AN: I'm back already. So, my updates are sporadic based on my muse. Right now, we're doing good, and I'm hoping I can keep it up, but don't freak out if I go dark again. I'll return.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing the last chapter. *heart eyes motherfucker*

Huge spanks to my pre-readers, PurpleBrina and May!!

Chapter Nineteen

-Nothing Equals Something-

Hours of talking, kissing, and drifting off in each other's arms have passed, and now the soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm orange glow on Edward's semi-scuffed face. His features, softened by sleep, look even more handsome in this gentle light. I lie with him, our limbs entwined in his hotel bed, feeling the heat of his body radiate into mine.

The steady rhythm of his breathing is comforting, a soothing metronome that drowns out the world outside. It's a rare, fleeting moment of peace in the chaos of our lives, a sanctuary built from whispered words and shared breaths. As I watch the play of light and shadow on his skin, a sense of contentment washes over me. This moment feels sacred as if time itself has paused.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

A harsh knock shatters the serenity. Edward's eyes snap open, and I feel his body tense. My heart races as I meet his gaze. We both know who it is.

"It's Coach," Edward whispers. "He can't find us together."

The knock comes again, louder and more insistent. "EC, I know you're in there!" Coach's stern tenor leaves no room for argument.

We leap from the bed, hearts pounding, and fumble to dress. He's yanking up his boxer briefs while I wrestle with my bra, my hands shaking. The urgency is a living thing between us, making every second feel too slow.

"We need to hide you," Edward says, his eyes darting around the room. The closet is too obvious, and under the bed, it is too risky. He glances at the bathroom and nods. "Go," he urges, piling my clothes in my arms and gently pushing me towards it. "Stay quiet, and don't come out until I say it's safe."

I nod, my breath catching as I hurry inside. We stare at each other one last time before the door closes.

"I'm not sorry," he mouths.

Tossing my clothes over my shoulder, I put my ear to the door to listen. There's a conversation in the living room, and I pray it stays there.

"Coach," Edward's voice gets louder. "What are you doing?"

They're in the bedroom now.

"Just checking in on my star player," Coach replies. "You're not up to any funny business, are you?"

From my hiding spot, I can't see them, but I hear every agonizing second. Edward's laugh is light, but there's a strain. "No, sir. I know better than to risk the game on something like that."

"Yeah. Right." Coach is closer now, and I can almost feel the weight of his skepticism. "But that was before this girl. Now, I'm starting to think there's nothing you won't risk for her."

There's rustling, and I have a hard time figuring out what's going on.

Edward remains composed. "Coach, why are you going through my trash?"

The noise stops abruptly. "Damn," the coach says in disappointment.

"Coach, are you looking for condom wrappers?"

I feel a flush of embarrassment. Was he really looking for evidence that I've been here? In such a gross, intrusive way?

The coach clears his throat. "Just cleaning up."

"Because, even if Bella had been here, she's pregnant, and we haven't needed those for a while." I wish to see Edward's face, but the door and secrecy blind me. "Unless you're looking for something else."

"No, no. Everything looks fine here."

The floor creaks; Coach is moving closer to the bathroom door. I watch in horror as the doorknob twists down. It's slow agonizing, and my heart pounds, panic surging through me.

I see the end of Edward's career flash before my eyes.

"Coach, there's something important about our defensive setup I noticed earlier," Edward speaks up, suddenly having an urgent tone. "Can we go over it together? I think it could make a difference in the second half."

The doorknob goes back to its resting position. I silently beg for him to back down. Each passing second feels like an eternity and my anxiety spikes. Edward's forced calm is my only hope.

"Is there any reason you would try to keep me out of this bathroom, Cullen?"

Edward doesn't lie; he deflects. "I get why you're here, but I'm focused and ready."

"Focused, huh? Well, it's almost seven, and you're still in bed. The EC, I know, would already be at the stadium, in the gym, throwing balls and prepping for the game," the coach scoffs, disgusted. "I don't know this EC."

Edward replies, calmer than I feel. Behind this door, I am fuming. "Maybe the EC you know never had to deal with everything I have on my plate right now," Edward replies, his voice steady but edged with frustration. "But that doesn't mean I'm not ready for this game."

"Actions speak louder than words, Cullen. This team must come above all else," the coach says. "You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," Edward says, and I hear him grinding his teeth." The team comes before anything else in my life, including Bella."

"And she's okay with that?" Coach asks not Edward, but me, knowing dang well that I am only inches away.

"Does she have a choice?" Edward snaps back.

I sense the shift; the coach isn't used to this defiance. Before me, there was zero back-talk or rule-pushing.

"You've been pushing boundaries since she showed up, and it ends now. You either follow the rules or find yourself traded next season," Coach warns.

"No, no, no," I say in a whispered panic.

How have things spiraled so out of control?

I want to intervene to stop Edward from making a huge mistake, but my feet are glued to the floor. I am paralyzed by the fear that I might say or do the wrong thing. What if my involvement only made the situation worse?

"No offense, Coach, but this is bullshit. I've poured my heart and soul into this team, sweating through every practice and playing through every injury. I've given everything I have. And now, the one time I slip up, the one time I'm not your perfect golden boy, you want to write me off like I never mattered? Is that it?"

"Listen, I get that you're angry, but this isn't about writing you off. It's about accountability. We all make mistakes, but how we respond to them defines us. This attitude isn't helping anyone, least of all you."

Edward's voice flares, laced with frustration. "This is ridiculous," he spits. "You think you can just walk into my private space and throw around accusations without any proof? I've done everything you've asked and more. This is about control, not accountability."

"You need to watch your tone, Edward. This is not just about you. This is about the team. Your actions affect everyone."

There's a pause, the tension in the air almost tangible. Edward speaks again, but it's lower, closer. "And I've always put the team first, even when it cost me. But this? This invasion of privacy, this distrust? It's too much. You're pushing me to a breaking point."

Coach's response is measured but stern. "You're not irreplaceable, Cullen. There are plenty of players who would kill for your spot. If you can't keep your head in the game, maybe it's time for a change."

Edward, barely controlling his irritation, replies, "You don't get it, do you? I am focused. I'm more focused than I've ever been. But I won't stand here and let you undermine everything I've worked for because of your paranoia."

Another tense silence follows, heavy and suffocating. Coach finally speaks, his tone unreadable. "Prove it, then. Show me on the field. But this attitude? It stops now."

Edward's breath is audible, his anger palpable even through the closed door. "Fine. But don't expect me to respect you after this. You've crossed a line."

There's a brief pause before Coach replies, his voice still cold. "Just get it done, Cullen. We'll see what you're really made of."

The footsteps retreat, and I wait until the door finally closes with a definitive click. Edward's heavy breathing is the only sound left, a testament to the storm that has just passed.

I slowly open the bathroom door, my heart racing from the tense exchange. Edward stands in the middle of the room, his fists clenched and his jaw set in a hard line. He looks more angry than I've ever seen him, his eyes dark with fury.

"Edward," I whisper, stepping out cautiously. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't respond immediately, his chest heaving as he tries to rein in his emotions. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and controlled, but I can hear the underlying rage. "He had no right. No right to come in here and treat me like that."

I move closer, reaching out to touch his arm, but he flinches, stepping back abruptly. The pain of his rejection cuts deep, a sharp ache in my chest. "I know. I heard everything."

Edward looks at me briefly, his anger momentarily giving way to a flicker of concern, but his eyes remain troubled and distant. "Did he scare you? I'm so sorry, honey. I never wanted you to be dragged into this."

I swallow hard, trying to push past the hurt. "I'm okay. I was just worried about you."

His eyes soften slightly, but the anger doesn't entirely leave. "This isn't over. He's pushed me too far. I've given everything for this team, and he thinks he can just…"

I want to reach out again, but the memory of his flinch stops me. "We'll figure it out. But right now, you need to calm down. Don't let him get to you."

Edward takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. "I can't let him win. But it's hard, Bella. It's so hard."

I step closer, hesitating, before speaking softly. "I know. But you're strong. And you'll get through this."

He looks at me, his expression conflicted, and then he forces a smile. "You're right. Shit, it's getting late. You should get back to your hotel room and get ready for the game."

"Okay," I say, desperately wanting Edward to hold me, but things are weird between us, so I turn back to the bathroom to get my clothes.

"Jesus, Bruiser." Edward groans as he grabs my waist and pulls me back to him. He puts his arms around me, but something feels different, off. His hug is brief and strained, and when he kisses me, there's a distance I've never felt before.

I reach up and touch his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He doesn't really look at me, his eyes avoiding mine as he steps back. "I'll be fine. Just go, okay?"

I nod, a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Okay. I'll see you after the game?"

The uncertainty in my voice either gets missed or ignored by him.

"Yeah, yeah. Come cheer me on and watch me kick some ass out there, alright?" Edward attempts to be upbeat, but the effort falls flat.

I give him a small smile, trying to hide my worry. "I will. Play your best, Edward."

Edward's eyes, usually so full of life, seem distant as he nods mechanically. "Of course, Bella. I always do." His voice lacks the usual warmth, sending a chill down my spine.

And that's the last thing we say to each other.

When I got back to my hotel room, I was not surprised to see Rose, Alice, and Irina already there, waiting for me. I had texted them as I was leaving Edward's room, explaining the situation briefly. They look up expectantly as I enter, and I can see the concern etched on their faces.

"Bella, what happened?" Alice asks, filled with worry.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "It was a nightmare," I begin. "Coach barged into Edward's room this morning, looking for… evidence."

Rose's eyes widen. "Evidence? Of what?"

"Of us being together," I say, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "He was practically tearing the room apart, going through the trash and everything."

Irina gasps. "That's so invasive!"

"I know," I reply, my voice shaking a little. "Edward tried to keep him out, but Coach was relentless. He almost caught me hiding in the bathroom."

Alice's hands fly to her mouth. "Oh my God, Belly! What did you do?"

"Edward managed to distract him at the last second," I explain, replaying the tense moments in my head. "He started talking about the defensive setup for the game, anything to keep Coach from opening that door."

Rose shakes her head, her expression furious. "That's just wrong. He has no right to invade your privacy like that."

"I agree," I say, feeling the anger rise again. "But it wasn't just the invasion of privacy. The coach questioned Edward's commitment to the team, implying that I'm a distraction."

As the words spill out, Irina moves to the small bar area in the room, her hands deftly mixing drinks. She hands me a glass of orange juice, her eyes full of concern. "Here, drink this. You need to calm down."

Alice, meanwhile, has called room service and is now arranging a plate of breakfast food—scrambled eggs, toast, and fresh fruit. She sets it in front of me, urging me to eat. "You need to keep your strength up," she says gently.

Rose's eyes narrow as she fumes. "I can't stand this shit. Edward doesn't deserve to be harassed like that — neither of you do."

"I know," I say, my voice softening as I sip the juice. "But Coach doesn't see it that way. He thinks Edward's focus is slipping because of me."

Irina crosses her arms, her face set in determination. "Well, that's just ridiculous. Edward can be dedicated to his career and still have a personal life."

"Coach threatened to trade Edward if he doesn't shape up," I say quietly.

Rose's face hardens. "That's idiotic. Edward is the best player on the team," and then she quickly turns to Irina, anxiously trying to fix her slip-up, "I mean, one of the best players on the team."

Irina winks and waves her off. "I know what you mean."

Rose is relieved and continues, "We can't stand by and let the asshole threaten Edward's career like that."

Alice nods vigorously. "She's right. We need to do something about this."

I take a bite of the toast, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over me. "I don't know what we can do," I admit. "Coach has all the power."

Irina steps forward, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "The coach is all bark, no bite. You know, he caught Laurent and me before a game." Her smile is mischievous. "Well, during halftime, that is."

Everyone is shocked, and I nearly choke on my toast. The room falls silent for a moment before erupting into laughter.

My cheeks turn a deep shade of red, and I quickly gulp down some water to clear my throat. "How did that go?" I manage to stammer, my eyes wide.

"He just gave us a tongue-in-cheek response and let it go," Irina says.

"Really?" Alice exclaims. "Why is he being so harsh on Edward then?"

Irina shakes her head. "I think it's because Edward is the backbone of the team. He's too valuable to be traded, and Coach doesn't want his performance to suffer. Laurent is important, too, but Edward… Edward is crucial. Coach knows that if Edward's distracted or upset, the whole team suffers."

Rose's face hardens with determination. "That's no excuse."

Alice perks up. "Maybe we could talk to the team manager or someone higher up? Explain what's happening and how it's affecting Edward and the team."

Irina nods thoughtfully. "That's a good idea. We could also show Coach that Edward's performance isn't slipping. Maybe if he sees that Edward is still playing at his best, he'll back off."

Rose chimes in, adding her two cents, and as they continue discussing their plans, I can't shake the memory of how cold and distant Edward was towards me. The more I think about it, the more it eats at me, distracting me from the conversation.

Alice notices first, her keen eyes picking up on my distracted expression. "Bella, what's wrong?" she asks softly, placing a comforting hand on my arm.

I hesitate, not wanting to burden them with more worries, but I know I can't hide anything from them. "It's Edward," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "After Coach left, he was so… not like himself. It was like he blamed me for everything that happened."

Rose frowns, her anger simmering just below the surface. "That's ridiculous, Bella. This isn't your fault at all. Edward knows that."

Irina nods in agreement, her eyes filled with concern. "He's probably just stressed out. This whole situation is a lot for anyone to handle."

"I know," I say, feeling a lump in my throat. "But it still hurt. He barely looked at me, and when he did, it was like he regretted everything."

Alice squeezes my hand reassuringly. "Edward loves you, Belly. He's just under a lot of pressure right now. We'll find a way to fix this, and he'll come around."

I nod, trying to believe her words. "I hope so."

No matter how comforting my friends try to be, it's too much for me. I get up abruptly, mumbling an excuse about needing fresh air, and walk away to be alone. The weight of everything feels suffocating, and I need a moment to collect myself away from everyone's well-meaning but overwhelming support.

As I step outside, the cool breeze hits my face, and I let out a shaky breath. I lean against the railing and bury my face in my hands. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I think about Edward's distant look. Why did he pull away when he needed me the most? I thought we were in this together, but now it feels like he's slipping away.

I try to take deep breaths, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of my chest. I know Alice is right. Edward loves me, and he's just under a lot of pressure. But that doesn't make it any easier to handle. I want to be there for him, to support him like the others said. But how can I do that when he won't let me in?

The game started at twelve, so we were there early to watch our guys practice on the field. Even though I knew he wouldn't text me, I checked my phone every five minutes. It's wild from going from a high to a low in less than twenty-four hours. Nothing makes sense anymore.

I just wanted to cry.

As the clock ticks closer to game time, I push my worries aside and focus on the positive. The stands begin to fill up with fans, the buzz of excitement growing with each passing minute. Alice, Rose, and Irina sit beside me, their faces a mixture of anticipation and concern. We're all here for the same reason—to support Edward and hopefully see him shine on the field.

The teams come out for their warm-ups, and I spot Edward immediately. He looks composed, his usual confidence seemingly intact. But when his eyes scan the crowd and land on me, there's a flicker of something—worry, perhaps, or doubt. I give him a small, encouraging wave, and he nods in acknowledgment before returning to his teammates.

Alice leans over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "This game is going to be epic!"

Rose nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, and Edward is going to crush it. I just know it."

Irina adds, "Plus, it's always fun to beat the Raiders. They've been our rivals forever."

Just then, I notice Vicki, Garrett's girlfriend, walking down the stands. She's wearing a Seahawks jersey and has a smug expression on her face.

"Oh, great," I mutter under my breath. "This is the last thing I needed today."

All my friends turn to look as she strolls up and sits just a few rows behind us. The proximity to me is annoying, and I'm unsure what she's trying to prove. It's all so high school, and I have no energy to entertain her antics.

Of course, Vicki makes it hard for me to ignore her as she loudly greets a few Seahawks fans. "This game is going to be so easy. Our guys are going to wipe the floor with them," she says, her voice dripping with disdain as she glances at us.

"She's trying to get under our skins," I say, already feeling a pounding headache grow behind my eyes.

Irina smirks. "She can try all she wants. We're here for the game, not for her drama."

Alice looks her up and down, unimpressed. "That's my competition?"

Irina laughs. "Hardly."

"Wait, wait," Rose whispers, frantic to catch up on the gossip. "Who is that?" Irina and Alice fill her in, and she reassesses her. Rose is confused. "Is she delulu?"

Everyone laughs but me.

My focus is on Edward.

He's standing on the field, his form taut with intensity. Each throw is precise and forceful, the ball sailing through the air with astonishing speed and accuracy. The relentless succession of throws borders on maniacal, as if he's driven by some inner force that refuses to let him stop.

It's as if he's fighting an invisible battle, channeling some deep-seated turmoil into each throw. The intensity of his focus is almost frightening, an unstoppable force pushing him to keep going, to keep throwing, as if pausing would mean surrendering to something darker within.

"Oh, baby, what are you doing?" I say, my heart breaking for him.

Suddenly, the coach blows the whistle, signaling the end of practice. Edward and his team run off the field to get ready for the game. As Edward moves, he glances up at me one last time, and there's nothing there. His face is blank, void of anything, just a machine.

The warmth and love I always see in his eyes are gone, replaced by an eerie emptiness. I clutch my arms around myself, trying to ward off the sudden coldness that seems to seep into my very bones. The distance between us feels insurmountable now, and it terrifies me.

I try to shrug off that feeling. It's not true. He loves me. It's just the stress of this morning and his stubbornness to prove Coach wrong.

It's nothing, I tell myself. We're okay.

Twenty minutes later, the game kicks off, and Edward throws himself into it with a determination that's both inspiring and heartbreaking. Every pass, every tackle, and every play is executed with precision and skill. It's as if he's trying to prove something, not just to Coach but to himself. The crowd cheers, and I catch up in the excitement, momentarily forgetting my worries.

By halftime, our team is leading, and the mood in the stands is electric. I watch as Edward jogs off the field, his expression unreadable. Part of me wants to rush down and find him, to offer a few words of encouragement, but I know now isn't the time. He needs to stay focused.

As the second half begins, I can sense the tension mounting. Edward continues to play with the same intensity, but there's a moment—a split second—where he hesitates. A fumble, a missed opportunity, and suddenly, the opposing team is gaining ground. The momentum shifts, and the anxiety in the stands is palpable.

I watch helplessly as Edward tries to rally his team, his frustration evident. The coach's words from earlier echo in my mind, and I can't help but wonder if they're weighing on him, too. My heart aches for him, knowing how much he's carrying on his shoulders.

With minutes left in the game, our team is down by a single point. The pressure is immense, and I hold my breath as Edward takes control of the ball. He maneuvers through the defense with an almost poetic grace, his eyes focused, his movements precise. The crowd roars, and I find myself on my feet, my hands clasped tightly.

Edward leads the final drive, a play that could secure the win. Time seems to slow as he throws a perfect pass. Garrett catches it, running down the field, dodging defenders with incredible agility. Every eye in the stadium is on him as he crosses into the end zone.

But then, out of nowhere, a defender lunges at Garrett, knocking the ball loose just inches from the end zone. The opposing team recovers it, and the stadium falls into a stunned silence. The final whistle blows, and just like that, it's over.

We've lost.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I feel my knees go weak. I watch Edward drop to his knees, his face a mask of disbelief and anguish. His teammates gather around him, offering pats on the back and words of consolation, but I know it's not enough.

Before I can make my way down to the field, Edward stands up, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Without looking back, he walks off the field, his head bowed low. I hurry down the steps, pushing through the crowd, but by the time I reach the field, he's already gone.

I stand there, my heart breaking for him. The echoes of the game and the cheers of the opposing team fade into the background. All I can think about is Edward and the pain he must be feeling.

I turn to Alice, Rose, and Irina, who have followed me. Their faces reflect my concern and sadness. "I need to find him," I say, my voice shaking.

Alice nods, her expression determined. "We'll help you look. He couldn't have gone far."

We split up, searching the stadium and the surrounding areas. My mind races with thoughts of Edward, alone and hurting. I know he's probably trying to process everything on his own, but I can't stand the idea of him being by himself right now.

As we regroup near the locker rooms, I pull out my phone and text him: "Edward, where are you? Please talk to me. I'm worried about you."

Alice shakes her head, her face pale. "I didn't see him anywhere."

Rose looks equally worried. "Me neither. Do you think he went back to the locker room?"

Irina grabs my arm and pulls me forward. "Let's check."

I bite my lip, my heart pounding. "Okay."

We make our way to the locker room, pushing open the door. The room is filled with the sounds of the team changing and talking in hushed tones. My eyes scan the room, but there's no sign of Edward.

Laurent and Garrett are standing near the back, their faces somber. Garrett looks up and sees us. "Bella," he calls, walking over. "If you're looking for Edward, he's not here."

"Where is he?" I ask, my voice trembling with worry.

Laurent steps forward, his expression serious. "He left as soon as he got off the field. Didn't say a word to anyone."

My heart sinks. "So you guys haven't talked to him?"

Laurent shakes his head, his face contorted with guilt. "No, he just grabbed his stuff and took off. He looked pretty upset."

Garrett's eyes are filled with regret. "I feel awful, Bella. That fumble… it was my fault. I let the team down. I fucking let EC down." His voice cracks with emotion. "Fuck."

I glance at my phone, hoping for a response. Nothing. The silence is deafening, and tears prick at my eyes as I struggle to keep composure. "It wasn't your fault, Garrett," I say, trying to comfort him despite my worries. "You did your best. We all saw how hard you tried."

Garrett shakes his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it wasn't enough. Edward is taking this so hard, and I feel like it's all on me."

Alice puts a comforting arm around me. "We'll find him," she says softly. "We just need to keep looking."

As we leave the locker room, my mind is spinning with thoughts of Edward. I don't know where he's gone, but I do know it's not nothing.

We're not okay.