by Sosie Frost
“Then I’ll help you. The season is only sixteen weeks long. Add in another six for training camp. That’s less than half of the year. I can…” My voice trembled. He was already giving up. “We can live here during the off-season, and I’ll fly out to be with you during—”
“No.”
“Cole—”
“I’ll sell the estate.”
“But…this is your family’s…”
“It’s not a home. It was my sanctuary—the only place I felt safe from myself. But I don’t need it anymore.”
“What do you need?”
“A cage.”
I tensed. I heard the pain in his voice, felt the coldness in his touch.
“We have to end this, Piper.”
I couldn’t breathe. I faked it and whispered through the tightness. “Why are you always pushing me away? All I want is to be close to you. I can help.”
“I can’t be a slave to both my rage and you, beautiful,” he said. “I’ll slip up. I’ll say the wrong thing, do something terrible. I can’t risk you or Rose. In ten years, I’ll probably be in jail or dead in an alley. You deserve a better future than springing my bail and washing blood out of my clothes.”
“Don’t tell me what I deserve, Cole. I’ll fight you on this.”
“And I’ll win.”
“Damn it. Neither of us are winning,” I said. “Especially you. You’re running. Hiding.”
“Damn right I am. You should be grateful.” His jaw tightened, and he nodded at me. “Call the Monarchs. Tell them I consent to the trade.”
This wasn’t happening. I couldn’t let it end this way and lose him to his own nightmares.
“You’re stronger than this, Cole.”
“Make the call.”
“No. Not if it means losing you.”
He shook his head. “I never should have gotten involved with you.”
“I’m not talking about our relationship. I’m talking about you—about the man I see, standing here, talking to me, dancing with my baby, sharing our lives. That’s the man I won’t lose. I won’t let him fade away.”
“Make. The. Call.”
No.
“Cole, you know I love—”
“Don’t.” Now his voice sharpened. “Don’t you dare say it.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it enough that you came into my life?” Cole stalked before me, towering in that predatory darkness that might have frightened anyone else. “Isn’t it enough that you forced yourself into my heart? That I kissed you and tasted you and fucked you, and I still can’t get enough of you? What more could you want from me?”
“I want you to say it.”
“No.”
“Tell me how you feel.”
“I won’t.”
“Say it now, Cole Hawthorne, or I will never forgive you for this.”
“Good.” His words coiled with the horrible, consuming rage which so terrified him. “Don’t forgive me. Forget about me. Leave me. Find a man who can take care of you and who can be a father to that baby. Find someone who is worthy of you.”
“I don’t want anyone else.”
“And I don’t want you,” he said. “Make the fucking call, Piper.”
Why did Cole fear his strength and temper when his words broke my heart and shredded my soul?
I redialed the last number on my phone. The Monarchs’ general manager answered on the first ring. I didn’t bother with the pleasantries.
“He consents,” I said. “Call Ironfield.”
Cole retreated first. For someone so big and strong, powerful and dangerous, I hardly expected him to be such a coward.
I stuffed the damn tears down until the secret misery pitted deep into my stomach.
It served me right for being so selfish. This was my punishment for putting my own desires first.
I’d do anything to shield my daughter from this sort of pain. Rejection.
Heartache.
At least she was too young to understand what was happening. Too little to remember the time she spent giggling, dancing, and sleeping in Cole’s arms. But that memory was seared into my mind.
I’d forever regret loving Cole Hawthorne.
Cole
I didn’t tell Piper I loved her before I left.
And this was the first time I ever experienced true regret.
For two weeks, I’d dreamt about her. I fell asleep thinking of her. I woke up wanting her.
But I hadn’t told her I loved her. Instead I tried to forget her.
Everything hurt, but it wasn’t a pain I could ice away. Working out didn’t help. Resting made it worse. It wasn’t a physical ailment.
This was loneliness.
I spent my first two weeks in Ironfield alone, living in a three-bedroom apartment. Somehow it seemed bigger, emptier, more silent than the mansion. No giggles in the hall. No warmth in my bed.
No family.
The suspension ended Tuesday at four o’clock, and I was finally permitted to join my new team at the Rivets’ practice facility.
I was ready. I’d studied the playbook, learned their defensive strategies, and watched the films.
The uniform went on.
The leash came off.
I went to work.
I was instructed to arrive after five o’clock for my equipment fittings and tour. Some of the staff and players remained at the facility after hours. Most of them grabbed dinner in the dining hall or worked in the weight room. The linebacker coach quickly introduced himself, handed me an access card and passcode, and told me to report the next morning, bright and early, on the field with the rest of my new teammates.
I took my own tour of the locker room, stopping before an empty locker with my name hastily added to the top. Hawthorne. Scribbled with masking tape and a Sharpie. Not very permanent.
Maybe they thought I was going to refuse the trade. Or maybe they believed I had more respect for myself than to sign with them.
I brought my belongings for the locker, but I didn’t have much. I organized the toiletries and set a spare set of clothes into the cubby. One thing remained in my bag—the only memento I had packed for my trip to Ironfield.
And I couldn’t believe I set the toy bunny on the shelf.
It wasn’t Rose’s Mr. Bumpybottom, just one of the extras. I didn’t know why I stuffed Rumpleass into the locker. Maybe it was easier to look at the bunny than a picture of the kid. Maybe it was some sort of bullshit test for me, to try to retain the good in me that Piper and her baby created.
Or maybe it was because I loved them too goddamned much.
“You have kids?”
I recognized the voice—that charm that wavered between cocky, confident, and asshole.
“Got a boy of my own now,” he said. “Four months old.”
“Yeah.” I turned to face Jack Carson. “I heard about that.”
“Think everyone did.”
It didn’t surprise me that Play-Maker Jack Carson sowed enough oats to make a baby, but it seemed incredible that he actually married the woman who had it. Who’d have thought a bad boy with a worse reputation could change his image by banging his PR rep, having a kid, and getting married.
Jack liked the bunny. “I didn’t know The Beast had a baby.”
“I don’t.”
“Oh. Okay. I didn’t know he kept toys in his locker.”
“Consider it stress relief, so I don’t go popping off quarterbacks’ heads when I’m not on the field.”
Jack laughed—a perfect prince charming. Blonde. Blue-Eyed. Might have been the league heart-throb if he hadn’t been the thorn in the association’s foot.
But he extended his hand in a formal introduction.
“Jack Carson,” he said. “Glad you’re finally part of the Rivets.”
I didn’t bother shaking his hand. Jack took it in stride, like he expected it.
“You might not recognize me,” he said. “Usually I’m scrambling out of your reach. Hard to
talk when I’m too busy throwing touchdowns.”
There was the Jack Carson I remembered. “What? Are you the welcoming committee?”
“Got the muffins baking in the oven as we speak.”
“And here I thought you were more the whiskey and strip club type.”
“I used to be.”
“What changed?”
Jack held up his hand, spinning the gold ring on his finger. “Found something better.”
Right. “I find that hard to believe.”
“A lot of people do. A reputation is a tough thing to fix. But I know it can be done. I’m living proof.”
“There’s a difference between an image and the man,” I said.
Jack nodded, serious. First time I ever saw him not grinning like a cocky idiot. “I’m glad you agree. Looks like we’ve got work to do.”
“That so?”
“I’ve got a dynasty to build. You’re gonna be part of it.”
I tossed the rest of my shit into the locker. That damn Rumpleass Bunny stared at me.
The beginning of the end. At least the kid was too young to remember me.
I slammed the door. Jack didn’t flinch as I stared him down. He was a big guy, not one of the delicate and fragile quarterbacks I used to hunt. He didn’t blink as I scowled.
“Maybe you ought to get out of my way,” I said. “Let me get to work.”
“And maybe you should sit the fuck down and listen to what I have to say.”
“Look pretty boy, I know you’re hot shit with the championship under your belt and the sponsorships and everyone thinking you’re reformed, but I know why I’m here.”
“Do you?”
“Pretty obvious.”
Jack shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m on your side. Together, we’re gonna do this right.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Win,” he said, simply. “And we’ll do it our way. The right way.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.” I pushed past him. “I’ve got that part figured out.”
He frowned. “I don’t want The Beast on my team.”
“What a coincidence,” I said. “I don’t want to be here.”
He took the insult well. Just meant I hadn’t hit him hard enough.
But Jack held my stare. “I don’t want The Beast, but I do want Cole Hawthorne on my team. I know the reason Coach Thompson traded for you. What he thinks you’ll do, who you’ll hurt.”
“Figured it out, huh? Smarter than you look.”
“It’s not going to happen, Cole.”
“That so?”
“The Rivets had a proud history, and, for three years, I single-handedly destroyed it,” Jack said. “I blew every chance I was given on partying and women and fun. It wasn’t just my reputation that suffered, it was the team’s. I changed, but I’m still pulling us out of the mud.”
“What’s your point?”
“The Rivets went from the league’s proudest organization to the villains. We have more players with criminal records on our roster than any other team. These are men with bad reputations who nearly ruined their chances and deserve every negative article and opinion about them. And you’re no different.”
“You don’t know a thing about me.”
“No. I don’t. No one here knows you. Hell, no one in the league knows you. The rumor is you’re a loner asshole with an attitude problem who was having the greatest season of his career until he hospitalized Jude Owens.”
“Sounds about right.”
“So what changed in you?”
“What?”
“What made this your best season?”
I didn’t answer. Jack glanced at the locker, where I kept the bunny safe and hidden.
“You had a reason to play harder, to do better,” he said. “Same thing happened to me. I met my woman, I had my son, and now I’ve gotta keep my ass in line for them. Coach Thompson can scout for talent all he wants, but he’s not on the field with us. I gotta know I can trust you. I want to play with men who share my motivations.”
“What motivations?”
“You tell me. What’s the most important thing to you? Winning? Becoming a better player?” He raised an eyebrow. “Or do you want to become a better man?”
If only it were possible.
“That’s what I thought.” Jack shrugged. “It’ll all start with you…and the help of a decent PR firm. This can be your second chance. I want this team to be represented by men who understand what a privilege it is to play this game. Every man deserves the opportunity to prove himself. Are you in?”
Sure, it sounded like puppies and rainbows, but I was a realist. “And the instant I hurt someone?”
“Call me crazy…” Jack pointed to my locker. “But I think you’ve hurt more people than just Pierce Jarvis and Jude Owens.”
I didn’t answer, didn’t want to think about Piper. I gritted my teeth.
“Never thought Jack Play-Maker Carson was so insightful.”
“Never thought Cole The Beast Hawthorne would have a baby’s stuffed bunny in his locker.”
“Guess we’re both full of surprises.”
Jack held my gaze. “The choice is yours. You have a home here if you want it, but we do it together. Practices are communal. We work out as a group. We eat as a family. We win as a team. I get that you’re a solitary guy, but as of now, you’re part of the Rivets. And I want that to mean something.”
Jack offered his hand. I didn’t hesitate before shaking it.
“Welcome to Ironfield.”
Piper
“Cool!” Rose held up Mr. Bumpybottom and showed Dad. “Cool!”
“Yes, Rosie. Gnarly.” I patted the bunny and debated tossing it away like a puppy toy. Problem was, Rose was more obedient than a dog—she’d bring him right back.
Cole and I had tested it…and laughed a little too hard.
Dad smiled. He was never good with his granddaughter, but he tried. She toddled to me and hugged my leg before plopping onto the floor with a grunt.
“Cool!”
“She’s getting bigger.” Dad twisted his phone in his hands. Nervous. “That’s my fault. I should have seen her more.”
I wasn’t going to comfort him. “Yeah. You should have.”
His office was busy, but he actually closed the door and silenced his cell so we could talk in peace. Rose played on the floor, singing to herself and the bunny.
“I want to apologize,” Dad said. “Really, I do.”
Good. It only took him a month to do it.
“Why are you apologizing?” I asked. “Is it because you humiliated me in front of the league, the Monarch coaching staff, and my client? Or are you apologizing because you said something hurtful and completely inappropriate for a father to accuse of his daughter?”
“Can I apologize for everything?” he asked.
“You can try.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. But I’ve always…wanted the best for you, Piper.”
“You thought the best for me was appeasing me with college until I could be married off.”
“And when that didn’t happen, I thought I could help by giving you some tough love.”
Rose grinned at me. “Mama!”
“Tough love?” I laughed. “I balanced a laptop on my belly while in labor so I could do more work for the agency. I didn’t need my life to be any harder. I already handled doctor’s appointments—alone. Finding an apartment—alone. Buying baby furniture—alone. And, I gotta tell ya, raising a newborn alone? That’s the toughest love I was ever gonna get.”
“If I had raised you differently—”
“Dad, stop thinking of my life as a series of mistakes. I knew when I got pregnant things would change. But I worked hard to give Rosie a good life.” I paused. “And I was grateful that you gave me a job.”
“But I should have given you help.” Dad heaved a breath. “I see that now. I should still be helping you.
”
“It’s not about the help, Dad. I just…I want Rose to know her grandfather.”
“Is there still a chance that can happen?”
There shouldn’t have been. Not now, not ever. But I’d already lost Cole. I didn’t want to lose anyone else we cared about.
“What you did to me during that meeting, the things you said…I won’t let it come between you and your granddaughter.” I pointed at him, a warning. “But if you ever hurt her the way you hurt me, we’re through.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You called me a whore.”
“I didn’t understand. I didn’t see how much you cared for him.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Email Cole and ask if he’ll accept your representation again. If he does, send me the paperwork, and I’ll sign him over to you.”
Dad didn’t let me leave. “I don’t want Cole Hawthorne for a client.”
“Why?”
“Because I rather have my daughter as an employee.”
“I’m not an agent, Dad.”
“You could be. And a damn good one.” It was one of the first compliments he’d given me since before Rose was born. “The way you controlled the meeting with the league was spectacular. Everything. The presentation you gave, how you conducted yourself—Piper, that was quality work. I couldn’t have expected that from anyone else in my agency.” He winked at me. “And if you were honest with yourself—you’d realize you enjoyed it too.”
“I was helping Cole,” I said. “Nothing more.”
“So, you can help others. You’re smart, Piper. You understand contracts. You do your research. You are polite and intelligent and persuasive. This could be your calling. Come to work for me again.”
The words were hard. “You and I don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, Dad.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t think we ever will.”
“I hoped it would get better.”
“If I work for you, it will never change. I don’t want to be your employee. I want to be your daughter. I want to be your friend. I’m not a little girl waiting to get married off, and I’m not an underling trying to get you a new contract. I’m family. If you want that, I’m here. If there’s no room in your life for that then…”