I swallowed, standing in her grasp for a minute before I reached for my phone. “Fine. I’ll just call him.”
“Babe,” Gemma said, putting her hand over my phone before I could unlock it. “His phone is put away in his locker. He’s not going to look at it until this game is over.”
My shoulders deflated. “But… I have to get to him. I have to talk to him. I have to turn this around.”
“He’s going to be okay,” Zach assured me. “Even if this isn’t his best game, there are still two more to go.”
“Exactly. There’s nothing to be done right now, okay?” Gemma agreed, but then she smiled, squeezing my hand. “But if you want to go over what you’ll say to him when he gets back… well…” She glanced at Zach, who smiled at me, too, when Gemma turned back to me. “We’re all ears.”
My eyes flicked to the screen, heart squeezing at the fact that I couldn’t do anything to help Makoa.
“I don’t know where to even start,” I confessed. “How do I make this right?”
They shared another look — and I was beginning to think those two had their own secret language that never had to be spoken, just like Gemma and I had.
Then, Zach sat back down on the couch, patting the spot next to him. “I think it’s time the three of us made a game plan of our own.”
Makoa
It was late by the time the team bus pulled up to Halas Hall after our loss to the Giants.
We’d all shuffled out of the stadium in New Jersey with our heads down, and every step of the way home, we’d been silent — from the bus ride to the airport, the flight, and then the bus ride back to our own training facility.
I’d tried to sleep, but found myself unable to, and spent most of the time replaying the horrendous turnover I’d had or staring at past text messages with Belle and wondering if she’d respond should I send her one now.
My bet was that she’d already blocked my number by now.
I knew Colby was right. I knew I had to find a way to let her go — preferably before the next pre-season game so I could save my chance of securing a spot on the team.
But after how I played today?
I wasn’t so sure I had a chance at all.
There was a chorus of groans when the bus parked, all of us starting to really feel all those tackles we took on the field. We were slow going, throwing our duffle bags over our shoulders and slugging off the bus one by one. It didn’t matter that this loss wouldn’t be on our record for the season — any loss hurt.
And when you were a contributor to that loss, the way I had been, it hurt even more.
Gerald stopped at my seat on his way off the bus, waving his hand so I could go in front of him. I slipped into the aisle and as soon as we started walking, he leaned forward, nudging my back.
“You’ve gotta let it go, man,” he said. “It’s just one bad game. Shake it off and come ready to work tomorrow.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t find it in me to even verbally thank him. Right now, between the game I’d played in New Jersey and the game I’d played with Belle, I felt like the biggest piece of scum to ever exist on Earth.
Every muscle in my legs ached in protest when I jogged down the few steps and off the bus. I winced against the pain, adjusting the bag on my shoulder and crossing the parking lot with my head down, letting my feet carry me toward where my Lexus was parked on the other side.
It wasn’t until I was a few yards away that I finally lifted my gaze, and when I did, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Belle stood next to my car, her hands behind her back, little mouth pulled to the side as she watched me through her lashes. Her auburn hair had faded to more of that strawberry blonde she’d had when I first met her, and in a long, flowy blue dress with thin straps that accented her shoulders and collarbones, she was a sight to behold — like the goddess of summer, come to say goodbye to her season as fall moved in to take her place.
The longer I stood there and watched her, the more she looked like she was about to cry, or like she regretted that she was there at all. So, I made my way to her as quick as I could before she could change her mind and bolt.
The only light was from the parking lot lights above us, and they cast her in a warm, orange glow, covering half her face with shadows. She swallowed when I stood in front of her, chewing her lip for a moment before she spoke.
“I forgot to ask you something last week,” she said.
My chest was tight, breath shallow as I took her in, still not believing she was standing there in front of me. I somehow managed to clear my throat and ask, “What’s that?”
Belle’s eyes searched mine for a moment, and then she pulled her hands from behind her back, holding out a small, rectangular, white piece of cardstock with gold foil letters on it.
“For the wedding,” she said. “Do you want chicken or steak?”
She handed the card to me, and I glanced down at the RSVP with both our names on it — Belle Monroe and Makoa Kumaka. My stomach somersaulted at the way they looked together, and even more when I saw the checkbox next to our RSVP saying we’d both be attending.
I held onto that piece of cardstock like it was my lifeline, and then my gaze found hers. “You want
