Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

brOCK

I texted Lincoln so early this morning that it’s not surprising that he doesn’t respond until I’m already on my way into the facility for practice.

“What does that mean?” My phone reads the text to me. “I’ve scoured social media. You didn’t say anything stupid yesterday, and everything is about how you’re so hot because you love some nerdy book series.”

I don’t bother responding. I’ll talk to him at practice.

He’s waiting for me when I come into the weight room at eight a.m. It feels a lot earlier, given the lack of sleep I got last night. Yesterday was all worth it, though. I’d do it all again for the joy in Presley’s face.

“What did you mean?” Lincoln falls into step with me as I head to the rack to start my strength workout. There’s worry in his eyes, but his expression looks like he’s trying to stay calm.

“I messed up with Presley,” I say to ease his mind on the football front.

If anything, his expression gets tighter. I don’t blame him. Chelsi, the only other female trainer on staff, is already married. The guys have a protective big-brother vibe going on with Presley .

“I’m not going to jump to conclusions,” he says, his tone level. “Hurry up and explain.”

So I do. I tell him about how I realized I’d do anything to get Presley what she wanted, what it felt like to hold her in my arms, the warmth I felt holding her hand and when I put my hand on her knee. How I pulled her close on the plane to read the book with her.

By the time I’m finished, Lincoln is grinning from ear to ear. “So, you like her,” he finishes for me.

“Yeah, and somehow I didn’t see it until it was too late.” Was it the fact that the way I felt crept up on me? That it happened so slowly I didn’t realize it was there until she was in my arms and I was carrying her to safety? I don’t want to over-dramatize that moment when she fell, but my fear that she could’ve been seriously hurt was real. It was like everything was pulled out of me for a moment, and when it all came rushing back in, it was obvious how I felt about her.

The stuff I was looking for—the way Kurtis spoils my mom, how Lincoln always wants to be around Layla, the way Tim can’t keep his eyes off Meg—it was all there suddenly, but in the little things.

I do want to give Presley the world, but not the gifts like Kurtis does. I want to give her comfort with her grief over her Aunt Shannon when it rises up. I want to make her laugh with my silly theories about the books. Yesterday, I wanted to give her the answers she couldn’t find on her own, and I was willing to be a fool on social media for her to do it.

And from the moment I held her in my arms, the way I’ve been orbiting around her since day one became evident. The texts I answer after my bedtime. The person I wanted to talk to when the Devils dropped me was her. When I thought our friendship was lost, it hurt.

I fell in love with Presley Tatum little by little and never saw it because I thought it had to look like everyone else’s relationships .

“What do you mean ‘too late’?” Lincoln’s question pulls me out of my thoughts. He’s waving Eli over, and Anthony Hurley follows in Eli’s wake.

I should have foreseen where this confession would lead me. I only have myself to blame now. “Yeah,” I reply. “I can’t just tell her how I feel after I shut her down like I did. Plus she’s a trainer for the team. I’m not sure that’s even … ethical or whatever.” I can’t break rules, not when I just got here. But staying away from Presley also feels impossible.

Lincoln puts a hand on my shoulder. “That first part—that’s stupid. The quickest way to get yourself out of this mess would be to tell her what you told me: that you messed up and you want a redo.”

“And the second?” I ask the same time Eli joins us and says, “What’s up?”

I don’t know Eli Dash that well, but he’s one of Lincoln’s best friends, so I extend my trust in Lincoln to him.

Lincoln answers. “Hunter finally realized it.”

I’m sure Eli is going to need more explanation than this, but he just grins at me. “Seriously, man. I was beginning to wonder.”

I massage the bridge of my nose. “I don’t understand how you all can be so sure about something I didn’t even know myself.”

“I told them about Natasha,” Lincoln says.

“Also Faith,” Eli points out.

Lincoln nods. “Right.”

I fix Lincoln with a glare. “Seriously?”

“Please, tell me another way to explain you.” He raises an eyebrow at me skeptically.

“Guys.” I hold my hands out, addressing all three. “I’m very grateful for your support here”—I make sure they hear my sarcasm—“but none of this helps the fact that Presley is a trainer, and I cannot get caught breaking rules.”

“It’s not against the rules,” Eli says. He folds his arms. He’s several inches shorter than me, and I have at least thirty pounds on him, but he’s a confident quarterback. He owns the stance.

“We asked Coach,” Lincoln adds.

“You told Coach you thought I had feelings for Presley?” This is a line too far. It’s one thing for him to team up with half the offense to do matchmaking, but telling coach?

“First, we knew you had feelings for Presley,” Lincoln corrects.

Eli grins at me. “Also, we told him Hurley wanted to date Presley.”

Hurley smirks and wags his eyebrows. I narrow my eyes at him, but it does nothing to wipe the expression off his face, only makes his eyes dance.

“Coach said it’s not against the rules. They don’t encourage personal relationships between the players and the training staff,” Lincoln says, putting an arm on my shoulder, “because those can get messy and make things complicated, but it’s not against the rules.”

“He did say Hurley can’t ask Presley out, if it makes you feel better,” Eli says. Lincoln snorts, and Hurley punches him in the arm.

I huff out an annoyed sigh even though I should be grateful that they’ve worked all this out for me. “So.” I fold my arms. “I just tell her that I’ve caught feelings?”

Eli puts a hand on my shoulder and grins at me. “Brock, have you ever heard of something called the grand gesture?”