood at the edge of my exercise bike, where my legs burned even though I'd set the resistance level at half its normal left.
"What?" I panted out at his pensive look, his large hand rubbed over chin as small beads of sweat formed at my hairline.
"Next week I want you to try the pool." He frowned at the time on my bike, which indicated I'd only pedaled for six minutes. Like the day after any game, my legs generally felt like cement whether they moved or not.
"Pool?" I echoed with raised eyebrows. So far the only bodies who worked out in the pool were seniors.
"Better for your joints," he quipped with an arched eyebrow. "One of the aerobics instructors offered to let you join in a class."
"Let me join... Water aerobics." If I hadn't been so breathless then I would've laughed until my lungs burned. "Isn't that for old people?"
"Nope. You'll see, it's conditioning without pressure on the joints. Verns has been doing pool rehab on his ankle and it's already up to a seventy percent improvement." He patted my nearest forearm, then cranked my resistance level up to ninety percent. "Slow your pace, Logan."
I groaned quietly at the burn that seared through my quads and calves but gripped the handlebars tightly, dug in my heels, and pressed through. Once I was done, after thirty minutes subjected to Greg's interval selections, my legs felt like rubberized cement and I chugged half my water bottle like I'd never drank anything today. I wiped off my sweat-covered forehead and neck with my spare towel, sprayed and wiped off my bike, then slowly made my way to the floor mats for stretches and roller work.
Ellie had teased me in high school that I wasn't flexible and, two years later, I wasn't much better. Once I sat down and reached for my toes, despite long arms, my fingers barely touched passed my shins for a hamstring stretch before my back rounded over. Greg chuckled and and gently pressed his palms into my lower back for a deeper straight-spine stretch.
"Ugh," I grunted and slightly lifted up my knees against the tightness that pulled my hamstrings up the back of my legs.
"Maybe you need yoga," Greg's laugh hit me from behind as he pressed a gentle but steady pressure into my stretch. "Or ballet."
"One embarrassing class at a time," I replied and breathed against the tight stretch.
"Hoping you'll be a good example for the other guys. After we're done with stretches, hit the ice bath," Greg released my back and I happily sat upright. Since I'd grown to have a hate-love relationship with the ice bath dunks, that I had no problem with.
Water aerobics. What next, underwater basket weaving?
Ellie was very quiet once she came back from SeaTac after she dropped off Harper and her Dad. Her whole body language read deflated, from her slumped shoulders to averted eyes and soft sigh once the door closed behind her. A few grocery bags bounced against her legs while she carried them over to the kitchen and greeted me with just a soft smile in my direction.
With a slight groan as I got up from my napped position on the sofa, I closed my Biotransport textbook, set it on the dining room table, and joined Ellie in the kitchen.
"Can I help?" I asked her and leaned my hip into the nearest kitchen counter.
"Sure. There's a few more bags in my car," she replied in a quiet voice and handed me her car keys.
"You okay?" I curled my hand around the keys and studied her.
Ellie's hands were busy as they took what looked like proteins and fruits out of her bags, opened the fridge door, and shuffled around a few items before she added in the new grocery. Her movements were slow and her eyes barely looked at where her hands moved, like she was completely lost within her own thoughts.
My eyes tracked the items she'd bought and she must've felt my gaze on her because she sighed. "Pork and chicken were on sale, so this week it's pulled pork, carnitas, white chicken chili, butternut macaroni and cheese, and chicken and broccoli alfredo."
I waited until she put the last item in the fridge and closed the door before I stepped closer and tugged her into my arms.
"Thanks baby." I pressed a soft kiss onto the top of her head. "You're so good to me."
"Just keep washing those dishes." She leaned her head back and smiled faintly but the tired look stayed in her eyes. "I'm going to set up dinner in the slow cooker then lay down for a nap."
"Feeling alright?" My eyes roamed over her face and, by the way her eyes were slightly glazed over, something definitely ran through her mind.
"Slight headache," she replied quietly but her chin stayed lifted so I brought mine down to hers and kissed her lightly.
"I'll put the rest of the stuff away," I promised and pointed in the direction of the bedroom. "Go rest."
"I will," she promised, released me, and dragged out some of her kitchen gear. "Go before I take away all your counter space."
While I walked downstairs into the parking garage, threaded the rest of Ellie's groceries up both my forearms, and headed back upstairs, I wondered if she was less tired and more bothered by something. Once I'd put away everything in the kitchen, I found Ellie laid on her back in bed. Her dark hair spilled out across her pillow but her eyes were cracked half-open. The way her chin lifted, she looked straight up at the ceiling.
"Hey," I sat down on the bed near her feet and gently rested one hand on her shin. "If you don't feel like talking now that's okay but I know something's bothering you."
Ellie straightened up in bed until she sat against the headboard, slipped her legs away from my touch, and looked at me for a few moments. The longer she gazed at me, the more a slight tremble shook her lower lip. The movement was so tiny most people would've ignored it but I studied every inch of her stoic expression.
"Ellie..." I crawled over next to her, wrapped one arm around her, and tugged her against me. My hand gently ran over the top of her head while she leaned her cheek into my chest. "What happened? Did Emmitt -"
"No," she replied quickly but her voice was thick and raspy. "On the way to the airport, Mr. Reynolds basically prepped me for the most likely outcome that I'll testify in court against Ryder."
Fuck, that's horrible. No wonder she's not like her normal self.
"Oh..." I swallowed hard against the dryness that crept up the back of my throat. My arm tightened around her until Ellie half sat on my lap. "That's hard to take in."
"I know he just wants me to be prepared but..." Her voice faded off as her eyes glossed over with tears. "I don't know that I'm ready. I've pushed all that aside while being up here."
Since no words existed, at least in my brain, that assured Ellie otherwise, I just hugged both my arms around her. My chest tightened as my mind raced through the most likely scenario that Ellie faced a guy who'd assaulted her when she was only fourteen.
The last words I wanted to say were, 'It'll be okay' or 'yes, you're strong enough' because even though I believed them, this situation seemed like oen where those were the worst words I could've said. Instead, I just gently held Ellie against me, rested my chin on the top of her head, and stared into the bedroom's empty airspace for the right response.
Think brain... Yeah, I've got nothing.
This isn't a problem I can solve but I can be there for her.
"I'm here for you baby," I finally rasped out, although I felt completely pathetic that I had no other answer at this moment.
"Thanks..." Ellie sniffled quietly as her shoulders trembled. "We don't know for sure but I have a bad feeling in my stomach."
"Do you want to call Dr. Sterns?" I finally choked out what I hoped was a reasonable question.
"Some point, yeah," she replied in a flat voice but at least hadn't snapped at me. "Mr. Reynolds explained the details but basically the NDA is total shit. It was done just so everyone stays quiet..."
Ellie paused but I knew without another word from her that silence was what she'd wanted. A knot of guilt twisted in my chest at how I'd pushed Ellie out into the public, basically aimed a giant ESPN spotlight onto her, when all she probably wanted in her life was quiet anonymity.
Oh shit, the interview.
"Ellie," I spoke up and pressed a kiss into her forehead. "I'm sorry if this makes me an ass but the interview is on tonight. I'm sorry, that was a mistake -"
"No, I'm glad we did it." She pulled her head back and the corners of her mouth turned up. Her eyes sparkled when she added, "Now everyone knows you're off the meat market."
"For the record..." I leaned over and brushed my nose against hers. "I wasn't really on it."
"That so?" Her chin lifted until her lips slowly pressed against mine. "Hmm..."
"Nope." I pushed back, this time kissed her harder with the intention that I gave Ellie a much-needed distraction, which the growing erection between my legs agreed with. "Only had my eyes on one girl."
Her eyes sparkled and teasing tones filled her voice. "Must've been hard, looking from that far of a distance away."
"You have no idea," I murmured, grasped her hips, and rotated her on my lap until her knees straddled my hips. Even though we'd gotten back together a couple weeks ago, I still felt like I caught up on lost time with Ellie.
"Might have some," she smirked and rubbed her hips into mine, which prompted a low groan out of my mouth right before I pressed a kiss into the side of her neck. "I... missed you."
"You did?" I detached my lips and took in her pink cheeks, enlarged pupils, and slightly elevated breaths. Her eyes averted and she nodded silently, which pulled a for-sure goofy grin across my face. "Show me then."
____________________________________
Q: What's the one advice you'd give to other authors?
A: This is a hard question but since authors are usually their own worst critics (guilty as charged although most days I still consider myself just someone who's still killing quarantine time), I guess I'd say you have to love your story at the end of the day. So write for yourself first.