Game On The Line

by Jamie Summer

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Jamie Summer

  Game on the Line (Game On Series #1)

  First published in 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Jamie Summer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

  Facebook: Jamie Summer

  Editing: Kim’s Fiction Proofreading and Editing Services

  Formatting and Cover: The Graphic Shed

  To Sam,

  for always believing in me and making me chase my dream.

  Gavin

  “Get your ass in gear, Michaelson. What’s going on with you?”

  I heard the coach’s voice across the field, but barely took notice of it. I couldn’t let it distract me. I was distracted enough as it was. And I had no idea why.

  I was better than this. Way better. I needed to be better. My whole life depended on it.

  It had been a year since I transferred to London to play soccer for West Ham United. Being from the States, soccer wasn’t a sport that would get you far, but I loved it too much to give it up. My family called me crazy, but I told them playing soccer was all I ever wanted to do.

  When scouts came to our local college in the US and ended up asking me and two of my best friends to play for the British club, we barely hesitated. After graduation, we flew here and haven’t looked back. Once we proved ourselves, our time on the field increased.

  Until a week ago. I had no idea why, but my performance started lacking. Coach wasted no time in pointing it out. New players—younger ones—started showing up, and the pressure to do my best increased each time I went out onto the field.

  “Michaelson, move!”

  I ran faster, sidestepping a few of my fellow teammates before shooting for the goal. When I missed by an inch, I cursed. I never missed.

  “What’s going on, dude? On your period?” Devon, one of my friends who transferred with me, asked after coming to a stop beside me, chest heaving.

  “Screw you.” It was the only answer I had. After all, I couldn’t explain what was going on, why I suddenly sucked at the game I loved.

  “Sorry, man. I’m not responsible for that part of your life.”

  I rolled my eyes instead of answering.

  “Hey, man. You okay? You’ve been playing like crap for days. Any issues we should know about?” Tyler, the other of my US friends, asked. I felt like punching them both, plain and simple.

  I didn’t need anyone to tell me how much I sucked. I knew it. Plus, several people liked to remind me of it every...freaking...day.

  “Michaelson, get over here.” Coach’s hardened gaze met mine. I sighed. “Now!” he yelled.

  Devon and Tyler gave me sympathetic looks before running back to their respective positions, while I walked to the sidelines. Coach waited, his trademark team jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders. We had just celebrated his fiftieth birthday with him, but he looked younger with his light blond hair and alert gray eyes. Several people had asked if we were related. While my hair was a tad darker, our eyes were the exact same shade.

  “What’s up, Coach?“ I asked, trying to act as if I didn’t have a clue why he called me over.

  “You’re off your game. Again. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  Coach had always been one of the closest things to family I had here. Finding my footing in a new town, a new country, had been hard. Coach never shied away from helping out, introducing me to people, making sure I knew where to go for things and just overall being there for me when everything seemed to be too much. I knew it was the same for Devon and Tyler.

  I owed him.

  “Honestly, I have no idea,“ I admitted, knowing giving him anything but the truth would be unacceptable. Coach would see right through any lie my mouth would spit his way.

  He shook his head. “That’s not very comforting. If we at least knew the root of your problem, we could work against it. I don’t think I need to tell you what a competitive business this is. If you screw up over a period of time, you run the risk of losing your spot. I like you, kiddo, so I would hate to see you go.”

  I wasn’t offended by the way he called me kiddo. It was what he did with most of us. After all, most of us were more than half his age.

  “I’m gonna work harder on everything. I know I can do it. The last thing I want is to lose my spot on the team and have to go home.”

  Coach nodded, but I knew words counted for little if I didn’t bring the results to back them up.

  “Jones, switch with Michaelson again,” Coach called out. One of my teammates, a new striker who had joined us from the training academy last week, turned from the field and glanced back at us, a confused expression on his face. “Move it!” We watched Jones slowly trot over to the sidelines. His gaze said more than any words could. He was not happy.

  “Coach, did I do something wrong?” the guy asked, and part of me felt bad for him. I didn’t wait to hear the answer. I needed to make my way back onto the field and find my focus.

  When the practice game started again, I tried to block out anything that could distract me.

  “Gavin!” one of my teammates called right before he shot the ball in my direction. I stood in the middle of the field and stopped it, then turned and ran toward the goal. After two passes with my teammates, the end was in sight. I glanced up quickly. The goal was fifty feet away. I tried to concentrate on the distance, the corner in which I would need to place the ball and all the other small things my mind usually did automatically.

  I’m overthinking it.

  The moment I kicked, I knew the ball was going to go off to the side.

  “Michaelson, I was free over here. Why don’t you stop being the egomaniac you are for once and play like an actual teammate?”

  “What the fuck was that, Michaelson?”

  Several other voices chimed in, obviously on a quest to make me feel even worse than I was. I couldn’t even score a goal anymore. One I would have had no trouble making two weeks ago.

  “Let’s take a break,” Coach called. I didn’t need to look at him to see the disapproval on his face. I heard it in his voice.

  I missed the one shot I knew would put me back in his good graces. Devon and Tyler joined me, almost acting like a small shield against the evil looks I got from most of my team.

  I was supposed to be the steady one, one of the pillars. I felt like I failed them on all counts. I couldn’t score. I couldn’t play. I couldn’t do any of the things I was supposed to be doing.

  It sucked.

  We walked to the sidelines in silence. I grabbed a water bottle, letting the cool liquid rejuvenate my body. Maybe that would help.

  Yeah, right.

  Nothing helped.

  “Did Coach talk to you?” Tyler asked. I looked up at him, my gaze questioning. “About being on the team? I know he can’t be happy with your performance.”

  “Tyler,” Devon said, his tone edged with warning.

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it? I’m not saying this
to be a dick, but to make sure you know what’s at stake here. We are here because they were impressed with how we played. The moment we’re not good enough anymore, we’re expendable. I don’t want you to be expandable. So I need to know why you’re acting as if this is the first time you’ve ever been on a soccer field.”

  I ran a hand over my face. “I honestly don’t know. Weather, season... I have no fucking clue. I wish I did, because then I could work on it, but I don’t.” Frustration laced every word, and I think the guys were able to tell. Instead of making a smart ass comment, both simply nodded.

  “Do you wanna get checked by medical staff? Just to make sure everything’s okay in that sense?” Devon suggested.

  I shook my head. “Physically, I feel fine.”

  “It can’t hurt,” Tyler added.

  When I opened my mouth to respond, Coach walked up.

  “I think it’s a good idea. Get checked after training so we can rule out any physical limitations.”

  Blowing out a breath, I nodded. You didn’t argue with the coach.

  “Now, get back on the field.”

  After another half an hour of training, we went over several tactical movements. I could deal with this part. I didn’t look like a complete slacker in that case.

  Another hour later, after practice was over, I went back to the main training facility that housed our gym, the coach’s quarters, as well as physical therapy and the doctor.

  I was more broody than I cared to admit. Not living up to everyone’s expectations was getting on my nerves. I wanted to do better, be better, but it seemed the more I tried, the more I failed.

  As promised, I went to the doctor. It took an hour for them to scan me from head to toe to make sure nothing was wrong with me physically. I was more nervous than I wanted to be. The way they prodded and tested me was more nerve-wracking than expected.

  Disappointment settled within me. Part of me had held a little hope there was something wrong to account for my sucky performance.

  No such luck.

  As I walked back into the changing room, the sound of water splashing, as well as the smell of sweat, greeted me. Most of the guys were still there, no doubt having used the gym to get some more exercise in before returning home. It was what we usually did. Coach liked us to use our time wisely. Training after practice was exactly that.

  “Ah, there he is. What did the doctor say?” Tyler asked as I stepped up to my locker next to his.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, man. I had hoped it was something as easy as that. I mean, not that something physically wrong with you would be an easy fix, but it would’ve been something to go on,” he said. I nodded. I had the same hope.

  “So, what’s the verdict?” Devon asked as he joined us, a towel around his waist. I filled him in, his reaction pretty much mirroring Tyler’s.

  “I’ll be okay, guys. Don’t worry about me.” I tried to sound more cheerful than I was, but it seemed to work. Both Tyler and Devon plastered a smile on their face and continued what they were doing before I had come in.

  “She was so hot. I haven’t seen a woman this fine in a while. And she was all alone,” I heard Jones say from the next aisle. I tried to ignore him, used to him boasting about whatever conquest he had made the night before. “I talked to her for a bit, then we exchanged numbers. This is one chick you need to keep warm. She didn’t seem to be into a one-night stand, so I changed my tactics. We have a date tonight. At a diner. Can you believe it? A chick who requested a date at a diner?”

  My stomach roiled as memories assaulted my mind. I tried to push them away, but they kept coming back the more Jones talked. I wanted to block everything out, but the images of us sitting across from each other in a booth at our favorite diner, the only place she ever wanted to eat, wouldn’t leave. I always suggested different restaurants, but she shut me down time and time again, telling me all she needed was a good burger and fries and she was the happiest girl on earth.

  “Man, she was hot. That hair of hers... All I wanted to do was grab it and pull her to me.” Jones’s voice snapped me back to reality. I watched as he turned into the aisle where I stood, showing off something on his phone. “This is her. Doesn’t she look incredible?” I ignored his obvious attempt at gloating, but Tyler and Devon were nosy and walked over, glancing over Jones’ shoulders.

  Pigs, I thought.

  I glanced back at them and saw my friends’ wide eyes fixed on me. It may have been the light, but I could have sworn they had paled.

  “What?” I called out. All heads turned in my direction. My tone may have been a bit harsher than I intended, but I was frustrated with everything. The last thing I needed was to be pulled into some dick move Jones was no doubt trying to do.

  “Ah, don’t be such a sore loser. Maybe you’ll find a sweet girl to spend the night with. I’m gonna have my hands full,” Jones gloated. I was overcome with the sudden urge to punch him. If for no other reason than he was being an ass.

  “Gavin...,” Tyler said carefully. His tone made me narrow my eyes. Something was wrong.

  “What?” I asked harshly.

  Devon nudged Tyler away from Jones. “Never mind,” he quickly added, returning to his locker. Tyler looked uncomfortable as he did the same.

  I cursed under my breath. “Something’s clearly going on,” I snapped, my attention on my friends. Jones and his lackeys moved out of the changing room, but I couldn’t care less. I surely wouldn’t miss them. Jones may have been one of the new members of the team, but he already knew how to rile me up.

  “Nothing,” Devon mumbled, trying to sidestep my question.

  “Screw nothing,” I yelled, making both flinch. “Tell me.”

  Tyler and Devon exchanged a glance, both obviously trying to decide whether or not another lie was worth my wrath.

  “That woman Jones met at the bar?” Tyler stopped, as if trying to see if I remembered which one he talked about. I refrained from telling him it had barely been a minute since Jones left.

  “What about her?” I asked.

  “It’s—”

  “You need to promise not to go crazy over this,” Devon interrupted, and I arched a brow in his direction.

  “Why would I go crazy over some random conquest Jones made?” My voice got louder with each word, impatience slowly seeping through my veins.

  “Because you know her.”

  Tyler swallowed. “Gavin, it’s Betty.”

  And just like that, my whole world was thrown off its axis.

  Betty

  As I unpacked yet another box from the pile, I heard my son call out. He and his grandma were outside playing, taking advantage of the few rays of sunshine the London weather finally threw our way.

  “What is it?” I asked as I stepped out of the small house I had rented for Trevor and me.

  We had moved here two weeks ago, my mom coming to stay with us for a little while until we got settled. It was a job offer I couldn’t refuse that made me move across continents. Then again, you couldn’t be picky nowadays. It had taken me months to find a job in the first place. As a mother of a five-year-old, it wasn’t the easiest task finding a job that would both pay enough and give me the freedom to spend time with my son. This opportunity with a small London-based company gave me all of that. I had three days I worked from home, being in the office the other two, and the wage was more than enough to cover all expenses and still be able to save up for any necessities we may need. Or a vacation. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a vacation.

  Moving wasn’t an issue, either. I had nothing tying me to the US. My family had long moved away from where I grew up, and I was stuck there with a kid, few friends, and no job. Granted, my parents had been my lifesavers during that time, but they were also the ones who told me to take this job.

  “Can I have something to drink?” Trevor asked, and I rolled my eyes.

  “You’re old enough to get yours
elf something,” I reminded him.

  My son batted his long eyelashes at me. “But I’m playing with grandma and you know how she is. The moment I’m out of sight, she’ll cheat.”

  I laughed at the truth of it. My mom would definitely cheat in their game of chess if he left the board.

  “I refute that. I’m not cheater,” my mom said, her voice full of fake outrage. “How dare you suggest something like that.” She looked at Trevor, who giggled. Her mischievous eyes focused on me. “And how dare you agree with him?”

  My laugh echoed along the still empty walls as I walked back inside and to the tiny kitchen to get my son something to drink. The house I got was smaller than our apartment in the US. I had been told British houses were small, but the reality was still a shock. For the price of this one, I could have easily bought myself a house four times the size back home.

  Before I got this opportunity, my mom had urged me to move in with them, but I didn’t want to live on my parents’ dime any longer. It had been tempting, just for the mere fact of them being able to watch Trevor every once in a while, but I was determined to make a life for us on my own. Plus, they had helped enough over the past five years. I was never going to be able to repay them.

  I took two glasses out of the cupboard and filled them with juice. The kitchen was the first thing I had unpacked, making sure we were able to feed ourselves from the first moment. Trevor might only be five, but he sure knew how to eat.

  “Mom!” he called.

  I walked back out and handed them each a glass. I took a moment to watch them play chess, a game I had no affiliation to. My parents got him hooked, and while I appreciated his love for the game, I was a hopeless cause when it came to it. Which was probably the reason he was happy he had all this time with his grandma. It gave them a chance to practice their skills.