Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Jessica Ashe

“Hell yes. I want them to be jealous. And I’m happy with you. For once, I actually want people to know about a man I’m seeing.”

  Clyde smiled at Tasha and she smiled back. They were disgustingly happy; just like Barton and I had been a few days ago. Whatever awkwardness there had been between the two of them had already disappeared. Tasha still hadn’t told Clyde that she loved him, but he seemed happy to wait. It was only a matter of time. I recognized the twinkle in Tasha’s eyes. She was already in love, she just wouldn’t admit it yet.

  At any other time, I would have been delighted for her. I’d have encouraged her to open her heart. I’d have spent hours talking to her about Clyde, and getting all the intimate details she’d no doubt titillated her friends with. But not now. I couldn’t bring myself to hear it, even though that made me a bad sister, and a shitty friend.

  “He really cares about you, Kristi,” Clyde said. “He made a mistake, but so did you. Can’t you just forgive and forget?”

  I shook my head. “It isn’t that easy. I don’t think I trust him, and he sure as hell doesn’t trust me. We can’t build a relationship on that.”

  “So what, you’re just going to let him walk away?” Tasha asked. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

  “It’s not all on me,” I snapped. “Notice how he hasn’t exactly banged the door down to come and get me back.”

  “He’s stubborn,” Clyde said. “Always has—”

  A loud pounding shook the front door to the apartment.

  “Kristi,” Barton called out. “Open the door. I want to speak to you.”

  Tasha raised her eyebrows and gave me an ‘I told you so’ look. It was a look I’d seen far more times than I cared to remember.

  “Go away,” I yelled out.

  “I just want to talk,” Barton replied.

  “Ever heard of a phone?” I yelled. Tasha stood up and headed towards the door. “Don’t you dare,” I snarled. She looked at me and then at Clyde, who shook his head. Tasha sighed in frustration and sat back down next to Clyde.

  “Kristi, if you don’t open the door, I’m going to knock it off its hinges.”

  “I don’t want to see you,” I said. It was a lot easier to stop caring about someone if you couldn’t see them. The second I laid eyes on him again, I’d be right back to square one.

  Barton was quiet for a few seconds. I braced myself, half expecting him to come crashing through the door at any moment. He didn’t. After five minutes of silence, I stood up and quietly walked over to the door. I listened and heard nothing, so I chanced a look through the peephole. He was still there; standing and waiting patiently for me to open up.

  The second I saw the deformed version of his body through the magnified glass, I knew I had to open up. I had no choice. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Tasha and Clyde looked on intently as I opened the door and let him in without saying a word.

  “Looks like we should be going,” Tasha said. She stood up and grabbed Clyde’s hand, dragging him to his feet.

  “Oh great, now you leave,” I complained.

  “Good luck, sweetie,” Tasha said. “Play nice.”

  Barton and I watched as Clyde and Tasha walked out the door hand-in-hand, and then we turned to stare at each other. I crossed my arms and stared at him. The silence persisted until I couldn’t bear it any longer.

  “Did you come here to say something, or are you just going to stare at me all night?”

  “I would happily stare at you all night,” Barton replied. He smiled for about half a second, before quickly remembering that he was supposed to be angry. “We need to talk.”

  “Then talk. Say what you need to say and leave.”

  “I’m sorry you lost your job,” Barton said. “Sounds like it was a shitty job that required you to do shitty things, but you didn’t deserve to be fired.”

  “If that’s supposed to be an apology, then it’s a shitty one.”

  “I’m not apologizing for you being fired from a job that required you to fuck me over. You shouldn’t have been working there in the first place.”

  “I didn’t take the job to screw with you,” I snapped. “Not everyone’s life revolves around you.”

  “Fuck, Kristi, what do you want me to say? I don’t even know how the info about us got back to your boss.”

  “You ran your mouth like an immature frat boy, that’s how.”

  “I told one person by mistake,” Barton replied. “It just slipped out.”

  “You’re not going to apologize, are you?” I asked.

  “Are you?”

  “I don’t have anything to apologize for,” I replied. “I never did anything to harm you. All I ever did was improve your image and help you with your career.”

  I did owe him an apology. I wanted to beg him for forgiveness, but I couldn’t do it. What if I apologized and he didn’t? I’d hate him for it; I’d hate myself.

  “You’ve been a distraction,” Barton snapped.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m off my game, and might get dropped from the team.”

  “And that’s my fault?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Not completely. I’m just all over the place at the moment. Fuck, Kristi, I just want us to get back to where we left off. I can’t carry on like this.”

  Did he just want to get back with me to play better? Tasha would tell me I was overthinking this, but I couldn’t let myself accept that he actually wanted me. There had to be some ulterior motive. My life was never that simple.

  “Maybe you’re just not as good a player as you think you are,” I suggested. “Ever think of that?”

  Barton laughed, and sounded genuinely amused. “If you understood football, you’d know I am every bit as good as I think I am.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How did I ever fall for someone so fucking arrogant?”

  Better question, how do I ever fall for anyone else after you?

  “I reckon my huge dick had something to do with it.”

  My lips threatened to break out into a smile, but I wouldn’t let them. He didn’t just get to win me back by talking about his huge cock.

  “Maybe your dick isn’t as good as you think it is either?”

  “I’m not even justifying that with a response. Look Kristi, you’ve changed me for the better. I’ve even started taking advice on how to improve my game. The old me never would have done that, so….”

  I waited for Barton to finish his sentence, but he just started into the space behind me. Eventually I clicked my fingers in front of his face to snap him out of it.

  “I have to go,” Barton said slowly. He sounded a bit like he was in a trance.

  “You’re going?”

  “I’ll be back, I promise. I just have to take care of something first.”

  Barton turned and walked out while I tried to work out what the hell had just happened. Neither of us had apologized and now he was leaving. That was it.

  “Bye,” I shouted angrily as he left. “Don’t come back.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Barton

  Milton Patton.

  The injured quarterback I had replaced in the team. The one who’d pretended to give me helpful advice, but instead had messed up my game completely.

  He’d been the one to leak the information to Kristi’s boss.

  I should have guessed. Doug was a tool, but he didn’t have any motivation to go running his mouth off the the press. All he wanted was to be popular with his teammates; he wouldn’t jeopardize that to mess things up with Kristi and I. Hell, he wasn’t clever enough to think of it.

  I should have apologized to Kristi the second I put all the pieces together. It was my fault. I’d blabbed in front of a teammate I should never have trusted and Kristi had paid the price. I should have apologized, but I didn’t.

  Instead I took the easy way out and went to solve the problem with Milton the only way I knew how; with my fists.

  Kristi shouted after me, but I did my b
est to block out her voice. Once I’d dealt with Milton, I could go right back to Kristi and tell her I was sorry. We could both put this shit behind us and move on with our lives. Assuming she forgave me. We’d both made mistakes, so they should cancel out. That was how it worked, right?

  I got in touch with the players I knew who were close to Milton, and found out he was in a bar downtown. Milton wouldn’t have been seen dead in a bar this close to the start of the season, but because of his injury, he didn’t have much to lose at the moment.

  I’d been in the bar a few times before; there were three floors, and all of them would be packed at this time of night. There had to be a VIP room somewhere though; Milton wouldn’t mingle with the masses.

  The city was buzzing with that early evening vibe that you got when people had had a few drinks, but weren’t yet drunk and aggressive. Most people were happy; I was just angry. Men and women recognized me, but by the time they yelled out my name I was already long gone. There would be no autographs or selfies tonight.

  The doorman recognized me immediately, so I told him I was with Milton’s crew.

  “Wait right there, Mr. Fenner. I’ll have someone escort you up.”

  A few minutes later, a woman in a suit showed up and introduced herself.

  “We weren’t expecting you, Mr. Fenner, but I’m sure Mr. Patton will be delighted to see you.”

  The woman escorted me up to the top floor, and then through a door at the back. The “VIP room” looked more like the changing room at the back of a strip club. Topless women wandered around casually, stopping only to sit on the laps of Milton’s friends. Milton was already occupied with a woman on his lap, making the most of no longer having his leg in plaster.

  Milton had been holding out on me; the guy was a player and he wasn’t being all that subtle about it either. How had he cultivated a “do no wrong” image, while people thought of me as a playboy idiot?

  Women approached me immediately, but I brushed them off. I grazed a few boobs in the process, but wasn’t even remotely fazed by it. Boobs belonging to anyone other than Kristi were just flabby bits of flesh now.

  Milton didn’t notice me until my body cast a shadow over the half-naked woman planted on his lap.

  “Barton? What are you doing here?”

  Milton quickly pushed the woman off his lap. He was embarrassed; I had him off guard. Now it was time to take advantage.

  “I’m here to talk to you,” I replied calmly.

  “Uh, maybe this can wait until training, Barton. I’m just here for a friend’s bachelor party. You know how it is. I didn’t want to be a spoilsport, even if it means getting involved in all this seedy nonsense.”

  I kept my eyes trained on Milton, but yelled “everyone out” at the top of my voice. Milton’s friends and the ladies looked to him and he nodded. Slowly, everyone piled out of the room—the women covering themselves up first—and left the two of us alone.

  “Alright, Barton, what the hell is this all about? You can’t just come in here and destroy the evening. The world doesn’t revolve around you; you’re not a star quarterback yet.”

  “And I’m not likely to be if I keep listening to you, am I? I know you gave me that shitty advice on purpose. You want me to fail.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I want the team to do well. Besides, I’ll be back in time for the playoffs.”

  “Bullshit. If we make the playoffs, the team will stick with me and you know it. You’re done. You’ve played your last game.”

  “Fuck, you’re full of yourself. You haven’t even played a professional game yet.”

  “And yet you’re already scared of me.”

  “Scared of you?” Milton asked incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

  I smiled at Milton and it set him on edge immediately. “Why else would you be trying to mess up my career before it’s even begun?”

  “I’ve told you I’m not trying to mess you your career. I gave you good advice. If you’d listened to it—”

  “I don’t give a shit about the advice. You can play mind games with me all you like, but I don’t care. What I do care about is you using my girlfriend to get at me.”

  The instant look of understanding on Milton’s face was enough to wash away any minor doubts I might have had. Milton stared at me for a few seconds, and then relaxed back in his seat and smiled.

  “Yeah, all right, you got me. I use the same PR agency as you, so I have contacts there. The second I told Leona that you and Kristi were fucking, she jumped at the chance to fire the dead waste.”

  “Why?” I asked. “You’ve never even met her.”

  “You looked a little too… content. You were in the zone and playing well. I couldn’t have that.”

  I’d wanted to hear a decent excuse. Anything that would justify his actions. The lack of any remorse on his part brought my anger back to the surface. It never did take much, and where Kristi was concerned… well, it was best not to provoke me on that topic.

  “Are you going to leave?” Milton asked. “Or do I need to have you thrown out?”

  “I’m going,” I replied. “Training’s going to be a lot of fun on Monday.”

  I turned and started walking back towards the entrance to the VIP room. Milton came after me as I knew he would. The second his hand touched my shoulder, I swung my elbow back into his face.

  Milton staggered back, but I twisted around, grabbed hold of his shirt, and pulled him back towards me. I couldn’t leave here without landing one good punch on the guy. I lifted my right hand, but then thought better of it. Don’t want to hurt my throwing arm. I swung my left hand back and connected with his face. It hurt like hell, but whatever pain I was in, he was in a hell of a lot more.

  I had more anger left to vent, but Kristi’s voice in my head told me to walk away before I did any real damage. Milton and I had fought in private, and it would stay that way. Or at least, it would have if Milton hadn’t lunged for me.

  Milton landed on my back just as I was about to step out the door. We went flying through and landed on a heap on the floor in front of everyone. He got me with two punches while I was dazed. I landed a punch of my own, but stopped when I noticed the flashing of lights from smartphones surrounding us.

  This was not going to help my image.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Kristi

  I couldn’t sit indoors all night. I tried watching television, I tried catching up with friends, and I tried sulking. None of it made me feel any better.

  Why had Barton stormed off like that? Him not apologizing had been bad enough, but to just outright fucking abandon me was a real crappy thing to do. My mind tried to convince me that he wasn’t worth it and that I shouldn’t wallow in pity over a guy who was so quick to run off.

  In the end, I settled for ruining Tasha’s evening with Clyde. I’d been an awful sister lately, and she’d handled it all without complaint. Make no mistake though, she wouldn’t hesitate to remind me of it when this mess was in the past.

  I showed up at the bar just as Clyde was coming back with a couple of drinks.

  “Mind if I join you?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” Tasha said. “Is Barton with you?”

  “No,” I replied curtly. “No, he’s not.”

  “Ah.”

  “Tell you what ladies,” Clyde said, “why don’t I let you two talk it out. Kristi, you can have my drink.”

  “You don’t have to leave,” I replied, secretly hoping he would.

  “It’s okay, I know you sisters like to talk. And talk. And talk.”

  “Wait up for me,” Tasha said before he left.

  “Oh, I will. You’d better make it worth my while though.”

  Tasha’s smile made it clear she most definitely would.

  I took a sip of what had been Clyde’s beer. At least, I thought it was beer. The dark black concoction tasted thick and heavy, with none of the refreshing taste I usually got from beer. That’s why I stuck to a good pale a
le.

  “So what happened tonight?” Tasha asked. “I take it things didn’t go well.”

  “No, they didn’t.”

  I explained the stand-off between Barton and I, and how he had just up and left without saying why.

  “Neither of you apologized?” Tasha asked.

  “No. I’m not apologizing after what he did, and he’s too stubborn.”

  “You’re both like a couple of kids sometimes. You messed up, and you should apologize. He messed up, so he should too. If you’d both done that, you could be screwing each other’s brains out right now.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not going first.”

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Tasha said with a sigh and exaggerated roll of the eyes. “One of you has to go first, and unless you subscribe to all that sexist bullshit, then it can just as easily be you as him.”

  “Well, it’s too late now anyway. He disappeared. I have no idea where he went or why.”

  “Maybe he remembered he left the oven on?”

  “It’s not funny, Tasha,” I snapped.

  “Oh come on, it kind of is. Look, you feel bad about what you did and you don’t really care about him telling his teammates. You’re just using that as an excuse to be mad at him. And he’s not really mad with you, otherwise he wouldn’t have come over to see you.”

  “When did you become the expert in relationships?”

  “I’ve got a lot of relationship experience, thank you very much. Okay, fair enough, most of that experience centers around avoiding them, but still… it all counts.”

  “They shouldn’t be this difficult. Not in the early stages.”

  “You can’t apply your logic to this one, sis. You both feel strongly for each other, and that means your brains are all over the place. Maybe this is a good thing.”

  “How?” I asked. No way could this feeling ever be contrived as a good thing. There was a constant tension in the pit of my stomach that had me on the verge of throwing up at any second and my heart was literally aching. Cheesy, I know, but that’s how it felt.

  “It’s best to get your first big fight out of the way early on. Then you can have makeup sex. Trust me, you want the makeup sex.”