by Melissa Blue
She swallowed and looked away from him. “Then what is your plan to get yourself out of this?” She pointed at the TV then to herself. “And us? Just hope everything turns out fine? Or is this you trying to sabotage what you have because you don't think you deserve it?”
Adam tilted his head up to the ceiling. Those words hit him, and he unfurled and then curled his hands back into the couch's soft fabric. “I...”
When he looked at her—when he was with her—nothing else mattered. Outside of that, he didn't know—couldn't answer for sure—and that made it so much worse as the silence stretched.
Charlotte nodded as though the quiet was all the answer she needed. “It was fun, right? That's all that counts.”
He pushed away from the couch and scrubbed a hand through his hair. This conversation was spiraling out of control, and he was losing her. He could see it in the way she looked at him. “That's not all it was with us. I met you a week ago, and my life has never felt more…complete.”
“So damn the consequences?” The question came out sharp like a slap.
He raked his gaze over her face. It could have been carved from stone. “Yes. How could you walk away from something that feels like this?”
She glanced away. “I'm not going to help you bring your world crumbling down.”
That hurt like a bitch to hear—to see her tight jawline and know she meant it. There was no talking her out of walking away from what they had.
Instead of despair, anger burned low in his gut. “You knew what you were getting into, Charlotte. Don't act innocent about it now.” The anger rose and made the tips of his ears burn. “Don't act like you weren't all in the moment I first touched you. You liked me just the way I was.”
“And that's why I should have run as fast as I could,” she threw back. “I'm not about to watch someone else I care about crash and burn. I refuse.”
Her brother. Right. That's what all this was about, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. “I want you, Charlotte. It's that simple. No other ulterior motive.”
There was the slightest hesitation before she spoke. “For how long? Or am I just the flavor of the week?”
He couldn't say and that would be enough for her to damn him. It should have been enough for him to let her go, but Charlotte was the first woman who made him want nights in, made him love the thought of waking up to her in his bed—in his arms. She made him want everything he wasn't but could be.
“So…we're done?” he asked, his mouth dry.
Her gaze turned hard. “What more is there?”
That hurt more than anything he'd ever felt before. “Apparently nothing.” His tone had bite.
He couldn't do anything about that. At least now Adam knew for sure he'd taken someone else's place—someone she'd be proud to call hers.
Charlotte turned her attention to the TV, her face in profile, but he still saw the tear that escaped. His stomach clenched, and he took a step forward. No. He didn't belong here with her. She didn't even want him. He'd been right all along.
He grabbed his jacket off the arm of the couch and left..
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What do you mean we are twenty grand short?” Charlotte asked Mona, now more than sure the universe was paying her back in full for one good week.
Her voice carried in the room, and more than one teen glanced up from their stoves. She winced. “Sorry. I'll keep my voice down.”
Mona whispered, “The donation page allows people to withdraw their contribution. We were already fifteen grand down, so at least not everyone in the world is soulless.”
That was a small thing, and maybe any other day, that would be enough to soothe the ache in her heart. Adam's story had bled into the regular news cycle, though by then, it was a harrowing tale of two friends who’d relied on each other since college. The spin wasn't enough, apparently.
“This is my fault,” Charlotte admitted. “If I hadn't—”
“If you hadn't,” Mona talked over her, though still managing to keep her voice low, “we wouldn't have a program at all. Tomorrow, your bake sale will bring in whatever we lost.”
She tried to cling to the small hope, but lately, it took more than a few words. “If I price the desserts really high. Maybe. If not?”
“We'll figure it out. I called the local newspapers to show up and do a small segment. We will be fine. Promise.”
Nothing was fine. Not when she was dealing with what suspiciously felt like heartbreak. Mona, of course, seemed to catch on to that thought as soon as it crossed Charlotte's mind.
Her friend leaned in. “We're not going to talk about it?” Mona asked.
Charlotte gestured with her head to the room filled with teens. “Talk about what?”
Mona rolled her eyes. “The fact that every time I've seen you this week, you’ve looked like you'd just finished crying.”
Had she? Probably. Everything seemed to remind her of Adam. And…sometimes, she'd turn on ESPN to see if she could catch sight of him in a scrimmage. She had, and it had felt like someone had lodged an ice pick in her chest, especially when he did interviews.
He was polite and nice, but she knew that belligerent stance. He'd spread his legs, gripped his gear near his neck with both hands, and had the blankest expression. Depending on the question, his gaze flashed with annoyance.
Are you excited about this upcoming season?
Yes, I love the game. Every season brings a new set of challenges.
It went without saying he loved the game so he'd hear that question want to reply with, “No. Excitement is my next prostate exam, not football.”
Just thinking about him…ice pick. Right in the heart. “Check your pots,” she called to the room. “You don't want your gravy to burn.”
Mona gave her a look that told Charlotte the conversation was far from over. In case her friend decided to make good on that threat immediately, she walked around the room. Biscuits and mashed potatoes and gravy were on the menu. She'd brought baked chicken breasts and enough backup biscuits to satisfy even growing teenage boys.
More than a few needed help saving their gravy, and a handful were going to need hers. “All right, lower your pots to simmer so we can finish off with the mashed potatoes.”
Unfortunately, that meant she had to head back to the front for her own meal. Mona had peeled the potatoes at least.
Charlotte opened with, “I don't want to talk about Adam.”
“Talk about the fact you're crying about Adam. Or that you miss Adam even after only knowing him a week. Or anything about football. Or tall men with wicked smiles.”
“Leave,” she forced out in a whisper, but man, she wanted to yell. That was so unlike her, but how many times did she need to feel that stab in her heart?
And she'd been right to end things with him. He'd deliberately kept the truth away from her. He'd known how she'd react. No different than the media jumping to the worst conclusion, believing the absolute worst about him.
Had she needed to believe he was the bad guy? Her heart had just felt so full when he’d asked her out on a date. It was ridiculous. They'd had sex. Lots of times. A date was kind of letting the cat out of the bag, but she'd known what it meant for him—the both of them—to want more outside of the bedroom.
And she'd thrown the gesture back at him the moment his past couldn't be ignored. He hadn't denied being exactly the man she knew him to be—the bad boy. The exact kind of man she never wanted to love.
Mona lifted her hands. “The way you were drifting off thinking about him says it all, don't you think?”
Love? That wasn't possible. “Are we all set for tomorrow?” she asked in a normal voice.
Mona rolled her eyes. “Yes. Show up in the morning, and we'll sell until there's nothing else to sell.”
Her friend's voice had been prim and a little hurt. “I'm sorry,” Charlotte whispered.
“Forgiven.” Mona said but then added, “Now if only you would—”
; Charlotte glared at her and Mona laughed. And then she laughed because not even that would stop her friend from nagging and worrying. The short spurt of mirth felt good, but nothing could touch the ache. Nothing probably ever would.
*****
Kent gestured to the TV with his beer. “Isn't that your girlfriend?”
Adam's heart jumped into his throat. Five days had gone by since he'd seen her. In the mid-afternoon sunlight, the golden strands shined around her face as the wind attacked her bun. He knew the curve of her smile, the sound of her laugh, and how she moaned, but most of all, he knew her heart. Knew how scared she must have been to look at him and see the future unfolding just like her past.
“We're not together.” He reached for the remote, but Kent beat him to it and punched up the volume.
The reporter pushed the microphone closer. “What is your goal today?”
“Our hopes?” Charlotte asked. “Five thousand dollars would be a Godsend, but however much anyone can give is welcomed. This program has saved—and will save more—teens. It takes the lunch sack program and makes it more than ensuring the kids won't go hungry. In the exchange of that feel-good feeling, you'll get a red velvet cupcake. What more do you need, really?”
Kent muted the TV. “You're an idiot. You gotta go out there. No excuses.”
Of course, he wanted to go down there with a fat check to be the hero. His week had sucked, hard and long, and not in a good way. Training camp had started, and there was nothing but scrimmages to look forward to on little sleep. The media had crawled up his ass over Kent, but that was handled now.
All of it would have gone down better if he’d had Charlotte to look forward to at the end of another hard day. He wasn't sure if anyone had screwed up in the end or if they were doomed before they had started.
Adam only knew that his life wasn't the same without Charlotte in it. Hers was probably better without him.
He lowered his gaze from the TV, but she laughed. His attention shot back up. The smile she wore that came with the light sound didn't reach her eyes. Pity. He loved her real laugh.
He threw an annoyed glare at his friend. “They probably lost money because my name was connected to the program.”
The other man nodded. “So you're going to let the program close down?”
“No,” he said, looking at his friend like he'd lost his mind. “You should know programs like that is what saved us.”
Kent grinned, and Adam scoffed at having fallen for that trap. “Don't you need to go home to your wife? It's a weekend.”
“She watched your scrimmage with me and understood you needed a shoulder to cry on. You were crap. Plus, I bought a place in Oakland. That's an update. And it's not too far from the youth center. We can check it out.”
Adam was shaking his head before his friend could finish. “If I go down there right now, it'll be about me, not her, and definitely not the kids.”
Kent leaned back on the couch, seeming to consider the situation. “Then figure out how to save the day without your name being attached to it. We both know you're not going to let her lose that program.”
“It's not just that. It's…” He shook his head.
He wasn't anything like Charlotte, and yet he'd enjoyed the time he'd spent with the kids. She'd taught those classes for three months, week after week. She'd be crushed and filled with worry over each and every boy. The teens weren't just a reminder of how far she'd come or how much she'd lost, but she believed to her core that sometimes, all someone needed to do was reach back to give a helping hand. Something she'd reminded him.
Adam flipped through a number of ideas, and only one could work. “How much does your wife love you?”
Kent's brows rose. “Why?”
“You can't go down there, either. We're too tightly linked.”
His friend frowned. “But if she doesn't know it's you…”
“Doesn't matter what I want. She needs that center, and so do those kids. That's what matters.”
Kent's brows rose higher then he laughed. “You're so toast.”
That pretty much proved he hadn't just lost his edge, but also had gone soft in the heart. Adam pushed off the couch to get his phone from the kitchen. “I'm remembering why we used to fight at least once a month in college.”
“What are you doing?” Of course, his grumble wouldn't deter his friend.
“Charlotte made a lot of friends last Sunday.”
“The football wives?” Kent nodded. “Respect.”
“Fastest way to a man's wallet is through his wife, and they loved her.”
And how did he feel about her?
Kent laughed harder. “So toast.”
Adam rolled his shoulders at the weight of the truth. The last week had sucked because he missed her. He'd met the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with, and he'd lost her.
Was she wrong to hold his past against him? No. Previous actions could dictate the future. And saying “past” was a misnomer. Less than a year ago, he'd been caught up in a sex scandal. Years before that, a similar circumstance had hurt his friend, and he'd kept that simple truth from her. It was that, for the first time in his adult life, he had cared what a woman thought about him outside the bedroom.
Charlotte mattered.
If she would be happier without him, then that was just something he'd have to choke down. He never wanted her to worry about him or walk around with a knot in her gut that one day, he'd go back to his old ways. She deserved to be happy.
He scrolled through his contacts list and started with Trevor. The man's wife was the best starting point. She'd get the word out for him.
Kent yelled from the living room, “What do you want me to tell Angela?”
“Other than the fact that you're whipped?” Adam would have replied to his friend's vicious curse, but his former teammate answered.
Good. It would be the first of many calls. Charlotte would never have to worry about the program again. He'd make sure of it. As for his heart…well, even bad boys had to fall in love, right?
*****
They'd sold every last bit of dessert and it wasn't enough. “We're still ten grand short,” she said to her friend.
Mona patted her back. “Sit. You've been on your feet since six this morning. We'll figure it out.”
Charlotte settled on the stool, her throat tight. Of course, her emotional reaction wasn't just about the boys and the program. Some part of her had hoped to look up and see Adam striding toward the table, his hair slicked back, his wide shoulders relaxed, and a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She hadn't wanted to see him just for his money, but because he'd wrap his arms around her and tell her it would be all right. He liked the kids and would do everything he could to make sure they had a place to go after school to keep them off the streets. Adam knew what it was like, and he knew this wasn't just a loss for the community.
But she'd made sure he would never show his face in her life again. He hadn't told her his sordid past, knowing she'd think less of him. Didn't she just prove him right after he had? He'd been vulnerable and open, maybe for the first time in his life, and she'd cut him off at the knees.
Had she been wrong to point out everything she'd ignored to be with him? Wasn't it too fast anyway to rearrange their lives and go headlong into a relationship? How could they know this time was different?
Now she'd never know.
Tears threatened to fall and a woman strolled up, her ebony locks tucked into a ponytail. She looked all business in a shirt and jeans.
Charlotte sniffed them back and smiled. “I'm sorry, but we're all out of desserts. You can still leave a donation if you want.”
The short brunette smiled back. “Did you meet your goal?”
Her shoulders fell. “No, but like I—”
“Good.”
“What did you just say?” Mona asked beside her, a bite in her voice.
“Good?” Charlotte asked, confused
at that response.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “You are nice. You must be Charlotte. Great to meet you. You're nothing like I’d imagined.”
That made her blink. Who was this woman? “Yeah?”
“I wasn't sure if I wanted to ignore my husband's strict instructions, but now I am.”
Charlotte put out her hands to somehow slow the woman down. What was she talking about? “I have no idea what you mean. Start from the beginning.”
The woman's smile widened. “One of the instructions—this particular one was repeated five times—was that you were not supposed to know Adam sent me.”
Her heart kicked. “Adam sent you?”
“Yup.” The woman opened her purse and dumped a stack of checks onto the table. “After Adam saw you on the news this morning, he called a handful of the people you met last week at some barbecue, and they called some people, and those people called some people.” She grinned. “That's more than your goal. Probably more than enough to build a whole cooking center.”
Charlotte shook her head, trying to catch up, but couldn't. “Who are you?”
Mona was picking up the checks, and from the noises she was making, the money was nothing to sneeze at.
The woman offered her hand. “Mrs. Parker. Kent's wife, but you can call me Angela. They sent me because no one has any idea who I am. I just look like a housewife who wants to help.”
Mona pushed at Charlotte's shoulder. “I'm only halfway through the pile, and we can rent our own building for the program. We can expand it, hire new people…”
Her head spun and she had to splay her hands on the table. Adam had done that and didn't want the credit? The things she'd said to him…and still, he'd gone out of his way to help her save the program.
“Why?” The word came out as a whisper. “Why wouldn't he want me to know it was him?”
Mona collapsed into the chair beside Charlotte. “Oh my God.”
Angela grinned at Mona. “I'm guessing you made quite the impression on him and what matters to you matters to him now.”
“But we broke up. I told him there was nothing between us.” The Adam she'd accused him of being would have milked this for all it was worth just to smooth his way over. This was a selfless act. Yes, he'd done it on a whim, but he'd done it with his heart. The tears she'd fought back threatened to resurface.