With a shudder, I leaned against the glass of the limo window and pressed my cheek against the cool glass as I watched the trees fly by. The highway rolled easily beneath the limo, making the vehicle rock this way and that like a boat on a lazy tide. I pushed the whiskey into a nearby cup holder, unwilling to drink it.
The woman beside me sighed and rolled her pale grey eyes, climbing to her feet to find company more entertaining than me. I didn’t blame her, nor did I bother to try and convince her stay. She glanced at me as she stood, as though she were hoping that I would smile and spread my arms back open to greet her again, and when I didn’t she turned with a pout.
Another girl would laze her way down the aisle to take up her spot in minutes. I was never alone, though I liked it that way. I didn’t enjoy being alone with my own thoughts, they always traveled in a direction I wanted to avoid.
Football helped, some. It was part of the reason I threw myself into it so heartily. It was easy when you’re on the field drenched in rain or blood or sweat, eyes locked only on your opponents and the small brown ball, to forget everything.
Nothing existed but the game.
The money wasn’t bad either. I hadn’t been aiming to become so wealthy when I joined my college team, but the scholarships had flown as freely as the booze did after a big win. Every time I touched the ball it was magic, like being an NFL player was what I was born to do. That was funny, considering my father hadn’t even wanted me to play. Even as a kid I’d snuck to practices. He found out when I was thirteen, just as he met my stepmother, and felt so guilty about finding a new love after my mother passed that he allowed me to continue playing. I didn’t even get a lecture about it.
I’d gotten lucky in my career as well. I’d signed for a major team early on, giving me all the women and cash I could have ever dreamed of. Never in my wildest dreams had I anticipated how my life would go. When I was a child and thought of who I wanted to be when I was older, there was only thing that came to my young mind.
I wanted to be happy.
The thought made me almost want to laugh now. I didn’t even know what happiness was. I got a taste of it, sometimes, when I was on the field and I was running and the ball was in my hands and then suddenly the refs were screaming “touchdown!” and my teammates were gathered around me as we whooped and hollered and celebrated another fantastic win—but that always faded and I was left with even less inside of me then I had before.
I searched for that happiness over and over again every time I was on the field, and every time I got the smallest shred of it, it was torn away again.
Life like mine was supposed to be great, and sometimes it was. Other times I’d do anything to trade it for someone else’s.
“Hey, Jax,” Another woman purred as she sank down beside me and snuggled greedily up against my side, her fingers sliding across my thigh. She wasn’t one to mince time, I supposed, as her warm fingers blazed against the tingling flesh of my upper leg.
I wasn’t sure who this one was. She was new to the group, with brown black eyes and equally dark hair. Though their hair may be different shades and their eyes may be different shapes, their intentions were all identical. I could barely tell the difference between her and the rest of the gold diggers. The differences were so small that I couldn’t bring myself to care.
They all asked the same vague questions, pressing their arms together in front of them so that their cleavage popped and batting long lashes that made me yawn. The sensual sweeps of their fingers on sensitive thighs and jaws and earlobes may be enough to lure in other men on the team, but that wasn’t the case for me. I brought them to my room only when I felt like it, and only for a single night.
It was my policy not to sleep with them more than once. Any more than that and you ran the very real risk of them getting attached and obsessive. Cynthia was an exception, though it wasn’t because I had feelings for her. It was more of an obligation. She cried when I told her no and though I had no romantic feelings for her, it was difficult to watch tears form in her dull eyes.
“I’m going to get some rest,” I shrug, closing my eyes to block out the woman and sinking down in my seat, “Wake me up when we get to town.”
The woman crossed her arms, pouting, but slunk her way down to the next seat where another man on my team was siting.
“Hey, Lucas,” she purred in that same sensual voice she’d used with me only seconds ago.
When she let out a high-pitched giggle, I knew her tactic had worked this time. It usually did. Even on the ones claiming to be happily married. If their wives didn’t travel with them, they all ended up with a girl like Cynthia. It was too lonely otherwise, and not even powerful and wealthy men like the ones on my team liked to spend a night in a cold bed. There was nothing worse than laying between cool sheets and unable to sleep. In the darkness of the foreign hotel room, you had no control over where your mind would wander or what you would think about.
It was safer to have a woman with you, something that could distract you from treacherous feelings.
The limo’s drive was so smooth that the sleek, black vehicle didn’t even bob when we went over potholes or sharply veered around corners. The road seemed endless, like it might stretch on forever. I was all right with that, if we never reached the town then I would never be taking the risk of returning home.
My body rocked slightly with the gentle movement of the limo, lulling me into a much-needed sleep as my cheek remained pressed to the window and the streetlamps continued streaking over my face. The moon was high tonight, a big white sphere in the sky surrounded by twinkling stars.
It was strange. I always slept better on the road than I did in my huge bed and silken sheets.
I’d gotten the best mattress and blankets that money could buy, and it still did little to calm me in the evenings. I’d always had trouble sleeping, but it’d only gotten worse as I got older.
I couldn’t sleep alone, I’d always needed someone in my bed with me, a warm and supple body that I could embrace and hold captive against my naked, strong chest. In the limo and on the road, though, I didn’t need that. I could be alone, I could just be by myself and enjoy the comfort of rest. Maybe it was the soft chatter of my teammates in the background or the comforting sighs of flirting women. Whatever it was, I was always grateful for it.
“Jaxon, man, we’re here,” Lucas leaned over the seat, nudging my shoulder roughly as my eyes snapped open and I looked around in surprise.
I didn’t usually sleep for more than an hour or two at a time, even on the road, but this time it felt as though I had only just closed my eyes when suddenly I was being dragged back out from slumber. I groggily rubbed at my still exhausted eyes, giving my head a small shake in an attempt to wake it fully. It felt like I was slipping out of water after holding my breath for too long beneath the surface.
My oldest friend on the team smirked, shaking his head as his shaggy black hair hung into his green. He wore his hair long, tied back from his tan face in a low ponytail that didn’t flatter him but for some reason made the ladies go crazy. There were entire Facebook pages devoted to that ill-fitting hairstyle, and I’d even seen a jersey imprinted with it on the fabric. Lucas was a tall man, attractive and strong. He’d always wanted to be quarterback but it’d never happened for him. He was stuck as a running back instead. At least he was a mid-tier fantasy pick. He never let any of us forget that. I chose not to remind him that our defense was always number one in the league.
“Where are we again?” I mumbled blearily, stretching my stiff arms over my head and twisting from side to side to attempt to get even a little bit of flexibility back in my rigid spine.
My whole body hurt from the awkward position I’d curled into against the window of the limo. It’d been midnight when I passed out, but now the sun was high and bright in the sky. It was too cheery and it hurt my eyes. The limo was still, nearly empty except for Lucas and myself. When I peered back outside, I could see the others lingerin
g nearby, hands in their pockets as they chatted and waited for the hotel rooms to be ready. A concierge of the hotel walked around, handing out cups of coffee and looking star struck by all the men on the team. His eyes shifted around everyone, taking them in as though he was gazing at world famous celebrities. It was moments like that that made me feel so grateful, moments when a fan’s smile would go so wide at just the sight of you that it reminded you what a strong and powerful presence you were.
“We’re in Boston, man, you know that! Come on. We’ve got to get settled in the hotel. Coach wants to do one of his talks before we head in,” Lucas added with a faint roll of his green eyes.
Coach was a talker, I’d never met anyone who loved to hear himself talk like he did. Everywhere we went, everything we did, we got a lecture or an hour-long conversation about it.
I nodded with a sleepy yawn, climbing out of the limo and rubbing a hand over my eyes. A blustery wind blew and made me grateful that I was in a cozy sweatshirt, digging my hands down into my pockets. When I inhaled, I could smell the familiar salty fragrance of the harbor nearby. Stepping out into this weather was like stepping back in time. Everything felt the same as it did fifteen years ago, the chill in the air, the salt in the breeze, it was all identical. I half expected to blink and be suddenly dressed in my old high school uniform again, waiting to go play at the small stadium of my youth.
The girls were gone now, no doubt scoping out the hotel and finding out if they could get any rooms near our reserved block. While we didn’t book any rooms for them, they always found a way to be close by. They couldn’t stand to miss out on any potential action. Any minute that they weren’t smothering us in their affection was a minute that we could slip away. It was suffocating, though the others seemed to bask in the attention the same way a king would bask in glory after a victorious battle. The girls would come around in the evening, knocking on all the doors and seeking out a man willing to take them between their sheets. We were all careful about condoms. You never knew when one of them was lying about birth control. They’d do anything to tie one of us down. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to forget. All it took was one time for them to win.
“Gentlemen, we have less than twenty-four hours before we need to be on the field,” Coach Dalton announced in his booming, loud voice that drew everyone’s eyes toward him.
The wind blew again, swirling around us and dragging icy cold fingers down our backs and through our hair.
All of the players quieted, standing in an idle circle as their luggage was unloaded from a huge van that had followed us into town. Normally we would’ve flown on our private plane, but this game was just close enough that we’d decided to drive instead. I was glad that I didn’t have to share a room with anyone like the rookies did, that meant I could relax in my private quarters and maybe take a long, hot bath to unwind and soak away the nervousness that came with being back on Boston soil. I couldn’t let this get to me, not when we had such a big and important game in front of us tomorrow. We were in the midst of an unprecedented winning streak for our team, and though we managed to make it to the super bowl every few years, it was still a fight to the top. There were many good players and good teams out there, and they were all waiting to steal our spot.
A gull squawked from the harbor, its light caw shrinking in the boom of Dalton’s voice. It felt so strange to be back here. I couldn’t help but to feel on edge but strangely content as well, like I was returning to an old friend after years away.
I’d left with the internal promise of never returning, but this time I’d had no choice. If I wanted to continue to be taken seriously in the league, I could no longer skip this game. Plus, it was becoming too obvious that I never turned up at the Boston stadium. I was a healthy guy, never faced with a big setback or illness, and the fact that one always occurred in the week before this game was turning some unwanted attention my way. Unfortunately, I could no longer run from my demons. Besides, I highly doubted that anyone from my family bothered to keep up with what I was doing. I hadn’t heard from any of them in years. My father and stepmother had given up first. For the first year they called almost daily, and by the end of the second year I heard from them maybe three times. I wasn’t angry about that, it was me who had run, it was me who turned my back on them. I still sent them checks occasionally which went uncashed.
My stepsister, however, had been a different story. I still got calls from her at least once a month. I was a little in awe of mulish obstinacy, which hadn’t apparently changed a bit since I last saw her.
“You all right, Jax?” Lucas whispered as the coach continued his extensive list of instructions that most of knew by heart.
No going out past curfew, no drinking tonight, don’t you dare touch that minibar in your room unless you want to pay triple for it.
I nodded, grasping the hoodie of my sweater and tugging it up over my head with a faint shrug.
“Just tired. The trip was long.”
“You don’t look good, is all,” Lucas shrugged, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder as another cool wind wrapped around our legs and made me shiver.
“Your pale and your face is all screwed up. Like you’re constipated or watching a horror movie or something.”
“Thanks, Luc,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, “Always a comfort to have.”
He chuckled as Dalton’s piecing brown eyes flicker our way, silencing us both with the looming threat of yet another lecture on appropriate behavior before a game.
Dalton cleared his throat, arms crossing over his chest. While the rest of us were dressed in sweats and sneakers, he was all bundled up in a parka, like he expected it to suddenly start snowing or something.
“We head out for warmups at eight a.m. sharp. Eat before. Make sure you get enough protein. We’re talking eggs and meat. I don’t want any of my guys passing out on the field because you’re hungry. Got it?”
“Got it, Coach.” We all replied in dull unison as we always did.
It as the answer to any question that Dalton raised, not that they were truly requests at all. They were commands disguised as such. We all knew the rules, break them and you pay—literally.
The burly coach nodded, shrugging deeper into his fluffy jacket as he turned and slowly looked around.
“Um, sir,” the young concierge who had been passing out coffee stood before me, shivering in the cool breeze as I turned to face him.
He held out the quivering carafe, his eyes huge he gazed up at me in wonder.
“Would you… would you like some of…” he trailed off, swallowing hard and blinking. “Oh, man,” he suddenly whispered in a hurried voice so shrill that I almost laughed, “I have your jersey, Mr. Hart, sir, Jaxon, um…” He stumbled over his clumsily spewed words before biting his own tongue and grimacing.
Unable to hide it any longer, I gave a light laugh and cuffed his shoulder playfully.
“Find me later, I’ll sign anything you want,” I winked, “even that jersey.”
With a squeal that would make a schoolgirl proud, he ran off with the coffee, ignoring the rest of the players who may have still wanted some. Lucas met my eye with a smirk and a shake of his head.
Ignoring him, I tipped my chin upwards to inspect the hotel.
The huge building loomed over our heads, gleaming in the sunlight. Even without stepping foot within the walls, I knew it would be luxurious and beautiful inside. Dalton always splurged a bit too much on our lodgings. Grey clouds had begun to roll in, creeping across the pastel blue of the sky and shrouding out the sun.
That was the Boston I remembered, gloomy and grey and bleak.
Another hotel concierge, a young female this time with eyes just as impressed than her coworker’s, stepped outside. She politely held open the front door and gesturing for us.
“We’ve got the rooms all prepared for you,” she smiled cheerfully, bouncing up on the tips of her toes and rubbing her arms as the players began to wander toward her.
“Y
ou’re all on the fifth floor with rooms overlooking the harbor. It’s beautiful in the morning, if you’re up then, you should check out the sunrise!” She babbled on nervously, clutching the door so tight that her knuckles blanched white.
She stared at us, mesmerized by how much larger we were in person. We were like blocks of pure muscle carved right out from stone by an expert hand. We worked hard on our perfection, every inch of us carefully curated into being offensive machines on the field. The long hours we spent practicing or at the gym was on full display. At this point midseason, we were all peak shape.
“We’ve got the best steak in town,” she continued thoughtfully. “We’re setting you all up with some lunch now. I’m sure you’re hungry from the long drive. It’s supposed to be really cold and windy this weekend, so make sure you bundle up.”
My stomach rumbled at the mention of food, one of my hands pressing against my chiseled abs as the other players nodded hastily. We were always hungry, it was part of being so strong and burly. Then there was Lucas, looking particularly disinterested at the mention of steak, who didn’t eat meat. One of the only vegetarian players I’d ever met, I’d expected him to have some moral reason for his abstinence. Instead, he told me that he’d just never been a fan of steak. I’d almost stopped talking to him right that moment, had he not been so talented on the field. He found other ways to supplement his physique, and he could play just as well as the rest of us who enjoyed delicious red meat.
I hadn’t taken two steps toward the hotel when I heard chaos erupt behind me. I turned curiously, flipping my hood back off my head and gazing toward the perimeter of our security. It wasn’t unusual for fans to bum rush the guards in the hope of getting an autograph or even just a smile. I didn’t mind, fishing for a pen in my back pockets as I trudged over toward the nearest security officer.
Stepbrother The Hard Trainer: A Stepbrother Romance Book Collection Page 12