by Laura Pavlov
“I’m glad she feels the need to call you and discuss our relationship. Or lack thereof.” She shoved her computer in her bag.
“She believes you’re dating the football player to make me jealous and to get a rise out of her.” His arrogance grated on her nerves.
“She also thinks I purposely dropped two flaming batons at the Miss Georgia pageant. The woman isn’t exactly playing with a full stack. I assure you I’m head over heels in love with Maverick. Mama knows nothing about my relationship.” She turned and pointed her finger at Edward. “You nor my mother entered my thoughts when I fell for him. Don’t insult me or my boyfriend again. From here on out, no more games or trying to extend this project, or I walk.”
She stormed to the elevator, but he followed right behind her. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to offend you. Your mother said it, not me,” he said, with a chuckle.
She stepped on the elevator and did a half nod. “You and Mama shouldn’t be discussing me or my relationship with Maverick. Have a good evening.”
Mama phoning Edward Efant to discuss her relationship stung. Though she and Winston still spoke, he’d never stand up to her mother. No one would. Well, Maverick did, and he didn’t even break a sweat doing so.
Their bond was undeniable. They were under a considerable amount of stress, yet it only brought them closer together. The fans were hot and cold with Elle on social media. Some days she was the hero and other days she was Satan’s spawn. Maverick hated it. But it came with the territory of dating the city’s golden boy. Thankfully, they’d only lost one game and won five, so she’d received more love than hate. But the closer they were to the end of the season, the more intense the attention on their relationship grew.
“Hello?” she called out when she arrived at her condo.
“Hey, beautiful.” He came out of the bedroom in navy joggers slung low on his hips, no shirt and wet hair. The man so striking, he took her breath away most days.
She dropped her purse right on the floor and stepped into his arms. “How do you look this good after taking a shower?”
She soaked in his manly scent. Sandalwood and mint. Her arms wrapped around his middle and her head rested on his chest.
“Missed you. Did he let you leave without a fight this time?” He kissed the top of her head, and she forced herself to push away and head to the kitchen. She wanted to make a healthy dinner for him, as he had a big game tomorrow.
“Same ol’ thing with him.”
“You want me to step in? Just say the word. I’d love to knock some sense into the guy.” He leaned against the counter, his abs chiseled and cut. She licked her lips and tried to focus on the chicken she pulled out of the fridge.
“Thank you, but I handled it. Apparently, Mama called him and told him we weren’t speaking.” She left out the condescending comment about their relationship. He had a game tomorrow and didn’t need to give it a thought.
“Here, let me pound that for you.” He took the meat tenderizer from her. “Though I’d rather be pounding you.”
“Oh, you will be tomorrow night, Wallace.” She chuckled and wriggled her eyebrows. “Once the game is over, you’re all mine.”
“I’m always all yours.”
Her stomach did little flips and she tossed the salad in a bowl and dropped the pasta into the boiling water.
“I’m sorry about your mom, Peaches. It can’t be easy knowing she calls him.”
“Mama’s heart is a thumpin’ gizzard. There’s no talking sense into her. Until she apologizes, I have nothing to say.”
“Good for you. Stand your ground. I think she’s so used to walking on everyone she expects people to roll over. I can’t imagine your mom and dad ever being together. They’re so different.”
“Yeah. It was a short summer fling, I guess. Two good looking people who had nothing in common.”
“Well, they have one thing in common, and you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
A dull ache grew in her chest. It was nice to hear him say she was the best thing to ever happen to him. She felt the same about him. But she’d be lying if she didn’t admit it hurt knowing her own mama didn’t feel the same way about her.
****
“Pass the ball, Wallace.” Billy Goat screamed in the box so loud she swore the floor shook.
She paced off to the side, couldn’t stand by Maverick’s family or her father, or her friends. It was anyone’s game in the last few seconds of the third quarter. He carried a lot of weight on his shoulders being the quarterback. She didn’t know a thing about football a few months ago, and now she could recite stats, and understood the difference between passing and throwing plays. Hell, she liked to study the footage with him after his games.
Wrapped in his jersey, she closed her eyes when he threw a Hail Mary down the field. Everyone in the box went crazy when Greenly caught the pass and scored. While their friends and family celebrated, panic coursed her veins. Something wasn’t right. She knew it before she even realized he was down on the ground.
“Hush it,” she snapped.
While all the spectators watched the perfect throw move down the field to its receiver, her eyes never left Maverick. He landed on his head, with two gigantic men on top of his back, and he wasn’t getting up.
The booth silenced. Her fingers formed a teepee and rested at her mouth. Anxiety built. Every awful scenario played out in her head.
“He’ll be all right, Elle,” Gigi and Marley assured her with hopeful smiles. How the hell did they know? Did they have six hundred plus pounds take them down? No. None of them did.
Dani and Peyton stood beside her, and her dad paced as he watched the field. Maverick’s parents were quiet, but obviously after years of watching him play, they remained calm. Thankfully, Mimi wasn’t at this game, because she tended to be a nervous Nellie also. Minutes felt like hours as the clock moved in slow motion and everyone waited. Her heart raced, and she squatted down on the floor, resting her elbows on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.
The crowd cheered when Maverick moved to his feet, coaches and trainers surrounded him, leading him off the field and out of the stadium. The last thing she heard the announcer say was they were taking a medical timeout. Her feet moved of their own volition. Like running from a dangerous situation or fleeing for your life—the strongest need to get out of the box and find him.
She sprinted down the long corridor, hit the stairs, and took two at a time down to the ground floor. Her heart pounded in her ears, labored breathing the only audible sound until a voice from behind mixed in. Jackson, Peyton’s husband wasn’t far behind, and continued to yell her name. She didn’t slow down or turn around. Three more flights of steps to go. When her feet hit the cement floor, she took a sharp right in the direction of the locker rooms.
“Christ, Elle, you need to stop. He isn’t in the locker room,” Jackson said, his voice loud.
She turned and gasped, “What do you mean? Where is he?”
Jackson caught up to her and bent over to catch his breath. “You’re fucking fast. They don’t take him to the locker room. They will do a few tests to check for symptoms. He’s in the middle of a game. Don’t embarrass him by storming into whatever room they have him. If anything is wrong, we will know right away, and then we can try to get back there.”
She bit down hard on her bottom lip, annoyed at his sensible words. “I can’t go back up there and do nothing. I want to be close if he needs me.”
She hadn’t experienced this kind of anxiousness even when she competed in pageants. This feeling was foreign—her heart raced, her mind spun, and she couldn’t stand still.
“All right. You need to relax. We can stay down here and see what happens. This is part of the game, Elle. You have to trust them to do their job. It’s a tough sport, but they have topnotch trainers and doctors, and they know what they’re doing.”
She paced and looked at the field through the opening at the end of the hallway
. They’d put in the backup quarterback temporarily. And there had been no further update on Maverick. She reached for the white brick wall to stable herself and slid down to sit on the floor. Nausea made it impossible to stand. She was completely helpless.
“I need to get in there with him, Jackson.” She buried her face in her hands.
He dropped down on the filthy ground beside her in a corner near the hallway leading to the locker room. Of course, she’d need someone to let her in since it was blocked off, but she’d cross that bridge when she got there. Maverick insisted she meet him outside the locker room after every home game, but getting back there right now, might prove a challenge.
“You need to breathe. You have your phone. If it were bad, he’d have someone call you. He’s okay. They’re just checking him out.” Jackson rubbed her shoulder and tried to comfort her.
She flipped her phone over, and scanned the texts from Dani, Peyton and Maverick’s sisters asking where she went. No word from her boyfriend.
“I need to know he’s okay, Jackson. I’m freaking out.”
“You don’t have to tell me—I’m sitting next to Elle Fiore on the disgusting floor of a football stadium which says it all.” He snorted.
Loud cheers came from the stadium, she pushed to her feet and hurried to look out on the field to see what was happening. Maverick jogged onto the field, and the fans went crazy with excitement.
“Why is he going back in?” She gasped over the ruckus.
“They must have cleared him. Let’s get back upstairs so we can watch the last quarter.”
The last quarter would go down in history as the longest quarter ever. Not due to actual time, but because time seemed to move backward. She sat off to the side in the private box again, hands clasped together, making an effort to calm her breathing. Peyton and Dani came over and sat beside her. They didn’t speak, because they knew her. They knew if she started talking, all those emotions would come flowing out. This wasn’t the time or the place.
Maverick’s mom approached. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
She shook her head because she couldn’t find the words to explain her worry. The odd thing—Elle might not know everything about football, but somehow, she knew Maverick Wallace better than she knew anyone. And something wasn’t right. Maybe it was all in her head, but there seemed to be a pause when he threw the ball. Hell, maybe she’d just gone three sheets of crazy town over this man, and everything would be fine.
Isabel reached for her hand. “Honey, I know how difficult it is to watch him get hurt and not worry. But I promise you, they won’t let him play if he isn’t okay.”
A sob escaped her throat, and even she was surprised by her lack of ability to contain her emotions. “He just seems off, and it scares me.”
Isabel turned to face her and scooted her chair closer. “It’s frustrating because you have no control over the situation. But you have to remember, this is what he loves to do. It’s a part of who he is. A big part. Honestly, up until meeting you, it was everything. I am so happy to see him open himself up to more than just football.”
Elle swiped a tear running down her cheek, fighting to rein in all these feelings—like holding back a dam on the verge of bursting. “I don’t even know why I’m so emotional. It’s just, he was down for too long, and then when they took him out, I assumed he’d sit out the rest of the game. If he’s hurt, he needs time to heal.”
“You know Maverick though. If the doctors cleared him, he wouldn’t want to miss the rest of the game. It’s who he is, honey. It’s a competitive sport and playing for the Miners has been a longtime dream of his. You have to trust he knows what he’s doing. He’s a stubborn man. Lord knows, he was a stubborn boy. There’s no telling him what to do. But he’s not going to do anything stupid, not when he has someone else to think about now.” Isabel’s glossy blue gaze locked with Elle’s.
“Thank you.” She smiled, before they both turned to watch the final play. Maverick passed the ball to Big Joe, who ran it in for a touchdown. While the room erupted in cheers, her gaze landed on her boyfriend who was once again down on the ground. He moved to his feet slower than usual. People probably didn’t notice how rigid his neck movements were, but she did.
While their friends and family celebrated the win making their way out of the stadium, she waited outside the locker room for him, along with endless press agencies. She was anxious to see him and make her own assessment about whether or not he was actually okay.
Big Joe was the first player to step out, and he winked at her when he saw her standing amongst the crowd. Yelling over all the chatter, “He’s finishing up an interview, and then he’ll be out.”
A few reporters spewed questions his way, and he took it all in stride. Players streamed out one at a time until Maverick waltzed through the double doors and into the hallway. All attention turned his way, and he answered every question while his dark gaze found hers, numerous times. He finally put his hands up, an almost pleading expression on his handsome face. “Come on, guys. My lady’s been waiting, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to take her home.”
Everyone made room for him to move her way. She pushed off the wall, a surge of emotion erupted, and she threw herself in his arms. Her face buried in his chest. He pulled her close and wrapped her in a safe little cocoon.
“I’m fine, Peaches. Let’s get out of here,” he whispered in her ear.
She linked her fingers with his, and they made their way toward the exit. A man standing right outside the door shoved a camera in Maverick’s face, so close it almost hit him.
“I don’t know, Wallace, you were down for a while today. You think you’re tough enough to make it through the rest of the season?”
She reacted on instinct. No time to think. Her hand came up and smacked the camera hard. “Get out of his face, you egg suckin’ dawg.” Her Southern twang on full blast.
Maverick chuckled under his breath and stepped forward, tucked her behind him a bit, shielding her with his big body. “Interviews were inside, pal. The show’s over.”
The dirtbag laughed. “You’ve got yourself a live one there, Wallace.”
“Quit talkin’ with your tongue out of your shoe, you squirrel turd,” she shouted. All the angst of the day finally barreling out. The squirrel turd apparently found her quite hilarious, as his laughter echoed through the parking lot.
“Baby, stop engaging him.” Maverick’s stern tone didn’t hide the exhaustion behind it.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t like how he stuck his camera in your face.”
“Are you my protector, Peaches?” He smirked and opened the passenger door for her.
“If I need to be, yes.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You’ve taken heat in the press when we lose a game, but it never bothered you. Why are you all worked up about this?”
They merged onto the freeway, and she sighed. His question struck a nerve. It didn’t bother her in the slightest when they blamed her for a lost game. But her blood boiled when anyone spoke ill of Maverick.
“Well, I guess it’s because you always defend me when they say stuff about me. Honestly, you’re the first man who’s ever had my back outside of my dad.”
“What do you mean?” His brows pinched together, as he pulled the car in his garage.
“You see me. And you love me in spite of my flaws. God, knows I have a lot of them. You can just ask Mama if you need a list,” she said. “And I see you too—in all your beautiful glory. I won’t let anyone ever make you feel less. If this makes me your protector, then I guess I am.”
He clicked to release her seatbelt and effortlessly pulled her onto his lap and buried his head in her neck. “I’ll always have your back, Peaches. I love you so damn much.”
“Love you, more.”
And she meant it. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maverick’s Playbook
The goal is always t
o score!
He stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Elle hadn’t joined him. She’d been quiet since they left the stadium. Well, aside from her attack on the douchebag photographer waiting for them out in the parking lot. When you played professional sports, you got used to people poking at you when they could. It came with the territory, and he’d sure as hell opened himself up to it today. But the way she blocked the camera from hitting his face and jumped to his defense like a badass wolf protecting her territory. He fucking loved it. Something was off with her though, since his ass kicking on the field today. First bad hit of the season. He knew she worried, but it was inevitable—came with his job description.
Dropping the towel in the hamper, he walked into the bedroom. His beautiful girl lay under the covers, her head on the pillow and blonde hair tumbled all around her. He slipped into bed, her eyes squeezed shut, and a single tear ran down her cheek. She pretended to be asleep, but he knew better. He turned the light out on the bedside table and moved closer to her. He loved getting wrapped up in her warmth and lost in the smell of jasmine and vanilla. He pulled her into his arms, and she tried to muffle her giggle.
“Why are you fake sleeping?” He wanted to get her to relax and tell him what was bothering her.
“How do you know I’m not sleeping?”
“Because you’re talking?” His lips grazed her cheek.
“Maybe I’m talking in my sleep. It’s a real thing.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.” His tone more serious now. Her hands settled on his chest and she pulled her head back and faced him. His hands tangled in her pretty hair. He needed to touch her, comfort her.
“I didn’t like seeing you get hurt today. You know when those two baboons were on top of you. You didn’t get up at first, and it scared me.” She shook her head and tears sprung from her eyes like they’d been held back too long.
He moved closer, his nose almost touching hers. “I’m fine. It happens. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”
“It’s a big deal to me. You’re the most important person in my life. I don’t want you to get hurt. And then they took you off the field, and I…I didn’t know if you were okay.”