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

by Bella Matthews

  “Why not. It’s been a few years since I’ve gotten to be on this side of the screw-up talk. Shoot.” She crosses her legs crisscross-applesauce, and puts her hands in her lap, giving me all her attention.

  Ok, Sabrina, rip the damn band-aid off. “IsleptwithMurphy.” There I said it.

  Chloe leans forward. “I’m sorry, what? I don’t speak Muppet.”

  “Muppet? What are you talking about?” I throw my hands up in frustration.

  Cool as a cucumber, she looks at her watch, then to me. “You wanna stop stalling now? You just sounded like the Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show. Don’t try to change the subject, Brina. Repeat what you just said so a human can understand it.”

  I try giving her the stink eye, but she laughs at me instead. Deep breath in, slow exhale out. “Ok, smarty pants. I slept with Aiden Murphy last night. Well, slept, as in the same bed, not as in doing the dirty deed. The deed happened this morning.”

  I see the look of amazement on Chloe’s face. Shit.

  “Not that deed. A lesser deed.” I stand from the chair and will myself not to cry. “But then I got nervous, then upset, and then bitchy. And he left before I could fix it. And now I’ll never get to do that deed with him, because he’s gonna hate me forever.”

  Moving to the bed, I plunk down on the black and white comforter and dramatically throw myself backward.

  Chloe lays down next to me. Our heads both turn to face each other like we’ve done since we were kids. “Alright, Miss Genius IQ. I love you, but I’ve never figured out how you can be so smart and so stupid at the same time. What dirty deed did you do? I’m gonna need specifics because you’re hot, and so is Murphy. And I’m gonna want a visual to go with this story.” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows at me.

  Groaning, I grab one of her pillow shams and smack her in the face with it. “It wasn’t like that. He walked me home. A girl he hooked up with lives on my floor and saw us at my door. She started spouting some nasty stuff, and Murphy looked completely exhausted. We literally just slept in my bed together last night and had a hot and heavy make-out session this morning that may have involved a hand down my pajama bottoms.”

  “Under the shirt action?” Chloe smiles like the devil she is and leans up on one elbow.

  “Jesus, Chloe.” I knock her arm down. “Missing the point of the story here. Anyway, he mentioned something about next time, and I guess I freaked a little.” I take another deep breath, then admit, “Maybe more like a lot.”

  Chloe sits back up. Her hazel eyes are sparkling with mischief. She starts ticking things off on her fingers. “Let me get this straight. Aiden Murphy, the ginger giant, slept in your teeny tiny bed last night. He didn’t try anything ungentlemanly, he just slept. Then this morning, you two had a hot and heavy make-out session where he what? Finger-banged you? And then you got tongue-tied and bitchy because he said he wanted to see you again? Am I warm here, Brina? Cause I’ve used up all my fingers. Maybe not as good as Murphy, but . . .” She lets the rest of the statement die when she sees the sad look on my face.

  Oh, God. When she puts it that way, it sounds even worse.

  Closing my eyes, I nod my head and then quickly sit up. I look at her and whisper. “I may have called him a man whore too.”

  Chloe’s smile grows wider. “Sabrina, you’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.

  You better be ready to apologize because you fucked up.”

  Screeching so loudly, dogs down the street should be able to hear me, I answer my best friend. “I fucked up? Are you fucking kidding me? I fucked up, she says. Like this is some big news.” I stand up and start pacing her room. “I told you I fucked up. He was sweet and sexy. He smelled great, and I came fucking hard, Chloe. He lit me up and calmed me down. I fucking know I fucked up. What I don’t fucking know is how to fucking fix it.”

  Chloe is laughing her ass off at me, and I have the overwhelming urge to smother her with the damn pillow she’s holding. “Why do you have so many fucking pillows on your bed?” I throw one at her.

  “That’s a whole lotta fucks coming from you, Brina.” She holds the pillow in front of herself like a shield to stop me from attacking.

  Crossing the room, I slip my feet back into my black ballet flats and head for the door. With my hand on the knob, I turn around and look at my bestie, who’s enjoying this way too much and announce, “I love you, but you are of no help. I’ll call you later.”

  “Sabrina,” she calls out, stopping me. “Get on your knees.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “When you apologize to Murphy, drop to your knees and show him how sorry you are. He won’t be able to remember why he’s so pissed in the first place.” She looks completely serious for the first time since I told her what happened.

  Damn.

  Curtly nodding my head at her, I shut the door behind me. I hate the idea of using sex as a tool. I hate the idea she’s probably right, and it would probably work. But I had the man I’ve been half in love with for the last six years in my bed last night, and I fucked up.

  If I have to get on my knees to ask for forgiveness, I’m willing to give it a try.

  What do I have to lose?

  He already took another little piece of my heart with him when he left this morning.

  Dear Cooper.

  Belle is helping me write you this letter. Did you see the Kings game yesterday? We won. Declan threw for three touch downs and ran in two more. It was so cool. Me and Belle watched the Kroydon Crusaders game online Saturday too. She painted her nails like she always does, and it smelled. They won too.

  We miss you. Belle and me sent you cookies today. Hope they don’t break before they get to you. They taste better when they’re not broken.

  Love you,

  Tommy David Harte

  Hey Buddy.

  I miss you too. Make sure to tell your sister I said thanks for helping you with your letter. It’s the best one I’ve gotten. I haven’t been able to watch any games yet. Can you believe it? They have us working really hard and aren’t leaving us any time for fun. I got the cookies, and guess what? Not a single one was broken. My friends were so jealous that I had to share with them too.

  How’s school going? Are you being good for Belles? Listen to what she says, okay?

  Talk to you soon, kiddo – Coop

  Group Text:

  Coop: I’ve only got five minutes of computer time. I won it today. Gotta make this fast.

  Coop: Wtf! Tommy’s the only one sending me anything! I’m getting updates on you douchebags from a 10 year-old.

  Murph: Well, Brady usually has his hands full . . . I’m not gonna say what of.

  Brady: Fuck you, Murph. Care to tell the class where you slept Saturday night?

  Coop: Jesus, man. I’m halfway across the country. Can you not put the image of my sister’s ass in Brady’s hands in my head.

  Murph: Who said it was her ass?

  Brady: You’re gonna die, Murph.

  Bash: Do we need a time-out, class? Let’s back up. Where did you sleep Saturday night, Murph?

  Murphy: . . .

  Cooper: Well?

  Brady: He slept with Sabrina!

  Cooper: Sabrina? Like Sabrina, Sabrina? Our Sabrina? Where the hell did that come from? Jesus. Can’t you fuckers go outside our circle of friends?

  Murph: Shut up, asshole. I just crashed at her place. I was tired.

  Bash: You stickin’ to that story?

  Murph: Listen here, Pretty Boy. It’s the truth.

  Bash: Don’t be jealous.

  Coop: Still stuck on Sabrina. Mind blown.

  Murphy: I’m out

  Brady: Pussy

  Bash: Play nice, kids

  Coop: Can’t wait to hear how this plays out.

  Coop: Write me a damn letter!

  16

  Murphy

  By the end of practice Wednesday night, I’ve fucking had it. We were practicing our inside-run defense
with our first-team offense tonight when I jacked up my shoulder. I was shedding a block from the guard with my right arm, and my timing was just . . . off.

  At least I still made the tackle with my left arm.

  The trainer looked at it, said it’s not a tear, just a pull. Then the sadist massaged it before hooking me up to the electronic stimulation and finally stuck me in an ice bath. My balls might come back out of my body at some point tonight.

  Fucking ice bath.

  We’ve got one more practice this week before we fly out to Boston on Friday, and I was given a sling and instructions to rest the shoulder as much as possible between now and then.

  Yeah. Because that’s an easy thing to do when you’re a linebacker. Not the greatest news when your main job on the team is to tackle the guy with the ball.

  Once I’ve changed into grey sweats and my black Crusaders shirt with the sleeves cut off, I realize the guys are gone. Checking my phone, I see they left the field house over an hour ago. Guess my time with the trainer left me lagging behind.

  When I walk outside, the air’s changed, and it smells like it’s going to rain. I love this kinda night. I fix my green ball cap low over my eyes and head across campus to where my Escalade is parked.

  I’m halfway to the car when I cut in front of Kroydon Hall and look over at the track surrounding the football field. Coming to a halt, I see my princess running on the track . . . alone. Other people are coming and going, but she’s by herself.

  I haven’t seen Sabrina since I slammed the door of her dorm room behind me. I know I’ve enjoyed my time with plenty of willing women, but there’s something about this particular woman that’s different, something that makes a part of me scream mine. I don’t know when that happened, and I don’t know that I’m happy about it. But it’s there, and I can’t deny it.

  I have no idea how long I’ve been watching her when those mile-long legs barely covered in short black shorts head in my direction. When she comes to a stop on the other side of the fence, I don’t look up, allowing the brim of my hat to conceal my eyes.

  “Hey, Murph.”

  “Sabrina.” Jesus, I hate being pissed at her. I hate being pissed at anyone. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does . . . Fuck this day.

  I watch her shift her weight from foot to foot as if she’s nervous to talk to me.

  Good.

  I wasn’t the one wrong this weekend.

  “Murph . . .”

  I don’t answer.

  “Can you please look at me?”

  I raise my head, slowly dragging my eyes up her body as I go. She has a white fleece pullover covering her from the waist up, and her hair is up in another perfect ponytail. Nobody should look this sexy running the damn track.

  She clears her throat, and I raise my eyes to hers. She steps forward and grips the top of the fence separating us when her eyes lock on my sling. Reaching out she asks, “What happened to your arm? Are you okay?”

  “I’m in a sling three days before a game, so okay is debatable. I’ll live. Hopefully, I’ll play.”

  “What did the trainer say?”

  Lifting one eyebrow in question, I ask, “This really what you want to talk about?”

  She shakes her head no, and I fight the urge to walk away. What am I doing?

  What is it about this girl?

  “I owe you an apology. I was out of line Sunday morning. I know it’s not an excuse, but I get bitchy when I get defensive or nervous—”

  I cut her off. “Yeah, pretty sure we had this conversation a few weeks ago. You seriously still saying I make you nervous?”

  “You’ve always made me nervous, Murph.” She straightens and lifts her chin. Years of being a Senator’s daughter has made her stronger than she realizes. “You’re larger than life. You’re always the center of attention. Everyone loves you.” Her bravado starts to lessen. “You live your life in public, and I’m the opposite. I like to be behind the scenes. I hate to have everyone’s eyes on me. You want to be the king, and I want to be the kingmaker.”

  Letting go of the fence, she crosses her arms over her chest and takes a step back. “I’ve never been on your radar a single day in your very loud life, and then I was . . . And that’s pretty intimidating.” Those big brown eyes glisten with unshed tears. “You threw me when you started talking about it being a more than a one-time thing because I’ve never seen you do that.” Cocking her head to the side, she gives me a sad smile. “Not because I didn’t like the way it sounded, but because I did.”

  “Listen to me, Princess, because I’m only going to say this once. I haven’t ever had a girlfriend because one or two times with someone was all I ever needed or wanted. But you’re different. You push me, and I think you kinda get me. I wasn’t proposing, but I did want to see you again.”

  She holds her finger up in a one-minute gesture. Then jogs down the length of the fence to the gate and comes back down on the same side as me. “Okay. I didn’t like that stupid fence being between us. Now, you said you DID want to see me again? Was that past tense? Because I had a big grand apology planned, but it didn’t involve being in the stadium or out in public for that matter.”

  Brina’s looking around at the other people running the track tonight as a boom of thunder echoes overhead.

  “Come on. I’ve got my car over here.” I motion to the parking lot and place my free hand on the small of her back, feeling a zing of anticipation when I come in contact with bare skin. Once we get to the SUV, I open her door and wait for her to climb up before walking around the car.

  When I sit down, she places her hand on mine, and waits for me to look at her. “I’m so sorry. What I said was really shitty, and you didn’t deserve it. You were a perfect gentleman last weekend, and I was a bitch.”

  Not exactly what I was expecting to hear. “If I was a perfect gentleman, I was doing something wrong, Princess. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

  That pretty red colors her cheeks before she looks away from me and out the passenger side window. “Okay.”

  If I’m not mistaken, she sounds disappointed. “Sabrina.” I drag out her name. “Do you not want to go home?”

  Pulling her gaze away from whatever she sees outside, her doe eyes lock on mine. “No, I don’t want to go home even though I probably should. I just ran six miles. I need a shower.”

  Huh.

  She doesn’t want to go home.

  She apologized and doesn’t think I’m an asshole.

  Is this how an adult relationship works?

  “If you want to shower, I’ve got one of those back at the house. I’ll bet it’s bigger than yours. It’s got six showerheads in there. Technically, I share it with Bash. It’s between our rooms, but he was heading out after practice. Told his pops he’d meet him and his brother for dinner. He usually crashes at his brother Sammy’s condo in the city when he does that.”

  Brina looks at me, and bites down on that plump bottom lip.

  I see the internal struggle happening. She wants to come with me, but her inner good girl is telling her she shouldn’t.

  I clamp my lips shut. If this thing is going to happen between us, she has to come to me because she wants to. Not because I want her to.

  Damn, but I really want her to. Guess I need to man up and admit that to myself.

  Leaning back, she buckles her seat belt and turns to me with a sly look on her angelic face. “You share with Bash?”

  This little shit. “Oh, baby. I don’t share well with others. Just ask Brady what happened the last time he tried to take one of my toys.” Winking at her, I turn and start the car.

  “Can’t you just tell me?”

  “Nope.”

  She leans back and relaxes. “Six showerheads, huh?”

  It only takes a few minutes to get back to the house. As I pull up, I see Sabrina looking for the other cars that are usually here. Pulling in to park, I hop out, annoyed that I only have the use of one arm, and make my way to her side. She�
�s already reached behind my seat, grabbed my gym bag, and is out the door before I get to her.

  Sabrina hands me the bag. “Where is everyone?”

  “It’s Wednesday night. Nattie is at Annabelle’s studio teaching the baby ballerinas. Brady usually meets her there after practice and hangs with Tommy so Belle can get some work done. I told you earlier that Bash was out, so that just leaves us.”

  We enter the house through the garage door, and I kick my shoes off under my cubbie and throw my bag on the bench. Sometimes this area makes me feel like I’m in the coat room in kindergarten, but it’s pretty useful.

  Sabrina’s lips pull up into a small smile. “How very domesticated of you.” She toes off her sneakers more carefully than I did.

  “You’ve never seen this before?”

  “Nope. My mother always insisted it was bad manners to use anything besides the front door.” She scrunches her nose, and I resist the urge I have to kiss it. What the hell is wrong with me?

  We walk into the kitchen and around the black marble-topped center island to the stainless steel fridge. “Want something to drink?” I reach in and grab a bottle of water, ready to hand it to her.

  Her teeth assault that bottom lip, and I realize I’ve never noticed her doing that before tonight. Do I really make her nervous? She saw me eat dirt when we were kids.

  “I really could use that shower first, if that’s okay with you.” I don’t like the timid voice she’s using right now.

  Seriously . . . Am I a scary dude?

  I never want her to be scared of me. Hell, if I’m not on the football field, I don’t want anyone to be scared of me. I push past her. “Follow me.”

  As I open the door to my room, I quickly kick the dirty clothes under the bed before walking over to the bathroom door. “The towels are in the linen closet. Like I said, Bash is out, but you can lock the door on his side of the bathroom if you want. I’m gonna go make something to eat. You hungry?”