“I heard. I’m… so happy for you.”
Someone in the background yells for Finn. I close my eyes, knowing my time is up. He speaks at stronger now, but more distant. “I’ve got to go.”
I feel every cold mile between us.
“Yeah. Me too. I’ve been so busy…” I swallow hard.
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
God, we’re horrible now.
“Good luck, Finn.”
It’s so quiet on his end, I think he’s hung up. But then he speaks, his voice soft and full of regret. “Sleep well, Chess.”
It’s only after the line is dead and I’m back at work that I remember he’d said the same words to me before. On the night we met, when I’d left him at my apartment door, intent on walking right out of his life.
* * *
Finn
* * *
The door to my condo opens. I don’t bother looking up from the TV. I know it’s not who I want to see. Keys jangle and then Charlie walks into the room.
“Manny,” he says, glancing at me then the TV. “What are you watching?”
“Singles.” My voice sounds as if it had been dragged over rust before breaking free.
Charlie takes a seat next to me. “Never seen it.”
“You’re missing out on the glory that is Cliff Poncier and Citizen Dick.”
“Citizen Dick?” He makes a sound of amusement.
I cut him a glance. “They were underrated.”
“If you say so.”
We watch for a few minutes. Every time Steve and Linda are on screen, my chest hurts. You broke his heart, Linda.
Yes, I am a fucking masochist.
“This looks like a chick movie,” Charlie says out of the blue.
“According to Chess, every movie is a chick movie.” It isn’t easy saying her name out loud, but I refuse to make her a ghost.
He’s silent of a moment. “I guess she has a point.”
“She usually does.” Fuck. I need some antacid.
Charlie turns my way. “You talk to her lately?”
“Yes.”
I don’t expand on the disaster that was our phone call. The conversation had been so stilted, it was like pulling teeth just to get the words out.
His stare is a weighty thing. “You going to go get her?”
When she’s in the middle of her dream job? With The Avengers? How the fuck do I compete against Iron Man? Or—fuck—Thor?
“She isn’t lost, Charles.”
He pulls a bottle of green juice from his backpack and hands it to me. “It’s about time to get going for the game.”
Normally, I’d drive myself. But this is a playoff game. When Charlie asked me if I wanted a ride to the stadium, I realized, that he really wanted to drive me. He wanted to be a part of this. He deserves to be. So I have myself a chauffeur, even if he’s a nagging one.
“We have at least fifteen minutes to spare.” Because it’s in my hand, I open the bottle and take a drink. I’m not going to say I love the green health drink because I have working taste buds, but it does send a nice shot of energy running through my system.
“Let’s spend them at the stadium,” Charlie says.
Charlie doesn’t like living on the edge. With a sigh, I heave myself up. “Fine. Let’s go win us a football game.”
Charlie stands too, turning off the TV with the remote. “We’ll work on your enthusiasm levels in the car.”
* * *
I’d like to think I’m a good actor. But apparently, my performance today is lacking. Despite digging deep and pulling out all the enthusiasm I can muster, as soon as it’s halftime and we’ve received all the instruction we’re going to get, Jake plops down next to me on the bench and elbows my ribs.
Pads keep me from feeling much but it gets my attention. “What?”
He takes a bottle from a passing ball boy and squirts water all over his head before looking me over. “You’ve been playing better than you ever have.”
He’s right; I’m the best I’ve ever been. Each time I go out on the field, I become a machine, playing as if I have something to prove. The sad truth is, I am trying to prove something. Not to myself. It’s for her. Always for her.
But in the twisted way of things, with every win, I feel worse, the distance between me and Chess bigger. Because what the fuck am I really proving here? That she and North were right? That she was just a distraction? That I don’t need her?
I do. I fucking do.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I say to Jake, as if I don’t care. “I appreciate the pep talk.”
He gives me a sidelong look, but keeps a smile on his face. We might be in the relative privacy of our locker room but someone is always watching when we’re in game mode, and neither of us wants to spook the team. “Wise ass. You’re playing great. But you have dead eyes.”
“Not liking the direction of this pep talk, Ryder.” I swipe a bottle from a basket near me and take a long drink. “Did Charlie put you up to this?”
“He noticed it too?”
I look over the locker room as if I’m on top of the world. “Now is not the time.”
“Your avoidance game is killer. It’s never the right time.”
My smile aches at the corners. “Well, it certainly isn’t fucking now.”
Guys are milling around, some getting their limbs stretched by the trainers, some hydrating. We’ve all got our game face on, counting down the minutes before we go back out.
North sits his ass down on my other side. “What we talking about? Winning? Because I love winning. It’s, like, better than losing, you know?”
“Easy there, Nuke LaLoosh,” I mutter.
He winks. “So?”
Jake leans past me. “Manny’s girl has decamped to New York, and he’s depressed. But he doesn’t want to talk about his feelings.”
“Fuck me.” I groan, ducking my head under the pretense of putting my bottle down so no one can see my grimace.
“Your girl left you?” North sounds surprised.