Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  Rhonda walked away, her heels loud against the pavement, and disappeared around the corner.

  “What is this all about?” my dad asked, holding Max and Flor apart.

  I caught that beautiful green-eyed gaze and then swallowed hard, blood choking my throat.

  “Me,” I whispered around a lump of fear.

  It was now or never.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I sat at the dinner table, my eyes focused wholly on my empty plate and the gold placemat beneath it. I held a warm washrag against my face while Flor sat clutching one in his lap on the opposite side of the table. He had a black eye and a split lip. In the fray, one of his lip rings had disappeared, leaving a bloody hole that his mother was clucking over even now.

  “I can't believe you boys would go that far. And right outside in the front yard where all the neighbors could see? What if somebody had called the cops?”

  I looked over at Addison, beyond thankful that she was still here and Max wasn't. I don't know if I could've done this with his penetrating gaze focused on me. If the relationship that he and Flor, and he and I, had once shared could ever be repaired, I'd be devastated. I heard my dad mutter something under his breath, but I couldn't and wouldn't look his way.

  “Now that we're all calmed down and cleaned up,” River paused to dab at Flor's lip, but he jerked away from her. I imagined that it wouldn't matter how old he got – whether he was sixteen or twenty-one or forty years old, she'd be right there by his side. “Let's hear what started all of this.” River looked over at me. “Does this have something to do with you dating Max?”

  Flor snorted and I felt my cheeks go red.

  “Something like that,” he choked out, coughing and shaking his head of mussed hair. I wanted to run my fingers through it, kiss his swollen lips, even now with all of this drama. What did that say about me? “But it's a little more complicated than that.”

  “Was it really an accident?” River asked for what had to be the twentieth time, eyes focused on my aching face and bloodied nose. I nodded yet again and she sighed, sitting down heavy in the chair next to Flor, one hand on her belly. “Then what? What on earth could've inspired the two of you to go at it like that?”

  Silence descended, heavy and stifling. I knew it had to be me to break it.

  “Dad,” I said carefully, “River.”

  Addi took a deep breath beside me.

  “Don't, Abi,” Flor said softly. I felt a kick under the table and narrowed my eyes on him before finally reaching down and holding my palm out for the note he was trying to pass to me. Considering we were sitting on opposite sides of the table, it was a bit of a stretch, but if River or my dad noticed Flor and I leaning a little far forward, they didn't say anything.

  Mouth shut, dope.

  I pursed my lips and tried to glean something from his tight expression. It was hard to look Flor in his green eyes when one was practically swollen shut. Max had gotten in some killer blows. I patted the underside of the table before I remembered that I'd taken my yellow notebook with me. Bleh. I sat back with a sigh and ran my fingers through my hair. I mean, it wasn't like family dinners ever turned out well, but tonight was a goddamned disaster.

  “Well?” my dad prompted, his balding head gleaming under the light of River's crystal chandelier. I remembered the day she'd had it installed, forcing Flor and me to come stand in the doorway and watch as she made a weird faux drumming noise under her breath and flicked the lights on. A spark had exploded from the base of the fixture and turned a decent size portion of the nearby ceiling black. It taken Flor, me, and Google to figure out how to fix it. “Either you've finally lost it, Florian, or you did something to upset Max.” Flor's lips thinned and I could see a flash of anger cross his face before he spat out the lie that he hoped would save us both. Unfortunately for me, it was almost as bad as the truth, which I'd actually been planning on telling until he'd opened his big mouth.

  “Max and Abi have been sleeping together.”

  Silence.

  I choked on my next breath and felt my cheeks burning.

  “When he pulled in the driveway with Rhonda, I confronted him about it. He didn't like it.” Flor shrugged like this whole thing was no big deal, just another thorn to be brushed off and forgotten about, no matter how badly the wound might bleed. “She took his side and then the whole thing just went to shit, okay? That what you wanted to hear?”

  My dad's face was as red as mine, but most likely for different reasons.

  “I'm eighteen,” I said before anyone else could get a word in edgewise. “We were dating. It's not that big of a deal.”

  “Are we done here?” Flor said, sniffing and running his hand over his face. He looked so tired, and I felt so responsible. This is not just your fault. That's what Addi would've told me if I'd fully confided in her the way I should've. I glanced over and she raised one single brow at me. I was going to pay for this later.

  “I … ” Even River seemed at a loss for words. I avoided her gaze as well as my father's and fiddled with my hands in my lap. If my family was good at anything, it was making me feel like I was fifteen again.

  “Can I stay here tonight?” Flor said as he pushed his chair back. “Apparently I'm not welcome in my own place anymore.” He looked right at me as he said it.

  “Of course you can, honey,” River said, sounding far too pleased by the prospect of her grown son coming back home. “But that doesn't exactly solve the issue between you and Max. Now, I know Abi's your little sister, but – ”

  “She's not my fucking sister,” Flor griped, shoving his chair back in and moving from the room before my father got the chance to get a single word out.

  “Dad,” I said, but he lifted his palm and stood up, leaving just as quickly as my stepbrother had.

  “Well, I know I'm still hungry,” Addi said, bless her fucking heart. My stepmom gave me a long, searching look before getting up and leading my friend into the kitchen to make her a plate. The second they were out of sight, I scrambled out of my seat and followed Flor up the stairs. I didn't even bother to knock before I burst into his room and found him at the window, head bowed, fingers gripping the windowsill so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

  Flor lifted his head to glance back at me as I closed the door softly and leaned against it.

  “I'm sorry,” I whispered. “I should never have … maybe I shouldn't have told you how I felt. Then none of this would be happening, and Rhonda … ”

  “How's your nose?” he asked me instead, turning around and perching on the windowsill, the soft breeze from outside teased his dark hair and made it hard to breathe. If anything, all of this drama should've done something to dampen my attraction to him. Surely if this thing between Flor and I was just hormones and lust and sexual tension, some of the sparkle would already be wearing off? I thought of that crimson thread of fate again and squeezed my left hand into a fist.

  “Fine,” I said, my voice echoing around the nearly empty room. It was nothing now, just some spare guest bedroom with a few pictures on the wall, a bed, a dresser, a desk. Once upon a time, not all that long ago, Flor's room had been like a splash of color, covered in his artwork, filled with his things, tainted with the deliciously wicked masculine scent of him. I'd both loved and hated this room; it was Flor, and it was comforting because of that, but it was also the place he'd brought most of his girlfriends. I glanced over at the bed and wondered if the springs still creaked or if my stepmom had gotten around to replacing it. She kept saying she was going to redecorate in here, make it a guest suite, but it hadn't happened yet. I wondered now if it would become the nursery. More than likely, it would end up being my room.

  “Next time I get Max alone, I'd going to beat his ass until he can't stand straight.” Flor reached up a finger and prodded at his swollen lip until he cringed.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and resisted doing the same. My dad had taken a look at me and decided that my nose wasn't broken, so I wasn't
going to dwell on it. Honestly, Flor and I had sort of gotten what we'd deserved, although Max's words had hurt worse than I'd thought.

  “This is kind of what we get for cheating,” I told Flor, thinking of that steamy bathroom, of his hands on me, his body inside of mine. He looked up at me then with his one good eye, like he could sense what I was thinking.

  “Guess so,” he said, surprising me. For once, Flor wasn't ordering me around or screaming or avoiding the subject. “I guess I could've handled this better.”

  “And I guess I could've done the same. Flor, I'm sorry I did this to us, but I couldn't keep it inside anymore. I don't know what to do now or how to go about all of this, but I don't think I can stop loving you.”

  He cringed, but I didn't care. It felt good to have the words out.

  “Abigail,” Flor began, but it was my turn to have the last word. I shook my head and gave him a look that told him that maybe, just this once, he didn't know best.

  I guess all it took was getting punched in the face for me to realize it.

  I tugged on that red string of fate and hoped that Flor would answer.

  Appeasing my stepmom was easier said than done, forcing both Flor and me into the kitchen after a tense and uncomfortable dinner to help bake cookies. Even my dad hadn't been able to resist River's stubborn insistence that we all sit together as a family and eat, so I'd spent the last hour staring down at my plate and wondering when and if he was going to address the fight, my involvement in it, or my sex life.

  I shuddered as I creamed the butter and sugar, my bare feet warm on the heated wood floor. The idea that my dad would accept me as an adult and let my business stay my business was doubtful. I knew a storm was coming; I just didn't know when.

  “It's been so long since I've had you kids in the kitchen together like this,” River said with a shiver of pleasure that made my mouth dry. Guilt, yet again, even after I'd gotten all brave and bold in Flor's room. “Baking and listening to music, pure heaven.” She sighed and turned towards the cabinet to grab something, giving Flor and me a moment to exchange a look. His face was blank but not unpleasant. It made me ache for him in ways I could barely understand. And the fact that he was in an old T-shirt and sweatpants, his own feet as bare as mine, it was too cute for words. It almost made up for the fact that Addi had abandoned me to my fate, leaving me here well past dark to atone for my sins. I wondered what might happen if River ever really did find out about Flor and me. I assumed it would be something much, much worse than baking chocolate chip cookies. “Too bad Addison couldn't stay and join us. I remember a time when she practically lived her alongside you two and Max.” River sighed and I resisted the urge to join her. Those days she was describing felt impossibly far away, less like a memory and more like something that had happened in a fairytale dreamland.

  “It's not like they're dead, kaa-chan,” Flor mumbled over his own bowl of butter and sugar. Tonight, we were being forced to experiment with three different recipes, all of which looked pretty much the same to me, for some party River was going to with her colleagues. The theme was All American – Perfected, and the goal was to cook something classic, like apple pie or burgers or in our case, chocolate chip cookies, and bring it to what I'd loosely call a 'potluck'. Of course, there'd be catered foods as well as a full bar, people in suits, and the smug smiles of psychologists who think they know everything about everything.

  I raised a hand and brushed the hair from my forehead.

  “I know they're not dead, son, don't be a smart aleck. I'm simply recalling fond memories. Based on your and Max's behavior today, it might be beneficial for you to do the same, remember some of the things that have helped you to remain friends for so long.”

  “Don't shrink me, Mom,” Flor said, looking up, the edge of his lip twitching as he reached out and brushed his thumb across my forehead. “Only a few minutes in and you've already got it in your hair,” he said, sucking the butter-sugar mixture from his fingertip while I watched, transfixed.

  “This whole thing just seems silly to me anyway,” she griped, adding ingredients to her own bowl without even glancing at the recipe. “Why would you confront Max out on the driveway like that? And I thought you said Rhonda couldn't make it? Why was she even in the car with him? I feel like there's more to this than you're telling me.”

  Neither Flor nor I said a word and she sighed yet again.

  “I was in such a hurry today I left my new cookie sheets in the backseat of my car. Stay here and try not to mess up your dough while I'm gone.”

  River wiped her hands on her apron and disappeared, leaving Flor and me in a strange companionable silence.

  “What did you mean by that?” Flor asked me, voice rough. I glanced up and had to resist the urge to reach out and brush my fingers over his swollen face.

  “Mean by what?”

  “That you can't stop loving me.”

  I swallowed hard. The words seemed pretty obvious to me, not to mention embarrassing, and the last thing I felt like doing was trying to explain them.

  “What did you mean?” I countered, glancing over at the yellowing pages of the cookbook I was supposed to be learning from. “By pulling me into that bathroom?” My cheeks flushed red, but I pretended I didn't notice, cracking two eggs into my mixture instead.

  “It wasn't about meaning, Abigail. It was about need.”

  “So just sex then?” I asked and Flor sighed, just like his mother.

  “If it was just about sex, I would've grabbed Rhonda,” he told me and my stomach twisted with that same old, same old jealousy that I'd been fostering for years. I looked up and watched as Flor cracked an egg in his bowl, dropping several pieces of shell along with it. He didn't even hesitate to start picking them out with his fingers. Good thing River wasn't in the room to see it.

  Flor moved over to the trash to deposit his shells and then rinsed his hands in the sink, the water sluicing between his colored fingers, over the stars and moons that decorated his knuckles. I watched as he dried them off on a dish towel and then moved back around me, pausing directly behind me like he was waiting for something. Having him there made me nervous, so I forced myself to keep talking, like maybe my words would keep the awkwardness at bay. Besides, I needed the truth and he seemed like he was in an okay mood considering.

  “If it wasn't about sex, then what?” I asked, and another few seconds of silence passed before I felt his breath on the nape of my neck, his arm sliding around my waist.

  “I already told you, need.” He pressed his mouth to my skin and then just held me there, like we were a couple, like touching me was something that was okay. It felt good, but I was getting tired of this back and forth from him. I needed answers. I also needed to know if this sudden change in attitude was just a coping mechanism. I mean, part of me was relieved that Rhonda was out of the picture, but the idea that Flor hadn't been brave enough or willing enough to break up with her on his own bothered me. If she hadn't found out, then what would've happened? “I know I have to stay away from you, Abi, but it isn't easy. Do you think I want this? If I could wave a magic wand and make these feelings go away, I would.”

  I jerked away from him, taking my bowl with me.

  “Well I wouldn't,” I snapped, my feelings hurt yet again. “You don't just trade love away, no matter how painful it is.” I heard his breath catch, but he didn't say anything, just ran his fingers through his hair. A minute later, River came back in carrying her new cookie trays. My dad followed in after her and surveyed the scene in the kitchen with a blank facial expression. I shouldn't have cared what he thought about me and Max, but then again, he had the power to change my life in ways I wouldn't like. Pull my tuition money, evict me from my stepmom's building, take away my car. I made myself smile at him.

  “I don't want to see Max around here for awhile,” he grumbled, and that was that. He left the room without another word as I clenched the wooden spoon in my hand and tried not to scream. One step forward, two steps ba
ck.

  River noticed my reaction and put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Don't let him get to you, Abi. He's struggling with the idea that you're an adult now and can make your own decisions. This isn't about Max or sex or the fight today, just a man struggling with change.”

  “You're shrink talking again, kaa-chan,” Flor murmured, head down, pretending to be completely and utterly focused on his cookie dough. If he was anything like me – and I knew we had a lot in common – then he was probably wondering what might've happened if my dad really knew what today had been all about.

  “I just want Abi to know that her father is a logical man who must realize that his daughter is growing up and that it's time for her to make her own decisions.” She smiled and touched a hand to her belly. “Hopefully when this one comes, it'll get you off the hook for a while, give you a little breathing room.” I felt Flor's gaze on me, but refused to look up. What was there to say? Pretending this baby wasn't coming wouldn't help either of us. A new little brother or sister, a link to tie Flor and I together forever, but not in the way I wanted. If we ever had a kid, this child would be their aunt or uncle on both sides. Not an ideal situation, obviously.

  I added vanilla to my bowl and continued stirring.

  “We're a family,” River continued, making my stomach tight and my head swim. She reached out to squeeze my arm and smiled, her next words meant as a comfort and not as the poisonous barb that felt like it was being lodged in my throat. “You, me, Flor, your father, and this baby. And nothing will ever change that.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Fate can be wicked cruel, can't it? I scooted closer to my side of the couch and pretended I didn't notice River's absence between Flor and me, that empty space of couch that seemed to beckon at the same time it repelled. I twisted my stepmother's blue and white afghan around in my fingers and kept my eyes on the screen. It didn't escape my notice that this scenario was eerily similar to the one we'd experienced our first night together.