ash

We were cuddling on Joe’s couch after dinner one night, half watching some game show while he scrolled through his phone.

"What time do we have to get to the venue before the golf thing for the foundation event next week?" I asked.

Joe didn't look up when he answered, “Six, I think."

I just nodded.

"So like, what’s the attire for the mixer part of this thing? More cocktail attire vs business casual?"

That got Joe’s attention and his eyes lifted from his screen. I watched as a strange look crossed his face. My stomach immediately tightened.

"What?" I asked carefully

He set his phone face down on his knee.

"About that..."

By his tone alone, I already knew I wasn't going to like whatever came next out of his mouth, so I took a moment to brace myself.

"What about it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking anywhere but at me.

"My mom doesn't think you should come."

The words floated between us for a moment. For a second, I honestly thought I'd misheard him, but the look on his face told me I had heard him right the first time.

My tone was careful and controlled when I said, "What?"

"The foundation invitational."

"I heard that part."

I watched Joe’s jaw tighten.

"It's not personal."

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh, closing my eyes tightly.

"How exactly is that not personal?"

Joe shrugged. "It's just a foundation thing."

"I know what it is," I said carefully.

Every year his foundation hosted this golf invitational before football season really got started. Sponsors, donors, board members, volunteers, local business leaders. Nothing fancy. People walked around with drinks and talked, got to take pictures with Joe and other past and current Bengals elite. That was it.

I had trouble keeping the bite out of my tone when I asked, "So why can't I go?"

He sighed.

"My mom thinks it might be awkward."

"Awkward for who?"

He hesitated, which was never a good sign. Joe never hesitated. It was part of what made him a great quarterback. He was always careful, cataloging every interaction, so he could make split second decisions.

"My family."

My brows lifted.

"Your family finds me awkward?"

"No," he rushed out.

I wasn’t letting him off that easily. "Then explain what the hell you’re trying to say to me."

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and shoved his fingers through his hair like I was frustrating him. Good. He’d know an iota of how I was feeling then.

"You know how my mom is."

Actually, I didn't, not really. We'd known each other for less than a year. Dating for only a few months now. Most of the interactions I’d had with his mother had been polite but distant. Never openly rude. Just...cold. Like she was waiting to see whether this relationship would last before bothering to get to know me.

Apparently, she already had her answer. I tried not to let it bother me.

"Not really," I said quietly.

He frowned at the change in my voice.

"Come on,” he begged.

"No, seriously.” I sat back against the couch with my arms crossed across my chest as I looked at him carefully. “Explain it to me."

I watched as Joe’s expression shifted into one I was beginning to recognize more and more. It was a look he got whenever someone questioned his mother. Like he was on the defensive.

Joe shrugged. "She just thinks the event should stay focused on the foundation."

"I'm confused."

"So am I."

"Am I your girlfriend?" I asked slowly.

He blinked. "Obviously."

"Then why am I somehow a distraction?"

"That's not what she said!" Joe blurted.

I looked at him through narrow eyes. "But that's what you're saying."

He groaned and I could tell he was getting frustrated, ready to shut down over this conversation. “Why is this is becoming a whole thing?"

I stared at him before I slowly blinked. "A whole thing?" I repeated.

"Yeah."

Joe stood from the couch and wandered toward the kitchen, not once looking back at me.

"It's one event."

I laughed coldly, not because it was funny. I laughed because I genuinely couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was harder to believe that Joe didn’t hear how insane he was sounding defending this.

I stood and followed him.

"It's not the event."

"Then what is it?" he asked frustrated, not turning to look at me as he aimlessly dug through the fridge.

He was acting like I was being difficult or like I was the one creating a problem that he just wanted to go away.

I moved in front of him, closing the refrigerator and forcing him to look at me.

"The issue is that your mother doesn't want me there."

"It's not that simple," he bit out.

"And you didn't tell her she was wrong."

I watched as his shoulders stiffened. The silence answered the question I hadn’t asked, I had just known. It caused a tightness in my chest at the realization.

"You didn't," I said quietly.

"I didn't think it was a big deal."

There it was, the phrase that immediately made my anger spike.

Not a big deal.

Maybe to him it wasn’t a big deal, but it actually was to me. While this was new with Joe, what we had been doing took a lot from me, meant a lot had changed for me. I let Joe in. And while I hadn’t known much, if anything, about football before, I was doing what I could to learn his world, so excluding me from something so huge in his life, it felt like a big deal to me.

I scoffed. "Of course you don't."

I watched as his eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means this isn't happening to you." I rolled my eyes.

Joe crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "You're acting like she banned you from my life."

"No." I shook my head. "I'm acting like my boyfriend's mother excluded me from something and my boyfriend just shrugged and said, “yes mommy”."

I watched the tick in Joe’s jaw jump.

"That's unfair."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

Joe stood taller and pointed at me. "We haven't even been together for a year."

The second he said it, I watched his face change and the realization crash over him that he knew it was the wrong thing to say. I could see it on his face, but the damage was done.

I felt like my world had been ripped from under me.

"Oh."

His expression changed instantly. "I didn't mean it like that."

I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat as tears began to well. "No, I think you did."

"That's not what I was saying."

I nodded slowly. "Right."

"What I meant was my mom doesn't know you that well yet."

I rolled my eyes. "So that's the excuse?"

"It's not an excuse," Joe defended.

"Then what is it?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out because there wasn't a good answer. The truth sat between us heavily.

His mother didn't think the relationship mattered enough and apparently neither did he.

I grabbed my purse from the kitchen table, blinking away the tears that had swelled up.

Joe’s eyes tracked my movement.

"Where are you going?" his voice raised, a little panic lacing his words.

"Home."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Joe let out a sharp breath.

"You're leaving over this?"

The question hurt more than I expected because he still didn't understand. It was clear he still thought the problem was the event and not what it represented.

I looked at him for a long moment carefully.

"I'm leaving because when someone treated me like I don't belong, you decided it wasn't worth the argument."

I watched his expression soften as he registered the hurt in my words.

"That's not fair," he said softly.

I shrugged, putting my purse on my shoulder. "Maybe." I swallowed. "But it's how it feels."

For the first time all evening, Joe didn't have a response and somehow that silence felt worse than the fight itself.

Two days later, Joe showed up at my place because I had stopped answering his calls and messages.

He stood outside my place, pounding on the door for a solid minute, before I swung open the door.

I glared at him, his fist raised like he was about to knock some more before he dropped it.

"You really weren't answering my calls."

"You noticed." I watched Joe flinch as my words landed.

Neither of us spoke for a long moment, before I stepped aside and Joe walked in, stopping just before the couch.

"I know you're mad."

I let out a short laugh and slammed the door.

"Mad?"

I turned and looked at him with glassy eyes. I watched Joe’s face flicker in pain as he took me in.

"You know what?" I said quietly. "That's actually the problem.”

"What is?"

"You think I'm mad."

I watched as he frowned.

"You're not?"

"I'm hurt."

I looked away from him.

"It wasn't her," I said. "She's never liked me."

"That's not true-" Joe tried to argue but I gave him a flat look that quieted him.

“That’s not what broke me, Joe,” I said quietly. "You stood there and you let her say it."

My chest felt heavy as I let the words swirl around us.

"I didn't think-"

"I know." I let out a breath slowly. "That's exactly what happened. You didn't think."

I watched as he squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that it hurt because it was true.

"I thought it was one event," he said quietly.

I laughed bitterly. "It was never about the event."

"I know that now."

"Do you?" I asked sharply. The distance between us felt enormous. "It's always your mom, Joe. You tell me to ignore the comments. You tell me she just needs time." I watched as his head dropped. "You tell me not to take things personally." I took a shaky breath. "But every single time she pushes me away, you ask me to be the understanding one."

I knew Joe couldn’t argue, because I wasn't wrong.

"And then the one time I needed you to choose me..." my voice broke. "...you didn't."

I hadn't wanted a speech or a fight. I didn’t need some grand declaration. All I’d wanted was for him to choose, to say one sentence.

She's coming with me.

That's it. And he'd failed.

I let out a bitter laugh. "That's an understatement."

"You're right."

The immediate agreement from Joe is a surprise to me. I watched as he rubbed a hand over his face.

"I was scared."

My expression softened slightly.

"I was worried about keeping the peace." His voice comes out rough. "And I made peace with the wrong person." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "My whole life," he said, "I've kept everyone happy. My coaches." He shrugged. "My sponsors. My family." Joe’s voice dropped. "My mom."

I watched Joe carefully, my expression softening slowly.

"I got so used to letting things go that I forgot what it looks like from the outside." Joe looked at me softly, carefully. "From your side. I wasn't keeping the peace. I was protecting myself from an uncomfortable conversation." My eyes widened slightly. "And it cost you." Joe paused, stepping toward me. "It cost us."

"I keep telling myself I didn't mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice rough. "But intent doesn't really matter when the result is the same." Tears filled my eyes. "When she said those things...I should've said you belong there," He continued.

The words hung heavily between us. No excuses or qualifiers. There was no blaming anyone else, there was only the truth.

I stared at him for several seconds.

“You can’t keep choosing to keep her comfortable at my expense, Joe.”

"I know."

"Not just today."

"I know."

Joe stood in front me, his hands grasping my arms and forcing me to look at him carefully. I could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Not just when it's easy."

"I know." His voice broke.

Because this wasn’t about the foundation or one awful conversation. It was about every future decision, every holiday, every future family dinner. Every moment where he's forced to choose whether silence is easier than standing with me.

"I should've stopped it. I failed you,” Joe said shakily.

“Do you mean that?" I asked carefully.

"Yeah." Joe said instantly, without hesitation. "More than I've meant anything."

I looked away from him, trying to collect myself. It took everything in me not to believe him too quickly.

Trust wasn't rebuilt in one conversation. It wasn't fixed with flowers or apologies or grand speeches.

Joe stood just close enough where I could smell the mint on his breath mixed with his heady cologne. For the first time all night, I really looked at him, trying to see if he had an ounce of hesitation but I found none.

"My mom called this morning." My eyes snapped up to him.

"And?"

Joe shrugged. "I told her she owes you an apology." My breath caught and he nodded. "And I told her that if she can't treat you with respect, she's going to see a lot less of me."

“You really said that?” I asked.

“I should have done it sooner,” he admitted. "I thought I was going to throw up the entire conversation."

I laughed at him as he said it, my words getting choked around a sob I couldn’t continue to hold back.

I laughed through my tears. "You are such an idiot."

"I know I messed this up." His eyes searched mine as he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "But I'm not asking you to forget it." He paused. "I'm asking for the chance to do better next time, because there will be a next time."

I stared at Joe as he became this man who had finally stopped defending his mistake and started owning it and that, more than anything, was what softened me. I didn't need perfection, I just needed someone willing to stand with me when it mattered, a true partnership.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and watched him relax as he gripped me tighter, like he was afraid I might disappear.

"I'm still angry," I murmured against his chest.

A laugh shook Joe’s body.

"Fair."

"And your mother still terrifies me."

"Also, fair."

I smiled just a little and tilted my head back.

"But this is a start." Joe pressed his forehead to mine.

“I love you,” he murmured against my lips.

“I love you too, you idiot,” I murmured back to him, taking his lips in a deep kiss.