Wild Card: A College Sports Romance (Rake Forge University Series Book 1)

by Ashley Munoz

  I watched as a few players tossed the white ball from glove to glove. “So turns out Elias wasn’t who he said he was…that was just the name he gave me.” We walked closer to the fence, still keeping close to the tree line so we had some coverage.

  “Shit…then who was the one in the room with you?” Hillary asked, sipping her iced coffee. Her face pressed against the metal fence while we watched the players run and slide impressively fast to get to their next base.

  “Decker James.” I searched the names on the back of the jerseys within my scope of vision to see if I could find him. I should have known by how quiet my two best friends were that something was wrong. Sure enough, as I pulled away from the fence and took in their concerned faces, I saw they were looking at each other with reserved expressions.

  “What?” My eyes bounced from my best friend’s black-rimmed glasses and downcast brown eyes to Juan’s colored lenses.

  “You’re positive it’s Decker James? As in, a student here at RFU?” Juan clarified with an intensity that threw me for a loop.

  Hillary looked up at Juan right as he looked down at her, and I knew, I just knew.

  “He’s not on the team, is he?”

  “Well…he is, but I guess he’s in more of a supportive role now,” Hillary answered, her hands shifting nervously.

  Juan shook his head back and forth like this conversation bothered him.

  Hillary spoke up again, getting my attention. “I dated this guy last year who was on the team with him, and rumor is that Decker tried to nail Elias with one of his insane fastballs. I guess Elias was able to move in time, but they basically demoted him, took him off as starting pitcher, and removed him from the team house.”

  Juan’s gaze stayed at our feet, that muscle in his jaw jumping every few seconds. I wondered why he was being so quiet, but Hillary sipped from her pink straw and spoke up again.

  “I think he’s dangerous, Mal…” She trailed off, casting her gaze out to the field.

  My heartbeat sped, like a rally car that had gone off course then got a flat, and then the brakes went out. A shitshow—that was what was happening inside my chest.

  Dangerous?

  He didn’t like Elias; that much I could tell from the conversations we’d had and the way he’d looked at the guy.

  “Nah, he’s not all that. He’s in a class of mine…he’s cool,” Juan finally added softly. He barely looked up while his fingers dug into the metal near our faces. The journalist in me wanted to interrogate my best friend. There were things he wasn’t saying, and he was acting weird.

  “Juan, this is serious…you can’t assess whether the man is safe or not based on if he shares his notes or not.” Hillary shook her head back and forth. Leaning closer to me, she said, “Get this: I guess Elias wasn’t the only one who got fucked up. They say the team started calling Decker ‘Frankenstein’ instead of his beloved nickname, ‘Dugger.’ I guess his hand got all jacked during a fight. Anyway, he has this grotesque scar running down the length of his hand and up his wrist.” My friend’s eyebrows waggled as she dished about this guy I had more than a little crush on.

  I watched the field, trying to push away this feeling. They couldn’t be right, the rumors. I’d seen the scar, but something told me it hadn’t been from a fight. Just thinking about those hands made me feel an ache low in my belly. She had to be wrong, but then again…he did hate Elias with a crazy passion that didn’t exactly seem healthy and was going after my stepsister, for something complicated…

  “Girl, you dodged a bullet.” Hillary sighed, and we started walking again.

  I silently nodded my agreement, not sure how to break the news to my best friends that I had Frankenstein’s number in my phone and it was burning a hole in my pocket.

  “Shaw!” My last name was bellowed through the newsroom, and every head turned my way.

  I clenched my fists, hating that my legs straightened even though my mind was screaming at them to stay exactly where they were. Fuck this guy and his rude-ass way of communicating. We weren’t dogs, coming when he commanded.

  Still, I went, and I hated myself for it, but he held my future in those clammy, petite hands of his.

  “Trevor.” I took the seat in front of his desk, sliding my hands under my legs so I didn’t wrap them around his neck.

  “Where is your article?” His face was already two inches from his monitor, typing away.

  “It’s not due for another two weeks.”

  He made some sound in the back of his throat. “Your notes are due, so…” He turned toward me and crossed his arms like he was confident in my utter demise. “Where are they?”

  Inhaling a shallow breath, I steadied my voice as I explained. “I’m not turning them in this week.”

  “Not acceptable, Shaw…you know that.” He rolled his eyes, turning back toward his computer. “Even freshmen understand the logistics of being in this journalism course. Notes are always due at the end of the week, regardless of the deadline.”

  I loved how he constantly condescended to me regarding my position on the paper.

  “I understand this, but I’m still not turning them in. I’m a senior reporter—I’ve earned a little bit of leeway. I have a really good story, Trevor. Trust me on this.”

  He scoffed. “Trust you?”

  His chair swiveled in my direction. His greasy hair was tied back at his neck, and his eyes had dark circles under them. I already knew it was from a Dungeons and Dragons game that had gone too long the night prior.

  “You totally bailed on the last story!”

  I stood and hovered near his desk, wishing I didn’t have this stupid proximity issue so I could get in his face. “You took that story from me! It was well written, informative, and delivered a fantastic punch, but you didn’t run it. That was your choice. I’m not budging on this. If you don’t want the story then I’ll sell it. Either way”—I stood to my full height and turned on my heel—“I’m not turning in my fucking notes.”

  I walked away, ignoring him calling my name from his little office. People flicked their curious gazes my way before dropping them back to their desks. Trevor got off on causing drama in this stupid class, and he especially loved messing with me; I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction today.

  I held my chin high while I grabbed my things and left the room, heading straight for the student parking lot. I may have seemed confident in my departure and my defiance, but truthfully, I was just fucked.

  I had no notes, not enough to write something worthy of being featured in the showcase. I’d only met with Decker that one time in the café, then I’d ignored the number he’d given me and hadn’t called or texted him since hearing about his little rage problem.

  I knew it sucked to judge someone based on a rumor, but could I really risk my or Taylor’s safety on something like that? No, I couldn’t.

  Then again…Juan had said he was cool, and I had no story and really needed one. When I considered how many random guys Taylor let into our house, were we ever really safe? I mean, any of those guys could and probably did have hang-ups or issues…who was to say Decker would ever let those issues manifest around me or Taylor? If she wasn’t even worried about her safety, I didn’t need to make such a big deal about him coming over…right?

  Right.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I studied the blue ink for signs of deception. It gave me no indication whatsoever on the true intent behind being given to me. Decker had said to use it if I had questions about the article, but I’d have been lying if I said I hadn’t considered texting to ask about the rumors I’d heard. In fact, that first night after I heard about his nickname, I’d wanted to text and ask him about the whole thing. Surely there was another side to the story that I wasn’t getting.

  Then I realized how weird that would have come across and decided it was better if I just ignored him and let this crazy idea of the story and of him and Taylor go, especially if he wanted more revenge on poor Elias. Hadn’t
that guy gone through enough?

  Then again…that was a rumor, and I didn’t even know Decker.

  The more I thought about it, the more I considered Decker’s face when he realized I wasn’t Taylor that first night. He had an axe to grind with Elias, and that had to come from somewhere…unless Decker was truly mentally unhinged. But, I’d been around him, and I hadn’t caught any signs that he was on medication or struggling with his mental health. I wanted to give him a chance; he deserved to explain himself, and if he was telling the truth then I’d just feel like a bitch if I didn’t at least give him that.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I turned over and pulled the pillow over my face. I’d been running through the little meeting I’d had with Decker all morning and was no closer to gleaning anything new whatsoever about the man. Sure, he had made it clear that he wanted a shot with Taylor, but he just didn’t seem like her type. No, in fact, the other guy who’d walked in, Elias—he looked like the kind of guy she’d go for: tousled blond hair, creamy and freckled complexion, and well over the average height. That and the expensive-as-hell brands he was wearing—yeah, Taylor would definitely go for him.

  With that on my mind, I crawled out of bed and headed for the living room. Taylor was thankfully already out there, and was she doing homework? I’d never seen her actually work on homework before, and I was tempted to pull out my phone and snap a picture.

  “Hey.” I walked to the sofa and sat down. The television pinged on after I grabbed for the remote. I flicked through channels as I waited for Taylor to reply. She never did, so I just kept going. “Are you going to be around for a little bit?” I asked, biting down on my nail. I was about as subtle as an elephant.

  Taylor’s head finally rose, her gaze finding mine. “I guess. Why?”

  “No reason. I have this friend who was going to come over, but I wanted to be sure it was okay with you first.” I clicked up a few more channels despite the fact that we only actually got about five.

  I needed to turn on Netflix before she noticed I was acting weird.

  “I can leave if you want,” she offered in a cautious tone. She was always worried that I wouldn’t want her there when my friends came over. The other day when Juan and Hillary had come over, it was only Juan who’d been able to convince her to watch a few episodes with us before she finally went to her room. It was progress.

  “No, actually he asked if you’d be here. I think he might hate you or something.” If I said he was into her, she’d run for the hills, but saying someone hated her always piqued her interest.

  “Seriously?” Her laugh came out more like a snort, and I knew I’d won.

  The first official playdate was on.

  “Yeah, no idea why,” I said, not looking her direction.

  “Tell him to come over.” She propped her elbows on either side of the chair, lifting her chin.

  I pulled out my phone and ignored the tremble in my fingers as I pulled up his number.

  Me: Hey, this is Mallory. Want to come over for your first official playdate?

  I set the phone down, waiting, and thankfully only a few seconds went by before he responded.

  Decker: Thought you were done talking to me.

  Me: Why would you think that?

  I felt guilty, and I hated feeling guilty. I owed him the chance to explain his side of the story…about a rumor I’d heard that might not even be close to true.

  Decker: I never heard from you…I drove by your place a few times just to make sure you didn’t move away.

  Me, not Taylor. My heart did this little fluttery thing.

  Me: I’m sorry about that, it was just a crazy week. But if you’re available right now, I have her tame and in a good mood. By the way, she thinks you hate her, just roll with that.

  My stomach was all nerves and knots waiting for him to finally text back.

  But he didn’t, and I made it through almost two episodes of Schitt’s Creek before a knock sounded at the door.

  I crawled out of the little nest of blankets I’d gathered and headed for the entrance. Taylor glanced at me cautiously, like a nervous animal.

  Swinging open the door, I smiled at my guest and shoved down the part of me that appreciated how good Decker looked in a tight, navy blue tee, or how he looked with that matching Devils baseball hat on his dark, mussed hair. I definitely pushed down how badly I wanted him to show me his hand so I could run my finger down the length of his scar…or explain the rumors he didn’t know I’d learned.

  His eyes roamed, taking a slow route from my hair down to my toes. I hated when he looked at me like that because it made me feel like an electric current was running between us, like he was ready to eat me alive, all while his desired conquest was just feet from us.

  “Hey, you made it,” I chirped, shutting us in.

  “Yeah…figured I would bring some chips.” He stepped closer, handing me a bag of my favorite lime-flavored chips, and I almost launched myself at him. Taylor, however, scrunched her nose. How did he know they’re my favorite?

  “Boo. No alcohol?” Her pink, recently glossed lips pouted as she moved out of the chair.

  “Decker, this is my stepsister, Taylor. Taylor, this is Decker, my friend.” I watched him carefully, for some reason hoping he’d refute the friend thing and tell her I had somehow become the love of his life. Yeah, I knew I had a problem, and that thought just totally confirmed that I needed help.

  “Nice to meet you, Taylor.” Decker’s lips quirked to the side like he had a secret. Her eyes lit up like she was already in on it. Was this flirting? It had been so long since anyone had done this with me, it was hard to actually recognize when it was happening.

  “You’re a pitcher for the Devils, right?” she asked, quirking a brow.

  Decker’s jaw twitched, his nostrils flaring before he gave her the slightest nod.

  Taylor’s cold demeanor snapped back into place as her gaze went to her phone, effectively ignoring us.

  Decker watched her with his eyebrows caving, like he’d never gotten the brushoff once in his gorgeous life.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Decker and I were going to watch a movie…do you want to join us, Taylor?”

  Her blue eyes flicked once to me, then to Decker. They weighed him, seeming to take in every detail: the corded muscle along his forearms, the dark swirls peeking out from the sleeves of his t-shirt, and probably the way his eyes seemed to glitter under the expensive recessed lighting my dad had put in. Was she seeing how beautiful he was? Did she catch the small wince that clouded his features when he flexed his left hand? My mind raced, panicked at the idea that she’d fall for Decker right here, right now…and then game over. I’d be out of a story source and well…no more Decker.

  “I have homework, but I can watch whatever you decide. It won’t bother me if you turn it on in here.”

  Then her gaze was back on her phone. I withheld a sigh. I had internally bet myself money on Taylor declining the movie and going back to her room, which would have totally messed this entire thing up for us.

  Grabbing the bag of chips, I headed to the kitchen in search of a bowl. Decker followed on my heels, whispering under his breath as we both crouched down to dig through the lower cabinets.

  “Is she always this closed off and cold?”

  I nearly laughed. “Yes…unless of course you’re famous or have a large bank account—then she’s as warm as asphalt on a sunny day.” I shouldn’t have said that. What was wrong with me?

  I looked up in time to see a line form between his eyebrows.

  “I’m sorry, that was really rude of me. She does take some getting used to, but Taylor is used to hookups. As long as I have known her, she’s never had a relationship. Maybe she wants you to work for it or something?”

  “She probably knows about me.” Those eyebrows stayed caved in, his lips thin and his jaw locked.

  I wanted to prod, ask what she knew…what it was that everyone seemed to know that I didn’t.<
br />
  “Just be yourself. You’re a good-looking guy who has a lot to offer. Your story will be so cute once you thaw through her icy exterior.”

  I stood, slamming the cupboard shut. I hated how weak the idea of him having a story with Taylor made me, how I didn’t even know him, but because we’d had one stupid moment together, my damn mind and body had decided we had dibs, regardless of the fact that on the night in question of said dibs, he was busy trying to seduce someone he thought was Taylor. It was stupid—all of this was stupid.

  Decker trailed after me, clearing his throat. I dumped the bag of chips in the bowl and headed for the couch. At least I’d get my favorite snack out of this ordeal.

  “Uh…” Decker glanced at the spot next to me and at where Taylor sat in the chair.

  Right, he’d want to sit next to her because he was trying to seduce her.

  With my eyes I told him to just sit down and work his way up to sitting next to her. With his eyes he told me to make it happen. But I’d already made this night happen—he was in my living room, mere feet from my stepsister. This was as good as it was going to get.

  I cleared my throat, narrowing my eyes, pressing my point without actually using words.

  He finally gave in, letting out a sigh and throwing his back into the seat on the cushion farthest from me.

  Fuck you too, buddy.

  “What are you guys watching?” Taylor asked, sipping from her plastic tumbler. Lemon water from the looks of it—sometimes that was an entire meal for her.

  “I don’t know…what are you in the mood for?” I asked Decker.

  His knee bounced while I began clicking through options on Netflix.

  “How about that new horror movie…the one with the house and those kids?” Taylor asked, taking a loud sip. Suddenly she was invested in a movie that literally sounded like every horror movie I had ever seen.