Beneath the Stands: An Enemies to Lovers, Best Friend's Brother Romance (Sugarlake Series, Book Two)

by Emily McIntire

  My phone vibrates, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  Eli: Baby girl, if you stay with me for the holidays, I’ll get you the world.

  My stomach flutters, and I bite my cheek to stifle the grin. I know he doesn’t mean it. We can’t even be seen together. But the thought of spending Christmas with him already feels like the best part of any world I’ve ever had.

  To say my folks were unhappy with my decision would be an understatement. Not that Papa told me himself, I still haven’t heard from him since my first day in Florida.

  Momma, on the other hand, has been screeching in my ear ever since I told her, talking about how bad it will look for me to not come home for the holidays. I let her words roll off my shoulders. I’ve gotten used to the disappointment that comes along with making my own decisions.

  Just as I pull into Eli’s driveway, my phone rings. I look down, aching to see my folks’ name flashing across the screen, calling to wish me a Merry Christmas.

  I should know better than to hope.

  Lee.

  I swear that girl has a sixth sense, calling and texting every time I’m sneaking around with her brother.

  “Hey, girl!” I cringe at how high-pitched my voice comes across. I pray she doesn’t notice.

  “Becca! Merry Christmas! We miss you around here.”

  “I miss you too, sister. What ya got planned for tonight?”

  “Not much. Just wranglin’ together a Christmas dinner for Daddy and me.”

  My brows furrow. “Y’all aren’t gonna go to the service?”

  “No, Daddy’s not feelin’ too well, so we’re stayin’ in tonight.”

  “That sucks. Just you and your old man then?”

  “Yeah,” she sighs. “Just got off the phone with Eli, but it was quick. He’s not here, so I don’t really care to talk.”

  The blood ices over in my veins, freezing me in place. I glance at Eli’s house. Guilt slams into my chest, cracking it open and pouring over my insides.

  “Anyway, I gotta go check on the ham, just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and say how much I love you. I wish you were home.”

  I blow out a breath, bile climbing my throat because while she’s busy mourning the absence of her brother, I’m about to walk in and revel in his time. “I love you, too. Give your daddy and Jax a kiss from me, alright?”

  The line goes silent, and I toss my phone in my bag, banging my head against the steering wheel. I hate myself for the secrets. I look up, staring at Eli’s garage door. I should just start my car, and reverse the hell out of his neighborhood. Go home while I still can.

  When I raise my head, the front door is open—Eli resting against the frame, watching me. I take in his dark jeans, black polo, and messy blond hair, a fire striking low in my abdomen. The guilt withers away, perishing in the flames.

  I jump out of my car, making my way to him.

  “Hi, big head.” I smile.

  He grins, gesturing me inside. I walk by him, but before I get far, I’m hauled back against his broad chest. His arms wrap around my waist, every hard inch of his body plastered to mine. I close my eyes, melting into him.

  “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” His breath whispers along the wisps of my hair, goose bumps running down my arms.

  I look over my shoulder and grin, pushing off him, and walking into his living room. I only make it a few feet before stopping in my tracks. There’s a gigantic tree standing tall, perfectly showcased in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the ocean. Christmas music floats softly through the air.

  My hands brace against my chest.

  Eli comes next to me, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels while he gazes at the tree. “Do you like it?”

  My lips twitch. “Little plain.”

  He smirks, lacing our fingers and pulling me behind him until I can smell the pine. I scan the area, surveying the boxes and bags stacked neatly in the corner of the room, right in front of the fireplace. Stepping closer, I peer into them. Lights, ornaments, candy canes, stockings. It’s all here. Everything to make a perfect Christmas. I spin around, my gaze searching for Eli’s. He did all this for me?

  “I thought we could decorate it together.”

  I blink back the sting in my eyes. Walking over, I grasp his neck, pulling his lips down to meet mine.

  One of the chains around my heart snaps and breaks.

  I don’t bother trying to catch it as it falls.

  22

  Eli

  It’s conference tournament time. Which means March Madness is right around the corner and the regular season is almost over. I had forgotten how quickly time goes when you’re submerged in everything basketball. I’m finally starting to feel like I’m slotting a place in the hearts and the minds of these players. These halls. This court.

  Rebecca.

  She hates it when I call her that, so I do it as often as I can. I love drawing that little bit of extra attitude, so I can fuck it out of her when she sneaks to my house at night. It’s been five months since we gave in to the energy pulling us together, and even though we’re “keeping things casual” it feels anything but.

  In two months, everything changes. She graduates. There won’t be a need for us to lurk in darkened locker rooms and hide behind closed doors. No reason for more pieces of my heart to chip every time she ditches our plans to hang with her friends. No more feeling like an absolute piece of shit when my baby sister calls and Becca answers, her eyes dimming while she avoids mentioning my name.

  I want everything with her. The laughter and tears, the yelling and the make-up sex. I want to go to bed with her every night, and wake up tangled in fiery curls each morning. I want her cheering at my games, and telling me how proud she is with each win. I just have to make sure that’s something she wants too.

  I think she does.

  She stirs in bed next to me, throwing an arm and a leg over my body. I’ve never been a “girlfriend” kind of guy before. No need when basketball was my job, my wife, and my mistress all wrapped up in one. But lying here with Becca wrapped in my arms, I can’t help thinking I would have picked her over everything, even back then.

  I grasp her hand, lightly tracing her fingers with mine, wondering what Ma would think of us being together if she were still around. The last conversation we had was her wishing for me to find a nice girl and settle down. Come home. My stomach churns as the phone call plays in my head, and my arms squeeze Becca on reflex.

  She wakes, blinking at me. I brush the hair out of her face, letting my fingers trail down her cheek. The softness in her eyes dulls the ache of Ma’s memory.

  “Hi.” She smiles.

  “Morning, baby girl.” I peck her lips. She kisses me back but breaks it off quick, grabbing the sheet and bringing it to cover the lower half of her face.

  “Eli, you know mornin’ breath is a hard limit for me. Why do you insist on startin’ the day off this way?”

  I grin. “Are you insinuating that I smell?”

  “You stink and you know it.” Her eyes crinkle.

  “Take it back.”

  “I can’t. That would make me a liar.”

  She tries to scoot back, but my arm shoots out, wrapping around her waist and anchoring her to me.

  “Take. It. Back.”

  She stares into my eyes and slowly lowers the sheet. “No,” she whispers.

  I sigh. “Then you leave me no choice.”

  My arm tightens on her waist, my other hand rising to her side, fingers digging in deep as I attack. One of the things I’ve learned while discovering every inch of Becca’s body is she’s extremely ticklish.

  She screams, throwing her head back and laughing, her body wiggling against mine, trying to break free.

  “Eli! Sto–stop it… ple–please!” she chokes out between giggles.

  The smile threatens to crack my face as I slow down my torture. She collapses against the mattress, her body worn out from fighting my fingers. She’s panti
ng, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

  I’m hovering, my eyes perusing every inch of her. She’s so damn beautiful. So perfect here in my bed, wearing nothing but my shirt.

  Her laughter dies down. She cups my jaw, her fingers scratching against my stubble. “What ya thinkin’ about so hard up there, handsome?”

  “You.”

  “What about me?”

  How much I love you. “How much I wish I could take you out. Show you off.”

  Her smile dims. “Once I graduate, that won’t be an issue. We can go wherever we please.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I steal another kiss before she can turn, and she shrieks, pushing me away and hopping out of bed. I chuckle, leaning against my headboard, watching as she walks to the bathroom.

  Her phone rings on the nightstand.

  “Who is it?” she hollers.

  I pick it up and look at the screen.

  “It’s your mom.” I grimace, setting her phone back on the table. I already know she’s not going to answer it.

  Becca stomps back in the room, grabbing her phone and silencing the ringer before plopping in bed, staring at me.

  I raise a brow. “What?”

  She crosses her arms. “Are you just gonna sit there or will you go brush your teeth so I can kiss you the way I want?”

  I lean forward, gripping the nape of her neck and drawing her to me, fusing our mouths together. She gives in, her body relaxing as she kisses me back. My hands frame her face and I pull away to look at her. Happiness climbs through my chest, expanding until I feel like I might burst. I trail my lips down to her collarbone and kiss along the necklace I bought her for Christmas. It’s simple. A platinum basketball charm with ‘My #1 Player’ engraved on the back. I bought it on a whim, and almost didn’t go through with it, afraid she would laugh in my face. But she hasn’t taken it off a single time since I put it on her.

  My mind wanders back to Ma. For some reason, she’s on my mind a lot lately, not that she ever really leaves. Her memory is a constant twinge—a broken bone that never reset. But I don’t like to dwell on the pain.

  I don’t realize I’ve paused in my ministrations until Becca pushes me back into a lying position and cuddles into my side. “What’s wrong, big head?”

  I blow out a breath. “Just thinking about Ma.”

  Her body tenses against mine. As much as I feel for Becca, I’m surprised I said that without a second thought. I’ve never talked to anyone about Ma. But Becca was there. She grew up with her. She lost her too.

  Her fingers trace random shapes on my chest, the touch making the hair on my arms stand on end.

  “I miss her,” she sighs.

  My stomach clenches. “Me too.”

  “She always had the best advice. When my momma was too busy makin’ sure our family looked picture-perfect, yours was there to wipe my tears and teach me all about becomin’ a woman. She always made me feel like I was somethin’ special.”

  I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. “I talked to her that day, did you know that?”

  Becca’s head tilts, her glassy eyes searing into mine.

  “Her and Pops were driving back from Chattanooga, trying to make it home to some show of Lee’s. Pops called to talk about my game, but Ma took over, like she was prone to do. Started preaching about finding a nice girl, settling down. One who would look past the basketball star and see the real me.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “She was always so worried about ‘my lonely heart.’ Was dead set on me finding a girl who’d convince me to come back home... pop out a couple of kids.”

  Becca doesn’t speak, just continues to run her fingers against my skin.

  “‘Find yourself a true beauty,’ she told me. ‘One whose soul shines so bright even the sun can’t compare.’” I close my eyes, the regret sluicing through my veins. “I rushed her off the phone. I was sick of hearin’ her talk about it. I don’t—” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat, inhaling deep before trying again. “I don’t even think I told her I loved her.”

  “Eli…” Becca whispers.

  “If I would have known it was the last time I’d ever hear her voice…” I shake my head.

  Reaching my hand down, I grip Becca’s fingers tight against my chest, the stitching of my tattered soul pulling at the seams.

  Becca doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. Just her presence is a comfort I never knew I was missing. After a few minutes, she reaches up, pecking my lips and grinning.

  I bask in her glow.

  She blinds me to the sun.

  Two more months, and everything will change.

  23

  Becca

  My phone is taunting me. It’s vibrating across my desk, daring me to pick it up. Papa flashes across the screen on repeat, and I swear I can feel his glare from here.

  What on Earth is he callin’ for?

  I haven’t talked to him in months, and I’m not sure I want to break that streak now. Regardless, I swipe my screen and answer.

  “Hi, Papa.”

  “Rebecca.” Nails on a chalkboard rake down my insides. Just like that, he’s tainted the name again.

  “Long time no talk,” I can’t help but quip.

  “And whose fault is that? I’m callin’ to make sure you know we’re comin’ into town for your graduation. Your momma thought it would be good for you to hear it from me.”

  My stomach jolts at his words. I assumed they’d still show up. “Okay.” I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I figured y’all would be headin’ down.”

  “Have you given up this foolish talk about not comin’ back home?”

  I sigh, my fingers tangling in my curls. “Papa, I wish you would understand. I need to be free of that place. Need to spread my wings and learn to fly on my own.”

  He huffs. “Here’s your momma.”

  There’s a quick moment where I ruminate on the fact he didn’t even say goodbye, just dropped his words down the line and disappeared. Momma’s voice rings in my ear, breaking the silence.

  “Rebecca Jean, I wish you’d stop upsettin’ your father the way you do. Liable to give him an ulcer, and Lord knows you don’t need any more sins taintin’ that soul.”

  “Momma, drop it will you? I don’t even know why y’all want me home so bad. What difference does it make? All I do is embarrass you.”

  “You belong at home, helpin’ us run the church, bein’ a part of this family.”

  My face scrunches, dread filling up my bones at the thought of being chained to the church for the rest of my life. At being chained to my folks who wouldn’t know what a family is supposed to be if it hit them upside the head. “Agree to disagree.”

  Momma tsks. “You prayin’ every night?”

  The tension in my chest draws tight. “Yes, Momma. I’m still prayin’.”

  It’s not technically a lie. Eli makes me praise God almost every night. I smirk at the thought.

  “Good. That’s good. You talked to Alina May lately?”

  My forehead wrinkles. “All the time, why?”

  “Haven’t seen her at Sunday service in a while. It’s not a good look, you know. That whole family already has so much gossip goin’ around the town, they need all the Jesus they can get.”

  A knock on my bedroom door steals my attention and Sabrina pokes her head in, tapping her finger to her wrist, reminding me it’s almost time for the game.

  “Momma, I gotta go. I’ll see y’all when you get here.”

  I hang up the phone, nerves jumbling up my belly as I hop off my desk chair and follow Sabrina into our living room. It’s the SEC Conference tournament this weekend in Nashville, and tonight is the final game. I’m supposed to be there, but I had a bit of a cold earlier this week so Coach made me stay home, afraid I’d get the players sick. But I’ve been glued to my TV every day. We’re the number one seed, and we won our game on Thursday. Won again on Friday. Now it’s Saturday, and this is the big one. The title.
/>   I’m invested. Not only because I feel like part of the team, but because this is important to Eli. He deserves this. They all do.

  I told him not to worry about us talking after the games, but it doesn’t stop me from waiting by my phone like a lovesick girl. And every night, like clockwork, he calls. I almost wish he wouldn’t. It’s a dangerous thing, having faith in someone.

  Sabrina plops on the couch, passing me a Coke, and putting a bowl of popcorn between us.

  “I can’t believe you talked me into watching this,” she says.

  “Well, we’ve gotta support Jeremy. Plus, I’m kinda into it after so many months of bein’ with the team.”

  The camera pans across the arena and lands on Eli. My fingers dig into my knees, wishing I could reach through the screen and touch him. I grab the remote, turning up the volume when the announcers say his name.

  “You know, Jeff, I never thought I’d be the one to say it, but I’m impressed with Elliot Carson. I’ll be the first to admit I was firmly in the ‘he’s too young’ camp. But the FCU Stingrays record speaks for itself. It’s like a different team out there, and between Coach Andrews and Carson, they’ve really done something special with these players.”

  “Talent, Carl. That’s what it is. Some people are just born for the game and Carson is one of them.”

  My heart swells as they heap on the praise.

  “Weren’t you calling the game that ended his career?”

  “I couldn’t forget it if I tried. I’ve never seen an arena go so quiet. The nation heard twenty-thousand hearts break that night when he didn’t get back up. New York’s hopes and dreams were centered around that young man, and to see it all ripped away so fast… Devastating.”