He doesnāt know how it happens, but it does. Somehow, it does. It sneaks up on him, before he can notice, and now thereās no turning back. He just knows, one day.
Heās walking to her office to give her biscuits one morning in his second year with the team. Her door is open, and he can see her standing inside, talking to Keeley. He stands back for a moment ā just a moment, and watches her. She doesnāt see him, doesnāt notice the door is open, doesnāt notice heās there. But he is. And heās looking at her, mesmerized, frozen in his spot for a reason he hasnāt grasped yet. And then sheās laughing at something Keeley says. She throws her head back, squeezing her eyes shut and laughing as loud as he has ever heard her laugh. Itās loud and bright and beautiful; and it fills up the entire room, and then it fills up his entire world.
He watches her laugh, and he feels his heart lose its footing for just a second. What is happening? He doesnāt know. All he can do is stand there. All he can think is there she is. There she is.
And then it dawns on, softly, wrapping him up in a silky embrace. It happens quickly, effortlessly, easily ā like slipping into an old sweater and feeling right at home. He realizes it, slowly, calmly, as he feels it fill him up.
Of course, Ted does what he does best then: he bottles it up. That morning, he turns around and leaves her office before she can see him standing there, looking at her. He rushes down the stairs, and ducke into the hallways before anyone can see him. He walks with his head bent down until he reaches his office, locks the doors, lets the curtains down. And then he lets himself breathe, but not really.
Sheās his boss, right? She is. Sheās his boss. She employed him. She gave him this job. Sheās his boss. There are probably around this place about employees dating. But Roy and Keeley are dating. Right. So itās fine. He has a chance. Except Roy isnāt Keeleyās boss. Rebecca is his boss. Boss. God. What is he thinking? He couldnāt possibly be in love with her. Sheās his boss. But most importantly, sheās his friend. No. Heās not in love with her.
Except for the fact that when he looks at her, he feels like nothing else in the world matters. And when she looks at him, he feels like the only person in the world. She makes his heart race and calm down, all at once. And when she laughs, he feels like he wants to do everything he possibly can to keep making her laugh, again and again. He feels like he wants to do everything he possibly can, all the time, to keep her happy. To keep her company. To make sure she knows she has a friend in him, and that he cares about her, and that he truly, really loves her, for who she is.
And of course, there is the matter of the biscuits. The biscuits he bakes, every night, specially for her.
God. He really is in love with her.
There was nothing to do. It wasnāt like he could walk up to her and say, āHey, Rebecca. I love you.ā And it wasnāt just because she was his boss, anymore. It was more than that. It was the fact that he didnāt know if she felt the same. She looked at him as a friend, mostly. And who was he kidding? A woman like Rebecca would probably never look at someone like him as more than a friend. A close friend, sure. A friend whoās always there for her, making her feel better and baking her biscuits. But just a friend, nonetheless.
And the idea was so painful it was starting to eat away at his mind. The idea that he was not good enough for her, and probably never will be. The idea that maybe Michelle was right, after all, and his constant cheerfulness was too much for anyone to bear. The idea that even underneath all that cheerfulness, beneath the jokes and the niceness and the grand gestures, there was lots of pain and insecurities, and that that would not be enough for anyone to bear, either.
One afternoon, she walks into his office. He looks up at her, remembering the year before when she came to him and told him all the ways she was trying to hurt him, and the way he forgave her ā understood her, really. For a second, as she stands in his office, looking at him, he thinks about how far theyāve come. He thinks about how she was so determined not to let him be her friend, and how he kept trying, determined not to quit, until she let him in. He thinks about how he let her in, too. How heās always had this urge within him, since heās first met her, to tell her everything about him. To share everything with her. To always be there for her, and never let her be by herself.
He thinks about it, and it seems inevitable that he wouldāve fallen in love with her.
For another second, he thinks about telling her how he feels. How she might react. Maybe it could go better than he thinks, right? Maybe she feels the same way, after all, and this would all be okay, and theyād laugh about it years later, over biscuits he bakes with her.
But then she tells him about Sam, and Tedās heart breaks.
It wasnāt that much of a problem, because he was good at pretending. Ted had spent years, bottling up his feelings and wearing his best smiles in front of people. He put the pain away in a box and left it in the darkest corners of his mind. He had mastered the art of looking at people and laughing, cracking a joke whenever they came too close. Of course, he was starting to realize that it was a defense mechanism in therapy. He was aware that he should be working on being more open and vulnerable, and not be held back by his insecurities and fears. But he knew how to function with a broken heart and not let anyone know, anyway. So he does.
Every night he stands in his empty kitchen, baking her biscuits, and trying to stop his mind from spinning. And every morning he walks into her office, wearing a wide smile as he hands her the pink box, and hoping to God his chest would just stop aching for the few minutes he has to stand in front of her. She doesnāt notice. No one does. He walks around, masking it all, going through the motions of managing the team as the season wraps up. He is same old Ted, with his same old cheerful attitude. No one notices, except for Beard of course.
The man notices everything.
Itās a Friday when Beard decides heās had enough of watching his friend struggle in silence, and decides to speak up. Heād meant to do it earlier, but he didnāt want to crowd him or push him too hard. He wanted to give him his space and time. He didnāt know exactly what was wrong, but he knew something was wrong. He could see it in the way Ted sat quietly in his office when he thought no one was watching, closing his eys and sighing as he rubbed his forehead.
Theyāre sitting in the pub, eating dinner together. Ted is quiet, uncharacteristically, pushing around his food.
āSeason is almost over, huh?ā Beard says, trying to open a conversation without knowing where to really go. They had one match left in the season ā the match that would decide the teamās future, and then they were going to go back home for the summer.
Ted nods. He exhales, and it feels like his chest is buried underneath rocks. āYeah.ā
āExcited to go home?ā
āYeah,ā Ted replies, eating a forkful of his food. He really was. He was looking forward to spending more time with Henry in person, and lately, he was looking forward to running away from her.
āWhatās wrong?ā Beard asks.
Ted looks up at him, furtowing his eyebrows. āWhatās wrong with what?ā
āWith you. Are you okay?ā
āIām great, Coach.ā
After years of being friends with Ted, of working closely with him, day in and day out, he liked to think he knew him well enough by now. And he knew Ted was private, that he rarely, truly opened up. Sure, he talked to him sometimes when he wasnāt feeling well. He told him things about his life. But he never really, completely opened up, and Beard knew that, so he never pushed him. That night, he thinks Ted will deflect until the topic is eventually changed and the matter is forgotten.
But Ted is tired. He has been really tired. Heās been walking around for months, carrying the love he had for her and now knowing what to do with it, and now he was also walling around with the heartbreak heād felt ever since she told him about Sam. And of course, there was the matter of Sharonās departure, and the whole mess with Nate. Heās kept it all to himself, and didnāt say a word to anyone, but now heās tired, and his bestfriend is right there, and heās asking.
āIām in love with Rebecca.ā
āI mean,ā Beard shrugs. āI thought so.ā
Beard chuckles lightly. āYeah, man.ā
āSo whatās the problem?ā
Ted inhales. āSheās with someone else.ā
What Ted never told his friend is that heād been in love with Rebecca for months before she was with someone else, and he never did anything with it. Heād walked around with the knowledge, deep within his bones, that he was in love with her. He didnāt know what to do with it, or how to tell her. What he never told Beard is that Rebeccaās relationship status wasnāt the problem here. The problem was him. The problem was that he didnāt believe she would love him back. He didnāt think she saw him in that way ā he didnāt think she saw him as more than a friend. Mostly, because he couldnāt believe a woman like her would feel something for someone like him. Mostly, because Michelle once did, and then stopped.
The problem was that the truth, deep down, buried beneath mountains of jokes and layers of smiles, the truth was that he still hadnāt recovered from his divorce. He accepted it, yes. He let her go to make her happy. He put her first. But there was something excruciating about the fact that she stopped loving him. Everything he tried to do, everything he was ā in the end, none of it mattered. In the end, she looked at him and she couldnāt love anything about him. Not anymore. And despite trying his best to deny it, he couldnāt ā it had changed something in him. It had broken something in him.
Of course, he knew what Sharon would say. Sessions after sessions had made some progress. He knew it wasnāt his fault. He knew it wasnāt Michelleās fault either, or his fatherās. He knew sometimes people leaving isnāt about us. But now Sharon was gone, too, back to her old life, and he was starting to feel his walla coming back up. He wanted to hold them back, he really did. He wanted to stay open and confident, but it wasnāt as easy as being said.
He knew it wasnāt his fault, but a part of him couldnāt stop wondering if he would ever feel like he was enough again.
One week after the conversation with Beard, the season ends. They win their last match, and get promoted. Ted celebrates with the team as best as he can ā as if heās really, truly happy. He sits in Rebeccaās office and laughs with her, watching her eyes beam with joy at the teamās success. That day, before he walks out, he looks back over his shoulder, watching her eat the last biscuits she would eat for months while heās away. She doesnāt know heās still there, and he watched her for just a second, as she closes her eyes and smiles, holding the box in her hand.
He wishes he could always remember the look on her face.
Later that day, the team ends up in the pub, after a night of partying and celebrating their promotion. Ted sits quietly in the corner, smiling as he watches the guys dance around to some song theyāve played over the speakers. He watches Beard laughing with some of the players across one end of the room, and Keeley and Roy and some of the other guys across the other end. Heās already spent the entire day putting on his happiest face, and he was really happy because of their promotion, but he was also tired. He couldnāt get the image of Nate walking away out of his mind, or the ripped believe sign heād found in his office. Heād hid it in his drawer, and kept it to himself, not wanting to ruin everyoneās day. But still, for the better part of the day, heās felt burdened, and it overshadowed the happiness of their win.
So as he sits there in the corner, by himself, he doesnāt mind it. For the past few days, with the news and the last match and everything, he felt like he was in the spotlight. Everyone was looking at him, staring, watching. They were curious, or worried, or intrigued. And he didnāt like the sudden unwanted attention, especially since it was regarding something so private to him. He felt so exposed and vulnerable, and all he wanted to do was hide away.
He looks around the room and spots her walking in. Rebecca. In heels, sheās taller than most people in the room. Her head scans the room, and he watched her walk over to Keeleyās table.
Before he knows what heās doing, he gets up, keeps his head down, and rushes out of the door.
āWhere are you going, Coach?ā
Ted is halfway across the sidewalk when he hears Beardās voice calling after him, he stops and turns his head around to look at him. āIām going home.ā
āItās still early, everything okay?ā
āNo, I mean home home. Iām going back home.ā
Beard raises his eyebrows at him, walking closer. āWhat? Weāre flying out in a couple of weeks, right?ā
āYeah,ā Ted shoves his hands deep into his pockets. He shakes his head. āNo. Iām leaving now.ā
He turns around and walks away from his friend, picking up his pace. But it doesnāt matter. Beard is already catching up to him, and he knows it.
āSlow down, man,ā Beard says, standing in front of him. Ted shakes his head and moves around him, faster and faster until he reaches his building. He unlocks the door, taking longer as his hands fumble with the keys. āWhat is going on?ā
āThe season is over, no point in staying, right?ā Ted opens the door and rushes up the stairs, Beard right behind him. āIāll just go to the airport and get on the first flight.ā
āCoach, you need to slow down and talk to me for a second.ā
He opens his apartmentās door, turning the lights on as he walks inside. āThere is nothing to talk about.ā
He rushes into his bedroom, taking out his suitcase from under the bed. He watches Beard standing in the doorway, staring at him, incredulous at his friendās behavior. Heād never seen him like this. Ted feels a twinge of guilt at the way heās treating his friend, but is washed over by this sense of urgency that he needs to get away from here. From the team. From Nate. From her. From everything. Somewhere in his mind, heās convinced himself that if he went home, far away from everything here, he would be fine. Everything would be alright.
He starts opening drawers, throwing his clothes into the suitcase, slamming one drawer after thr next. The dresser shakes with the effort, but he doesnāt care. He needs to take it out on something.
āCoach,ā Beard says, raising his voice slightly to get his attention.
āItās alright, Coach,ā Ted says, not looking up ad he continues filling the suitcase. āIām alright. You go back to the guys, Iāll text you later.ā
āTed!ā Beard yells. Ted looks up at him, startled at his friend calling him by his name. He tries to remember the last time heās called him anything other than Coach, but he canāt. āWhatās happening?ā
āI told you Iām going home.ā
āWhy?ā He yells again, frustrated. āTalk to me, man.ā
āBecause I donāt want to be here,ā Ted yells back. He looks at Beard and he feels something snap within him. Something thatās been holding him together for the past few days, months ā possibly for the past few years, even. āItās just too much.ā
āEverything! I got hurt. I am hurt,ā He can feel his breaths, heavy and fast. Heās angry. He doesnāt know where itās coming from all of a sudden, but he has a feeling itās been there, brewing for years, and he kept it quiet, like he always does. āI keep getting hurt. And you were right, okay? I bottle things up. Iāve always done that, but Iāve had enough. I canāt sit here for one more minute and pretend that Iām fine.ā
Ted heaves, his face heats up, his words leave him without any thought at this point. He slams his index finger against his aching chest, pointing to himself. āI try and I try and I try and I donāt quit things and itās never enough, and Iām sick of it. Iām sick of pretending it doesnāt hurt.ā
āAnd so youāll just leave?ā Beard tries to talk quietly, tries to reason with him. āHow does that fix anything?ā
āI donāt care if it fixes anything! I donāt want to fix anything!ā Ted yells and he feels the energy start to leave him, slowly. His voice cracks, āI just need to get out of here.ā
Beard stands in the doorway, still, stunned as he watches his friend like this. Ted stares at him, and he feels the air burning his lungs as it rushes in and out in heavy breaths. In, and out. He focuses on that, trying to keep himself in control. He feels his hands tremble slightly, feels broken underneath his friendās gaze, and so he turns around and goes back to the dresser, taking more clothes out and throwing them into the suitcase
Beard walks over to him, slowly, without saying a word. Ted looks up at him, for a second, wondering what heās going to do ā what heās going to say. But he says nothing. Beard looks at him, and then he takes some clothes from the drawer, walking over to the bed and folding them neatly into the suitcase.
Ted turns around, watching his friend pack his bag for him, folding the clothes heād been throwing. Beard looks back at him ā eyes full of understanding and care and love. Ted listens to his heart beat out of rhythm, feels the tremor in his hands, and before he knows whatās happening, he feels tired all of a sudden ā all the energy leaving his body in one shaky exhale. He lets himself slide down against the dresser, rests his elbows on his knees, puts his head in his hands, breathing heavily, shakily.
Beard walks over and sits down next to him, and he puts his arm around his friend.
He sits by himself quietly in the airplane. He usually wouldnāt have minded, except his mind wouldnāt let him be. The plane lands after midnight, and there is no one to pick him up, because no one knows heās here. Still, he breathes and tries to convince himself that this what he needed. This is what he wanted: to ger away. To go home. To be with his son. And yet, as he walks through the quiet, almost empty airport, he feels a deep ache in his chest.
It takes him a minute to realize itās loneliness.
He walks outside, and waits for a cab. When the driver asks him where he wants to go, his mind goes blank for a second. Itās still surprising to him whenever heās here that he doesnāt have his own place here anymore. Not really. Ever since the divorce, heād packed his stuff and put it in storage. It didnāt make sense for him to get an apartment that he would only use a couple of weeks a year. Not until he figured out what he was going to do after his contract with Richmond was over, anyway. Usually, he stayed with his mother for a few days to keep her company and check in on her, and then he rented out a place online. But it was late, and heās flown in without any arrangements in a desperate attempt to get away from Rebecca and his feelings for her and everything thatās been happening over the past few days.
He tells the driver, āJust the nearest hotel, please. Thanks.ā
He sits quietly in the back, watches the streets out of the window, breathes in the familiar air of home. But right then, in that cab driving through the streets he knows like the back of his hand, he feels more lost than he ever has.
He walks into the hotel room, turning the lights on as he lets the door slam shut behind him. His phone vibrates in his pocket as he puts his bags down on the floor, sets the keys on the nearest table. He takes it out and looks at it. Itās a text from her.
Hello, Ted. Coach Beard said you left already. Just checking to see if you landed safely, and if everything is alright.
He feels his heart swell up. He texts her back:
Yes, Boss. Everythingās great. Just couldnāt wait to get home. Thank you for checking.
She writes back immediately:
Always, Ted. Have a good summer.
With a sigh, he puts his phone down on the dresser, taking his clothes off. He walks into the shower and stays under the running water for too long, resting his head against the cool tile, trying to numb his mind. His heart. His soul.
He walks out, turns the lights off, and lies in bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. He breathes in the darkness, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears. He feels warm. The bed is comfortable. The air conditioning is just right the amount of cold that tickles your skin, but fades away slowly, deliciously, as you hug the covers around you. Ted thinks about her. He canāt help himself, at this point. He thinks about the entire situation. About his feelings for her. About his insecurities. About her and Sam.
He closes his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away and sleep. But then, despite himself, out of nowhere, he starts crying. Perhaps itās the fatigue from the whirlwind of their last match and the promotion and the travelling. Perhaps itās the months of pretending he was fine, and the effort heād spent in trying to seem normal. Perhaps itās everything thatās happened with Nate, or the stress heās felt since Sharon left, or the sessions with her that brought back too many things heād spent so long hiding away. Perhaps itās the love he had for Rebecca that she didnāt know about. He isnāt sure which it is, really. Perhaps itās everything, all at once. All he knows is that he is tired, too tired, and so he lets himself cry.
The next morning, he canāt get out of bed.
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