The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs Book 3)

by Kate Stewart

  “What?”

  “You didn’t do anything until Mark insulted me. Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

  “You know I’m shit with words, at least I was back when it started. So, I figured it out early. If I don’t acknowledge it, they start the fight.”

  “So you can lash out?”

  “I know that’s wrong, but that’s how I fight back. Well, that reason, and you can’t teach an idiot what to think about you.”

  “How long…” she swallows, reaching up to cup my jaw.

  “Since I was eight. When it happens, I lock up. And then get physical when I reach my breaking point.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It made me.”

  “I freaking hate that.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t lose sleep over it.”

  “Is he the one you put in the hospital?”

  “Yeah. You would think he would learn.”

  “Was it over her?”

  “No. He messed with Trevor. She was a crush for me when I was young, but I was her drama when we got older. Not the other way around. I don’t feel for her like that. At all.”

  “I saw that last night. And he’s a miserable human.”

  “I felt his jaw crack. Maybe he’ll finally learn to shut his fucking mouth.” I shrug. “Probably not.”

  “He’s an idiot.” She gently traces my lips. “I think you’re incredible.”

  “And I think you’re fucking gorgeous.”

  A thin tear runs down her temple. “We almost lost this.”

  “Yeah, but we didn’t. I won’t lose you again for any reason. I’ll give it all up. All of it. I don’t want back in that headspace again.”

  “So would I, but we don’t have to.” She cups my neck and lifts to kiss me, and I meet her halfway. “And we can’t avoid life forever. We should go back to the house, I bet they’re wondering where the hell we are.”

  “You aren’t stopping dancing,” I say, drawing her attention back to us.

  “Nope, I’m not, but that’s just geography. And that’s not the truth of what’s kept us apart.”

  “Nothing will again. You hear me? We’re going to make this work.”

  “I want nothing more. So, should we go?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So enthusiastic,” she drawls.

  I shrug. “It’s just that we’re all on such emotional high alert, I don’t think any of us are keeping it together anymore.”

  “Lance, it will get better. And I know just because we’re going to be okay, doesn’t mean everything will, but it will get better.”

  “I know. It has to, but Dad won’t.”

  “Parkinson’s isn’t a death sentence. And they’re creating new medicines all the time.”

  “I know.”

  “Just don’t give up.”

  “I can’t,” I grin. “You won’t let me.”

  “Damn right, I won’t,” she says, lifting to straddle me and yawning. “Aren’t you tired?”

  “Yeah. Want to move into my bedroom and nap with me?”

  “Sure.”

  “I think I’ll give myself the day off.”

  She traces the bruise underneath my eyes. “Does this hurt?”

  “No.”

  She presses on it, inspecting it closer.

  “Does now, oww,” I say, playfully slapping her hand. She giggles and it’s music. It’s relief. It’s a thousand other feelings only she’s made me capable of. Maybe she is the fucking answer. Maybe I got it right all along. “You know buzzed or not, I remember every second, and every word I said.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll have to ask you proper,” I brush her sides with my fingers. “I just have to wait for the right time.”

  “No kids until after I hang up my flats, okay?”

  “Yeah, no rush. I want to kind of earn my way out of poverty first.”

  “You know that doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you feel like everything’s changed?” She asks, brushing the hair at the back of my neck.

  I nod. “You?”

  “I’m not afraid anymore. But Lance, we are going to have to talk about it at some point.”

  “We will. I swear, I just don’t want to think that way. I just don’t want to believe… You,” my heart aches at the thought of them hurting her. “I just don’t understand it.” I brush my lips against hers.

  “We don’t have to understand them. That’s part of breaking the cycle.”

  “You’re right.” I glance down at her necklace while she studies me.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “You know how last night you said your instructor’s words changed your life?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You did the same thing for me.”

  “I did?”

  “I couldn’t handle another day without seeing you. And it became clear when I heard your voice so clearly before I jumped on that plane.”

  “What did I say?”

  “What if this moment, right here, is the one that changes your life?”

  “You make me seem like a hero,” she says, smoothing my bottom lip with her thumb.

  I gaze back down at her and tell her the truth.

  “Maybe because as much as I want to believe it’s the other way around, in this story, you are. Let’s go home, baby.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Minutes later, I silently usher her into the house and into my bedroom. Within seconds, I’m uncovering her, spreading her, worshiping her, replacing tears of last night’s devastation with elation. She cries softly out to me as I hover above her, lifting her hand to my chest so she can feel what she does to me, pressing deep into her while I give her the last piece of my soul. It’s when her brown eyes lift to mine with complete trust that I realize that despite my best efforts, I will be one thing for the rest of my life, hers.

  Lance Prescott wins first heavyweight bout taking down Romeo Andreas in the 3rd.

  Up-and-comer Lance Prescott, aka The Blanket, a title earned in his formative football years as a cornerback at Texas Grand, won his first bout with veteran Romeo Andreas last night. The fight, which took place in Las Vegas, marked the start of Prescott’s career on the heavyweight circuit. Prescott released a series of devastating blows in the first round, winding the veteran within seconds of the bell. In a press conference held shortly after the fight, Prescott said he was reprimanded for his exertion in the first round by his long-time trainer, Tony Willis. Willis won the title in 2004 and is a two-time Glove Champion. Despite their difference of opinion, the two were clearly pleased with the outcome and Willis claims that he’s certain Prescott will make a name for himself in boxing. All eyes are on Prescott for that verdict.

  Laney

  “Almost got it,” Theo says, typing out a message as I usher him into the arena.

  “Look, man, I love you, and you’re an okay husband and all, but if you don’t stop working so much, I’m going to have to find a replacement for date night.”

  Theo glances over at me and grins, he looks sexy as hell with his full beard grown in and trimmed close to his face, at my insistence.

  “Don’t smile at me like that. I mean it. I need attention.”

  “All yours.”

  “Lies. All lies,” I wave my hand in annoyance. “It’s a miracle we made it to the plane on time. You love playing the tortured artist too much.”

  “I had to make sure his new anthem was legit.”

  “It’s incredible. He’ll love it.”

  Theo lifts my hand to his lips and softly kisses each of my knuckles, his brown eyes boring into mine. The plans I see rolling in his head have my lips parting.

  “Cut that out, Houseman, I’m horny from weeks of neglect.”

  The couple passing us in the aisle bursts into laughter. Theo stiffens and jerks me closer to him, scolding me in a harsh whisper. “I said I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

 
“Yeah, well, saying and doing are two different things. I just may hold out, give you a taste of your own medicine.”

  He stops me mid-aisle and cups my face, placing a slow, full-lipped kiss to my mouth surprising me when he deepens it until I’m breathless.

  When he pulls away, he smirks at the effect it has on me.

  “You smug bastard.”

  “Not being replaced today.”

  My legs are Jell-O, and this time it has nothing to do with weed. Though I did give him a pot brownie on our anniversary, just for old times’ sake. We locked ourselves out of the house that night and ended up grabbing the tent he got me on our first Christmas. It was an amazing night. I stare up at him, utterly stupefied for the love I feel for him.

  This makes him grin wider, and he takes my lips a second time. When he pulls away, he pulls up his phone.

  “Is this a test?” I grumble. “Because I’m about to fail.”

  He encases me in his arms and lifts the screen for me to see as a few people brush past us.

  “What is this?”

  “A preview.”

  “Of what?”

  “Our vacation.”

  He moves the hair away from my shoulder and leans in, whispering to me as the goosebumps pebble my flesh. “Because you’re the pillar of patience, I’m rewarding you.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Look, baby, it’s where we’re going when we leave here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What don’t you understand? Allow me to demonstrate.”

  He pulls up the picture of the luxury bed in a swanky hotel room and hits the editing tab before drawing an arrow to the middle of the bed and writing MRS. HOUSEMAN next to it.

  “I see. And, where are you?”

  “My arrow would be inappropriate.”

  “And where exactly is this?”

  “Paris, and that’s after Fiji.”

  “You’re taking me to Fiji and France?”

  “And Spain.”

  “What?!”

  “And Greece.”

  “Oh my God!” I turn in his arms, and he grins down at me. “You’ve been plannin’ this how long?”

  “A month. Still want to replace me?”

  “I was kidding. When do we leave?”

  “Midnight.”

  Tears threaten as I try to collect myself. “You really aren’t a bad husband.”

  “I know.”

  He tugs me behind him, leading us to our ringside seats. Once settled, I look to our left and see the rest of the row is mostly empty.

  He laces our fingers, brushing my wedding ring before he lifts his eyes to mine. “I’m sorry I’ve been working so hard. I promise you I’ll slow down soon.”

  “I’m so happy you’re thriving. Please don’t think I’m not. I just miss you sometimes.” Theo is one of the most sought-after modern composers in the country. His knowledge of music and his incredible talent have taken him to great heights in the four years since we graduated. He’s made a small fortune with his advertising jingles and his very first large purchase was upgrading my wedding ring. He says it’s the accomplishment he’s most proud of. I told him it was too much, but I can see the amount of pride in his eyes when he admires it on my hand.

  And me? Well, I still haven’t figured out what I want to do with the rest of my life career-wise, but I do my part, even though I’m now married to a wealthy man. He doesn’t hold it against me that I change aprons and hats every few months, though he did very much like my stint as a sex toy rep. That was just for some side money for my newest business venture, which I don’t have the heart to tell him I’ve changed my mind on just yet. Maybe I’ll be a butcher, or a baker, or a candlestick maker, but he’ll be my maestro, always, and that’s truly all I give a shit about. I turn to my husband under the blaring house lights in the Vegas arena thinking about how far we’ve come since that drunken night next to the bushes and tears spring to my eyes.

  “Jesus, Houseman, you make me pathetic.”

  “Yeah, well,” he whispers warmly, “you make me happy.”

  “I meant that too,” I sniff. “I love you…a ridiculous amount.”

  “I know.”

  “Forever.”

  He squeezes my hand. “And ever, Crazy.”

  My thoughts border indecent as I study him, tempted to do very unpublic things.

  “Before midnight,” he promises, keeping his stare ahead. He didn’t even have to look at me to know what I was thinking, but I guess that’s the gift of marrying your best friend.

  Troy

  I push the damp hair away from Clarissa’s face as she rests at my neck while I pulse once more inside her. We’ve been fucking like rabbits for the last five years and haven’t slowed down a bit. Tonight was no exception.

  The minute she stepped out of the closet of our hotel room in the sparkling dress I’m running my hands over, I knew I wouldn’t make it to the casino without having her.

  It’s still far too much fun to seduce her. And she’d resisted me well until I got her alone in the limo. Our marriage changed everything about what I thought marriage would be. But the truth is, I think we might be an exception to par. And really fucking lucky.

  The chemistry is there, without us trying. It’s always there, every single day, without fail. Maybe it will fade eventually, as I assumed it would, but so far it hasn’t. I hold onto it because there’s really nothing in the world I love more than making love or fucking my wife, except the result of it.

  The minute she sank onto me, I lost my shit driving up into her until she was calling my name. I made it last as long as I could, but she got the best of me. My emotions won out, and I got lost, the way I always do. It’s this time, after I’m spent, and I know she’s sated that I love the most. The silent moments where we feel so fucking close nothing could ever separate us. I live for moments like these. Amongst the chaos of our life, I live for this time with her.

  “Mon cherie, darling, you are zee apple of my eye, the fruit of my loins, the quarter to my back. You make little Pepe sing. You know, we will spend zee rest of our lives making all the love.”

  She giggles into my chest shaking her head. “Lord.”

  “Have I not satisfied you? Muah, muah, muah.” I say as she laughs in my hold. “I love you, darling.”

  “You’re so crazy.”

  “Crazy for youuuu, always,” I drawl out in the Le Pew I’ve mastered over the years. She jerks as I tickle her sides and suddenly stills. “Oh my God, I think it ripped,” she twists to run her fingers along the hem of her dress.

  “What?”

  “My dress. I think it’s ripped. I can feel air.”

  “You’re feeling the air because it’s around your waist.”

  “Baby, I need you to check.”

  She lifts, pulling the dress down before she raises up in the seat of the limo bringing her sparkling ass directly in front of my nose. If I let out a laugh, I’m a dead man. Instead, I focus my fingers on her inner thigh and ride them up until she gasps.

  “Yep, still no panties.”

  “I’m talking about my d-dress, Troy, s-stop it.”

  “No way.”

  “Please just look. I know I should have gone a size up.”

  I carefully inspect the dress. “No rip, and you’re not even showing.”

  She turns on me, freakishly fast. “Pregnant. Again. I don’t know why I love you.”

  I pull her to me, and she collapses in my lap as I push her auburn hair away from her shoulders.

  “I’m sweaty and disgusting.”

  “You’re fucking beautiful. So beautiful.”

  She sighs, looking up at me with clear blue eyes from under her lashes.

  “And I promise not to get you pregnant again.”

  “Really?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “This makes five! FIVE CHILDREN! We’re done.” She shakes her head. “I’ll deny you.”

  “You cannot,” I drawl in i
mpressive Le Pew.

  “I’ll divorce you. I will. I’ll refuse you and divorce you. You aren’t all that. Self-made, superstar athlete with an amazing penis.”

  “I’m sure you can do better.”

  “Piece of cake,” she murmurs. “Please, baby, promise me, after this one, we’re done.”

  “I promise.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I am.”

  She takes great pains in cleaning us up before opening her purse to apply more gloss. I watch her carefully line her lips before my phone pings. I lift the screen and chuckle.

  “Dante sent us a progress report.”

  “Let’s see it.” Clarissa leans in, smiling as I hit play. The video is set to Jeopardy music, and Dante stands to the side of the screen, only half his face showing, his eye rolled up to the ceiling of our kitchen as Parker stands at the stove, a box of mac and cheese next to the pot, our daughter in her arms, our other two boys crying in jealousy at her feet. She looks perplexed as she tries to juggle them. Dante did several shots this way, his eyes always up as if he’s at his wits’ end while Parker moves in fast forward around his steady frame, doing her best to keep up. We laugh hysterically until the video ends with Parker passed out in the recliner. The footage then picks up as Dante takes over, pacifying all three of his younger siblings before wrapping Parker in a blanket. We shoot off a collective text of ‘Good Job,’ and he replies with an eye roll emoji followed by dollar signs.

  “That boy.”

  “He needs a raise,” I say, chuckling.

  “He’s such a good kid,” Clarissa murmurs. “We hit the lotto with that one.”

  “With all of them,” I murmur, kissing her neck.

  We pull up to the entrance of the hotel just as she shuts her compact. When the car rolls to a stop, I pull her to me and crush my mouth to hers, ruining her efforts and hearing her protest a split second before she melts into my kiss. The door opens as I steadily devour her, not giving a fuck who catches sight of us, and she lets me. I’m obsessed with my wife.

  “Troy,” she murmurs, looking up at me with a lusty gaze when I pull away, “haven’t you had enough?”

  “You know the answer to that. Come on.” I make sure everything is covered as I gently escort her from the limo. The driver gives us a grin as I pull her into the breezeway of the hotel. We’re only a few steps past the door when a man approaches with his wife trailing behind him.