More Than A Game (The Kings of Kroydon Hills Book 2)

by Bella Matthews

  More Than a Game

  The Kings of Kroydon Hills

  Bella Matthews

  Copyright © 2021

  Bella Matthews

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in the critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book contains mature themes and is only suitable for 18+ readers.

  ASIN: B08P28D8J2

  Editor: Liana Brooks Editing Services

  Copy Editor: Red Pen Editing

  Cover Designer: Furious Fotog, Golden Czermak

  Interior Formatting: Peachy Keen Author Services

  Real Queens fix each other’s crowns.

  Kelly & Dena ~ I write strong female friendships because I ground them in ours.

  “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

  Lao Tzu

  Contents

  Playlist

  1. Murphy

  2. Sabrina

  3. Murphy

  4. Murphy

  5. Sabrina

  6. Murphy

  7. Sabrina

  8. Murphy

  9. Sabrina

  10. Murphy

  11. Murphy

  12. Sabrina

  13. Murphy

  14. Sabrina

  15. Sabrina

  16. Murphy

  17. Sabrina

  18. Murphy

  19. Sabrina

  20. Murphy

  21. Sabrina

  22. Murphy

  23. Sabrina

  24. Murphy

  25. Sabrina

  26. Murphy

  27. Sabrina

  28. Murphy

  29. Sabrina

  30. Murphy

  31. Murphy

  32. Murphy

  33. Sabrina

  34. Murphy

  35. Sabrina

  36. Murphy

  37. Sabrina

  38. Murphy

  39. Sabrina

  40. Murphy

  41. Sabrina

  42. Murphy

  43. Sabrina

  44. Murphy

  45. Sabrina

  46. Murphy

  47. Murphy

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Stay Connected With Bella

  What’s Next?

  Also by Bella Matthews

  Playlist

  •“Paint the Town Green” – The Script

  •“Everybody Talks” – Neon Trees

  •“The Times They Are-A-Changin” – Fort Nowhere

  •“Someone To You” - BANNERS

  •“Best Day Of My Life” American Authors

  •“Back Home” – Andy Grammer

  •“Be Okay” – Oh Honey

  •“Cherry Wine - Live” - Hozier

  •“Fire and the Flood” – Vance Joy

  •“Come On Get Higher” – Matt Nathanson

  •“She Sets The City On Fire” – Gavin DeGraw

  •“I’m Born To Run” – American Authors

  •“When We Were Young” – The Killers

  •“Closer” – Kings of Leon

  •“Pony” – Ginuwine

  •“Renegades” – X Ambassadors

  •“Crazy Love” – Van Morrison

  •“Can’t Help Falling In Love” – Ingrid Michaelson

  You can find the play list on Spotify - https://spoti.fi/39k4Umq

  1

  Murphy

  “Murphy, are you listening to me? I’m pregnant.”

  Not a phrase I thought I’d be hearing tonight.

  “Yeah, Murphy, harder.” Or, “Just like that, Murphy.”

  Those are the kinds of things I expect to hear when I’m alone in my bedroom with a hot girl. I don’t get too picky about who the words are coming from. Big tits, nice ass, and I’m sold. Short, tall, blonde, brunette, it all works for me. I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy, and I’m all about ensuring everyone involved has a good time. But I’m also a no-strings-attached type of guy.

  I’ve got my friends.

  I’ve got football.

  If I play the next few years right, I have the possibility of a career in the pros, if I decide that’s what I want.

  What I don’t have is a girlfriend, or wife, or the ability to take care of myself, let alone a baby. I’m a good cook, but I hate food shopping. I go commando more days than not because I don’t have clean underwear. My roommates and I moved into this house in July, and they’ve been up my ass about leaving dishes in the sink ever since. I like to live in the here and now and not worry about next week, month, or year.

  The girl standing in my room is a knockout. Trina’s gotta be five-ten, with blonde hair, blue eyes, legs a mile long, and double D’s that don’t bounce when she moves. She was one of the first girls I hooked up with after we moved in.

  We threw a lot of parties in July. Football practice at Kroydon University hadn’t officially started yet, and we were enjoying the freedom that came with our own place. That entire month kinda blends together. Trina was at the first or second party we threw. Maybe it was closer to August.

  Fuck. I can’t even remember exactly when we hooked up.

  What I do remember is she was extra bendy and extra adventurous. Shit, now I’m at half-mast just thinking about it.

  “Murphy, are you listening to me?”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I zoned out for a second there, almost forgetting why Trina pulled me into my bedroom in the first place tonight. Sitting down on the bed, I take my green ball cap off and run my fingers through my hair before replacing it. I cringe at my next words because, deep down, I don’t want to know the answer.

  “Are you sure you’re pregnant, Trina?”

  “Oh my fucking God, Murphy! It’s Tessa, you ass. Not Trina! Why am I surprised? I come here to tell you that I’m pregnant and you don’t even remember my name. Well, listen up, asshole. You had better get your shit together because I peed on two damn sticks today, and they both showed plus signs. I haven’t had my goddamn period in two months, and I will not go home and tell my parents that some asshole who doesn’t even know my name knocked me up. I have an appointment scheduled for next Tuesday with a gynecologist in the city. I wanted you to come with me because I haven’t told anyone else. I don’t need this getting out there and getting back to my family.”

  She throws a piece of paper at me. “Sober the fuck up and meet me at that address at four on Tuesday.”

  She starts walking out the door, and before I think better of it, I put my foot in my mouth one last time. “I’ve got practice Tuesday afternoon.”

  The instant rage that overtakes that pretty face has me remembering an episode of Animal Planet. A gorgeous, sleek jaguar looked docile and content, until it decided to eat its prey and bite through its fucking skull.

  Through. Its. Skull.

  I think I’m about to get my head pierced.

  Fuck.

  “Figure. It. Out. Murphy.” Storming out of the room, she slams my bedro
om door so hard it bounces off the frame. A picture of the guys and me from our Pennsylvania state championship win last year falls off my shelf and the glass shatters on the floor.

  Well shit.

  This wasn’t how I thought this night was going to go.

  After a minute of sitting stunned on my bed, I hear a quiet knock against my open door. Then, a different blonde head appears. This one is attached to a body the size of a pixie and belongs to my roommate Natalie.

  Nat is one of my three roommates. She and her boyfriend, Brady, who also happens to be my quarterback and oldest friend, unofficially share the master bedroom on the floor above mine. Officially, her bedroom is across the hall, and I’m pretty damn sure she’s never spent a single night sleeping in there. It’s basically our spare room for whoever needs to crash for the night, but when she convinced her dad to let her move in with the three of us, it came with the stipulation that she have her own room. So, for the sake of semantics, she does.

  Nat is looking at me with concern in her pale blue eyes. “Can I come in, Murph?”

  Hanging my head, I ask, “You hear all of that, Nat?”

  She walks in, gently shutting the door behind herself. Stepping over the broken glass, she picks up the frame and looks at the picture of the four of us. Brady, her brother Cooper, my best friend, Sebastian, who’s also our fourth roommate, and I are staring back at her, having just played the game of our lives. It was a great day, and Nat was there, cheering us on.

  After putting the picture back on the shelf where it belongs, Nattie sits down next to me on my bed. She grabs my hand and rests her head on my shoulder. “I caught the end of what she said.”

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” I lean my head against hers and let that reality sink in.

  She squeezes my hand. “You’ll figure it out, Murphy. And we’ll help you.”

  An hour later, I find myself in our backyard, sitting by the firepit. The smell of campfire and roasting marshmallows lingers in the air, “Blinding Lights,” by The Weekend is playing through the speakers, and a bottle of Jack Daniels is in my hand. Tonight is our farewell party for Cooper Sinclair. He’s Nat’s twin brother and one of my best friends. Coop signed away the next eight years of his life to the US Navy in his quest to become a Navy SEAL.

  So, while the rest of us are playing football for Kroydon University, Cooper’s going to be going through basic training and BUD/S. He’s been training all summer and bulking up his already bulky, six-foot-five frame. He’s shaved his dark blonde hair in preparation for leaving tomorrow night, making him look less like the California surfer I met nearly two years ago and more like GI Joe.

  Remnants of the party are going strong inside the house, but my roommates and I sit around the bonfire with Coop. We’re all a little quiet.

  I’m nursing my bottle of whiskey.

  Nat is sitting on Brady’s lap, roasting a marshmallow. Her long blonde hair is hiding her face and some of the PDA that’s going on in that chair.

  Brady is happily holding his girl. Nattie looks tiny against our six-foot-five quarterback. These two have been through a lot to get where they are now. They’ve earned their happiness. You could get a cavity just looking at them.

  Bash is drinking a beer and texting someone on his phone. My best friend likes to keep his shit quiet and locked down. Even I don’t know who Pretty Boy is talking to right now.

  Coop is on the far side of the fire with his ex-girlfriend Tiffany in his lap. Guess she’ll be giving him a good send-off tonight.

  Brady’s sister, Chloe, is sitting next to me. She just started her senior year at our old high school but spent as much time as possible with all of us this summer.

  My sister, Carys, is pissed as hell I won’t let her party with us yet. But she’s only sixteen, and I refuse to let some fucker take advantage of her.

  Tomorrow, Coop and Nat’s dad is throwing a BBQ at his house. Joe Sinclair is the head football coach for our local pro team, the Philadelphia Kings. Luckily, it worked out that his team has a home game Monday night, so he’s able to spend his Saturday with his kid instead of in another state with his team. It’s supposed to be the official goodbye before Coop’s flight leaves later that night for Great Lakes, Illinois. But looking at us all right now, we look like someone ran over our dog.

  We aren’t celebrating Coop leaving. We’re mourning that our friend will be more than a few houses away for years to come.

  Just as that thought crosses my mind, Coop stands, pulling Tiff up behind him. “I think we’re going to head to bed, guys. Thanks for tonight. Nattie, I’m claiming your room for the night.”

  Natalie blows the flames off her marshmallow. “You’ve slept in there more than I have. Go ahead.”

  Brady mumbles, “You won’t ever be sleeping in there, sweetheart,” before sucking the marshmallow off one of her fingers. I’m guessing those two will be the next to head into the house. Brady and Natalie might as well turn fucking into an Olympic sport, they’re behind Brady’s closed bedroom door so often. They’re not quiet about it either.

  And . . . that thought brings me right back to my guest earlier tonight.

  What the fuck?

  I always wrap it up.

  Always.

  I haven’t had any broken condoms.

  I never play “just the tip.”

  How the fuck am I going to break this to my mom? It’s going to break her heart. My mom is that mom. The one who shows up for everything. The mom who brought oranges for the whole team to every football game until I asked her to stop my freshman year in high school. My dad left and started a new life with his secretary in Texas when Carys was five and I was eight. He wasn’t any father of the year before that, but at least he was around.

  We’ve gotten cards in the mail over the years but haven’t seen him once since he left. My mom made sure she was enough for both of us and did it all while taking over as chairman of the bank her father started. I don’t know how many times she’s told me to be careful and that she’s too young to be a grandparent. I’ve never wanted to let her down.

  This is gonna kill her.

  2

  Sabrina

  Why did I promise my best friend, Chloe, that I’d meet her at her brother’s house tonight? I keep telling myself it’s Cooper’s going-away party and I want to stop by, but the pull of my warm, comfy bed, my pajamas, and Netflix has me wishing I’d said no. The sun set hours ago, and you can feel fall trying to push through the Indian summer we enjoyed through most of September. The temps are starting to drop at night, and the leaves are beginning to turn to the gorgeous orange and golds I enjoy this time of year. There’s a strong smoky smell wafting through the air as I walk up the front steps of the gorgeous brick house, minutes away from campus.

  My friends love a good bonfire. I’m going to be washing that smell out of my hair for days.

  I wish I knew how to tell people no.

  What can I say?

  I’m a people pleaser.

  It’s something I’ve been trying to work on.

  My dad’s senate seat is up for re-election in less than two months, so I spent the majority of my night looking pretty and smiling for donors at one of his fundraisers. Now, knocking on the door of Brady Ryan’s house, I wish, at the very least, I’d taken time to go back to my dorm room and change. Dressed in a pale pink sheath dress with nude heels that are killing my feet, I look more like a fancy soccer mom than a college student.

  I’m not sure why I even bother knocking on the door because no one can hear me. Letting myself in, I hear the dull thump of the bass playing over the stereo. Looking around, I’m surprised by the lack of people. A few big guys, who I’m guessing are on the football team, look up as I enter. They’re playing Madden on the flat screen.

  There’s a couple who look like they may as well be screwing on the kitchen counter.

  Eww. People eat there.

  I continue to make my way to the back yard when Natalie and Brady wal
k through the kitchen door.

  She wraps both arms around me, squeezing. “Sabrina! You made it!”

  Natalie Sinclair moved to our tiny town last year and, thanks to Chloe, has become one of my closest friends. She’s fiercely loyal and one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. We look like polar opposites. She’s the Betty to my Veronica, tiny and blonde with a dancer’s grace next to me, who’s tall and brunette with strength you get from fifteen years of playing soccer.

  Letting go of me, she leans back into Brady and smiles. “I’m so glad you made it. We were sitting around the bonfire in the backyard, but Brady and I got tired. We’re going to bed. I don’t think there’ll be much sleeping, but to bed we must go.” She bounces on her toes and smacks Brady on the ass. Then she laughs at herself.

  Pretty sure Nattie is drunk.

  She continues, “Are you coming to my dad’s tomorrow? BBQ’s at 2:00 p.m.”

  Pressing my lips together, I attempt to hold in my laughter. Natalie never gets drunk. “I should be able to stop by. Is Coop here? I wanted to say goodbye before he leaves.”