by Tracey Ward
“I’ll take it,” I mumble into my beer.
“The odds of the team staying as golden as it is are slim,” Lilly surmises. “And if they start to slide, Trey, you probably won’t re-sign with them after you’re free. You’ll have your pick of just about any team in the league.”
Colt smiles proudly. “When I met her she didn’t know shit about football. Look what I’ve done to her.”
“And Colt,” she continues, “with Tyus off the field and Trey on the way out, what are the odds you’ll stick around when your contract ends next year? Slim. Again. Who knows what everyone else will do? People might jump ship like it’s sinking when it sails off to Nevada.”
“I’m not going to Las Vegas,” Kurtis confirms. He has his arm slung around Harper, his other hand on the table absently knocking a quarter across his knuckles one finger at a time. “I’m breaking my contract after this season.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter in disbelief. “That’s two years.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s, like, two million dollars.”
He shrugs, repeating,” I’m not going to Vegas,” as though that explains everything.
Harper casts him an understanding smile. It’s sad but sweet, especially when she leans her head on his shoulder and he kisses her forehead gently. I feel a small pang of jealousy seeing them so in love.
I can’t help it! I had a crush on him for years. That shit doesn’t listen to reason.
“Okay,” Sloane takes over, “so if Kurtis is bailing at the end of this coming season, I agree with Hollis. Travis Gates. Tight end.”
“Yeah, but does Coach Allen know Kurtis is leaving?” I ask.
“He knows,” Kurtis confirms.
“Again,” Sloane snaps. “Travis Gates. Tight end.”
“I’m leaving too.”
The entire table stops. Colt sits calmly with his eyes on the drowning candle in the centerpiece, his hand holding Lilly’s on the table. He looks at her slowly. Almost apologetically. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since Tyus got the results on that MRI. I thought, what if it was me? What if my knee finally quit and they said it was finished, that I was finished, and I had to stop playing right then. What would I do? How would I feel about that? And when I let myself really think about it, I was kind of relieved.”
Lilly’s eyebrows rise sharply. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “It felt okay. I mean, I know I can’t do this forever and things are changing. It was fun with Tyus, but without him… I don’t know. I don’t love it like I used to. And after I got injured last year and my knee took forever to recover, I just keep thinking that I want to walk my daughter down the aisle someday and I can’t do that if I’m crippled. I have to start thinking about my future.” He puts his other hand over hers. “Our future. So, I think this year is going to be my last. If that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it’s okay with me. This is your dream, babe. Whatever you want to do, I support you a hundred percent.”
“I won’t be a baller anymore.”
“That’s fine,” she laughs.
“I mean, like, literally I won’t be playing ball anymore and I also won’t be making all them ducats.”
Lilly puts her hands on the sides of his face, squeezing playfully until his eyes are squinting and his lips are mushed. “I will find a way to love you anyway. I promise.”
“Dank oo,” he slurs.
Lilly kiss his messed-up mouth before letting him go.
“Wow,” Sloane sighs, looking around the table. “So this is really it, isn’t it? This is the last year you guys will all be together. The last year the Kodiaks will belong to L.A. The last year we’ll sit here drinking, waiting to find out what newbie is going to roll in and destroy our world next.”
“You’re not drinking,” I point out.
Harper frowns. “You’re right. She’s not.”
“She hasn’t been lately,” Lilly agrees slowly. “She didn’t drink at Halloween either.”
“Or Christmas.”
“Or New Year’s.”
“Or my birthday.”
“Or at—”
“Okay, okay,” Sloane laughs. “I used to drink a lot and now I don’t. I had a problem. I stopped. Let’s leave it alone.”
“You had a drinking problem?” I ask suspiciously.
“Yeah. A bad one. But it’s good now. Let’s talk about something else.”
“You’re pregnant,” Harper whispers, a smile creeping across her face.
Sloane sighs. “Fucking journalists.”
“Wait, she’s right?” Lilly demands. “You’re pregnant?”
Sloane looks sideways at Trey.
He shrugs with a grin.
Without a word, she stands and lifts the loose peasant top she’s wearing to show us her stomach. Underneath she has on a lavender camisole that hugs her belly. Her slightly bowed, yet obviously baby filled belly.
“What the hell?” I whisper. “How far along are you?”
“Thirty-four weeks.”
“Jesus!”
Lilly gasps, covering her smiling mouth with her hands. “You’re so tiny.”
“I know.” Sloane looks down at her belly with a slightly confused expression. “Trey nearly tore his mother in two, he was so big, and this little peanut is absolutely teeny. He’s not as big as they expected him to be.”
“Him?” Hollis grins. “You found out? It’s a boy?”
She smiles at him. “Yeah. It’s a boy.”
“Hollis knew?” Colt demands.
“Of course Hollis knew. Hollis knows everything.”
“They’re naming it after me,” he says proudly.
Trey casts Sloane a sharp, concerned glance.
She quickly shakes her head.
“Are you worried?” Harper asks delicately. “You’ve been hiding him and you said he’s not as big as he should be.”
“We’re a little worried,” Trey admits.
Sloane waves it away. “It’s probably nothing. I’m on a special diet to help him get what he needs and the doctor says we still have weeks to go with plenty of time for him to develop. It’s not a big deal.”
Sloane is talking too quickly. She’s smiling too brightly. Trey is sitting behind her too silently, his hand on her back too gently. Everything about their body language tells a different story than the one we’re hearing, but no one challenges it because it’s not right. They can be scared in private. For now, with us, they should be excited.
“Can I touch him?” I ask Sloane.
Her smile softens. “Yeah. Of course.”
I put my hand gingerly on her belly, grinning at it. “Hey, little dude. How you doin’ in there?”
“He kicks sometimes. I think he’s sleeping now, though.”
“I bet he’s strong.” I rub her stomach reassuringly, smiling up at her. “He’s going to be so strong, Sloane.”
“Thanks, Mila.”
“What’s going on?” Tyus asks curiously.
He’s standing behind me in jeans and a white polo shirt with the Kodiaks logo on the right breast. His hair is shorter than it used to be, but it’s filled out enough to cover the thin, curving scar along the side of his scalp. I’m grateful for that scar. It reminds me that he’s okay. Doctor Harlan is keeping close tabs on him to make sure he got the entire tumor, but it’s been over two months and there’s no sign of it. So far so good, he says. It’s as much of an all clear as we can expect from Doctor Harlan, but I love his no-nonsense attitude. It puts me at ease when I’m feeling worried. Tyus’ headaches have stopped, the dizziness passed when the tumor came out, but I still watch him closely, like I’m waiting. But for what I don’t know. Just something. Anything. I feel like I’m waiting for the world to snatch him away from me again because being with him is too good to be true. It’s too nice, too perfect. Too slow. Too small. But I’m working on it. My therapist and I, we’re going to get me through it, because Tyus is worth trying for.
Daddy doesn’t agree. He’s still angry that I’m dating him, but he knows he can’t stop me. He can cut me off again, even from school, but he’ll only be hurting me worse by taking away my education. Surprisingly, my biggest ally in the fight for Tyus has been Mama. I told her that he’s the guy I was upset over. She agreed to meet him and once he worked those Southern good manners on her, she was done for. She’s been his advocate ever since, explaining to Daddy that he’s good for me. He doesn’t see it that way, but he doesn’t have to. I do. And my opinion about my life is the only one that really matters.
“Is Sloane stripping?” Tyus asks, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t have any ones. I feel so unprepared.”
“She’s pregnant,” Hollis fills him in.
He frowns. “Yeah, I know. She has been since September or something.”
“August,” Sloane chuckles. She lowers her shirt. “How the hell did you know that?”
“Your boobs have been getting bigger. A lot bigger.”
“Dude,” Trey groans unhappily.
“Plus, you stopped drinking. You love drinking. No way you’d give up whiskey if you didn’t have to.”
“Wait, you knew and you didn’t say anything to anyone?” I ask, amazed.
Tyus shrugs. “Not my business.”
“You’re fired.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re fired. Pack your things and go.”
“You can’t fire me, baby.” He kisses the top of my head before dropping down into the seat next to me. “You don’t own the team anymore. You’re a spectator.”
He goes to take my beer but I snatch it out of his hand before he can. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’m you’re asshole.”
“You’re everyone’s asshole.”
“This is getting weird,” Kurtis mutters.
“What are you doing out here?” Demarcus asks Tyus. “Shouldn’t you be in the War Room nailing down the Draft pick?”
“We already picked. We’re just burning the clock for fun.”
“Who’d you pick?”
The loud roar of booing erupts from the TV on the wall. The Commissioner of the NFL is on his way up to the podium.
While I’m distracted by the Draft, Tyus quickly steals my beer.
“Hey!”
He smiles, taking a long draw. “Too slow, Joe,” he teases, nudging my leg under the table with his.
“You don’t just take a woman’s beer away.”
“Amen,” Sloane agrees heartily.
Tyus snorts. “You’re too young to have this anyway. Are you trying to get the club in trouble?”
“Don’t start with this.”
“This will rot your baby teeth right of your head.”
“My God, you’re awful,” I groan.
Tyus smiles. “I love you too, baby.”
“Shut up, both of you,” Hollis hisses. “They’re announcing the pick. I want to know if I was right.”
“Who’d he guess?” Tyus whispers to me.
“He and Sloane picked Travis Gates.”
He snickers, shaking his head.
They’re wrong.
“With the thirty-fourth pick of the NFL Draft,” the Commissioner announces theatrically, “the Los Angeles Kodiaks select… Sean Bosa. Wide receiver. Mississippi State!”
I smile triumphantly at the table.
“Tainted!” they shout at me in unison.
I laugh, falling against Tyus. “Haters! All of you.”
“What the fuck was that about?” he asks as he rubs my arms consolingly.
“I’m being shunned for sleeping with a coach. Apparently it gives me an unfair advantage.”
“Assistant Coach,” he corrects dully.
I poke him hard in the side, making him jump. “Don’t fuck with the fantasy.”
Trey stands suddenly. He’s so tall, he towers over me leaning back against Tyus like a mountain rising out of the ocean. “I want to make a toast,” he tells the group. And we listen, because that’s what people do when Trey Domata talks. He’s a natural born leader with an innate sense of calm that I feel both envious and afraid of. “To the Kodiaks coming in, the Kodiaks going out, and the Kodiaks we clung to with all our love and strength.” He looks pointedly at Tyus. “We’re grateful you’re still here, man. On the team and in our lives.”
Tyus doesn’t reply. I don’t think he can. His breathing isn’t even. It’s stuttered. Choked. He raises his beer in salute as I rub his free hand between my palms warmly.
“I also want to salute the women and men who love us,” Trey continues to the table. “We couldn’t make it without you. You’re the silent backbone of this team, supporting us when we’re down, cheering us on when we’re up, and cutting us back down to size when our heads get too big to get through the door.” We all chuckle, nodding in agreement. “This next year is going to be a wild one. We’re coming off a Super Bowl win and we’re looking down the barrel of a big shake up. This will be the last time we all stand on the field together as a team, but I want you to know that I love each and every one of you. You’re not just my teammates. You’re my brothers. You’re my ohana, and my door and my heart will always be open to each of you for the rest of our lives.”
Kurtis tips his beer. “To ohana.”
“To ohana,” we all agree.
“And to the Kodiaks,” Colt adds forcefully. “The Los Angeles Kodiaks. May they live on infamy.”
“Here! Here!”
I feel tears prick my eyes as they salute each other. I’m not the only one. Lilly lets her tears flow down her cheeks, unashamed. Colt and Harper wipe quickly at their eyes, both smiling brightly to cover their sorrow. It’s an emotional night. It’s been an emotional year. And next year has the potential to be so much more. Despite the drama they’ve been through, this coming year could be worse. It could be the most gut wrenching they’ve ever seen, filled with loss and disappointment. That’s what the pessimist in me is preaching.
Then again, I think as I look at the ring sparkling on Lilly’s finger and the bump sleeping in Sloane’s belly, it might be the best year of all our lives.
No way to know but to dive in.
Headfirst.
Thank you for reading BROKEN PLAY!
The next installment in the series is coming April 2018.
If you want to read more of the Kodiaks, you can find them here.
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Keep reading for a preview of KNOCKOUT,
the first book in the North Star series.
Kellen Coulter has a way with women. I should know. As his best and only friend, I watched it firsthand for years. A boxer from the wrong side of town, he worked his way through the wealthy daughters at Weston High with a brilliant smile, sweet words, and vacant eyes.
No one gets close.
No one gets through.
No one knows the secrets hiding inside.
No one but me. I'm the only girl he's ever let in. The only one who has ever truly seen him. When we met I was just a kid, an old soul with an open ear and a full understanding of what it was to be misunderstood by everyone around you. But even I didn't know the demons sleeping inside him. Not until now.
Not until it might be too late.
Chapter One
The first time Kellen Coulter walked into my world I was thirteen years old. Old enough to know what beautiful looked like, to recognize it when it sat down at the kitchen table in ratty blue jeans and a gray hoody pushed away from ruffled, chestnut brown hair. Old enough to understand why I couldn’t look away from his square jaw, imperfect nose and midnight blue eyes. They were almost black, the irises blending in until he looked inhuman. Scary. Exciting.
When I walked into the kitchen and saw him for the first time, I froze. I didn’t understand then that he was used to that reaction. He was seventeen, four years older, three grades higher, and infinitely more st
reetwise than I was. He also knew exactly what he looked like and when he smiled at me, it was the end for me.
I was ruined the moment I met him.
“Hey,” he said, lifting one hand from where they both rested on the table. I noticed that his knuckles were cracked and raw.
“Hi,” I replied hesitantly.
I had come in to get a soda from the fridge before I sat down to do my homework. I had planned on doing it at the kitchen table, but now I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t scared of him, not really, but he made me nervous. It wasn’t that he was too good looking, it was that he was too rough looking. He was more than my wealthy, suburbia, four car garage upbringing could handle.
“I’m Kellen,” he said.
His voice was nice. Surprisingly gentle considering his exterior. The more I looked at it, the more I was convinced his nose had been broken a couple times. Without a doubt, he was a fighter.
He was also still smiling at me. I started to get the impression he was laughing at me. Probably at my tongue tied reaction to him or the staring I suddenly realized I was doing. The thought ticked me off.
I tossed my book bag onto the table across from him, my eyes unabashedly locked on his.
“Jenna,” I told him, spitting out my name like I was throwing down a gauntlet. “Are you here to see my dad or my sister?”
“Is she pretty?”
“Prettier than my dad.”
His smile widened briefly before it faded altogether. His eyes flickered to his hands, to the injured and broken surface of his skin, before coming back to mine. His entire expression changed and that quick smile seemed like something I’d made up. Something I dreamed.
“I wish I was here to see her, then,” he muttered.
“Did you get in a fight?”
He didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”
He didn’t lie to me either, something I appreciated. At thirteen years old, I was good and ready to be done with the lies that I was fed to protect me. They didn’t protect me at all, they only pissed me off when I found out about them. Like when I found out that my mom hadn’t actually gone on vacation to visit her sister on the East coast when I was eight. She’d had breast cancer and had to get surgery. She was gone for almost a month. She even gave me a souvenir when she got back – a small snow globe with the statue of liberty inside. She hadn’t even set foot in New York! She must have ordered it online. I used to have it sitting on my dresser where I could see it every day. Now it sat in the back of my sock drawer under the nylons I wore once and never needed again.