Home > Well Played(53)

Well Played(53)
Author: Vi Keeland

We both laughed, but a few seconds later the euphoric look on her face fell, and we locked eyes. Neither of us needed to say what had crossed our minds, but that didn’t make it any less of an eye opener.

Tanner would have blown a gasket.

 

 

CHAPTER 24

 


* * *

 

Levi

 

I kept the hotel room.

I wasn’t sure exactly what had made me do it, but when I’d gone to check out, I slid the key across the counter and then pulled it back, instead asking the front desk clerk if I could extend my stay.

Over the last few days, I’d debated why I’d done it. Was I making sure I had a place to escape to if I needed to get out of the house, or was I hoping Presley and I might meet up there again at some point? If it were the latter, I probably would’ve given her one of the keys by now, or at least mentioned it. Yet I hadn’t done either. Instead, I’d returned to The Palm.

I stood in the dark kitchen, lost in thought while sipping my morning coffee when Presley walked in. She went straight to the refrigerator and took out the half and half. Then she turned around and walked toward the coffee pot. She’d yet to look up.

“Morning,” I said.

Presley jumped, and her hand flew to cover her heart. “Oh my God. Were you standing there when I walked in?”

I nodded. “Been standing here about fifteen minutes now.”

“I didn’t see you.”

I sipped my coffee. “You looked pretty lost in thought.”

She sighed, setting down the container. “I feel like that’s all I do lately—think.”

“I know the feeling.”

She poured her coffee and leaned against the counter next to me. “You’re leaving in fifteen days.”

I nodded. “Fifteen days and four hours. My flight is at ten thirty.”

Presley lowered her voice. “Will you come back at any point?”

“Most games are on Sundays. Mondays are team meetings and physical therapy appointments. We practice Tuesday through Friday. Saturday we travel for away games or have planning meetings for home games.”

“What about the weeks you don’t have games? You get a bye week or two, right?”

“There’s only one of those this season, and we usually just replace game day with extra practices.”

She frowned. “How do…people do it?”

“The majority of guys move their family to the state their home team is in—so they can at least come home at night. The rest just fly their girlfriends in from time to time.”

Presley was quiet for a long time. I had no idea where her head was, what she expected or wanted to do once I had to leave. Eventually she turned to face me.

“Alex will be starting school a few days after you leave.” She shook her head. “He’s just planting roots—”

For a second or two, I wasn’t sure why she’d trailed off. But then the light flipped on, and I realized she’d seen Tanner coming.

“Why were you guys standing here in the dark?” he said.

Presley opened her mouth, but nothing came out. So I intervened. “I woke up with a headache. Light makes it worse.”

Tanner looked between us. His eyes squinted slightly, as if he might not believe me. But eventually he nodded and flipped the switch back off. When he walked over to pour his coffee, he wedged his body right between us. I had to take a few steps back so we weren’t on top of one another.

He lifted his chin to me. “Got a second interview for that football-coaching job today.”

“You did?” Presley asked.

Tanner nodded. “Yup. They narrowed it down to me and one other guy. Said they’ll have their decision by the end of the week.”

Presley’s forehead wrinkled. “Well, good luck.”

“Yeah,” I tilted my coffee mug toward him. “Knock ’em dead.” I pushed off the counter. “I’m gonna hit the shower. I have shit to do today.”

My eyes caught Presley’s, and I nodded before heading back to my room. It made me crazy to walk away and leave the two of them alone in the kitchen. So how the hell was I going to survive walking away completely in two weeks?

 

***

 

I’d had an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach all morning, since my conversation with Presley in the kitchen. So after I went to the eye doctor and worked out with my trainer, I decided to stop up at Alex’s peewee football practice. Presley was sitting in the bleachers with a bunch of women I’d never met.

“Oh my God,” one said. “You’re Levi Miller—the quarterback.”

I offered my standard-issue smile and nodded. “I am. Good to meet you.”

“Will you be here for long? My son is your biggest fan. Practice will be over in about twenty minutes, and he would absolutely die if he knew you were here and he didn’t get to meet you.”

I exchanged glances with Presley. “Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen. Sure, I’m gonna watch practice for a while anyway. Which one is your son?”

“He’s a running back. Number forty-four.”

“I’ll keep my eye on him and see if I can give him any pointers when practice ends.” I looked at Presley and nodded toward the team. “I’m going to walk down to the other end of the field where the kids are to get a closer look.”

She stood. “I’ll come.”

I heard all of the women whispering as we walked from the bleachers. One said something about my ass.

I shook my head. “And they say men are bad.”

Presley smiled. “Can you really crack a walnut with your ass cheeks? I’d like to see it, if you can.”

I chuckled. “Is that what she just said?”

“It is, indeed.”

“Well, I’ve never tried. But I’m game to give it a shot if you’re into that sort of thing.”

We both laughed, and the tension I’d felt since the kitchen this morning waned for the first time. But that fleeting moment of calm was abruptly interrupted by a harrowing scream. Alex’s scream. When you play a sport where more than half the guys are usually operating with some sort of an injury, you get to be an expert at reading the level of pain from only a yelp. And this one…was not good. The opening to get onto the field was still another twenty yards away, so I hopped the fence and ran to where Alex was lying on the ground. Two coaches hovered over him.

“My ankle. My ankle.” He rolled to his side.

I knelt down. “Don’t try to move it, buddy.”

“Uncle Levi, it hurts.”

One of the coaches looked up at me. “Holy shit. You’re Levi Miller.”

I ignored him. “Tell me what the pain feels like, Alex.”

“It’s sharp—and shooting up my leg.”

His little ankle was also starting to bruise and swell. Not a good sign.

Presley made her way over. “Are you okay?”

“I think we should run him to the hospital to be on the safe side.”

She nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”

One of the coaches stood and thumbed toward the parking lot. “You want me to grab the wheelchair? I keep one in the back of the van, just in case.”

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