since high school. She’d helped Lancaster High to three consecutive state championships. She was a Noble and that meant she knew the game.
But Ryder thought of her as background noise. Reese was part of the landscape. The coach’s awkward kid. His little sister’s annoying best friend. Wilson had been wrong. Reese wasn’t always beautiful, and there had definitely been an ugly duckling phase she went through, but that shit ended her junior year, just as she started officially playing for Duke.
Ryder was almost done. The NFL loomed. He had plans. He had intentions and already had an idea where he’d land in the draft. He was going to walk away from Duke and never look back.
Then, that damn party happened, just months before graduation. Ryder had promised Coach he’d look after Reese that night. He just hadn’t realized what a hard job that would be.
It was the first promise he’d broken to his coach.
“Watch your eyes, knucklehead.” It took Coach Noble a long time to get over walking in on Ryder and Reese naked in her room. But that day on the field at Duke, as Ryder watched her practicing, working, thrashing her energy on the field, Coach seemed to understand why Ryder couldn’t keep from watching her.
“You love her.” It wasn’t a question and Ryder didn’t bother trying to convince Coach that wasn’t the truth. He never could lie to the old man.
“I do.”
Coach stood next to Ryder, so close that his shoulder brushed against the quarterback’s arm, irritating the bare skin there, but he didn’t move. Reese running, doing sprints, took too much of his attention.
“Alright then,” Coach said, curling his long fingers to the back of Ryder’s neck. He expected pressure there. He expected a threat, but the man didn’t give either. “You take care of my girl, Glenn. Can I trust you to do that?”
“Course, Coach.”
Coach’s trust had been misplaced because Ryder didn’t do what he asked.
How could he?
Ryder scrubbed his palm against his eyes, pushing back that day on the field, focusing on
the field, where Wilson and Pérez met Miles Baker as he came to their group, talking to Pukui and waving Reese over when Ricks dismissed the practice. Ryder watched Reese as she talked with their teammates, laughing at something Pérez said, something that had her pushing back her hair behind her ear, a nervous, flirty move that Ryder had seen Greer do a thousand times, especially when they first started hanging out. It was woman-code for “I’m flattered by your attention.” Or so Greer explained.
Whatever that gesture meant, Ryder didn’t like it. From the way Wilson jabbed Pérez in the ribs when Reese turned to speak to Pukui and Baker, the quarterback guessed he didn’t like it either.
Professionalism. That’s what the team needed. They had a job to do, and Ryder worried that Reese’s presence would prevent that. That notion got confirmed when Pukui nodded at Reese, offering her a smile that only died when Gia hit the sideline and grabbed Reese’s attention. She waved to their teammates and followed the manager, who had to know her players watched both her and Reese as they left the field. Wilson pulled out his phone, shooting a text that landed on Ryder’s phone as Pérez and Pukui watched the women leave.
Let’s go eat. Puk’s craving Huck Finn’s.
He didn’t want company tonight. Especially not when he knew the conversation would likely steer to Reese. Pukui had only just met her. He’d have questions. Pérez was interested, too, and Ryder could think of a million other things he’d rather do than listen to those two assholes fight over her.
Nah, man. I’m good, Ryder replied, waving off Wilson when the man stared up at him.
His attention got split when another text sounded, this one from Greer and Ryder opened it, rolling his eyes of her naked image on the screen. It was nothing new. It was nothing original. Greer liked to think that sending Ryder pictures of herself naked across a bed or covered in bubbles from a bath would keep him interested.
He was. Somewhat.
But things had been strained for a while and Ryder was tired of the games their… whatever they were had become.
You miss me? she texted and Ryder deleted the message, stuffing his phone into his pocket.
Wilson, Baker, and Pukui had left the stadium and Ryder followed after them, taking his time, walking through the concrete hallway, past the murals of his teammates and coaches staring down at him as he went. There was a