I don't like it. Not one fucking bit.

The idea of Ellie on a date with another guy, despite how she thought they were just friends, nearly burned a hole through my chest. The more I thought about her with any guy, but in particular Seth-the-fuckboy-Brooks, I wanted to punch my fist through a wall. Any wall worked, even the old brick on all of these buildings, and Seth's face was even better. Preferably I used my non-throwing, left hand but either fist worked.

The only reason I relented was the look in Ellie's eyes, how they practically begged me to trust her. On one hand, I was happy she'd told me. She'd opened up more and I was relieved and encouraged by what she'd told me so far. Since she herself believed somehow she was different, I wanted to know everything about her again.

Even further, I wanted her trust, that foundation cemented back in place because that was how she'd be my Ellie again. But so many of her thoughts and words were double-edged swords. My ego appreciated how she thought about me related to her favorite flowers, but how she then pushed the reminder away for that reason stung more than I admitted to her.

If I thought deeper on my anger, I was irritated at Ellie's decision to go on 'friend-dates,' but more upset at the uncertainty of the entire fucking situation. I wasn't a control freak and wanted Ellie back on her terms, not mine, but her mixed signals chewed at my patience.

I was a patient guy, my past with Ellie demonstrated that I'd always been happy that our relationship progressed on her terms. But I was not okay with my ass on these sidelines while she dated around until she figured out what she wanted with me.

She even kissed me, for fuck's sake. Twice.

I'd thought missing Ellie from a distance was painful, but our current in-limbo situation was borderline torture. Physically, she'd kissed me and moaned my name in the shower. Initially that witnessed event hadn't ended well but, once I was clear-headed in more ways than one, I was flattered by her attraction. Despite how she tossed in her sleep, her presence next to me provided a sense of comfort.

Emotionally, she looked at me with interest in those dark, beautiful eyes, blushed under my comments, and even held my hand. Just the way I felt when she hugged me verified that girl belonged in my arms and no one else's.

All of me, some parts in particular, appreciated when she initiated kissing me just for bringing home her sofa, which only cemented how badly I wanted her. She was right here, in my own two arms, but she wasn't mine.

I can't even tell her all this because I don't know if she'll run like a scared rabbit again.

A slow, deep breath surfaced the painful, obvious truth.

I can't force her to feel things she's not yet ready to feel though.

Appreciation of the progress we had made aside, I wasn't naïve like she thought she wasn't. Guys only asked out girls they liked, including at the rock climbing wall when James looked at Ellie like his long-lost love had returned.

My feelings weren't that I hadn't wanted Ellie to have any friends. Completely the opposite, I was truly, honestly happy that she had friends here. Honestly, I was relieved when I'd learned Charlie, Wes, even Darrius, who hadn't known her full background but had her back in any situation. I wasn't sure about James but there was no fucking way Seth wanted anything other than him in her pants.

I knew I walked a tight line here and badly wanted Ellie's trust back. The last thing I wanted was to be a controlling asshole, she was obviously an adult, and maybe I had nothing to worry about.

Ellie's right, she asked me out.

And I'll tell her everything and we'll deal with it together.

Given my pent-up frustrations, I burned through my post-game workout with a vengeance. I pumped weights until my muscles burned and sweat dripped down from my forehead. The nearly fifty other guys from the offensive team who lifted blurred around me in a sea of dulled noises of weights dropped and racked, grunts, and showboating.

"You alright?" Greg the conditioning coach came into view over my chest press bench, gave me a furrowed look, and grabbed my bar.

"Yeah." I sat up slowly, panted through the post-lift burn, then took a few sips of water from my bottle under the bench.

"Keep that pace up and we'll have two injured quarterbacks," he quipped quietly.

My eyes widened at his words but before I asked for details, Coach Donovan the offensive coordinator stepped into the weights conditioning room dressed in all-black Husky warmup gear. With a few claps of his hands and a hearty, "Listen up!" he had the entire room's attention.

"Hit the showers, then every ass into the film room," he barked out loudly. His eyes skimmed across the room, which was full of the entire offensive team, then landed on mine.

"LT." He flicked his fingers upwards at me. "A word please."

My legs ached warmly as I walked towards where he stood in the entrance of the weight's room, then wiped my sweaty brow with the edge of my shirt.

"Yes Coach?" I asked him. He only cocked his head out of the door, so I followed him into the hallway, where he shut the glass doors behind him. Despite how I was drenched in sweat and probably smelled like my cleats after a game, he looked straight up into my eyes.

"Emmitt dislocated his ankle and has a compound fracture," his grim voice matched his somber expression.

"I'm... sorry." I stared at him because while that injury sounded bad, I actually had no idea what it meant for Emmitt's return.

"He's already had surgery but he's out for the season," Coach Donovan clarified.

At his words, my entire body froze. Even my mind froze for a moment before it became torn in two directions. First, this was horrible news for Emmitt and really unfortunately for the Huskies. But that almost meant -

"Your team now, Hightower," Coach's words carried not only the weight of the entire team and coaching staff, but all of the Huskies' fans. "Shower up, we're going to need you for film review shortly."

"Absolutely," I nodded firmly, then reached out and shook his hand. Even though mine was sweaty, he shot me a look that read I had a lot of work to do and squeezed my hand back.

Unbelievable.

After two hours of film study, which involved an hour with the rest of the offensive team and an extra hour just for me and Jamal Seaton, a redshirt freshman and my new backup quarterback, I came home more tired than I'd thought I'd be. After I left the stadium, my mind fogged over with the idea that, just like that, I was now UW's starting quarterback.

"You gonna watch the announcement?" Like he'd been during the entire meeting, he asked me quietly while we walked out to the parking lot.

Coach Peterson scheduled a press conference for seven pm tonight, during which he'd announce the changes and what they meant for the Huskies. The entire team knew and I'd reached out to Emmitt but his phone was off. I'd left him a message but hadn't known if he recovered from surgery or wanted to be left alone.

"Yeah," I replied absently.

"Good luck, LT," he stuck out his fist, which I bumped lightly.

"You too," I replied and climbed into my truck.

The news that I was now the team's starter for the entire season had sunk in within five minutes of our film review. Arizona's defense was similar to Oregon's, just different players with different strengths. But Coach Donovan's, "We're changing things up, your offense now," words weren't a warning, more of a promise that this week every practice would change.

I still hadn't wrapped my brain around what other changes loomed ahead by the time I got home. Like always, an amazing mix of smells hit me in the hallway and offered me a sense of comfort. I couldn't place all of them, definitely some kind of cinnamon was involved, but my stomach growled loudly in reaction. I unlocked the door, entered quietly, and found Ellie in the kitchen.

She was halfway between the sink and the stovetop, with again what looked like every container and dish dirty on the small counter space. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and the evidence of whatever she'd made today was splattered over her sweatshirt.

"Hey," I called out quietly and stood in the entrance with my bag still over my shoulder and hands stuffed in my pocket.

"Hey," Ellie replied over her shoulder, then stopped when her eyes met mine. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Emmitt's out for the season," I informed her while one hand ran over my hair, then cupped my palm around the back of my neck.

"Oh shit!" She gasped, set down the cooking pan and spatula in her hands, and stepped over towards me. Before I said another word, her arms wrapped around me tightly and she whispered, "I'm so sorry this happened."

"Me too." I paused for a moment, then lifted my arms around her and hugged her against me. "He had surgery over the weekend, Coach Donovan told me a compound fracture."

She pulled back slightly but kept her hands on my sides, then looked up at me with dark, curious eyes. "I... don't know what that means," she admitted softly.

"Me neither," I confessed and gently released her.

"But I know someone who does, let's see if Charlie's home," she replied firmly. After a few movements like how she turned off the stove and set aside anything that was warm, we headed out the apartment door.

Wes greeted us from the door with a tentatively hopeful look in his eyes at Ellie. When he looked down at her empty hands, his smile faded and look turned into curiosity.

"I didn't bring any food," she smiled in amusement. "We wanted to ask Charlie if she knows what happened to Emmitt."

"Come in," he noticeably grimaced at Ellie's mention of Emmitt. "From what I understand, it's not pretty."

"Hey you too," Charlie greeted us from her seat on the sofa, then lifted one arm and shut off their TV.

"Hey Charlie," I said from over Ellie's head.

"Come on in." She tossed the remote on their coffee table and patted the sofa. Ellie sat down and hugged her quickly, then I took the seat on Ellie's left.

Wes flopped down hard on the sofa behind Charlie, which she huffed quietly at, "Like you haven't broken enough."

"We wanted to know if you knew anything about Emmitt," I got right to the point before Wes defended his couch-breaking abilities. "Coach Donovan only told me it's a dislocation and compound fracture, he had surgery, and he's done for the season."

"Yeah," she admitted, cleared her throat, then lifted up one leg and crossed it over the other. After she pulled up her pants, one of her fingers tapped around her ankle with her words.

"The ankle joint kind of has three sides and a roof, fractures can happen in any of these separate areas or more than one. The bottom part of the tibia is the roof and the medial -" she tapped the inside of her ankle, "- while the lower part of the fibula makes up the lateral -" her finger pointed at the outside of her ankle, then the back with, "- and posterior."

"There's also the talus bone," she pointed where the front of her leg attached to her foot, then flexed her toes. "Which connects your foot bones to the ones in your leg, the tibia in front and fibula in the back."

We all sat and silently watched as she hesitated, then glossed over, "In Emmitt's case, it's against patient privacy laws to release the details but he probably also damaged ligaments that connect the bones and stabilize the joints, as well as the soft tissue."

"What's the surgery?" Ellie asked quietly.

"Probably a reduction," Charlie shrugged like she assumed what the surgery actually was. "They go in and set the bones back to where they're supposed to be, maybe even with rods, pins, or screws if needed."

I felt like the ass in the room asking about my former competitor on the team, but curiosity drove my next question, "What's his recovery time?"

Her blue eyes lifted to mine. "Four to eight weeks without bearing weight. If x-rays show it's healing then he can start PT for another six to eight weeks."

Ten to sixteen weeks... pretty much the whole season.

Wes cleared his throat behind her like a garbled teleprompt and Charlie added, "Longer term is the question mark, which depends on how much of the original mobility he retains. But we'll be working with him for the rest of his senior year here, even in the spring, for sure."

Right when she finished, Wes picked up the TV remote again and flipped it on, which drew the attention of our eyes.

"Press conference is on," he muttered and shifted the channel over to ESPN's college channel, where the broadcaster shifted over to a shot of the Huskies' press podium and a purple backdrop with a W-pattern and local advertising banners across it. Within a few seconds, Coach Peterson appeared behind the podium, dressed formally in a dress shirt and khakis compared to his normal purple collared shirt and black track pants.

"Good evening everyone, thanks for attending this," he started and his eyes scanned around what I assumed were some members of the Huskies' press coverage.

"I know it's a Sunday evening so I'll get straight to the point, release a short statement, and answer questions. In yesterday's game, our quarterback Emmitt Verns suffered a high ankle injury, after which he had surgery performed at a Seattle hospital."

Coach lifted a hand towards the Asian man who stood in a white doctor's coat off to the side and behind. "The Huskies' team and coaching staff would like to express our gratitude toward Dr. Chen and his team at the UW Medical Center's Bone and Joint Surgery Center. Thanks to them, Emmitt's surgery was a complete success and the entire Huskies' family send our sincerest wishes towards his recovery."

"Didn't say speedy recovery," Charlie noted quietly.

Coach Peterson shifted slightly, then directed his eyes around again before he nodded at one of the reporters. An unfamiliar voice asked, "Does this mean Emmitt's done for the season or when can we expect him back on the field?"

Coach offered the diplomatic response, "We're taking his recovery slowly and seriously. Once he's fully healed, we expect nothing will keep him off the practice field."

His words prompted every hand in the room up in the air and he nodded at someone who asked, "Logan Hightower had an impressive start filling in after Emmitt left the game. What does this mean for offensive adjustments, given his inexperience and faster snap off the line?"

"I'm not that inexperienced," I muttered more to myself. Ellie obviously heard me, since her hand patted my closest forearm.

Emboldened by her contact, I leaned back and lifted my arm across the back of the sofa behind her shoulders. My move would've been smooth had my hand not brushed over Wes' behind Charlie. He shot me a brief death glare before we both yanked our hands back.

Thankfully, Ellie and Charlie hadn't noticed, or said nothing if they had. Instead, both focused their attention on Coach Peterson's answer that, "Any and all solutions will be pursued."

"Poor Emmitt," Ellie murmured with sympathetic eyes on the TV. Just when I internally commended her kindness, she added "We should do something nice, maybe bring him a hot meal."

I'm sure his stomach is fine.

Wes shared another silent exchange with me over the girls' heads. By the slight frown he wore, he thought along similar lines as me.

"We could," I answered Ellie. "He's in the football house but I'd like to go with you since I want to see how he's doing."

"I'm sure he's milking the sympathy as much as he can," Charlie grumbled quietly. "But it's a painful injury, so we should go too Wes. Especially if they assign his PT recovery to me."

"Sure babe," Wes' words said he was in favor of that idea but his tone of voice and third glance at me showed he was less than enthused at the idea his fiancé brought at-home care to Emmitt.

Can't blame him there.

We sat silently through the next ten minutes of the press conference, where Coach Peterson only indirectly revealed that I was the starter. I wasn't entirely sure but felt like his vague, "Most likely," answer that I assumed was intended to offer me some anonymity.

While it lasts. Wonder what he knows that I don't.

Not one minute after Wes shut off the TV, my phone blew up with messages. The offensive team, at least the backs and the receivers who'd gone through film study earlier with me, had already been informed. But intermixed with reactions from the rest of the team were a few more personal messages. We hadn't caught the post-interview reactions from the sports networks but going off my teammates' reactions, my name was all over the place.

Mom: yay!!! Make me proud, don't choke.

Sashwin: We saw on the news you're leading UW! So excited for you LT. Call if you have some time, understand if you're busy.

Brody: congrats

My stomach clenched slightly at another particular message.

Dad: Saw the press conference. You did it, Liv and I look forward to seeing you play in person.

"Guess the news is out," I muttered down at my phone screen, then looked up and found the entire room's eyes on me. I cut the tension with a smirk at Wes and challenged him with, "Hope you're up to speed."

"I'm excited." Wes grinned, then stretched out his limbs and stifled a yawn. "And tired, so..."

He hung the 'get out' message in the air while Ellie and I got the hint and stood up. She hugged both of them while Wes and I just fist bumped and I nodded at Charlie.

Ellie walked silently next to me in the hallway, not in an uncomfortable silence but I knew by the way her eyes tracked the floor in front of us that she definitely mulled over something.

"You know what this means," she finally responded once our door was shut behind her. While her eyes tracked mine, a million thoughts looked like they ran through her head like she processed her own thoughts.

Before I asked, her lower lip rolled under her teeth for a moment. In the softest confession, her gaze filled with mixed emotions, of which I recognized uncertainty and sympathy. Her voice echoed the same sentiments when she softly said, "Everything will change."