IT WAS ALWAYS YOU

by Erika Kelly

  In the three years of running this camp, they’d never had a problem. The kids were grateful to have been chosen and worked their asses off. Sure, there were personality conflicts. That, they could handle. But this kid? They had no clue how to deal with him. “What’s the latest?”

  “Andre caught him in the main office at one in the morning with three other guys watching porn on my computer.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I know, right? But Dean’s talking to him right now.”

  “What am I missing here—why is Dean talking to him and not you?” He kept a very clear division between his coaches and the staff. Amie and his security team handled all off-field matters—including discipline—so the lines with coaches didn’t blur.

  “I’ve dealt with everything so far, just like you wanted. But…he said some offensive things.”

  “Offensive? How?”

  She let out a sigh. “During lunch today, I leaned over to set the water pitcher on his table. After I moved on, I heard him say something about my ‘knockers’ and how he’d like to do me ‘doggy-style.’”

  Anger rose like a vicious beast. “He’s going home.”

  She patted his arm. “I get where you’re coming from, but the thing is, I’m pretty sure home is really bad.”

  Right. Which was the point of hosting the camp. “Everything else he’s done, I get. He’s rebellious.” I was, too. “But I can’t allow him to talk to you like that. If I don’t kick him out, it’ll set a precedent with the other kids.”

  “That’s why Dean’s talking to him. We’re giving him a hard consequence, something the other kids will see.”

  “What’s the consequence?”

  “He’s going to serve meals and clear tables for the next three days.” She played with the hem of her shorts. “The thing that really sucks is that he’s an amazing player. Andre’s been working with him and said he’s never seen a kid with better instincts. Football could be his ticket to a better life.”

  It was moments like this that he appreciated Amie. She was a cheerleader and had been a cast member on NFL Cheerleader, so she got a lot of bad press for being shallow or vain. But they didn’t see the way she ran his camp or treated the kids. She had a good heart and worked her ass off. “It sounds like you’ve already handled it, but if it happens under my watch, I won’t be nearly as understanding. I have zero tolerance for that kind of disrespect.” He cut a glance at her. “I’m sorry he treated you like that.”

  She smiled softly. “I almost didn’t want to tell you.” She patted his thigh. “You’re a good guy, Cassian.”

  Funny, he’d had thousands of hands on him over the course of his life. Slaps on the back, handshakes, seductive and sexual touches…but he only realized in this moment how much he didn’t like it. People seemed to think they had access to him—all of him.

  I do that, though.

  He’d never thought of it that way before. He invited that access by being so friendly and flirty. He shifted his leg away, and she withdrew her hand.

  He needed to be aware of that.

  And he needed to be honest. He might be the quarterback of the Mavericks but that didn’t mean he was public property. It was up to him to draw those lines.

  Even if it meant pissing people off.

  * * *

  Cassian pocketed his keys and headed across the lawn. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Amie pulled open the door to the office. “Let me know how it goes.”

  He gave her a wave. The crew had cleaned up the field from morning drills, but they’d left out a blocking sled and a couple stepover dummies. He snagged a flag off the grass and tossed it toward the shed. He’d have to talk to the guys about that.

  The kids learned more than football here. They learned respect and independence. His coaches needed to model the right behavior.

  As he crossed the grass, he breathed in the clean mountain air, took in the snow-crested peaks of the Teton Mountain Range. Damn, he loved it here. Even as a fourteen-year-old kid from New Jersey, he’d been in awe of this Wild West town surrounded by intimidating mountains and the bison that wandered onto the road, not giving a single fuck about travelers.

  When he’d bought this property, he hadn’t thought about teaching kids how to play football. He just knew he needed a place where he could be anonymous. A place where he could relax.

  A place that had Gigi Cavanaugh.

  He’d purchased the land with an LLC, so his name wasn’t associated with it. So far, his privacy hadn’t been violated. Calamity had a permanent population of about ten thousand, though it swelled to over a million during the ski and hiking seasons. A good number of residents were successful entrepreneurs and celebrities who appreciated the healthy outdoor lifestyle and wanted to get away from it all in a magnificent setting. People left them alone.

  He could get a coffee here, and no one asked for his autograph.

  The idea for the camp came a few years later. He’d invited his offensive line out for a preseason retreat so they could bond and get in some specialized drills. The Bowie brothers, four local extreme athletes, ran a training facility just down the road, and it had everything an athlete could ever need to get in top shape.

  He’d bought his teammates mountain bikes, and they did long distance swimming in the lake, but given that they played football, he’d made some accommodations on his land. They couldn’t run plays in a sage-filled meadow.

  He and Dean had been sitting on his deck one night, drinking beers and gazing up at the stars, when the vision came to him. Together, they’d brainstormed their dream training facility. Not just for their teammates, but for kids. Specifically, kids who had the talent and drive but not the access.

  The next day he’d contacted a landscaper about designing a football field and a contractor about building a facility where he could house and feed young athletes. He’d only been hosting the camp for three years, but he didn’t think there was anything better he could do with his time in the off-season.

  The kids had four hours of training each morning and an hour of rest after lunch. In the afternoons, they hit the gym to focus on exercises for explosiveness and athleticism. And then, from three to five, they attended a mandatory life skills class. Cassian didn’t call it “life skills,” of course, because he knew how that would go over, but he knew the kinds of homes these kids came from. He told them the classes had to do with being a better ball player. And it was true.

  But it was so much more.

  The cooking class didn’t just teach how to cook—it taught nutrition. The art classes connected them to the greater world outside their small communities, opened their eyes and hearts, and fostered cognitive development.

  Today, the kids were in yoga. They thought it was just another way to make their bodies more agile for football, to avoid injury, but for Cassian, it was a way for them to learn self-care, to meditate, to find peace in the chaos of their lives.

  This afternoon it was held in a shady portion of the yard behind the rec center.

  As he came around the building, he heard the quiet, calming voice of the yoga instructor.

  He also heard snickering. Quietly, he peered around the wall to find a group of boys at the back.

  The instructor was doing dolphin pose, and one of the kids, said, “I’d tap that ass.”

  Walker Lovett. He was sure of it. Cassian strode out there and said, “Come with me.”

  The boy’s eyes went wide when he saw who it was. Immediately, though, his features settled into a smirk. “Can’t. I’m doing yoga.”

  This time his friends didn’t laugh. Probably because Cassian looked like he was two seconds away from losing it. “Now.”

  The kid laughed. “Fine. I hate this pussy shit anyhow.”

  Cassian couldn’t speak yet. He’d been a difficult kid, so he understood about acting out. But he didn’t—wouldn’t—tolerate sexual harassment.

  He led the kid across the field. Anger made him feel dange
rous.

  Breathe. To be effective, he needed to calm down.

  “Nice of you to show up.” Walker’s voice broke the silence. “Isn’t this your camp? Aren’t you the reason we come here?”

  “I hope you came here to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn everything you can from pro football players.” Keep it together. “Not many kids get the chance to work with Andre Jordan, the fourth overall pick in the draft and the league’s leading rusher last season.”

  “Yeah, but I want to be a quarterback. I want to live in a mansion and drive sick cars and bang hot chicks.”

  That was it. Cassian stopped in the middle of the field, the afternoon sun forcing him to shield his eyes with a hand. “There’s one week left of camp. Do you want to stay here?”

  “Hell, yeah. I saw your sweet ride. The lady with the big tits was in it, and I—”

  “Stop. Shut your mouth right now.” He marshaled every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to keep from flying off the handle. “If you want to stay here, then you’re going to have to abide by the rules. The first rule listed in the contract you signed was to treat everyone with respect.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Oh, it’s definitely not ‘whatever.’ Disrespecting anyone here is a deal-breaker.” His dead-serious tone made the kid’s eyes go wide. “Ms. Meghan runs a yoga studio in town. She volunteers her time here because she cares. It means something to her to teach you guys how to keep your bodies flexible—not just to give you a better chance of making your school’s team, but so you can make it in the brutal world of football. So, for you to disrespect her?” He shook his head, drawing in a tight breath.

  “She couldn’t even hear me.”

  Cassian gave him a look that said, So? “First, it’s unacceptable. But secondly? Man to man? I can’t even wrap my head around why you’d talk about a woman like that. She’s not an object. She’s not put on this earth to be your plaything. She’s a human being with a heart and a soul, and for you to degrade her reflects badly on you—not her.”

  “She’s got a hot body. Nothing wrong with pointing it out.”

  “I know you think you’re a real badass to the other guys, but you’re wrong. Those boys who sneak out with you? Laugh when you degrade the director of this camp who was bringing a pitcher of water to your table? They’re laughing because you make them uncomfortable. They join your little escapades because they don’t want to be the object of your ridicule. They don’t respect you, they don’t want to be you, and the minute camp ends, they’re going to be relieved not to be around someone as destructive as you. Do you know why?”

  “Stop talking. You’re boring me.”

  It took everything he had, but Cassian ignored him. “Because they want to be here. They feel damn lucky they get to train with the best athletes in the world, people that will help them achieve whatever they want in life. Maybe they come from shitty homes, maybe their parents don’t pay attention to them, but this camp, this opportunity, gives them hope and a pathway for a better life. They need that pathway.”

  “Yeah, okay. I get it. I’m a worthless piece of shit.”

  Ah, hell. I suck at this.

  He had to get it right.

  Needing a new tactic, Cassian gazed down at the bright green turf, breathing in the scent of freshly mown grass. “You know how I came to be a quarterback? I was in detention when Tyler Cavanaugh pulled me out. He asked me what I thought my future looked like. Beyond that moment, freshman year of high school, when my home life sucked and I was getting into trouble all the time. He wanted me to think ahead a couple years. He said, ‘Are you going to graduate high school? Go to college? Are you going to drop out and work at a gas station? Sell drugs? Are you going to get some girl pregnant, go to prison?’” It had been a life-changing moment. He’d been so angry about losing his parents and being dumped with a family he barely knew. “So, I’m going to ask you the same question. What’s your future look like?”

  “I already told you. I’m going to be you. With your fancy cars and your mansion and your hot chicks.”

  Nothing excused the way this boy talked about women, but every time he referred to them in a degrading way, in association with the life of a professional football player, Cassian felt a prick of guilt. Whether he wanted to be a role model or not, he was one.

  And, if that’s what my life looks like to this kid, I’m doing a shit job of representing it.

  Offering this camp: good. Headlines about threesomes: bad.

  “Okay, but how are you going to get to be me? Are you going to train every day? Eat right. Are you going to sacrifice partying with your friends? No drugs, no alcohol? Because that’s what I did with the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity Tyler Cavanaugh gave me. I didn’t want to make a single misstep, because I didn’t want to be a high school dropout. I didn’t want to wind up in prison or somebody’s baby daddy. I wanted more. Mr. Cavanaugh had me set goals. The first was to get on the high school football team. Not easy, because we already had a quarterback, a kid who’d been waiting three years to start.”

  “You’re boring me. I’d rather take a yoga class than listen to you. At least I’ll get a view of tits and ass.”

  “Okay, we’re done here.” Cassian hustled toward the dormitory.

  The kid kept up with him. “Thank you.” His tone said, That’s what I’m saying. “Can you get Amie to bring me some snacks? I’m going to be in the game room.”

  He held open the door. “I’ll help you pack your bags.”

  The kid looked shocked. “My what?”

  “Your bags. You’re leaving.”

  “You can’t kick me out. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You’re disrespectful. That breaks the contract. Besides, you clearly don’t want to be here, so it’s time for you to go.”

  He didn’t enter the building. “I’m not going home.”

  Looks like I found his vulnerability. “Look, I get it. I had a bad attitude, too. My parents died when I was fourteen, and I got tossed into a strange home. So, I get that you feel powerless. You come here and act like you’re some badass. Though, hot tip, the other guys don’t want to break into the office and watch porn. They can do that anywhere. They want to learn how to play ball so they can be a badass on the field. They’d rather get girls by being the jock than by having to force themselves on them.”

  “I didn’t force myself on anyone.”

  He got up close, and in his most menacing voice said, “Let me tell you something. The next step after talking about them like they’re objects is handling them like they are. I will not expose the women in my life to anyone who might be a threat.” He pulled out his phone and hit Amie’s speed dial.

  She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Walker Lovett is leaving camp.”

  “Oh, shit. What happened?”

  “I need you and Bill to meet us in his dorm room. I’ll have his travel plans arranged by the time you get there.”

  “Are you sure? We’ve never sent anyone home before.”

  He held the kid’s gaze as he answered. “It isn’t fair to the other thirty-nine athletes who want to make the most out of their time here, and his behavior toward women is unacceptable, so yes, I’m sure.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Did Lulu tell you her good news?” Her mom set the platter of roasted vegetables on the table before sitting down.

  “She did.” Gigi helped herself to a piece of cod. “I’m excited for her.” Her Cordon Bleu-educated sister had just been named executive chef of a famous restaurant on Maui.

  With a foul look, her dad handed Gigi a bowl of feta cheese cubes in exchange for the Greek olives. “I’m not.”

  Her mom gave him an indulgent grin. “It’s not that far.”

  “It’s a six-hour flight.” Her dad had retired when Gigi was fifteen, and he’d been very involved in their lives. He wasn’t a huge fan of the empty nest.

  “And
Paris was a ten-hour flight.” Joss Montalbano might no longer be a supermodel, but she still turned heads everywhere she went with her long legs, stunning beauty, and thick, healthy hair. Now, though only fifty-three, her dark hair had gone silver. She liked to say it was hereditary, but Gigi knew her mom had started graying after Stella left. They were a super close family, so the youngest daughter taking off like that…well, it had been traumatic. “We just gained four hours.” She flicked an amused look to Gigi.

  “You’ve got one kid nearby.” Gigi tossed an olive at her younger sister.

  “Thank God for my Coco,” her dad said. “Did you bring me any chocolates?”

  “Of course.” Five years ago, Coco’s life had taken a sharp turn. After discovering her college boyfriend’s terrible deceit, she’d taken off for Vegas and had a crazy one-night stand that left her pregnant—and she’d never gotten the guy’s name. Now, she was a single mother and running Coco’s Chocolates, a popular store right in the center of town. “I brought you a sampler of some ideas I’m playing with.”

  “Like?” her dad asked.

  “Like a black sesame passion-fruit truffle, which I painted to look like an Easter egg. I have a tangerine jam and thyme dark chocolate in the shape of a skull and painted silver. I’ve got one with honey caramel, bee’s pollen, and egg custard cream in the center.”

  “Ah, crap.” Her dad pushed back his chair and stalked into the kitchen. “I can’t wait.”

  The women all grinned.

  “So, what’s your plan, sweetie?” her mom asked Gigi.

  “Right now, I’m just going to play it by ear.” She’d told her family she’d come to Calamity to spend time with them while waiting to hear from Clean Beatz. She didn’t want to lie but seeing the bombshell cheerleader leaning against Cassian’s car had rattled her. Which only served to expose an enormous fault line in their relationship.