Delicate Us

Chapter 19

An unnerving discomfort settled into Trace's chest the moment he left Syler's home this morning, and that feeling resonated, even when it was only an hour before the game started.

He was warmed up and ready, but his mind was still with Syler. Carrying her off stage was heartbreaking. He was just glad he had chosen to swallow his temper and leave Madds unharmed just in time to see her collapse. The impulse to slug him was there, resting beneath his skin, and it felt like the wrong choice to have let him go. He hurt Syler. He blackmailed her. An enemy to her was an enemy to him. But, he thought maybe Syler would have been proud of Trace for walking away.

He was dressed in his red and white uniform, trying to relax and get his head on straight before the game began. He sat on a bench in the locker room, blocking out the chatter of his teammates.

When his phone buzzed on the shelf in the locker, he reached for it.

"Hey."

"Is Syler okay?" his sister asked.

Trace scrubbed his face with his hand. "I think so. The doctors released her to rest at home."

"So, she's just home alone? Want me to go stay with her?"

Trace laughed. "Yeah, I'm not sending her super fan over while she's trying to rest."

"I won't act crazy! She's just another human being... who I idolize, and be in the home of! Does she have a whole studio there—yeah, don't send me over."

"Thanks for checking in, Lucy."

A tap on the shoulder stole Trace's attention. When he looked, his teammate Preston was staring down at him with stardust in his blue eyes.

"Hey, is that Lucy?" he mouthed, pointing at his phone then raking back his curly dark tresses.

Trace rolled his eyes, placed his phone on his shoulder, and shoved Preston away with a hand. "Touch her and die," I teased. I put the phone back to my ear, hearing Lucy say, "I heard that. You talking to Preston?"

I shook my head and hung up.

Preston reapproached the bench. "Come on, man. Your sister is—"

"Don't finish that sentence," I warned, standing up.

Preston smiled, his tan skin already glistening with sweat from the warm ups and the stuffiness of the locker room. He raised his hands in surrender, and turned back around. With a sigh, he grabbed his phone again and took a seat, hoping to see something from Syler, but his eyes landed on two texts from Kyle.

When he opened it, his eyes fell on an image of Syler and Madds kissing. It triggered a chain reaction of doubt to crumble through him. His initial thought was that she was kissing him back. It appeared that way. Her eyes were closed. He leaned over her and it didn't look like she was pulling away. Trace wasn't much for analyzing body language, but he couldn't deny that she looked... happy? Was it the alcohol? How much had they drank at the time the photo was taken? Perhaps something more had happened that night.

Or was this just his jealousy talking? The idea of her lips on anyone else's was unfair, but actually seeing it was torture.

The image burned an imprint into his mind that he feared wouldn't leave. It stuck to him like glue in his lungs.

Before his eyes moved to the message of Kyle's text, he turned off his phone and put it back in his locker with a bit more anger than expected. The loud clang of the phone on the metal shelf, echoed through the locker room.

"Uh oh, that's not a good look to have before a game," Preston announced as he rounded the bench and leaned against a series of closed lockers to look at Trace.

"I just saw a photo of her kissing someone else. I didn't need to see that." Trace rubbed the back of his buzzed head and pressed his lips together.

"Yikes. I'm sorry, man." He shrugged. "But she does have a long history of chewing men up. Not surprised. She can get whoever she wants. And I'm sure she wants more than one person. More material for her career—"

With the wrath of a viper, Trace snapped, "You're not helping." This wasn't about her ending things with him. Preston didn't know... anything about their relationship.

Preston slapped Trace on the back. "Oh, come on, you didn't think she'd stay, did you? Your worlds are polarizingly different. Her attention span with men has got to be that of a fruit fly. Anyone that successful, you have to question how they got there—"

"You don't know her."

"Neither do you, man."

It struck him in an odd way. Maybe he didn't. He was just another dumb guy lusting over her. Trace wished he could know the truth from that night. What if—what if she had lied? Madds was at the concert. Had she invited him? Had she said something to make him think he stood a chance?

Preston continued like he had saved all this in his mind and was given an opportunity to unleash it. "It's been an alarmingly short amount of time. Don't let her screw up your mind. It'll screw up your career. And we need you on that field today and every other day. She's nothing in the grand scheme of things."

"I may not have been playing today without her attention," he pointed out before standing and closing the door to his locker.

"And why would she possibly care about you? You have to wonder that."

Why was Preston so keen on telling him to move on? What did their relationship look like with an outside perspective? Pity? Charity? Perhaps Trace was missing something. Or perhaps Preston was right. Why had Syler latched onto him? Because of his temper? That couldn't be right. That couldn't be it. There are a ton of other football players with tempers and a lot nicer of a personality. There are martial artists who could protect her better if that was what she was really after. "When are you going to say something supportive?"

Preston sighed and added, "I know how much you liked her."

His heart pounded loud enough to hear what was wrong in Preston's statement. The word "like".

He didn't like her. He loved her. Trace had fallen for Syler.

And he was just now realizing that had been a huge mistake.

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