CHAPTER FOURTY-SEVEN          checked out

"You're hurting me."

"BROUGHT YOU AND JOSH BREAKFAST," Joe says, rushing into the press box. I turn to him in surprise, taking my headphones off. "Oh, thanks, babe," I smile, taking the bag from him. "What is it?"

"Um, avocado toast," he answers, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. I quickly sliding the bag to Josh, "Thank you, Joe."

He curls his face up. "JB, what the hell?" Josh asks, clearly annoyed as he jerks the bag closer. "What?" Joe looks up, licking his lips as he puts his hands on his waist.

"Tally's literally allergic. You know that."

Joe's eyes widen before his shoulders slump. "Fuck, yeah. Yeah, I'm so sorry, I- I don't-"

I stand up, pressing my lips together in a smile. "Hey, it's fine. It's good," I put my hands on his arms, shaking my head softly. "It's okay."

"I didn't mean to mess up that bad, Tally. I know you're allergic," he mutters, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, I'm such an idiot." My stomach clenches in guilt. I know how stressed he's been lately, and seeing him be so hard on himself breaks my heart.

"You didn't mean it. It was just a mistake," I reassure, rubbing my hands up and down his arms. He lifts his head, letting me see the regret in his eyes. "I just..." he exhales deeply. "I don't wanna mess up with you like this."

"You're not messing anything up," I tell him, tugging him down into a hug. He doesn't respond immediately, but then his arms snakes around me as he sinks into my touch. "It was just toast, Joe. It's not a big deal." I can feel the tension in his body as I brush my fingers lightly over his back, attempting my hardest to soothe him. "I hate seeing you like this."

The blonde pulls away, looking down at me with a soft expression. "I don't wanna let you down."

I reach up to touch his face. "You haven't. And you won't. I'm not going anywhere." For a moment, he only looks at me. He scans my entire face, drinking in every detail before pulling me back into a hug and pressing his mouth against my hair. I squeeze him softly. "I'm not going anywhere, Joe."

The words hang between us for a moment as we stand in one another's embrace. Joe finally pulls away, clearing his throat. "I gotta go. Sorry about breakfast." I stand on my toes to kiss him quick. "I love you. Good luck out there." He gives me a thin-lipped smile before reaching out to bump fists with Josh and slipping out of room.

I watch him leave, heart heavy in my chest. I'm not used to seeing him like this- so unsure of himself, rattled by something as insignificant as toast. I know it's about something deeper, but I'm scared to even dig into it.

Josh doesn't press- he's busy sending emails and taking calls as the room fills with the rest of the staff. It's hard to shake the unsettling image of him stand there- shoulders slumped, face fallen in defeat. My chest tightens at the thought that I can't seem to stop replaying. I want to ask him what's going on, but I know it'll only make it worse. I press my lips together, slipping my headphones back on.

We were just getting back to normal.

I have to force myself to settle into the game. Joe starts strong- a tight pass to Ja'Marr on the first drive. As the quarter passes on, it's undeniable that he's faltering with every play. A missed read. An under thrown ball. A sack that could've been avoided.

I have to grip the edge of the desk in front of me. Josh reaches out to thread our fingers together. "He's overthinking," he mutters with the shake of his head. I can tell Joe's frustrated- he stiffens between plays, and his jaw clenches when he walks back to the sideline. "Look, he's hesitating before release." Josh scribbles something on his notepad, huffing lowly.

I nod stiffly, clenching my free hand into a fist. The entire first half is frustrating. Mechanical, rigid, full of second-guessing every decision made. Joe's calculated. But it's like he's not trusting himself. He barely manages to recover in the third quarter, just enough to keep the game within reach. Whether it's his adrenaline or pure spite, but he finally snaps into form, threading passes like it's his second nature.

By the time the clock winds down, the Bengals secured the win. The stadium erupts, vibrating with energy. I stay in my seat, watching Joe no the field. He smiles, shakes hands, but his shoulders remain tight. I can see the exhaustion in his face when he pulls his helmet off.

Josh and I make our way down, weaving through the crowd of reporters and staff members. Joe's the last to leave the media room, his salmon colored jacket slung over his shoulder, leaving him in a plain, wrinkled shirt. His face is drawn, posture stiff. The cameras are on him, but he barely acknowledges them- his eyes flick past them all until they land on me.

He steps toward me instinctively, forcing a smile. "Hey."

I offer one back, and he leans into me as I touch his arm. "Hey-"

"I need him quickly, Talullah."

Zac's voice cuts through the noise before I can say anything else. His face is unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw and the weight in stare makes my stomach twist. Joe's shoulders tense as he turns. I start to pull back, but his pale-knuckle grip tightens around my fingers.

I squeeze back. "I'll wait for you."

He only nods, reluctantly dropping my hand and following Zac into the hallway.

Josh had excused himself to the restroom, so I linger nearby, pretending to scroll through my phone. But my eyes flick toward the pair. Zac doesn't yell, but the intensity in his tone is enough to make Joe's face fall.

"The hell was that out there, Burrow?" The coach demands, low and sharp. "That wasn't you. I don't know who that was out there."

Joe's arms are tucked tightly over his chest, eyes fixed on the floor. "I know."

"No, I don't think you do," the older man presses. "You second-guessed. You were scared and that's not you, Joe. That's not what you do."

Joe exhales, his shoulders slumping. "I wasn't-"

"Yes, you were," Zac cuts him off. "I've seen you shake off a bad play. I've seen you come back. But today you let it get to you. Hesitation. Held the ball too long. Missed reads."

Joe's jaw tightens. "I get it."

"Do you?" Zac tilts his head, taking a step closer to the quarterback. "You pulled it together today, but what happens next time? We're going to the conference championship, Joe. We can't afford you fucking up."

He sighs, his voice looses its edge just as Joe clenches his hand into a fist, chest rising and falling jaggedly. "Figure it out. Fast."

A long stretch of silence, then Joe nods. "Yeah," he mutters gruffly, "I will."

"Get some rest and clear that damn head." Zac claps him on the shoulder before walking out. He offers me a tight lipped smilie, nodding his head in aknowledgement. Joe stays rooted in his spot, running a hand over his face.

I close the distance between us, pressing my palm against his back. His heartbeat is erratic under my touch. "Joe?"

He exhales quick, letting his eyes close at he leans into me. "I'm fine."

He's not.

I don't know if there's anything I can say to make him feel any better. So I let him lean into me, hoping he knows that I'm here.

He stays quiet for a moment, breathing deeply for a long moment. I rub slow circles on his back. "Let's go eat," I suggest softly. "You need something in your stomach."

Joe exhales once more before nodding. "Yeah. Okay."

The car ride there almost silent. Joe keeps his eyes fixed on the road, grip on the steering wheel tight. I want to say something, anything to ease the tension, but I don't know where to start.

By the time we sit down, the weight of everything seems to press heavier. He picks at the menu, barely reading it. I watch him, my stomach twisting as his thumb slides across the edges.

"Baby?"

"Mhm?" Joe mumbles, eyes flicking up to mine, his eyes dull with exhausted.

"Are you alright?"

He glances back down at the menu. "Yeah. I'm fine."

I can't respond, because the waitress comes by asking for our orders. Then our food comes. We eat. Or, at least I do.

And the tension stretches tight between us the entire time. It presses down on my chest- Joe pushes his food around his plate, not even entertaining the idea of actually eating. I'm trying my hardest to fill the silence, making small talk to fill the silence, but he's not really listening.

I stop talking mid-sentence. I watch, waiting to see if he even notices. He doesn't.

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Joe?"

His head snaps up, blue eyes blinking in confusion. "What?"

I press my lips together, "Never mind."

He rubs his hands together, trying to compose himself. "No, what'd you say?"

"It doesn't matter."

His jaw tightens, "Tally."

I can only shake my head. He rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward. I watch his eyes flicker from his untouched food and back up to me. I set my fork down, appetite gone. "I thought we were getting better," I say softly, watching him. His brows furrow slightly. "What?"

"I thought we were gonna stop pushing each other out," I clarify, folding my hands together in my lap to keep them from trembling. "I thought we were getting back to normal."

Joe leans back, his mouth twisting. "Tally, come on."

"What?" I say softly, frowning. He shakes his head. "I'm trying. Can't you see?"

"I know," I say quickly, before he can go further. "You just feel... distant. And we've been so distant for so long, I just miss you."

"What?" he furrows his brows, holding his hands out in confusion. "I'm literally right here."

"You know what I mean."

He stares at me for a beat, lips parting like he's searching for the right words. He doesn't say anything, though. Frustration rises in me. I try to control it, but it's sharp and biting, spilling out before I can catch it. "Yeah, Joe, you're here physically, but you're checked out emotionally."

His eyes are sharp as they meet mine again. "I'm not checked out, Talullah. I'm just trying to get through this, trying to figure things out."

I laugh a bitter, hallow sound. "I get it. But I'm here. I don't either one of us to have to walk on eggshells anymore. I just want us to be us again."

Joe looks away- I can see the guilt settling in his gaze. "I'm trying. But it's like... every time I try to get back to normal, something else happens, and I just..."

I press my palms flat against the table, heart beating quickly. "Okay, but you keep pushing me out. I keep thinking we'll be okay, but it's like we're just pulling further and further away. I don't know how much longer I can keep holding onto you when you're slipping away."

His expression hardens. There's a moment of silence between us, thick with tension. His eyes shift before he mutters, "I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what you want me to say."

Hurt creeps in as I sit in his words, staring at him. Frustration lined his sharp features, eyes hard. "I just want you back," I nearly whisper, defeated. "I don't know how many times I have to say it for you to hear me."

My admission hangs. For a second, I think he's going to say something. Anything. But he doesn't. Instead, his gaze flickers back down to the table, and he pops his knuckles anxiously.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. The sting of Joe's silence cuts deeper than I want to admit. "I can't keep doing this," I announce shakily. "I can't... just keep waiting for us to be okay. You're hurting me."

He doesn't respond, only clenching his jaw tighter. The walls go up between us again and I hate it. I hate that we continue to fall back into this pattern of avoiding hard conversations and pulling away from one another when we need each other most.

My mind races with everything I want to say, but just can't bring myself to. I want to beg him to open up. I want to tell him that I need him, even if he doesn't need me.

I fumble for my wallet, pulling out some cash through the tears that burn my eyes. Joe doesn't object as I tuck the bills together or push my chair back. Not when I mumble a "I- I need to go," shakily, or when I actually do.

My heart pounds, my head spins. I make my way toward the door, breath shallow. I hesitate at the door, glancing back over my shoulder, praying he'll stop me. Just a shake of the head. It's all I need.

Joe's eyes stay glued to the table, unmoving.

So I push through the door. The cold night air hits me like a slap, instantly making me feel like I can breathe again. But it's not better. Nothing's better.

My hands tremble as I unlock my car and slip into the front seat. I pull out my phone, eager for a distraction. I read a text from Josh- bring me something back plz xoxo.

I can't go back into the restaurant. I can't see Joe's face, or I'll crumble at his feet, begging for him to give me something to hold onto.

I open up Safari, deciding I'll just do a pickup order. It's already opened to my email. I let my eyes glance over the new ones, finger hovering over the tab button to exit out. But I freeze. An email from hours ago, when I was busy working during the game, titled Las Vegas Raiders Cheer Offer: 2025-2026 Season.

My heart races once again. I have to blink a few times, confused, before opening it. "Dear Talullah, We hope this email finds you well! After reviewing your outstanding performance as a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, we are thrilled to extend an official invitation for you to join the Las Vegas Raiders cheerleading team for the 2025-2026 season."

I have to read it once, twice, three times before the words make sense. I have to set my phone down, trying to process what I just read. I can't focus on the rest of the email- the next steps, the directors names, the email and phone number. It's all just a blur.

My eyes sting with unshed tears but I don't cry. Not now, not here. Not with all this handing over me. I press my forehead to the steering wheel. Everything feels too heavy- Joe's silence, his distance, the offer from the Raiders, the future that feels both too far and too close all at once. I start the engine with shaking hands. I don't know where I'm going.

I just need to get away.