When Trust Is Gone - The Quarterback's Regret Novels & Stories

“We crossed it.” “Yes,” he said. No denial. No retreat. “Do you regret that?” “No.” “Even tactically?” “Especially tactically,” he said softly. “Trust is a force multiplier.” I studied him; the steadiness, the restraint, the depth he rarely let anyone see. “You’re not afraid of what they’ll use.” “I am,” he said. “I just won’t pre-surrender it.” That answer settled something in me permanently. My hands slid to his forearms; warm, solid, real, and stayed there. Not urgency. Not hunger.

“Why? What happened?” Her shoulders sagged as if weighed down by old regrets. “Years ago, he asked me the same thing. Promised to triple my pay, make my life easier. I agreed. But I found out quickly that he’s not someone you can trust. His promises are poisoned. I had to crawl back to Mr. Fisher, begging for my job. He gave me another chance, but I had to work endlessly to earn back his trust. It’s one of my biggest regrets.” Her eyes glistened, and her voice trembled. “So don’t do it. Please.”

I might as well just hand it to you here ” He didn't hand it to me; he tossed it onto the table. I opened the envelope and I felt a sharp pain in my chest like someone had dug a knife into it. "Divorce papers, Carrie," he said. The coldness in his tone was worse than a slap. "Let’s be real. I’m moving into the big leagues now. I’m going to be the Lead Scout for the New York Titans. I need a woman who knows how to walk a red carpet, not a girl who smells like a medicine cabinet. You were a great crutch when my leg was broken, but I can walk on my own now." The humiliation was a physical weight, pushing the air out of my lungs. People in the neighboring lounges were starting to stare. I could

The dim lights, the bed, the moment I trusted him with everything. I trusted him! Why? Why throw my dignity in the mud for just twenty bucks? Why pick me for his game? My throat tightened as I slowly looked back up at him. “Take the video down.” My voice trembled with desperation. “Please.” Gary shrugged. “Why? I can't lose the game.” “This is my life! You're ruining it all just for a game! Is this how much you hate me? What did I ever do to you? I trusted you! I trusted you!” I cried, my body shaking so bad. “Please…”

"Mr. Scott, do you have business here? If not, please don't bother me while I'm working." "Maisie, don't be like this…" His face twisted with pain. "I know I was wrong. This past year, I've lived in regret every single day. Give me one more chance, okay? We can… start over." "Start over?" I sneered coldly. "Jeremy, trust is like a mirror. Once it's shattered, you can't piece it back together. Do you really think we can start over?" He had no answer.

It had nothing to do with suspicion anymore and everything to do with grief—grief for a week he hadn't lived, for a chair beside an incubator he hadn't sat in, and for a hand he hadn't been there to hold. He didn't go back to Sophia's that night. He told himself it was to give her space, but the truth was simpler: he didn't trust himself not to say something he would regret. Every time he closed his eyes, the image Adrian had planted resurfaced—Sophia alone in a hospital room, a tiny infant in an incubator, and only her own exhausted heartbeat keeping time through the night. She called him instead, close to ten. Her voice was quiet, stripped of the morning's defenses.

"There's nothing worse than disappointing someone who trusts you so much." I went still. I think I stopped breathing entirely. I sat under his hands and turned the words over and they would only say one thing to me. Someone who trusts you. He'd trusted me. He'd put a man's death in my hands and called it the closest thing he had to faith in anyone, and I'd taken it and let it rot, and now he was telling me he knew, in the only language he owned. He let go of my shoulders. He breathed out, long and low, and the disappointment in it was either for himself or for me and I couldn't tell which, and I didn't dare ask.

Frustration starts eating me alive, and it takes all my willpower not to rip my uniform off from the sudden surge of heat that grips me. From the bleachers, I hear scattered reactions from the crowd. “Come on, Brooks!” “That was open!” “Dude, what’s wrong with him?” I risk one glance toward the sideline and see the Texas scouts talking quietly amongst themselves now. One of them writes something down, and panic crawls up my throat. Focus. But every time I drop back, I hear Jake’s voice again. One quarterback spot left. You took my father from me. And worst of all… what if he’s right about my shoulder? What if everyone watching can already tell I’m not the same player anymore?

His life—once perfectly structured and enviable—suddenly felt meaningless. The mansion that once symbolized prestige now felt like a prison. Every corner echoed with ghosts—his mother’s absence, his father’s deceit, and Zara’s broken trust. For the first time in years, Regan Kareem felt something he never thought he would—regret. He picked up his phone again, opened Zara’s chat, and typed: “I’ll fix this. Somehow.” But again, his thumb hovered over the send button, and he sighed. He locked the phone and placed it face-down on the table. The screen went dark—just like the space growing inside him.

His words landed like a punch to the chest. “Caleb—” “I need space to think. I need to figure out if I can trust you.” He walked toward the door. “Where are you going?” “I don’t know. Somewhere away from lies.” He paused at the threshold without turning around. “I love you. But love isn’t enough if there’s no trust. And right now, I don’t trust you.” Then he was gone. I sat there in the empty boardroom, the victory tasting like ash. We had exposed Walsh. Saved Caleb’s position. But I had lost him anyway.