It’s been a fairly quiet weekend given what Luke confessed to on his Instagram live the other day, and I keep waiting for the phone to ring.
It hasn’t.
Or maybe it has and Luke has ignored it. On the other hand...maybe it has and Luke just hasn’t told me.
Though the people who’d call have been a little busy with things like, you know, football games. Now that the day games are over and the Sunday night game is set to begin in just forty-five minutes, most of the teams are either home or traveling back, and the league can start looking into this scandal.
At least, according to Luke they can.
And no sooner do I run all that through my thought process than Luke’s phone starts to ring.
He checks the screen and mutters a curse. “Hey, Jack,” he answers. He puts it on speaker and sets it beside him on the couch as we start the heel slides.
I hold my reaction inside, but anxiety darts through my chest.
“What the fuck have you done?” Jack’s voice is accusatory through the phone.
Luke lets out a sigh, and when he speaks, he sounds exhausted. “I got ahead of it and decided to let you handle it your own way.”
“You didn’t think of letting me know it was hitting the media?” he demands.
“I assumed Savannah took care of that,” Luke says.
“Well she didn’t. It was the talk of my locker room this morning, and it was enough of a distraction that we lost.”
Luke raises his brows and can’t hide his smile, which thankfully Jack can’t see because I could imagine him punching it right off his little brother’s face with how angry he sounds. “Nice. Blame me for your entire team’s loss. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that the Chargers are just a better team.”
“Oh, fuck you, Luke. You want to hear something even richer?”
“Hit me with it, big man,” Luke says. “Can’t get much worse over here.”
I’m a little more aggressive than I should be when I help him slide his heel down again. I don’t mean to be, but I’m really getting tired of him bellyaching about how bad he has it. So he hurt his knee. It’ll heal. So his career might be over. He’s got a wife who loves him and a baby on the way he still doesn’t know about. He still has a future. He still has the entire rest of his life ahead of him, and I’m sick and tired of him acting like his life is over because of an injury.
His brows turn down and he winces.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“My coach has informed me that the league has opened an investigation. Since it’s in the media, they’re going to make examples out of us,” Jack says.
“Goddammit,” Luke mutters. “I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I might get a suspension because of your stupidity.”
“Ream me out all you want, Jack, but you didn’t have to take that test for me, and you also didn’t have to fuck my ex-girlfriend and knock her up. So save the holier than thou speech. Neither of us is innocent, and we’re both going to face whatever consequences the league issues.”
“Michelle has nothing to do with this,” Jack hisses.
“Oh, doesn’t she? You mean you didn’t revenge fuck her and accidentally do something you can’t take back now? Talk about consequences. Enjoy your life with that nightmare. I’ll be going now.” Luke cuts the call and tosses his phone against the wall again.
“Goddammit, Luke!” I yell at him. I drop his leg, and he hisses through the pain. “Stop throwing your damn phone!” I pick it up and toss it at him, and then I run into the kitchen to get the hell away from him.
My emotions are big right now, and they’re all over the damn place. I’m mad at Luke, and I’m angry with Jack, too, for calling just to put Luke into another funk. I’m tired of everything, but mostly I’m tired of keeping this secret. I’m tired of going through this alone except for a few days a week when the one person I’ve told does what she can to take a little extra care of me for the few hours she’s around.
He’s fuming from Jack’s call, and while I’ve already started to learn there’s absolutely no ideal time to give him this news, I also know this moment right now certainly isn’t even close to a possibility.
Tomorrow.
I’ll tell him tomorrow.
Luke’s phone rings again, and I hear him answer it. He puts it on speaker again, and it’s loud enough that I can hear it from where I stand in the kitchen.
“Hey, Coach.”
“I’m calling to let you know the league has opened an official investigation. I’m sorry, Luke.”
Luke sighs. “I heard. What’s your guess?”
“It happened eight years ago. If it wasn’t in the media, they wouldn’t even give it a second glance.”
“Fucking Savannah,” Luke mutters.
“It should be pretty cut and dry. I’d guess you’ll know before the end of the week.”
“The end of the week is when I’m supposed to start PT,” Luke says. “If I’m cleared, anyway.”
“Right, and if you get a suspension, you won’t have access to our staff. Dr. Charles recommended a few private practices for both doctors and physical therapists, and I’ve got Mo narrowing it down to the best ones just in case. We’ll have your information transferred to them in the event you need to start and can’t do it with the team doctors. I’m hopeful it won’t come to that.”
“Thanks,” Luke murmurs. “Can you level with me a second?”
“Of course.”
“How bad does this look to Calvin?”
Coach lets out an audible sigh through the phone. My buzzer beeps on my tenderloin, so I take it out to let it rest a few minutes while I strain to hear what he says.
“It doesn’t look good, Luke, but I think what you said in that live thing hit where it was supposed to. You were young, and Cal is judging you by your current commitment and performance, the injury notwithstanding.”
“That’s helpful at least.”
My heart soars that my idea actually worked to sort of get Luke back into Calvin’s good graces. Between that and the fact that Michelle isn’t carrying his kid, there has to be some way to mend their relationship so Calvin isn’t searching for ways to get rid of Luke. “Keep me in the loop.”
“As long as I can, kid. As long as I can.”
“Thanks, Coach.” The call ends, and I pull out the vegetables, slice the meat, and make our plates.
“You want to eat in the kitchen or in there?” I yell.
“Kitchen,” he yells back.
I help him up, and it’s only then I realize I don’t know if it’s actually okay for me to be helping to lift him. I’m not supposed to lift more than twenty-five pounds according to the literature I read in the welcome to being pregnant bag I got from the doctor. I may be bearing more than twenty-five pounds of his weight as he uses me as a crutch to stand.
He hobbles over to the table with his arm around me, and it’s good to see him up and moving around. Once we’re seated and I’ve turned off the television, I start up a conversation.
“So what did Coach say?” I ask.