Game Changer: #UofJ Book 2- A Second Chance Romantic Comedy Sports Romance (U of J)

by Alley Ciz

  King folds his arms across his chest, the sleeves of his black t-shirt straining around the tops of his biceps. His chin tips down to look at Em, eyes narrowing with a glare that has had men much larger than her peeing their pants. Except—God love her—all Em does is arch one of her perfect brows in a silent challenge.

  The two of them have been around each other less than a handful of times, but the tension that builds between them whenever they’re within a ten-foot radius is hot enough to get those around them pregnant.

  “Hold up, Dennings,” Carter commands when I try to make my exit. I stop but don’t turn around, only angling my chin to look at him over my shoulder.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it, King.” I let out a heavy sigh. I know what he wants to discuss, but I’m not in the mood. It’s not even dinnertime and this already feels like the longest day on record.

  I’ve freaked out.

  Cried a few more buckets’ worth of tears.

  Talked Bette out of coming up again.

  Had a meeting at All Things Sports with Jordan Donovan to keep E from blowing a gasket.

  Then I got pissed.

  Why can’t Liam mind his own goddamn business?

  I thought I’d grown. I thought I’d managed to put my life back together in a way I could handle. For the last couple of months, I struggled—and mostly failed—to come to terms with the unwanted attention on social media, but now that Liam is getting involved? It feels like my life is about to crumble around me like a house of cards.

  “Dennings—”

  “No, King.” I whip around, slashing a hand through the air to cut him off. “I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am for everything you did for me in high school. I know you’re used to being the ruler supreme”—Oops, did that come out too sarcastic?—“and while the pull you have now extends outside of Blackwell, this”—I wave my phone in the air—“is something I have to handle on my own.”

  With that said, I spin on my heel, leaving Em and Carter to bicker, and head into the living room to drink my coffee, choosing the open spot next to CK. He doesn’t ask if I’m okay or how I’m holding up; he simply drops an arm around my shoulders and lets me snuggle into his side, silently telling me he’s here and has my back.

  My gaze falls to my hands, the rainbow-jeweled bands adorning five of my fingers—I really do need to find an emerald one to add CK to the fold—a physical reminder of all the different people who have my back.

  They aren’t the only ones who would be there for you.

  I don’t appreciate my inner cheerleader bringing up Mason at a time like this. The more I think of him, the more the chances of me crying—again—increase. To stop the spiral over my decision to keep away from him, I thumb open the text I received this afternoon.

  UNKNOWN: Oh boy! That UofJ411 SURE is interested in learning ALL the things there are to know about you. I wonder what I should tell them first? Or…maybe I should barter. Remember when E tried to get my scholarship pulled and I barely saw any playing time my freshman year because of it? I bet I could use them to dig up enough dirt on your precious Casanova to create a scandal big enough to have him fall in the draft. *thinking emoji* Oh the possibilities…

  Like hell will I let that happen. I refuse to allow Liam to vilify Mason on social media before his career even begins. It would take a whole damn lot for a team to consider a player undraftable, but a problematic reputation and being seen as a potential public relations nightmare can have a player fall to a later round and cost him millions.

  I don’t want that for Mason. He has too much going for him, too bright of a future to let something—or someone—from my past taint it.

  What does it matter if my heart stays broken if it means Mason’s dreams will come true?

  #Chapter21

  Not pushing the Shelby to the max is a feat in and of itself. Thankfully, Trav isn’t opposed to speeding to keep up, and we shave ten minutes off the drive to Blackwell.

  “She’s going to be pissed I brought you here,” Grayson says as I find a parking spot two houses down from the one with Kay’s Jeep in the driveway.

  I don’t waste time with a response, instead climbing out of my car and meeting the guys in front of what Grayson explains is the Taylor home.

  “Listen.” Grayson pauses, dropping the hand that was on the doorknob and turning to face our group fully. “This isn’t going to be like lunch or the nights we would hang at Kay’s dorm. This is damage control and keeping Kay from losing it completely. Everyone here is a friend to Kay. Don’t start shit.”

  His eyes shift pointedly to the driveway, and it’s only then I notice the matte black Corvette and Kawasaki Ninja parked next to Pinky. This night just keeps getting better and better.

  He waits for us all to nod our understanding then, without knocking, opens the door and steps inside.

  I’m the first in behind him, and I scan every face as quickly as I can. Em is the first to greet Grayson, and I see the rest of our group scattered behind her.

  Tessa Taylor and her blonde friend each do this half-scowl, half-smirk thing as they watch from the kitchen, and I see those two Royal guys from the weekend eyeing our crew with speculation.

  I double back, but still no Kay.

  “Where is she?” I ask Em since she’s the closest.

  “Don’t you guys have to be at the hotel soon?”

  I shake my hands out in frustration. “Emma.” My tone hardens and my voice drops an octave.

  She sighs as if I’m being ridiculous. I might be, but I’m over all the obstacles trying to keep me from my girl.

  “She’s on the phone with E. Calm your jockstrap.”

  “Where?” I bark out.

  “You need to chill, bro.” The Carter guy moves to put himself between Em and me. It’s a defensive move, and even in my less-than-rational frame of mind, I’m offended he can even think I would put my hands on her.

  I’m out of my depth here. Without Kay, I feel like I’m floundering, and I can’t see a way of getting her back until I get all the missing puzzle pieces together.

  Other than the sound of a commercial for the latest Kevin Hart film playing on the television, nobody speaks.

  Above us, the stairs creak as someone walks down them.

  “Short Stack.”

  I whip around at my best friend’s greeting in time to see Kay stopping on the final stair.

  Her eyes are red and puffy, which is only emphasized by how wide they go at the sight of us. I’m getting fucking sick and tired of seeing her this way.

  Her messy bun flops to the side as she tilts her head back to see Trav before he rushes her and pulls her into a hug. Kay’s arms hang limply at her sides for a second before they wrap around him. They hold on a few seconds longer than typical, and when they finally separate, Kay cups his cheek. I can tell by the look she gives him she’s having some kind of silent communication regarding what I told her about the whole Chrissy/Tina debacle.

  I try hard—really I do—not to be jealous, but I am. At least I’m not storming over and ripping them apart like the caveman side of me wants to.

  “What are you guys doing here? Isn’t Coach Knight going to bench you for not being at the hotel?”

  “Nah.” Kevin waves off her concern, moving in next.

  “He won’t bench all his captains,” Alex adds, taking his turn hugging her.

  “We have a few hours before curfew anyway.” Noah is the last to get her before her gray eyes land on me.

  “Mason.”

  I don’t know what I despise more, the fact that she is still calling me Mason or the defeated way she says it.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  I smooth a hand over the polyester of my hat. Again with this bullshit.

  “The fuck I shouldn’t.” I close the distance between us in three long strides. “Wherever you are is where I’ll be.”

  “You can’t.” She flails her hands about before finally shoving them in
the pocket of the NJA hoodie she’s wearing. She shouldn’t be wearing that—she should be wearing mine. “I told you, I’m no good for you.” She walks back, moving up another step.

  I reach out to stop her retreat. The added height from the stairs makes her only a few inches shorter than me instead of the usual foot and a half. With both hands, I hold her face, resting my thumbs on the apples of her cheeks, and look her directly in her watery eyes.

  “There is not one person on this earth who is better for me than you, Skittles.” She sobs, warm wetness hitting the tops of my thumbs and sliding down the digits. “Stop trying to push me away.”

  “I’m not pushing you away. We’re over. We’re not a couple anymore. It’s as simple as that.”

  Yeah, I don’t accept that.

  “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

  I hear more than one person behind me agreeing, but I ignore them. Kay is the only one whose opinion on the subject matters.

  “Your reasoning may have been wrong…” She shakes her head as best she can in my hold. “But it was the right decision.”

  “How?” My fingers flex, tangling into her hair. “How can you say that?”

  “Because all the drama that surrounds me will bleed over onto you if we’re a couple.” A haunted pall falls over her expression. “The focus should be on how good of a football player you are, and how any team would be lucky to have you on their roster. Being with me makes you a target for a whole lot of other bullshit instead.”

  “Do you really, truly believe I give a shit what that asshat Liam Parker has to say?” She flinches at his name and I step in closer, moving until the tips of my sneakers hit the flat of the staircase.

  “Honestly…” Her shoulders slump so much she shrinks an inch. “It doesn’t matter what you think.”

  “Way to kick a man when he’s down, Short Stack.”

  “Not the time, Trav,” I mutter out of the side of my mouth.

  “What I mean”—my girl rolls her eyes—“is we may not care what he has to say, but…” She pauses, inhaling the best she can through her stuffy nose. “There are people out there who thrive on what he’ll try to stir up. I will not be responsible for putting a target on your back.”

  “Again, baby…” I tug her to the edge of her step, dropping my forehead to hers, bringing us closer. “I. Don’t. Care about Liam Parker.”

  Another flinch.

  “I get that, Caveman.” Hope blooms at my nickname. “But I do. I know what he’s capable of bringing down on us. I remember how others will take and twist and use the things he will say. I can’t go through that again.” That hope I felt shrivels and dies.

  “Tell me.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

  “Kayla.” Her eyes snap to mine. “Tell. Me.”

  Pressure fills my hands as all her weight collapses in on itself—like yesterday—falling to the stairs as she curls up to hunch over her knees.

  I don’t know about you, Nova, but I’m over feeling helpless when it comes to Skittles. We need to come up with a game changer so we can stop feeling this way. I couldn’t agree with my inner coach more.

  Behind me, I hear Grayson ushering everyone else away, and I take a seat next to Kay, putting an arm around her back and tucking her against my side.

  She may be physically next to me, but with each tick of silence, she pulls farther away.

  From somewhere inside her sweatshirt, I can feel her phone vibrate, though it doesn’t seem like she’s even aware of it—or anything else, for that matter.

  I look up at the sound of shuffling footsteps to see Tessa standing in front of us, fidgeting with her cellphone. Her eyes bounce between Kay and me, the skin around her lips bleaching white as her mouth pinches to the side.

  “Kay?”

  Kay’s voice is slightly muffled, head still buried in her lap as she says, “It really freaks me out when you Taylors call me Kay.”

  The first spark of her sass has me letting out an almost startled bark of laughter. It’s enough to have Kay lifting her head, her messy bun flopping around with the movement.

  “Oh yeah?” Tessa folds her arms across her chest, leveling Kay with an expression that makes her seem older than her fifteen years. “And how do you think it makes me feel having to see you like this? I know I like to tell Jimmy I’m your favorite Taylor, but he was the only one able to help you when you were practically comatose.”

  What the what?

  “That’s a bit dramatic, T,” Kay mumbles.

  “Is it really?” Tessa puts her hands on her hips, staring Kay down as if to say I dare you to argue.

  My gaze bounces between the two. “I don’t care who, but someone better fucking explain.”

  Tessa’s gaze flits back to Kay. When she remains silent, Tessa’s shoulders roll back and she switches her attention me. “Whatever…she can be pissed at me later.”

  I assume the 'she' in this scenario is Kay, but my girl makes no move to stop her younger sister.

  “When Uncle Mike died, Kay wasn’t just depressed. She…shut down so fully it was like she was a walking zombie.”

  “You and Savvy need to stick to romantic comedies.” Yet again, Kay’s mumbled words are ignored.

  “She didn’t talk. She barely ate, and when she did, it was because we forced her to. She only slept when the exhaustion got to be too much.” Again, her blue gaze goes back to Kay. “The worst was after days of being in bed, we finally convinced her to shower.” Her head tilts back to look at the ceiling. “Everyone was in the midst of planning the funeral, so it was a few hours before anyone thought to check on her.”

  A lump the size of a football forms in my throat, a sense of unexplainable dread overtaking my body.

  “She didn’t try to kill herself,” Tessa rushes to say, obviously having read my thoughts.

  “Unlike what the press led people to believe.” I whip around at Kay’s hollow declaration. “I lost count of the number of stories—emphasis on stories—that were released about draft prospect Eric Dennings taking care of his suicidal sister in the wake of their father’s death.”

  My eyes narrow. How is that possible? Yes, tabloids love to embellish, but their stories have to come from somewhere to avoid being sued for slander.

  “Why would the paps care about a future NFL player’s family, though?”

  “I’m not just talking about the stalkerazzi.” Kay shakes her head. “Every news outlet ran with the story because what E did, the way he stepped up for me, was human interest gold.”

  “Why didn’t you sue to get them to issue a retraction?”

  “Because ‘a source close to the family’ is where they got their information.” Kay’s mouth turns down in a frown.

  “A source?” I arch an eyebrow.

  “Liam.” Kay buries her face in her hands, elbows braced on her knees, fingers digging into her hair. “We couldn’t prove it, but after the breakup and the cheating was revealed, it was the best we could come up with.”

  Boy, this motherfucker just keeps digging himself in deeper and deeper. I crack my knuckles, imagining how satisfying the smash of his skin would be under them if I could knock him out when we play in a few weeks. Sure, there’s a slim chance it could put an end to my career before it even starts, but I’m highly motivated to find an opportunity to fulfill this goal without being caught.

  “Why?”

  “Other than the fact that the dickwad loves drama?” I can’t help but smirk at Tessa’s choice of insult. “That day we convinced PF to shower, he showed up shortly after we pulled her out of it. It didn’t matter to him that we realized she was in the shower for hours, letting what had turned to icy water pelt her as she sat on the floor, and I swear she was practically hypothermic—”

  “I wasn’t hypothermic,” Kay cuts in, but Tessa continues like she didn’t even speak.

  “—by the time we pulled her out.” Tessa’s red ponytail swings with each shake of he
r head. “All he saw was that it was JT who got her out, that my brother saw her naked before she was covered with a towel. Even though he was dicking down most of the school’s cheerleading squad, we believe he wanted to punish PF for his misguided belief that she was cheating on him with Jim.”

  “Dicking down? Really?” Kay asks.

  “Just calling it like I see it,” Tessa says with a shrug then walks away, leaving me with the pieces I hope to use to put my relationship back together.

  Every bit of information I’ve been told only increases the murderous rage building in my gut, but one thing’s for sure—I really like Tessa Taylor.

  “Okay.” I remove my hat, running a hand over my head before replacing it. “I feel like we’re going around in circles here.” I hook a finger under Kay’s chin and turn her face to mine. “What does this have to do with us?”

  “Mason—” A fresh round of tears starts as her voice breaks on my name.

  “Baby.” I take heart at how she nuzzles into my touch when I wipe to clear her cheek. “Nothing you can tell me will change my mind about us.”

  “With you being a better player—especially at the same position—Liam is going to use your connection to me to try to hurt your draft potential.”

  “I highly doubt—”

  “That’s because you don’t understand.” Her previously small voice finds strength so it can talk over mine.

  I love this woman, but she frustrates the fuck out of me. I’m trying to understand, but I keep feeling like even after we hashed all this stuff out, there’s still so much she’s not telling me.

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “I gave you the t-shirt, and I’m sure you’ve seen his post on Instagram.” Her chin rises, but instead of looking at me, she stares off at a spot just past my shoulder, and I get that not-getting-all-the-information impression again. “He’s stirring up the hornets’ nest. I barely survived back then, and that was only with overwhelming panic attacks and isolating myself from anything and anyone that wasn’t The Barracks. You…”

  The muscle of my pec jumps as the flat of her hand presses over my heart.