And despite the Christmasy time of year, I am burning up. Like an answer to my prayers a chilled, yellow-green liquid thumps next to my elbow. I glance over, eyes widening at its size. “That’s a bucket glass.” Which is much larger than the amount I’d intended.
“Grow some balls,” Mike smirks, just as an uproar turns our heads to the entrance. He’s not dumb to why I’m here—Mrs. Cocker did her detective work through him after all, so he and I have already discussed my predicament, even if our talk was brief. “Here he comes, Wren,” he warns me with trepidation. “Ready?”
“No.” Picking up the kamikaze I make it disappear, gulping for air and wincing.
“How ‘bout now?” he smirks. I shoot him a look and he says, with complete seriousness, “You’ve got a great rack. Don’t worry.”
I stare after him as he hustles to thirsty customers clamoring for his coveted skill set, mumbling, “That’s your pep talk?!” Nevertheless I flip around in my chair, unconsciously hoisting said-rack to a more pleasing degree. Blush, mascara, cleavage, all go out the window as I spot Eric making his way through adoring fans. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until he turns his head and locks onto me, reacting as if he got punched.
People try to talk to him but they’re ignored as he stares at me, and starts this way. I glance over to see Eleanor watching us, her eyes flashing. She gives me an encouraging you-can-do-this nod, and my nervous eyes dart back to him. He looks upset, maybe even confused, but most of all determined and everyone makes a path as they realize he has no interest in anyone but me.
CHAPTER 38
ERIC
L ast place I wanted to be was at O’Neal’s. After we won today’s game with a score that officially knocked the Saints out of the play-offs and us in, all I wanted was to feel good.
Not be reminded of the one person I can’t forget.
But the guys wouldn’t be dodged again. They ganged up on me, said it wasn’t right for me to ditch them. They were particularly adamant, a mixture of relief I’d woken back up to my potential, and pride that together we’d risen to the final round.
“I’m just going home to change,” I lied, and they knew.
Mott shouted in the locker room, “Fuck that! Think we’re stupid?”
Dion’s voice, almost as deep, countered with a smirk, “Debatable.”
Laughing and in full celebration-mode, Mott shoved him. “Fuck you, Dion.” He got a laugh and a push in response.
I was sure it was going to be a great time, pure, joyous celebration…for them. But being at that bar without her there, all that would give me is a longing I’d never satisfy.
Tony took over, getting in my grill, “Last time you said you’d meet us later, you had this same look on your face, and you stiffed us. Never showed up at my apartment.”
“Yeah!” Sooks joined in, puffing up like he was still butt-hurt. “We drove all the way to your place and you hid inside and wouldn’t open your door.”
Eyeing him I corrected his assumption. “I was at my brother’s, rookie. I wasn’t hiding.”
“You can’t call me a rookie anymore!”
“You’re lucky I just showered or I’d rub my sweat on you and watch you squeal like a girl.”
We quieted as Coach walked in, shutting the door and the reporters out. “Alright, huddle up!” The team dropped what they were doing, some still naked, to circle together. “The holidays are here and you’re not playing again until the first of January so watch yourselves! Don’t get in any accidents or break any bones. Ya hear me?” Lots of agreeing murmurs. He scanned our faces, settled on me, then moved on, including everyone. “You made me proud today. You guys have a good holiday.” His hand shot out, palm down. In two seconds dozens covered it, every skin shade you can imagine joined together. We roared and threw them in the air, breaking from the pack to head to our lockers.
Coach said, “Cocker, come here.”
I headed over, rubbing my head and glancing to the teammates I knew were most interested. Mott, Tony and Dion gave me a nod with approval shining from their eyes.
“Yeah, Coach?” I asked as he and I stood off to the side.
He slapped his leathery hand on my shoulder, held my eyes a little longer than normal like he really needed me to pay attention. “This team needs you, Cocker. Much as I’d like to take credit for today’s win, it was you. Don’t let them down again, ya hear me?”
“You got my promise, Coach. I’m all in.”
“Good.” He gave me a firm clap and shook my shoulder before he took off. “Tell your Mom I wish she was single.”
Grinning I shouted after him, “Fuck if I will!”
He waved without looking back, even as I called after him, “Merry Christmas, Coach!” I watched as he disappeared out the door.
His words cut me deep. I’d almost bailed on my buddies, and not just them, on my dream. If it hadn’t been for my Dad I might not have a place on this team next season. There’s nothing more competitive than a dream job like this, figuratively, literally and any way you want to slice it.
I couldn’t afford to let depression or heart ache tear me down and give some other guy a chance to take it all away from me.
I had to show up for myself.
For the fans.
And for these fuckin’ assholes.
Turning to my buddies I announced, “Let’s celebrate!”
“Yeah!” Mott shouted, fist snapping up. “O’Neal’s, here we come!”
I’d let it go, the desire to see Wren. The ache of missing her and of being reminded everywhere I turned in this Irish dive of a sports bar that at one time her smiling face was directed right
