by RC Boldt
I jerk to a stop and whip my head around to stare at him. “Did you do that?”
He just grins. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”
When I part my lips, ready to scold him, he throws up a hand to stop me. “I never did anything. I just tiptoed in and out without leaving any trail.” He lifts a shoulder in a partial shrug. “Just to see if I could.”
“Right.”
“Back to you…” His eyes lock with mine, and they’re pleading. “I had to know you legitimately wanted to be my friend. You and Ivy both.”
My voice is tiny. “Ivy and I were the only people who needed a friend the most but were too damn scared to give it a shot.”
“Thank goodness I’m a great eavesdropper, then, huh?” He smiles at the mention of how Ivy and I had been sitting in the quad eating lunch between classes when he’d approached us. But there’s something in the way he poses this question…
“It was planned.” I say it not so much as a question but as a statement. A dawning revelation.
“I saw you two and felt a connection. You kept yourselves isolated for the most part. It was always the two of you against the world.” His smile is tinged with sadness. “Someone like me knows exactly how it is to feel detached from everyone.”
I study him quietly before murmuring softly, “So, you dug into our past.”
He nods. “And I soon realized you ladies were the most incredible individuals I’d ever have the privilege of knowing.” His eyes turn downcast. “I knew you could teach me something.”
My laugh sounds harsh, brittle. “I don’t know that I could’ve taught you anything aside from what not to do.” My eyes burn as unshed tears rush to the surface. “Especially now.”
He darts up from his seat and advances on me. Grasping my upper arms gently, he shakes his head. “Darcy, you’re wrong on so many levels. You taught me never to underestimate myself because hard work always paid off. I learned to not be afraid of dreaming big—even when those dreams seem so farfetched in the beginning—because if I work my ass off, it’ll be possible. I learned to never let my past dictate my future.”
I’m rendered speechless. His voice is so fervent and his tone so heartfelt. He releases his hold on my arms, eyes never leaving mine.
“Want to know what I’ve learned from you lately?”
“What?” I ask in the barest hint of a whisper.
“I learned what it means to be a giver. Someone who will do anything—even sacrifice someone or something that means more to them than anything else in this world”—he eyes me hard as if demanding me to hear the underlying meaning to his words—“at the expense of their own feelings.”
I mash my lips together to restrain the sob threatening to bubble up and escape.
“And I’ll tell you what else I expect to learn from you.” He leans in, affection lacing his tone. “I’ll learn a lesson on what it really means to be brave and serve as a true champion to others who are afraid to step into battle.”
When he spreads his arms wide, I step into them and wrap my arms around him. “You really believe that?” I whisper against his shirt.
“Without a shadow of a doubt.” His arms tighten around me, and I bask in the comfort of his embrace before he finally speaks again.
“You ready to take this bastard down?”
I loosen my hold and ease away to look up at him. It’s there, written on his face, clear to see.
He’s ready. He’s already done the dirty work behind the scenes. He has the ammunition—most of which I probably have no clue about.
The utter confidence and the dogged determination in his eyes fill me with fortitude.
“I need to determine if this is feasible and how badly the odds are stacked against me—against my word.” I hold his gaze, imploring him to understand. “Then I need to talk everything over with you and Ivy before I decide on anything. Because this is your business, too. I don’t want to have your names dragged through the mud or—”
His index finger presses over my lips to stop me. Concern and affection intermingle on his expression.
“I get it. But there’s one thing you need to know right now.”
I remain silent even as he drops his finger.
“I went into business with you ladies because I love you both. You’re my family.” His features turn hard. “And when people fuck with my family, I get angry. So, don’t lose sleep over me in this equation.”
The urgency in his words is so fervent and convincing it fills me with fortitude.
I can do this.
44
Dax
“Kendrick! Watson!” Coach barks from down the practice field. “Get your asses over here!”
Fuck. I know I haven’t done anything wrong. If anything, I’ve been busting my ass even more today.
Okay, so that’s not entirely true. It’s been pretty obvious Watson and I are working robotically instead of the smooth, well-oiled machine we’d been. But that was before—
I cut off my train of thought, knowing my blood is boiling as it is with having to practice with Watson.
I jog over and stop in front of Coach. Watson steps into place beside me, and I barely hold back a sneer at his proximity.
Coach eyes us with disgust. “What the hell is your damn problem? You two are acting like goddamn teenage girls pissing over the same damn boy!” he thunders. He grabs a fistful of my jersey and gets in my face. “Fix this shit now.” His voice is steely, eyes narrowed. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” I barely grit out the words.
“And same goes for you,” Coach flings the words at Watson, who also mutters a, “Yes, sir.”
“You two clowns better not cost us a chance at the Super Bowl.” His eyes hit on me again, and his next words send a chill running through my veins. He jabs a finger in my direction. “Get your shit together or get benched.”
Abruptly, he turns around. “Now, get cleaned up. Don’t wanna see your faces until tomorrow.”
Watson and I stalk toward the locker room, and as soon as we enter, I shove him. “What the fuck, man? I caught your passes. You’re the one throwing like a damn blind man.”
“You need to get your shit together and just listen to me.” He grits out the words angrily and shoves back at me. “But you’re too busy fucking shit up because you won’t open your damn ears!”
“I don’t want to hear a goddamn thing you have to say!” I thunder.
Heavy palms shove at my chest. “You fucking need to!”
I shove back, but before I can draw back my arm to slug his pretty boy face, Tank gets between us.
“Simmer down.”
My lineman has one large paw of a hand against the center of my chest. Fury runs through my veins, and I guess he notices the proximity between Watson and me is still far too close for comfort. Hand still on my chest, he walks me backward until I’m against the locker room wall.
“Simmer,” he repeats, eyes clashing with mine. “You ain’t got a lick of sense right now.” He leans in closer, voice lowered. “Media’s still hanging around. Last thing you need to do is give them a damn sound bite.”
He lets that sink in for a moment. Then he commands I take a deep breath.
I scowl. The last thing I want is to take a damn deep breath. What I want is Watson’s throat crushed in my fist. What I want is to know why the hell Darcy decided to suddenly go with the pretty white boy instead of me.
It was like she took a page from the cheerleader’s playbook during my high school days. She went straight for my damn jugular. Her words continue on a fucking torturous loop in my mind.
“I’d be better off with someone more like me.”
“With my own kind.”
Then she did just that by leaving with Watson.
Jesus. The center of my chest feels like someone’s been hacking at it with a pick ax.
A hard shove to my chest pulls me from my inner thoughts. Tank eyes me hard. “Deep fucking breath. Now.” His voice is low, d
angerous, and completely at odds with his usual easygoing personality.
To appease him, I do as he says.
“I’m not with Darcy, man,” Watson calls out from a few feet away, still eyeing me warily. “I’ve been trying to talk to you—”
“To rub in the fact that you left with my g—” Fuck. “Left with my date?” I correct myself.
My quarterback has the damn audacity to roll his eyes, appearing exasperated. “Dude. Fucking listen for a minute.” His voice is steely, and he speaks slowly. “I saw Darcy home because of how upset she was.”
“Right,” I scoff in disbelief.
“She was a mess afterward. All I did was make sure she was okay.” He shoots me a disgusted look. “Like I’d ever pounce on any of my friends’ exes.”
“Then what’s the deal between you two?”
His jaw clenches, a tic apparent. “Nothing but friendship. I”—he points his thumb at himself—“am not involved with Darcy.” He shakes his head and storms away toward his locker, muttering something that sounds like, “Damn numbnuts.”
I catch Tank’s eyes. “Think he’s telling the truth?”
He swats me upside my head so hard it stings. “Boy, you done tried my patience today.” Then he stomps off, too.
I’m left standing here wondering what the hell I’m missing. It’s like everyone’s clued in but me.
“Hey, stranger,” Ivy greets me at the front door.
I duck and drop a kiss on her cheek. “How’s our girl?”
“She’s good. Asleep in her glider. Daisy ended up falling asleep, too.” She holds up the small video monitor in her hand. “I was playing piano and singing to her, and they both passed out.” Ivy makes a face, feigning disappointment. “Good fans are so hard to come by these days.”
A laugh rushes past my lips. “I bet.” I peer at the grainy picture of my sleeping goddaughter whose dog is snoozing at the foot of the glider, and a fraction of the ache in my chest subsides. God, Ella’s adorable.
“Come on in.” Ivy waves her hand, gesturing for me to head down the hallway. “Beck just got home from work a few minutes ago. It’s his dinner night, so he’s in the kitchen getting everything ready.”
I find my best friend in the kitchen wearing an apron. He withdraws a large sheet pan with roasted vegetables and thin slices of chicken and sets it on the stove. After he slides off the oven mitt and tosses it on the counter, he turns to me.
“Hey, man.” He pulls me in for a quick back-slap hug. “Good to see you.”
“Smells good.”
He grins. “My specialty has become sheet pan dinners these days.” With a quick glance past me, his expression sobers, and he leans back against the kitchen island. “Haven’t seen you in a few. What’s new?”
The question draws a harsh, bitter laugh from me. “Not much, aside from Darcy breaking up with me the night of the awards.”
Becket rears back in surprise. “She what?”
I frown. “You didn’t know?” I assumed she would’ve mentioned it to them.
He shakes his head. “I had no idea.” Tipping his head, he calls out, “Ivy?”
Her faint footfalls sound along the hardwood floors before she reaches the doorway. “What’s up?”
“Did you know about Darcy breaking things off with him?” Beck tips his head in my direction.
Ivy’s brows slant together in confusion. “No.” She shakes her head as if dazed. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well, it happened.” I force the words out. “According to the Folio Weekly, someone snapped photos of it going down.”
Folio Weekly is the local city magazine with a gossip section specifically for who they deem are the “persons of interest in Jacksonville.”
“Why am I not surprised someone took photos of that,” Beck mutters, shaking his head.
Ivy hesitates. “Do you… mind if I ask why she broke things off?”
I steel myself against having to admit it out loud. “She said she realized she was better off with someone more like herself. Her own kind.” I scrub a hand over my face, sudden weariness washing over me. “Basically, she couldn’t deal with the fact that I’m half black.”
All I get in response is silence. Evidently, I’ve shocked them.
I shrug, ready to change the subject, but Ivy walks over to the far end of the counter, where her cell phone sits. “Hold on a sec.” She swipes the screen, then there’s rapid typing before she mutters, “Something doesn’t sound right.”
“Yeah,” Becket agrees. “That’s not like her.”
I keep my mouth shut because I don’t want to get into an argument over this. The reason I came here was to see if I could get my mind off things.
Off her.
“Oh… oh, boy.”
Both my and Becket’s heads snap around to Ivy, who’s staring down at her phone.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
Her brow furrows, and a deep crease forms between her eyebrows. Finally, she tears her eyes away from whatever she’s pulled up on her cell, her gaze resting on me. A few quick steps, and she’s at my side, holding out her phone for me. “This’ll probably sound weird, but is this when she told you—”
“Yes.” I quickly cut her off after a cursory glance at the image displayed on her phone. I’m not trying to be an asshole, but the last thing I want to do is look at the damn photos someone took of the ordeal.
Ivy doesn’t say anything but brings the screen closer to her and uses a thumb and forefinger to zoom in on something. Then she shows me.
“Do you see this?” When I start to protest, she shakes her head to stop me. “Do you see what she’s doing?” At my confused look, she adds, “Look at her fingers on her right hand.”
I squint at the image on her phone. It’s more grainy now that she’s zoomed in on a specific part but not distorted enough that I can’t make out her fingers. But I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.
I look at Beck for help, and he must take pity on me because he straightens and walks over. As soon as he peers at the image, his eyes widen slightly, and he glances over at Ivy. “No shit.”
My eyes volley between the two, waiting for them to clue me in. When they don’t, I release an exasperated groan. “It’d be great if someone could—”
Ivy lays a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. We don’t mean to keep you out of the loop with this. Let me explain.”
I say nothing; just wait her out.
“When Darcy was younger, I picked up on something she’d do when she had to lie to spare someone’s feelings. Or, in some cases, when she had to lie to protect herself.”
Noticing my confused expression hasn’t faltered, she continues. “She’d cross her fingers.” Since her phone timed out and the screen went dark, Ivy refreshes it and points at the image once again. “Just like this.” Her eyes plead with mine. “I caught her doing it when I asked her if she had feelings for you. When she said ‘no.’”
I drag my hands over my hair. Shit. What the hell am I supposed to think now?
“So, what exactly are you saying?” I need it spelled out. Because I can’t give in to hope right now just to be hurt and made a fool of all over again.
“That she lied to you,” Becket supplies matter-of-factly. His eyes dart to Ivy’s for a split second before returning to me. “But I’m more interested in why.” He holds up a hand when Ivy starts to protest but addresses me. “I’m not saying I don’t care that you got hurt. What I am saying is, there’s a damn good reason she lied to you, and if I had to guess, I’d say she was protecting you somehow.”
He holds out his hand for Ivy’s phone. “Can I see that again for a sec?”
She hands it over, and he swipes a few times before he evidently finds what he’s looking for. He nods, appearing satisfied. Then he turns the phone back to us, showing a photo taken of Darcy and me earlier that night. “There’s no way in hell a woman who looked at you like this—like you hung the damn moon—could’ve changed her mind t
he same night.”
“He’s right, Dax,” Ivy agrees softly. “That’s the face of a woman in lo—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out gravelly, hoarse, and full of pain. I clear my throat in an attempt to soften my tone. “Please don’t.”
Her worried eyes flick to her husband. Beck sighs. “Look, let’s try to think about this from another standpoint. Did anyone say anything to her? At what point did the shift happen?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. An impending headache is on the horizon if this dull ache is any indication. “I don’t know…” I try to think back. Everything seemed normal when we were at the reception. She went to the restroom, and then I saw our GM heading away from her direction to—
Oh, fuck.
“Okay, good. We’re onto something.”
Apparently, I spoke out loud. Becket and Ivy stare at me with hope in their expressions.
“The new GM.” I drag a hand over my face. “He’s been riding me hard about steering clear of Darcy, saying he’d bench me for the season and bringing up my endorsement contract stipulations… He must’ve said something to her.”
The two exchange a confused look. I don’t blame them because I’m just as lost. Why the hell the guy has such a hard-on for dissing Darcy is beyond me.
“The fact that she hasn’t mentioned anything to me is big. That means she’s trying to protect me somehow, too.” Ivy lets out a sigh and shakes her head.
“Unless…” I’m thinking out loud. “He pulled something with her like he’s done with Jackie.”
Beck frowns. “What are you talking about?”
I groan. “Guy’s a dick of epic proportions already, but I noticed some stuff go down. Jackie basically admitted he cops feels.”
“What?” My friend’s expression is thunderous.
“Oh, hell no.” Ivy scowls and tugs her phone from her husband’s grip. “I need to call Leif.”
Panic threads its way in my veins. “Wait. Jackie asked me not to say anything. She’s at risk for losing her job.” And Beck and I know her well enough that she’d never let us help her financially if she happened to lose her job. She’s just as proud and stubborn as my family.