Reading the Defense Ch. 05

"It's because you'd cheat."

He scoffed at her. "How do you figure? I'm as fair as the next guy."

"Yes you are, but you're also very competitive. Was there any tripping?"

On the other end, the corner of Gabe's mouth kicked up at the thought of the game. "No, but Tara's husband tipped the ball and I called him out so my niece could get her hands on it." Samantha dissolved into giggles; Gabe just sat back and listened until she sobered.

Breathing into the phone, he got serious. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, coach."

Gabe shifted into the next lane on the expressway; he let out a large breath before speaking again. "I wish I was with you right now, I should be with you."

It was exactly what she wanted to hear, but she felt the need to ask him. Of all the times, this was it for her. "I know, but you're not and it's only for another day."

"Yeah, still. It was stupid."

"Gabe, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You've already said why you stayed, but...was that really it?"

On the other end, Gabe ran a hand through his hair and spoke gruffly. "Yes and no. I did need to come out here for my family, but the minute I got here, I wasn't here and they all knew it."

On the other end Samantha hugged the sweater tighter around her body, waiting to hear what Gabe had say, he spoke hesitantly. "Looking back when you first asked me, I should have just gotten the tickets then...."

His voice started to sound gargled as the signal began to fade from Samantha's phone. She quickly moved to a clearing in the yard, not wanting to miss whatever he was going to say—but failing miserably. "Dammit! This phone, I swear!"

"Sam?" He laughed as her curse came clearly on the line, something she never did.

"Gabe? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, why are you shouting?"

"Oh, sorry! I lost you for a second. What were you saying?"

"Nothing."

"Gabe, please. The service here is garbage, and the phone cut you off. You were saying something important."

Gabe sighed, god he really missed her just then but had a nagging feeling about something he couldn't put a finger on. "I wanted to come with you, but I owe this club. Part of the team is my responsibility, and with that responsibility comes forfeiting my wants. For the sake of the guys, my time has to stay focused on getting them as far as they can go."

"You're taking everything on your shoulders, Gabe. You only have control of so much, and that's okay. What are you forfeiting?"

For a second she didn't think he would respond, she was more surprised by her brute honesty in asking. "Us. You. Time with you."

"Gabe, I already told you. Your job has its demands, and as much I don't want to—I understand them."

The conversation with his family earlier crept up and acted as a reminder. "That's what you say, but how do you really feel? You don't get mad, you don't get upset."

Samantha could hear the frustration rising in his voice and wondered where the turn in their conversation had occurred. "Gabe, I am going to support you regardless of how many hours we see each other. As long as we are together, that's what counts, right?"

"That doesn't answer anything." His tone was nowhere near hiding its indignant force.

"What just happened here? Why are you so upset?"

"I'm not upset. I'm just trying to figure things out."

Calming herself, Samantha tried to speak evenly. "What's to figure out, Gabe? I'm not mad that you stayed. You're doing what you have to do, I'm even happy if anything--because you stepped away today to see your family. Clearly something has set you off, because of this temper you're in."

He scoffed at her response. "I need to know something."

Samantha answered warily, "Okay, what is it?"

"When I couldn't make it out to the dinner party last week, how much did that bug you?"

Samantha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "At first it really upset me—" Gabe let out a large breath into the phone, causing Samantha to speak quickly. "But I got over it; it's not my place to get mad at you. I'm not going to be that crazy girlfriend chasing you, because I don't get things my way all of the time."

Several long seconds went by before he spoke. "Why don't you ever tell me? I know the timing is shit, but I should at least know you're upset."

Gabe was right, Samantha felt that deep down. He did deserve to know, why hadn't she listened to her gut, let alone everyone else she had talked with before? Speaking quietly, "Because I didn't want to burden you with something stupid that would eventually pass."

"Is that what you think you are to me? A burden?"

"What? No, Gabe. That's not what I meant."

"It sure as hell sounded like it. So let me get this straight, you didn't want to bother me with the things you are upset with because you were afraid it would burden me? Like I don't care about you. Does that sound about right?"

Heat flushed her up her neck as the anger started to pass through Samantha. "Bother you? This phone call is bothering me, how do you like that for an answer?"

"At least you're telling me it fucking bothers you now."

Samantha stopped her pacing in the yard and dropped her voice dangerously low. "When would you like me to fill you in? The day before a game--and have you step out onto the field angry and frustrated? I wouldn't ever want to do that to you."

"I can handle a bitch fest better than you think, Sam."

"I'm not a player, coach so stop talking to me like one."

Gabe remained silent on the other end of the phone; Samantha could hear the wind blowing from an open window so she knew they were still connected. When he didn't respond, Samantha couldn't take anymore. She didn't have it in her to simply hang up so she voiced her anger at him. "You're tired, I'm tired—but quite honestly Gabe I don't appreciate you attacking me out of the blue. I think I need to hang up."

"...Sweetheart."

"I don't think so. Now I'm your sweetheart? A minute ago I'm your burden, maybe you'd better get your titles right." She fought back the tears that ached to fall, wishing she could get through this conversation before releasing them.

"I don't want to hang up with you like this, Sam." Gabe's voice was strained but the anger wasn't quite as audible.

"Does it really matter how we hang up right now, Gabe? Because I have nothing more to say to you, and really don't feel like being screamed at."

"Yes, it matters."

"Why?" When he didn't answer, Samantha rolled her eyes and tried to sound confident. "It's late."

"I'm sorry." Even to her ears, the words sounded nothing like an apology.

"I'll believe that, when you actually mean it."

"What the hell else do you want from me, Sam?"

Frustration seethed at her soul, "nothing more than what you're already giving me. " An uncomfortable silence fell between them, Samantha blew out long breath. "Look, why don't we talk when I get back to Chicago."

"...Sam." She waited for him to say something more, but he didn't.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't worry about picking me up at the airport, I'll call Liz. Goodnight Gabe." Before she could give him any time to talk, Samantha hung up. That was it. No--see you soon. No--sleep well. No--nothing. Her body was shaking as she stood there, in the middle of the yard, absorbing what had just happened. All of this time, she thought she had been doing the best thing, but hearing the hurt and anger in his voice, she had badly misjudged. As the weekend was fast approaching, her biggest fear overcame her. Samantha didn't want Gabe going into his meetings, practices--anything at all--troubled over their fight. It was the last thing she had ever wanted, but knew because of the man he was, it was bound to happen. She needed to breathe, needed take a day to think about finding a resolution. She needed to be by herself to sort out everything that was racing through her.

****

Saturday could not have come fast enough for Samantha. After barely shedding a tear at the airport saying her goodbyes with her family, she boarded the plane back to Chicago and used the hours to really think about what was going on around her.

She realized while being around her nephews just how much she loved her job and missed her kids more than expected. They brightened her days and made them challenging at the same time. The time she had to herself, though little, she used it to brainstorm, develop ideas as well as put final touches on some of her curriculum items that were set for December. On top of her students, she was eager for the dinner dates with all of the ladies, after getting a message from Liz from the day before. Liz had called in a fit about her mother controlling the food her son should be eating, and whispered into the phone in between her taking drinks from a glass that Samantha could only assume held a lot of wine.

Mostly, she was anxious and more than nervous to see Gabe. She'd missed the warmth of his body as he wrapped his large frame around her at night. The way he held her hand whenever they were together. She missed the way he mumbled to himself when he watched game film. Mostly, she just missed him. She was still furious over the turn of events from their ugly conversation. Samantha knew she had done a terrible wrong against him by keeping quiet, however good her intentions.

Those intentions didn't hide the reality. If she was going to keep their relationship, she needed to be all in and forego any cowardice. He was trying his hardest to keep her involved, so she needed to do the same. Even if the truth hurt at times. Finally understanding the root of her insecurity, she felt confident about seeing him but knew that it would take a few more days before seeing him to fully calm her nerves. The past few days had been lonely without him, and she didn't want to have something wonderful crack under pressure.

The weight of the weekend caught up as she sat in the cramped plane seat, and sleep eluded her. Before she knew what was happening, her body jolted from the precious sleep she managed to catch as the plane landed and she was being ushered out to Liz's car near the arrivals at the airport.

"You look like hell." Liz could hardly hold her tongue as she saw her friend slump into the passenger seat.

"I feel it. Thanks for picking me up, Liz."

Liz shrugged her shoulders, and steered the car out to the lane leading toward the expressways. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Samantha didn't want to talk about anything; she was tired and emotionally drained. Even in her fitful rest on the plane, she had dreamt of Gabe. In her dreams she heard his laugh, and found herself trying to curl her body into that sound, only to bump into the passenger next to her. "Not tonight." She twisted her head on the headrest to look over at Liz. "I just can't Liz, I'm sorry."

Liz patted her friend's knee before turning her attention back to the road. "Take your time Sam, I'm here for you whenever you want to talk."

All she could do was nod her head, before closing her eyes. She didn't want to get another lecture, even if it was from Liz. Samantha knew what her friend would say, and for this night, 'I told you so' would only bring tears to her eyes.

****

The following night Gabe was pissed off, frustrated and nursing the third loss in a row for the Cougars. The only place that welcomed his foul mood was a creaky stool in front of the bar at Bandidos. With his body hunched over the bar, he tapped his fourth whiskey and soda with his index finger. He didn't give a shit that the Cougars were falling to damn near the last place in their conference. No, he didn't. Why should he? He was pushing himself--pushing the men as far as all of them could go, and look where that had gotten them! Fucking nowhere.

His head was fuzzy from the alcohol, but he didn't care. It wasn't the loss that was bothering him, not even the whiskey could numb his thoughts over her. He hadn't talked to Samantha since Thanksgiving; she hadn't even called him after she landed back in town. Even in his hazy state, Gabe couldn't blame her for not calling the night before. After their fight erupted and she hung up, Gabe immediately back-tracked, regardless of what had been said and figured he would pick her up at the airport. All season Fabian Velesques had been battling one injury after the next, and when Dr. Simmonds pulled the coaches aside to say he was placing the Linebacker on reserve, he found himself stuck at the Cougars' complex. He felt like an ass for not being able to get her, even felt both of their words snap back at him, but still couldn't get away from the demands of his job.

Later that night, he'd driven like a demon to get to her house only to find the lights all turned off. Cursing himself for forgetting the security code on her garage door, he left wondering how he was going to make it up to her. When he tried calling her earlier in the morning, he was greeted by only her voicemail. During half-time he'd tried calling her again, only to find the same response.

Frustration cut through him; god he didn't want to lose her. He was giving her everything he'd ever given another woman in his life before. Every single spare minute was given to her; Gabe wanted that time and more with her but could only offer so much during the months of a season. After he'd talked to his family, he'd started to doubt some of Samantha's reactions and began to get worried; which only led to him blowing up at her on the phone. Before he could analyze himself further, a figure loomed next to him. Turning his head took too much effort, so he just ignored the visitor.

"You have a driver tonight, Coach? Because I don't think any cabbie is going to drive you around." A deep voice issued the casual question. It was a voice that told Gabe, 'we're on the same playing field tonight,' and all authority and seniorities, meant nothing.

"Why the fuck not?"

"If you don't mind me saying, Chicago's Dream Team—is slipping."

"It's your damn feet that's slipping." Marcus Jennings scoffed and took a seat next to Gabe. He signaled for the bartender and ordered a beer.

After a few long moments of harsh silence, Gabe gave into the kid. "Why the hell don't you walk right out the front door? I don't need you looking after me."

"You sure about that?"

Gabe mumbled something before taking a sip of his drink. While holding the short glass in his hand, he turned to face Jennings. "I'm not going to sit here and talk to you like some pansy."

"Did I ask you to say anything? I just sat down in a free seat." Marcus quieted and turned his attention to the television screens behind the bar. The two men sat there, without talking for some time. With the team's loss, the bar was quiet. The few people left watching sports center, had felt the angry cloud of testosterone coming off of Gabe and decided to leave him alone. Even in his drunken stupor, Gabe couldn't take the quiet and decided to talk to the younger man next to him.

"You got something to say kid, then fucking say it."

Jennings looked over at Gabe and raised an eyebrow at his slurred words. He nodded his head towards the older man. "What'd you do to her?"

The ice in the glass clinked as Gabe tipped it back to take a swig. "What makes you think it was me?" He didn't like being blamed, but felt the numbing of the alcohol and was willing to listen to the kid out.

"You rage, coach. It had to be you."

Gabe looked over at Marcus, "You know what your problem is? You don't squeeze your toes. On the snap, you gotta stop walking backwards and squeeze." Jennings looked over at Gabe without saying anything and listened. Even drunk, the man was making perfect sense. "Tomorrow, pull your inside arm back and throw out the outside. You've got to think out there, shit doesn't come to you. You have to make it come to you."

Marcus nodded at him, knowing that he would show up at the practice field earlier than the other players and would work on improving his launch out of the line of scrimmage. Sipping his beer, he tread lightly with Gabe. "You cheating on your woman?"

Gabe nearly choked on the whiskey. "Hell no, why would you say that?"

Marcus shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. Get you to talk, I guess."

God help him, Gabe took another sip of his drink and began to feel comfortable with the kid. Before he could pull the sentimental bullshit card, Jennings spoke first. "You know what I think—I think you got issues at home."

Gabe scoffed, "and what makes you think I'm going to spill my guts to you?"

"I'll tip you with another round."

With a deep breath, Gabe turned his attention to the television screens behind the bar. Giving in, he spoke quietly. "We had a fight." He caught a quick glance at Jennings before he kept talking. "I don't even know what happened. One minute we were talking and laughing, the next minute I was yelling at her over stupid shit." Marcus took a swig of beer and waited patiently for Gabe to continue. "It's because your other coaches didn't give a shit if you could start right, they only cared you were fast." Gabe looked at Marcus and nodded at his feet.

Marcus had been trying to break his patterns, but was finding it difficult. Gabe was right; his other coaches had overlooked his potential and only seen speed. He needed Gabe's help, and absorbed every slurred word about rip releases to how much weight to keep on his front foot. "So, what the hell are you doing here and not groveling at her place?"

"I don't grovel for anyone." Gabe dropped his head slightly and lowered his eyes. "She won't take my calls. We've been together for months, and she won't even take my calls now."

"She might not take your calls, but she might open the front door for you."

"This coming from a man who had eight guys attacking him last week on the field, for his own woman issues."

"I had that coming, but don't tell yourself you know all of your teammates' ex-girlfriends, groupies or whatever the hell else you want to call them, just so you can sleep at night."

Gabe turned his head and raised both of his brows. "Don't look at me like that. How was I supposed to know? She came up to me, and it was easy."

For the first time in days, Gabe started to laugh. The sound burned in his chest, but felt good. "You mean she was easy."

Marcus shook his head. "I thought we were talking about your woman?"

"Your issues are easier to deal with." Gabe pushed his glass aside and rested his elbows on the bar.

"They're dealt with. I broke up with Cameron, the guys still think I'm an ass because she was with Baxter first. They'll get over it. What else is there?"

Gabe shrugged his shoulders and the two men fell into casual talk, revealing nothing and exposing everything. For some reason, there was a lot more to the younger man than what Gabe had known, and as he talked—Gabe found himself listening.

Failure curled deep within him, Samantha not showing up at the game was one thing, but having Camille also not show up was something else entirely. He knew that they were together. When he asked Ernie during the third quarter about his wife's absence, the man wouldn't say a word. Feeling so much at a loss, that was when he came out to the bar. A place where he could lose himself and not have to think about how he lost the one thing that had become more important, more valuable than anything else. And yet, as he sat talking with Marcus, he sulked.

****

"You can't just avoid him, Sam." Camille was the first one to stop Samantha in her words.

"It's only been a few days, I'm working my way up to it."

"A few days too many, if you ask me."

It was a Tuesday evening; Samantha had not spoken to Gabe in almost a week. When she had flown home, she didn't want to think about what went wrong so she had submerged herself in work. Missing the game was one of the hardest things she had done, and she could only be thankful that Camille was willing to sit with her in her classroom taking down decorations and listening to the awful blow-up that happened on Thanksgiving.