Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,52

asked her out right after our river trip, I would have probably woken up beside her this morning. Instead, I screwed myself. Thought I could focus more on the team and the camp. I worked out in the afternoon and evenings. Memorized the playbook at night. Studied film in my downtime.

But I didn’t have time to figure my shit out in the huddle, let alone plan out how to make a woman fall madly in love with me.

Especially when that woman still didn’t trust me.

Something was bugging her. I wasn’t sure what, but she rushed around training camp trying to keep busy, fighting to stay smiling. It wasn’t normal Elle. Whatever bothered her, she bundled it up tight inside, and she didn’t think she could share it with me.

I should have run after her, but the whistle blew. I sprinted down the field.

Jack threw the ball, and I caught it instinctively.

Just like I had done thousands of times before in my life. Just as I would a thousand times in the coming years.

So what was wrong with me?

Practice ended, but I didn’t stick around any longer than it took for me to haul the team’s bags from the field to the facility—two trips. The offensive line invited me out to eat. They seemed surprised that I declined, but they followed me to my car anyway.

And I saw why.

Popcorn.

I circled my Lexus. Thousands of kernels of popcorn smooshed into the interior.

All popped. All buttered.

It was like a corn field gangbanged a matinée movie.

“Dinner’s on us, rookie.” Ray slapped my shoulder. “Too bad you pissed off the missus. You could have had a nice movie night together.”

The guys snapped the obligatory pictures and cackled, leaving me to shovel my way into a car that had housed popcorn for an entire ninety-degree day. Kinda smelled like Uncle Bowie’s feet.

That reminded me I had to call Bast. I hadn’t read to him in three days.

That made me feel even more like an asshole.

At least I could put my Tinkerbell book bag to use. I shoveled some of the popcorn from my seats, just to tunnel my way through the car and sit like the prize in a Crackerjack box through Ironfield’s traffic.

The stress was getting to me. I slammed my front door.

Hungry. Exhausted. Slimy with butter.

Pissed at myself for pissing off Elle.

But there was nothing I could do about it. I’d call her later, after I talked to Bast.

If either of them wanted to talk to me. Seemed unlikely.

I turned on the television, but my phone rang before I could sit down. It wasn’t Elle—it was Mom.

Great, first my wife watched me fuck up at practice, and now my mother was calling to check-in. Why did she have to sound so cheerful? I didn’t have the energy to bluff my way through a conversation.

“What’s up, Mom?”

“Oh, Honey. I just saw you on TV. You look so handsome!”

TV? Great. I collapsed on the couch and stared at the television. Sports Nation ran through a recap of the league’s training camps. My finger hovered over the mute button until they started talking about the Rivets.

And my grinning face filled the screen.

“The Ironfield Rivets’ had a great draft—on paper.” The reporter talking had some ungodly jowls. Ainsley Ruport wasn’t a fan of Ironfield, and he made his bias well known. The asshole was greying and fat, and I figured he’d eat the pigskin before throwing it. “But this wouldn’t be the first time the scouts got it wrong.”

“Lachlan, I don’t want you to be worried,” Mom said.

Well, that wasn’t a good start to the conversation. “What’s wrong? Is it Bast?”

“Oh no. He’s fine. Drew a picture of you in your uniform today at school. It’s on the fridge, you’ll have to autograph it for him. He’s just so thrilled about—”

“Mom, focus. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, right. Well…you should know, Victoria stopped by here earlier today.”

I clutched the phone, nearly kicking the coffee table over as I leapt to my feet. “She what?”

“She was looking for you.”

The TV flashed to an image of me in college, catching a touchdown pass during my last bowl game. “We have reports that first-rounder Lachlan Reed is having difficulty during this camp. Though highly rated by every scout at the combine, many teams are breathing a sigh of relief today, fortunate they didn’t sign this uncertain prospect.”

Mom tried to calm me down. “She said she wanted to talk.”

“What the hell is she doing showing up there? Especially after the shit she pulled five years