Matters to Me: A Football Romance (The Hart Series Book 4)

by M. E. Carter

  “Uh yeah. Nice to meet you, er…” he looks down at the guy’s name tag. “Donald.”

  Donald looks over at me and his eyes widen. “Holy shit. And you’re Heath Germaine.”

  I close my eyes briefly. Normally, I can go about my business with just a few whispers every now and then. It’s a college town, so it’s a given there will be football lovers milling about. But, of course, the one time Jaxon and I are trying to buy a pregnancy test, a random guy who is clearly a huge fan of the team catches us. I have a bad feeling this is going to end up all over social media before we get out that door.

  “Yeah. You been to a game this year?” I don’t care if he has or not, but if we’re going to get out of this aisle without picture evidence, I need to deflect.

  “Nah,” Donald says with a wave of his hand. “I can’t afford tickets at my pay scale. Besides, they let me watch the games while I’m here. I’m okay with getting paid to sit in front of the TV. No one ever comes in on game day anyway.”

  “Cool.” I stand there awkwardly, hoping Jaxon will take the hint and maybe chat with the guy since I’m not sure what else to say. No such luck. Donald didn’t just come over to talk shop, apparently.

  “Anything I can help you guys with? Are you looking for anything in particular?” He looks down at the shelf next to us and his eyes widen as he finally puts it all together. “Oh. Well that’s um… unfortunate. Any kind in particular you need, or maybe a multipack so you can make absolutely sure?” He winks at us, which goes way past being creepy.

  “That’s what they’re for,” Jaxon blurts out, completely missing the psycho wink, and like we’re not about to start getting calls from some very pissed off parents and coaches when this guy spreads the word.

  No turning back now, though. We were sent on a mission and frankly, with how moody she was tonight, Annika scares me more than my coach right now anyway.

  “All I know is they said something about it saying the actual words pregnant or not pregnant. Something about it being easier to read.”

  “Ah.” Donald looks over and scans the shelves until he finds what he’s looking for and grabs the box. “This one. It’s a popular brand this close to campus.”

  Surprised, I open my mouth to respond but stop myself. The more I think about it, the more I realize we probably aren’t the first two football players to come in here to buy pregnancy tests. Hell, I bet he sells them weekly to some of my classmates. So I just close my mouth and take the box from him with a nod of thanks.

  Task complete, we follow Donald to the register, snagging some ibuprofen on our way, so we can get the hell out of here and put this night behind us. Donald doesn’t seem to notice or care that neither of us is in a chatty mood, and he seems to have some boundary issues.

  Pressing a few buttons and scanning the items, he asks, “So which one of you is this for, anyway?”

  “What?” Jaxon starts to look a pale shade of green again. It’ll be a wonder if he doesn’t start throwing up, too.

  None of that overshadows the irritation I feel at Donald’s question, though. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he responds nonchalantly, like his question wasn’t totally inappropriate and once, again, creepy. “I’m just curious which one of you is gonna be a daddy. I’m hoping it’s you, Jaxon, because that would suck if your career got derailed by this, Germaine.”

  It’s like he’s trying to go for solidarity and is failing miserably. At this point, I’m not sure if I’m angry or want to laugh.

  “Listen, Donald,” I say as calmly as I can, as I hand over my credit card. “I appreciate your—concern, or whatever.” He smiles at me, completely missing my tone. “But there are three women in my car. Since this isn’t my story to tell, your guess is just gonna have to be good enough.”

  Donald’s eyes brighten and he whistles through his teeth like I just gave him some coveted insider information. “Three women? Everyone thinks you’d sworn off the ladies. Wonder what they’d think of this.”

  He hands me back my credit card and the bag, which I snatch out of his hands. It appears Jaxon isn’t the only one who has a few screws loose tonight.

  “Okay. Well, thanks. Let’s go, Jax.”

  We walk out the door, finally free of Donald’s questions. Although I’m not convinced he didn’t sneak some pics of us. It’s only a matter of time before Jaxon’s phone rings.

  Jaxon is still tense, but probably more from the shock of this scare than realization of the backlash we’re about to face.

  “Relax dude,” I say as I clap his shoulder. “Not your girl. Not your problem. Let’s drop them off and go unwind with a beer.”

  “Or three.”

  I laugh, feeling grateful for the camaraderie. “Works for me.”

  It takes a few seconds for Annika to realize we’re waiting by the doors, but she finally unlocks it so we can get in. I toss the bag to the back and pray this one is up to par for them. “Please tell me this is the kind of you were asking for.”

  Lauren catches my desperation first. “Shopping didn’t go well?”

  “The one time I do an errand like this, a fan catches us.” The girls burst out laughing, even Kiersten giggles through her tears, as I grumble, “Coach is gonna fucking kill me when he starts getting calls from the dean.” That only makes them laugh louder.

  I shake my head and look at Jaxon. Just as his phone rings. We both glance down and see the word “Dad” displayed on the screen.

  “I told you,” I say with more force than necessary as the girls roar in the back.

  “Shiiiiiiiit,” he groans before taking a deep breath and swiping right. “Hey, Dad.”

  That’s it. I’m done. I don’t care if this is the right test or not, I need to hit that bar and now.

  Backing us out of the parking space, I head us toward campus as Jaxon says things like, “It’s not for Annika, Dad,” and “You’re really asking if I use condoms?”

  Jaxon was right. Three beers sound much more beneficial. Fingers crossed Uber is out tonight because I need to kill a whole lot of brain cells at this point.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Lauren

  Pregnant. My best friend is pregnant.

  That’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about for the last couple of weeks since all her tests came back positive because it could have been any of us and then what? Life as we know it would completely change.

  Talking her through it has been eye-opening and thought-provoking. Selfishly, it’s also been a needed distraction during the holiday break.

  Actually, that’s a lie. I was only home for a week, but it felt like a year, phone calls or no phone calls. The most rest I got was in the car while my mother drove, because I can only fit in the back seat so I could pretend sleep. Otherwise, I was a victim of my surroundings.

  My mother hovered. My sister bitched. And I spent the entire time stuck on the couch, unable to get away from either of them. I have never wished for painkillers more simply so I could drug myself to sleep. Not the most appropriate course of action, but no one would blame me for acting in that kind of desperation. Not if they spent more than ten minutes with my family over the holidays.

  Fortunately, scholarship athletes are required to practice weekly, even while everyone else is on vacation, so my time at home was cut short. No, I’m not a scholarship athlete per se, but I was still able to sweet talk my way back into the dorm knowing Coach wouldn’t kick me out when I showed up at practice today, even though I can’t do anything except back extension rolls at this point. For the record, a knee-to-toe cast makes them much harder to do. Thank goodness the doctor replastered my leg a couple of days ago. I can only imagine how much worse it would be if I was still casted up to mid-thigh.

  While I enjoy being back at the gym, the real bonus of coming back yesterday is getting to see my boyfriend again.

  Boyfriend. That word is still hard to wrap my brain around, but the more w
e’re together, the more I’m confident that Heath is the real deal. That he means everything he says. He’s always asking my opinion on things and wanting to study together. He touches me randomly just because. And don’t even get me started on how he immediately moved into my dorm room yesterday to make sure someone was with me overnight in the event of an emergency. I have no idea what kind of emergency he’s anticipating with almost no one here, but I don’t care. I like having him around.

  And yes, Annika’s bed immediately moved right next to mine as well.

  I admit, it was nice having him with me last night. It’s also why I’m sitting on this bench, the lone woman in a gym usually occupied by only the football team, stifling a yawn.

  Hands on his hips, breathing heavily after finishing a round of pull-ups, Heath smirks at me. “Losing steam already, Tiny?”

  As soon as practice was over, Heath came to get me and brought me here to implement the workout regime he had planned a few weeks ago. Now that I’ve been given the all-clear for upper body workouts, as long as I put absolutely no pressure or strain on my leg despite my new and shorter cast, the plan is for us to work out together. Basically, that means we set up weights side-by-side so he can stare at me, ready to jump in should something go wrong, like I get a sudden desire to run across the room or something. I’m not positive, so I’m humoring him.

  I’m also giving him my best half-hearted glare even though we both know he’s teasing me. “First, you shouldn’t call a short woman ‘tiny.’ It gives us a complex.” He snorts a laugh. “Second, I’m only tired because you kept me up all night, you asshole.”

  His eyes flare with desire and I know what he’s thinking—we’re getting close to crossing that all-important physical line. If it weren’t for this damn cast, there would have been no stopping it last night. I’m honestly not sure the cast is going to be a deterrent much longer.

  Stalking toward me, he leans forward, resting his hands on the bench right in between my legs. It’s a very small area, and I’m very, very aware of how close his hands are to the part of me that wants him most these days.

  Making sure he’s eye level, Heath whispers, “I didn’t hear you complaining. Especially when I rubbed my hand up the side of your knee.”

  “Only because that knee hasn’t been touched by anything except gauze for the last few weeks.”

  He takes a slow, deep breath. “Okay. I can keep my hands to myself tonight if that’s what you want.”

  I narrow my eyes because he’s not playing fair. We only got as far as petting over clothes and some serious ass grabbing, but he’s right. I was as into it as he was. But I won’t admit it. At least not now.

  Instead, I shrug playfully and say, “I don’t mind if you move that bed back to its spot across the room.”

  He responds with a growl and his giant palm quickly ends up on the back of my neck, gently pulling me closer. “That is not going to happen.” His gaze drops to my lips and the clink of the weights and buzz of chatter fades away.

  His lips drop to mine and there is no hesitation when I respond. Kissing Heath is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced. Not just because he’s a fantastic kisser, but because I know it means something to him. He doesn’t run around making out with just anyone, so I have no doubt this is as special to him as it is to me.

  It’s short-lived, however, when the whistles and catcalls cut through our haze filled bubble.

  Pulling back, he rests his forehead on mine and smiles. “We’ve only got one more set, Tiny.” I respond with a tiny growl of my own which elicits a chuckle from him. “One more then we’re done.”

  I nod and take a breath, stretching my arms over my head as he moves behind me. I half expect his teammates to continue harassing us, but no one does. We’ve all got a job to do here, and they have better things to do than mess with us much more than that.

  Within seconds, Heath picks me up and holds me in the air until I have a solid grip on the bar above me. Then he slowly lowers me until he’s confident he can let go and I won’t fall.

  It’s oddly sexy the way he can just toss me around like I’m a waif. I’m used to being spotted by coaches, but it doesn’t feel the same when Heath does it.

  “Just fifteen more, Tiny, and you’re done for the day.”

  I ignore the nickname and concentrate on contracting my muscles, pulling my entire body up until my chin is over the bar. Slowly, I lower back down. I know these football players speed through chin-ups, but I’m not trying to build bulk. I need the strength. The control.

  My lack of speed during this exercise doesn’t seem to bother Heath. Quite the opposite. He’s murmuring words of encouragement and praise as I slowly pull up… and release just as slowly.

  “Come on, Tiny. Just one more.”

  Breathing heavily, I strain as I pull, gritting my teeth as I go. Just as I reach the top, I feel his big hands encircle my waist, but I don’t stop. I finish the move all the way to the bottom.

  “Ready?” I ask with a pant.

  “Gotcha,” he responds so I let go, knowing there’s more than one way to interpret his response.

  Gently setting me back down on the bench, he hands me my water bottle.

  “One last set, Heath. You got fifteen more in you?” I ask with a smile, as I bring the bottle to my lips.

  “I think I should get out of this last one.”

  “What? Why? You can’t tell me you’re tired.”

  “Because I forgot the extra work-out I was going to have picking you up every time it was your turn.”

  I shrug. “You’re the one who decided on chin-ups. I’d have been happy with some dumbbell presses while sitting right here on this little bench.”

  He shakes his head playfully and turns back to the bar. I pretend to be resting while he finishes his last set, but really, I’m watching. Watching his shoulder muscles pop with the movement. Watching his core tighten and his abs flex in the mirror.

  I bite my bottom lip, internally screaming at myself to calm the hell down. This relationship is based on friendship. It’s supposed to go slow and steady to build a solid foundation.

  Oh, who am I kidding? My boyfriend is hot as hell, and I’d love nothing more than to race back to my dorm and strip us both naked so he can show me exactly how much power he has behind those thigh muscles.

  “Why’ve you got that look on your face, Tiny?”

  I look up at him through my eyelashes realizing I’ve been caught. I was so into my ogling, I didn’t realize he was done.

  Licking my lips, I allow my stubborn streak to come out and refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m embarrassed about being caught in the act. “Just a long day. I think I’m ready to go home and rest for a while.”

  Heath smirks and rubs his nose with his thumb. “Okay. Let’s finish up and get you out of here.”

  Stretching doesn’t take that long for me. Since I can only work out my upper body anyway, there’s not a lot of muscles I need to stretch out. Mostly I just watch Heath cool down. And maybe I eyeball him a little more. I can’t help it. His body is practically a work of art. Long, lean muscles, almost no fat on his body, strong thighs, strong back, strong shoulders. His dark skin practically glistens from the slight sheen of sweat covering his body.

  I’ve dated athletes before, but something about Heath’s build is more rugged. Like the way he’s cut in all the right places are less because of lifting weights and more the way his body naturally sits. It makes me wonder what his dad looks like—if he’s just as lean and strong.

  Soon enough, we’re crossing the campus again. Me in the wheelchair, Heath pushing me. I sigh dramatically.

  “What’s wrong? In pain? Did I push you too hard?”

  “No,” I grumble. “It was actually a good workout. I’m just tired of being in this chair. I wish the doctor would give me a boot already so I could walk.”

  Heath chuckles behind me like it’s no big deal that I’m still sitting around. He’s
not the one getting restless. “It’ll be soon. The x-ray showed its healing up nicely, right?”

  “Yeah,” I admit half-heartedly. “Not as fast as I’d like, though.”

  “A spiral fracture is nothing to mess with. It needs to heal up well if you’re going to keep throwing those flips and spins and whatever the hell it’s called.”

  “It’s called tumbling. Just say that,” I advise, trying not to laugh. If I’m stuck being sedentary, at least Heath keeps me entertained.

  “Whatever. I know you’re frustrated, but if I’ve learned anything in all my years of football,” I scoff at his over-exaggeration, “it’s that you can’t rush an injury.”

  He’s right, so I don’t say anything. With the way I’ve been feeling, it’ll all sound bitchy and ungrateful anyway. I’m sure the feeling will pass, but it’s like my anxiety has ratcheted up a notch and is coming out as anger. It’s not about Heath, though. It’s about losing my competition spot for the season, feeling helpless, and probably some worry for Kiersten.

  I don’t even want to think about that. She swears the dad, Chad or whatever, is being supportive and wants to raise the baby with her, but I have my doubts. Call me pessimistic, but I know very few guys our age who would step up to the plate after a couple of quick fucks. I’m hopeful, of course. Just… not convinced.

  I push thoughts of my best friend out of my mind. Right now, I need to focus on the immediate future—getting out of these sweaty clothes and into the shower.

  Heath and I maneuver the wheelchair into my dorm past what’s-his-name reading GQ this time and into my room. I push myself to standing and Heath helps me to my dresser where I pop one of my anxiety pills and gather my clothes for my shower. While I’m glad we got an en-suite this year, it still sucks having to hide my shower supplies from our thieving suitemate. Speaking of things that suck, I just realized we may have a problem.

  “Um… Heath?” I say quietly, not sure how this is all going to play out. “We forgot something.”