Reading the Defense Ch. 06

Story Info
All good things come together in the final two minutes.
  • August 2011 monthly contest
10.7k words
4.82
33k
30

Part 6 of the 6 part series

Updated 10/29/2022
Created 05/31/2011
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At the complex, Gabe paced quietly across the narrow hallways, waiting for Dr. Simmonds to update several of the coaches on the status of Fabian Velesquez. During the second practice of the day, he had been sprinting along the sideline and been tackled within seconds of catching the ball. All of the players, and especially the three coaches who stood near, heard the crunch as his body collided with a defenseman. Breath swept out of each of their mouths and drifted with the wind, their hearts stopped at the sight of a star player falling to the ground in agony.

Gabe scratched the scruff on his face, a noise broke through down the hall and his eyes followed to see Dr. Simmonds walking toward him and Tony. His pace was slow, but determined. The look in his eyes, told Gabe everything he needed to know.

"His hip is bruised. Nothing's broken but he's going to need to rest." The voice of the younger man was calm, but still shaky.

"Nothing's broken?" Tony blurted the words with brutal force.

"It's hard to tell. We'll need to pull him for an MRI to really see what happened. The tech couldn't see anything obtrusive on the x-rays but I want to run more tomorrow. Off-hand, I'd say if you play him it risks a fracture if it's not already there, and for his own safety you're going to bench him." Dr. Simmonds dropped his voice as the three stood in a section of the coaching unit so nobody else could hear.

"How long do you think, Doc?"

The man was hesitant in answering, seeing the distress on the coaches' faces. "Your guess is as good as mine, only time will tell. We'll start a full evaluation, but forget about playing him anytime within the next four weeks." Dr. Simmonds nodded toward the men. "That's all I've got for now, he's at home resting now. He's coming out and meeting me at the hospital tomorrow by eight. I'll know more then. Look, I'm heading out, he's fine for now." He turned from the men, and began walking down the corridor toward the exit.

Gabe turned to Tony, his frustration boiling over. "Shit. What about Phillips? Do you think he can fill in the gap?"

"We'll have to try him out, I don't know." Tony immediately pulled his phone out and started to make calls out to a few of the other coaches. As he was scrolling through the number listings, he turned to Gabe. "I'm leaving after this." Without waiting for a response, he turned from Gabe and started talking to someone on the telephone as he walked down the hall.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was just after eleven, taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, only to get hit with the overwhelming news floating inside of his head. For the past several weeks, more injuries seemed to be plaguing the team than wins. Having Velesquez out for at least four weeks was going to put the team at a major deficit, which would add more time for studying plays and working with the players. Running a hand through his tousled hair, Gabe rolled his neck and once again looked down at his watch.

The weight of it was getting heavier as each second passed by. Gabe still hadn't heard from Samantha, and he was beginning to feel angry with himself for not talking with her for that long. He'd gotten drunk after the game on Sunday so, Jennings had to drive him back to his house, something he didn't expect, but didn't fight, as he found himself in the passenger seat. Through the car ride, the kid kept telling him to call Samantha in order to snap out of his funk. To make matters worse, he was going to call her just after the afternoon practice, but once the team's physician made an appearance, hours passed filled with a full assessment of the player's injury.

Gabe rubbed his eyes as he walked down the narrow hall at the back toward his own office. He didn't want to go home but he sure as hell didn't want to be near the field. The coach's office he had been stuck in for the past several hours was bare, except for a filing cabinet and an old television screen. The cramped quarters made his thoughts undeniably clear. He was losing the one thing that was most important in his life. For nothing. Grabbing his jacket from the coat rack behind his door, he thrust his arms through and reached into the pocket for his phone. It was an automatic move, something he had done dozens of times. The phone was cold in his large hands, as he pushed through the double doors exiting the complex that was when he looked at the display. Several messages and missed calls were indicated. Gabe started to scroll through the listing and nearly dropped the phone when he saw Samantha's name.

For a second, he almost couldn't breathe. Without hesitating, he quickly listened through the voicemails to hear her voice, but none were left from her. When Gabe got to his truck, he placed the phone on the hood and stared up at the cold November sky. Samantha was calling him, but she wouldn't leave a message. His mind couldn't piece it together, but seeing her name caused hope to surge through him. Hope followed by guilt.

For a confident man, he had lost every ounce of it since their fight over the holiday. He knew that he should have gone to her once she arrived back at home. He should have done something. Gabe begun to miss her in more ways than he could count and knew after he had made the drive back over from Michigan what went wrong with that terrible conversation. Over the course of his relationships, he had always been busy with memorizing plays, training, studying other teams. He had put football first and never put much into the relationships before Samantha, because the other women just gave up. He gave up. The thought made him feel ashamed for his attitude.

Samantha was different; she was putting everything she knew into their relationship without holding anything back. For the past few days, Gabe had thought about what she said over the telephone and could now understand her intentions. He was tired and frustrated at the time, causing him to overreact and completely miss the point. He knew she wasn't trying to burden him, because of his job. But he still wanted to know her thoughts. He wanted to know the good and the bad. Time spent apart from her was just as hard for him. What she was feeling was no different than what he was, they just needed for each other to know and understand that. Since she got back, he didn't know anything that was going on with her.

The only information he had been able to weasel out of Ernie was that Camille was having dinner with Samantha that evening. Deciding to himself that he needed to see her, needed to work on fixing this break between them, he thrust the keys into the ignition and shot onto the expressway in the direction of her house.

Keeping his phone within sight while making the drive, Gabe's eyes kept darting to the dark screen yearning for her call, to hear her voice. Unsure why, but some force told him she just might call. The drive was fast with the evening traffic, and as he pulled up to the townhouse, he hoped, seeing the porch light on, that Samantha might be awake. He took several deep breaths before gaining enough courage to head up to her front door. Never in his life had ever been this nervous, but enough was enough. Cursing himself for not having a key to the house, he peered through the glass windows near the front door. He saw that the light in the hallway was lit but the rest of the house remained dark. She never left lights on, so he knew she was home.

Gabe thought about ringing the doorbell, but glanced down at his watch again and figuring the time, didn't think that was appropriate. All of the windows were closed, and as he walked toward the back of the house, he saw that her bedroom light was on. Looking around for something to throw at the window, a light came on at the side of the house. He straightened as Samantha's neighbor came outside and hollered out at him.

"You don't leave from the back of that house, I'm going to call the police." An elderly woman with a cackling voice shouted out to Gabe.

Gabe squeezed his eyes shut, and wished he remembered the woman's name. Straightening, he walked toward her. "Sorry ma'am, my girlfriend lives here."

"I don't care if your mother lives there," the woman clearly didn't remember meeting Gabe and kept an angry tone to her voice. "It's a little late for breaking in tonight."

"I wasn't breaking in. I just don't have a key to get in." Gabe groaned at the lack of conviction in his statement. It would be a wonder if the woman believed him, since she clearly didn't recognize him.

The woman sucked on her teeth. "Well, I'd say a man snooping around these parts right now isn't any good. A doorbell won't do you any harm."

"Yes, ma'am." The woman walked back into her house and shut the porch light off, leaving Gabe in the darkness. His body shaking with defeat, he never quit something. Never walked away, but this time it was out of his hands and he had to. Slowly walking back to the truck, he shook his head knowing there had to be another way. Just as he unlocked the door, it came to him. A few weeks ago he had come over to her house in between meetings. Samantha was having parent teacher conferences and she had told him that her garage door had a keypad on the side of the wall. Racking his brain he tried to remember the code and tapped the pad of his index finger on the rubber numbers.

"What is the code?" He whispered to himself, hoping that his question would make him remember. After standing in the dark for several minutes he couldn't figure it out and got in the car and pulled out of her drive as failure twisted in him. Nearing the end of the court, the code exploded into his memory. Pulling the truck to a screeching stop, he shifted the gears to reverse and drove the entire length of the street until parking back in her driveway. With a speed he couldn't explain, he jumped out of the truck and rushed over to the keypad punching in the code. After a light clicking sound, the door began to rise.

Relief washed through him and fell deep into his bones as he made his way around her car inside of the garage. Thankfully she never locked the inside door and he hit the button closing the garage door before entering the house. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he stepped inside and felt even more relief as he saw her purse on the floor by the front door. At a quick glance, he noticed a pair of wine glasses on the coffee table and felt even more shame for his boorish behavior. He should not have waited several days to see her. He loved her and she deserved better than that. Following the light in the hallway, he gently walked up the stairs and saw that her bedroom door was slightly open with the lights on. His heart was pounding in his chest, his hands clammy—even so, he took a shaky breath and pushed through the door and walked into the room. The walls were accented by the dim light near the bed, the entire room held the scent of her that he had missed for nearly a week. A scent that had filled his own home and made every night difficult to sleep through entirely without feeling her body curled next to his. Glancing at the bed he saw her sleeping form and almost lost it right there. Emotions tugged at the back of his eyes, muscles he hadn't realized were tense—loosened; Samantha was there. She slept on top of the sheets, her face red and puffy from tears that Gabe knew had fallen earlier. Reaching out, he pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes only to have Samantha stiffen from fear.

Her eyes opened from her slumber, only to widen at the sight of a very disheveled Gabe. Over the past several days, he had given up on shaving let alone caring about eating a meal or remembering a workout. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked tired. A part of her wanted to beat the hell out of him for getting inside, another part wanted to comfort him for the same pain he seemed to be suffering. She wanted to curse herself for the shift in her emotions.

"Gabe—what?" She couldn't finish speaking as all words eluded her.

At the sight of her, Gabe forgot everything and was just as speechless. He forgot why he had originally been mad, forgot how long they had been apart. As he looked down into her face, he had forgotten just how beautiful she was.

"What time is it?"

"Late. I didn't mean to wake you."

Blowing out a frustrated breath, "You didn't mean...How did you get inside?" Her eyes were sad as she gazed at him.

Gabe's voice softened to a near quiet tone. "Through the garage."

Samantha raised an eyebrow and sat up in the bed, even in the darkness he could see her hurt and wanted to blurt out everything but his memory deserted him. "What are you doing here, Gabe?" Her nervous tone made him realize the mistake he'd made by not being there for her on Saturday and then showing up in her room wasn't doing anything but add more to the grievance.

"I wanted to talk to you."

Samantha's brow furrowed, "Now?"

Gabe could see the frustration building in her, hear it in her voice. "Sam, please...." Samantha dropped her eyes, struggling to stay strong, her head shook slowly. Gabe knew she was uncomfortable and started to stand up from the edge of the bed. "This isn't right. I should go."

He heard a sad sigh, and saw her eyes moving back and forth trying to read his. Gabe drank in the sight of her; she seemed tired and sad and could only blame himself for the play of emotions on her face. He wouldn't be surprised if she kicked his ass out, but the tremor in his voice stilled her. Samantha scooted closer to Gabe who was looking down at her from the side of the bed, reaching out she touched his arm lightly. "I don't want you to go."

Encouraged by her invitation and caving to her magnetic pull, he sat back down on the bed. Without thinking, his mouth started to move. "I don't even know how to start this."

She stopped him with the feather light touch of her fingers on his lips, her voice as quiet as a midnight breeze. "I'm sorry, Gabe." Gabe's mouth fell slightly open, his breath coming out in shallow gulps. "I should have been honest with you from the beginning, but you have to understand that this is all so new to me. I'm still learning how to deal with a different lifestyle. But I never,never, wanted you to think that I blamed you."

"So why didn't you come to me?" Samantha could see the pain in Gabe's eyes, she hadn't realized that she had been clutching his arm and started to stroke it lightly.

"I was scared to bring it up." Gabe pushed himself away ever so slightly, Samantha stilled her stroking, and tightened her grip around his bicep. "I know that you are busy, and for the most part, my frustrations are personal, Gabe. I'm dealing with sharing my time with you, and would never forgive myself for putting a strain on your career."

Gabe kept an intent gaze at her as she spoke quietly. "When we were talking on the phone—" Samantha paused, taking a deep breath. "When you thought I was bothering you—you're only half right."

"Sam, I don't ever want you to think that you are bothering me."

"Gabe, it's nothing any other person wouldn't go through. I didn't feel like I could just come to you because I didn't know how to deal with you all of the time. With all of this, but I kept dealing and didn't want to pressure you with my feelings that would eventually pass."

"Samantha, your feelings are not nothing. I don't want to lose you overnothing."

"You're not going to lose me. I just needed to figure out how to respond."

Gabe looked at her as though she hadn't spoken, but heard every word. "Without telling me." Frustration beginning to build in his voice. "When did you feel like you couldn't come to me?"

Her voice was quiet, "From the beginning." Gabe's eyes dropped and a dejected expression crossed his face. Samantha immediately picked up on his reaction and tried to explain. Reaching out, she touched his scruff, with a finger she tugged his face back up to look at her. "Not in the way you are thinking."

"Well, then tell me what this is all about."

"When we started dating, I got swept up by you and didn't think about your schedules, the way you might not be able to be around all of the time. But then you started to get swamped with certain players, studying and your meetings. We'd only see each other once a week or something like that, it started to creep up."

Gabe interrupted her before she could finish. "But that doesn't explain why you didn't just tell me."

A wary twitch tinged her soft lips, but died almost instantly. "The reason I have not been telling you how I felt was mainly because I know that football is a major priority in your life. After knowing you for five minutes, anyone could tell how important it is to you. Your life revolves around it. I think that's wonderful." Samantha shot Gabe a meaningful look. "But I can't lie to you and say that every day I am happy when I can't see you. It's difficult."

Gabe continued to look at her, with that same dejected gaze. Reading her face, trying to understand her words. "Please, Gabe. This is hard for me to be telling you this." Never one to voice her concerns, she was sitting next to the man she loved and needed to be honest.

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't. It's not that I feel I'm a burden to you. I don't want to stand in the way or weigh you down with my reactions. Which I realize now, were ridiculous and normal but still-I never wanted to hurt you."

For several moments they sat there, Samantha's words registering in Gabe's mind. Thinking of what his family had been saying, and remembering his talk with Marcus, Gabe needed to be straight with Samantha. "I have always put football first. Anyone else came second. When we met I couldn't get over how lucky I was, you are perfect for me in every way. My mind wanted to fight the urges to see you but I couldn't get enough of being with you, making me try that much harder to be with you when I could, but still keep to my old ways."

Samantha stared at Gabe not knowing what to say.

"I guess I was afraid to do both and be able to make them both work. I wanted to be the best I could be for you and still be effective on the field." He fell silent, finally letting himself go with her.

"This is what I've been saying Gabe. I don't ever want to be someone that comes between you and your career."

"Sweetheart, it's a job. It's not what makes me laugh, makes me happy or turns me on. No offense, but I really don't want to wake up next to Jamal Wallace every single morning for the rest of my life."

Samantha couldn't hold back and laughed at that, she couldn't imagine waking up next to Jamal either. "He's way too big! I think you'd fight over who got the covers."

This time Gabe joined her in their laughter but sobered as Samantha traced his jaw with her fingers. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before pulling back. "I'm sorry for yelling at you on the phone, sweetheart. God, I'm sorry. All I heard was burden and lost it. This is just as hard for me."

"Is it?"

"Being with me is not easy. I'm not used to wanting to get away every chance I can get. Rushing out to you with game film and notes, knowing I won't get any sleep, let alone any work done the minute I am with you."

Samantha's brow furrowed, her voice dropped low. "You always get work done though."

"I know, but it's different."

Her hands trailed from his jaw, and stilled on his chest, "I know your job is demanding but I want you to know that I'm more than just a phone call. That I'm--" She broke off unsure how to word her thoughts.

"That I am as important as football." She looked up warily at him. The corner of his mouth turned up causing the dimple high in his cheek to pop out.

"Sam, the minute I leave the complex I have to go somewhere. I have always stumbled home and watched more game film, studied up until I slept thinking about the next day filled with practices. When we met, my priorities changed. You are more important than football sweetheart, more than you will ever know. I can't escape the demands of my job, but I can't turn my back on the way I feel about you. I don't ever want to lose you." Her body froze on the bed as his eyes bore down into hers. Taking a deep breath, he spoke the words he'd known from the minute he caught her at the bar. The words that cushioned his dreams as he slept thinking about her. Words that made him whole.