Especially not Johnson.
As well as he was doing, I couldn’t help noticing that he was favoring one side when he caught the ball. There was nothing particularly wrong with having a “good side”, but he was putting in extra work to avoid catching on his left.
The same side he’d had a rotator cuff repair on a few years ago.
“Hey, let me talk to you a second,” I called to him, stepping to the side so we could speak privately.
“What it do, Coach B?” he asked, showing off his dimples as he flashed his signature smile. “You want to know if I’ll appear in the documentary they’re gonna make about your life, right? You know I will. I’ll even pose with you for the front cover.”
I laughed. “Whatever, Johnson. Don’t speak that type of evil over me.”
He frowned. “First female coach for the Kings, and you don’t want the fanfare?”
“I want to coach football,” I told him, shaking my head. “That’s my focus right now, a great season. If I get approached after that… I might be open.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said, extending a fist to bump mine. “You know the media is coming for you once the season starts though, right? Everybody has been all excited about the NBA finals, now they’re all wrapped up in where Lebron is going. But real soon…”
I nodded. “Yes, I know,” I told him, my tone much calmer than I felt about that situation. This was the “boring” time of year, but things were ramping up, and he was right – football was about to have all the attention. Increased scrutiny of my hiring was going to come with it.
But I’d assess that bridge when I came to it.
“For now, I want to understand why you’re shying away from fully engaging your left side,” I spoke, letting him know it was time to get serious. “There something you need to tell me?”
He looked away, avoiding my eyes as he shrugged. “Trainers, team doctors say I’m good to go. Ready to fuck up the field for another season.”
I moved, getting back in front of his gaze. “I didn’t ask you that. I don’t care what they say. I care about how you feel. Is that shoulder giving you trouble?”
For a second, he didn’t respond, then his eyes narrowed as they settled on something away from me. Again. “It’s obvious like that?”
“To most people, no. You look great out there. To me… I’m going to take notice when my star is doing more than he needs to.”
He shook his head. “It’s just… a little bit of a twinge. A little more than I’m used to. Not bad. Not enough to bring up. I just…”
“Don’t want to make it worse,” I nodded. “I get it.”
“It’ll be fine by training camp,” he said, confidently. Like he was trying to convince me. “I’m going to rest it.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“You writing this down? Telling Underwood?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Everything we talk about isn’t Underwood’s business. You stop performing? Then it’s his business. You understand me?”
He gave me a little salute with two fingers. “Aye-aye, captain.” He started to turn away, then looked back. “I appreciate it.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” I countered. “Go refuel.” He turned again to leave, but once he was a few feet away, I stopped him. “Hey – stay off that shoulder. Let your wife do the work on the honeymoon, if you get my drift,” I warned him, completely serious even if my tone said different.
He laughed at my warning, giving me a deep nod. “Can you write that on a note for me? Jordan is excused from all activities except getting his dick ro—”
“If you don’t get the fuck outta here,” I laughed, sending him off. Once I was done with him, I called out to Amare as he was heading inside. “You killed it this week Amare!” I shouted, prompting a shocked scowl at first, and then a nod of acknowledgment before he jogged off. That attitude still needed a lot of work, but as long as he took direction and performed – all I ever asked, and what he’d done this week – we’d get along just fine.
Or not.
Either way, we’d do our jobs.
As I headed in myself, Coach Underwood stopped me, pulling me aside similarly to what I’d done to Jordan.
“You feeling okay Brooks?” he asked, speaking quietly as the other players and coaches passed us, heading to the locker room and showers.
I nodded. “Yeah. Why, what’s up? I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all. It’s just that during the rookie minicamp, you were all over the place out there, running routes and showing everybody up with the footwork… you’re kinda quiet now though. One of the guys say something, or…?”
“What? No,” I frowned, shaking my head. “No, not at all. I… have just had a lot on my mind. Garrett and I are meeting this afternoon to buy Madison a car, and—”
Underwood whistled. “Say no more. I remember those days, and do not miss them at all. Godspeed and good luck to you,” he chuckled, leaving me to speak to a couple of players who were waiting to talk to him.
My shoulders sank in relief at how easily he’d let me slide, especially since what I said wasn’t even a real answer to what he’d asked about. But, I’d taken a tip from Nate’s jar, saying something that wasn’t exactly the truth at hand, but wasn’t a lie either.
Obviously, his way worked.
While everyone was occupied, I slipped away to head to my office. I really did have plans to meet up with Garrett at a Volkswagen dealership today – the midpoint we’d come to after my absolute refusal to get on board with buying our sixteen-year-old a luxury car.
One of us had to be willing to keep her firmly tethered to the realm of regular people.
As I headed out of the office, my phone buzzed, notifying me of a new text received. I knew before even looking at it that it would be Nate, and that knowledge brought a smile to my face.
He was really committed to this.
That promise he’d made to look after me whether I liked it or not seemed to constantly be at the forefront of his mind. Initially, it had been a source of frustration, but almost three weeks after the heart attack… I’d gotten pretty used to his constant presence, even when it wasn’t physical.
And I… didn’t hate it.
I didn’t hate it at all.
I actually… kinda liked it?
“You made it through minicamp… how do you feel? – NR.”
“Relieved.”
That was an understatement.
I’d been feeling a lot better since leaving the hospital, but still nowhere near 100% - which is why it hadn’t gone beyond notice that there was something different about me.
There weren’t any words to describe how glad I was that after this, the players were off for a month until training camp. That meant I wasn’t expected to do any running, jumping, catching, anything like that myself, which gave me more time to recover.
I just wasn’t sure another six weeks was enough to get me to a place where I was active enough to not arouse suspicion during training camp.
I hadn’t mentioned that to my doctor yet.
I stowed my phone in my purse, and headed down the hall, deciding to skip the rowdy celebration that would be happening soon in the dining area. Underwood knew I had plans, and my players were too busy to notice if I wasn’t there.
This downtime was my opportunity to enjoy my daughter, and rest, before the chaos of the season. It was imperative that I did it now, while I had the chance.
Jordan’s shoulder wasn’t the only thing I needed to be fine by the time we started training camp.
“Remember ours?”
Instead of verbally responding to Garrett’s question, I simply smiled, keeping my eyes glued to the happy couple as they embarked on their first dance.
It was a beautiful night for a wedding. The heat of summer hadn’t quite kicked in yet, so the air was crisp, but not cold – warm enough for bare arms and shoulders without breaking a sweat.
I’d raised an
eyebrow at the backyard wedding descriptor on Jordan and Cole’s quirky invitation – not out of judgment, but surprise. With Cole’s personality, I’d expected a very formal, stuffy affair, with everything just so.
Well… everything was still just so, but there was nothing stuffy about the beautiful sheer canopies set up in Eli Richardson’s expansive backyard, the lanterns and string lights creating a beautiful warm glow, the shouts of laughter coming from the dance floor, the Earth, Wind, and Fire pumping from the speakers now that the “official” first dance was over.
I understood exactly why Garrett was feeling nostalgic.
“What exactly makes you think I’m interested in traveling down memory lane with you?” I quietly fussed, even though it was a direct contrast with how I felt.
He grinned as he leaned in. “Come on, Sloane. It’s a wedding. You telling me it doesn’t bring back good memories for you?”
“Of course it does,” I admitted. “But those memories lead into memories of how we ended, and I get over my nostalgia pretty quickly.”
Instead of being shamed by my words, he just grinned harder. “You keep bringing that up, and if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to remind yourself you’re not supposed to like me. Like you really want to be all about me, but then you have to catch yourself.”
“Okay, no more liquor for you,” I told him, pulling away his third Mauve and coke. “It’s making you delirious.”
He shook his head. “No, I think I see things quite clearly. You’ve been different lately. Off.”
“And you think it’s because I’m… what, pining for you?”
Garrett laughed. “Okay. So maybe not that. Then what?”
“Then nothing. I started a stressful new job, we bought our teenager a car, and my ex-husband suddenly wants back in my panties – I have a lot going on.”
He nodded, and remained quiet for a moment before he grabbed my hand. “What if I told you I was trying to get into more than your panties?”
“I would wonder what the hell was going on with you? Are you sick? Dying or something?” He laughed at that, but something about it was off enough that it made my eyebrows rise in alarm. “Do not play with me. Are you?”
“No, I’m not dying, woman,” he laughed. “But… this Langston kid. His father. When I found out about that, it was… sobering. He’s the same age as us!”
I frowned. “Who is us? Nigga you’re knocking on fifty by yourself, okay?”
“Damn, that’s how you do me?”
“Mmmhmm old man,” I teased. “But in seriousness… I get it. Nothing like something to remind you that no matter how many miles you run to stay active, or cigars you turn down, or salads you eat… you’re not invincible. This body is as temporary as everything else in the world.”
“So you get me then.”
I smiled, meeting his gaze. “Of course. That was never our problem.”
“Then what the hell is?” he insisted, the mood suddenly shifting as he pulled my chair closer to his, then looked around. “You know how good we were together, Sloane. Why don’t we stop these games?”
“This isn’t a game. And it’s not a conversation to be had in public, either,” I warned, even though no one was paying any attention to us. “We’re here to celebrate Jordan and Nicole – not for you to pitch yourself to me.”
He held up his hands. “You’re right. You’re right.” He sat back a bit, looking defeated. As much as I felt a little bad about blowing him off, I had to remind myself that this was all part of the Garrett charm, the reason I’d gotten my heart wrapped up in the first place.
He was right.
We were good together.
We were so, so good together, and that’s why it had been such a hard to believe blow when I first found out he was cheating on me. I talked myself out of what I knew was the truth, in favor of having a “whole” family. Time after time I ignored it, and endured the embarrassment, and swallowed the hurt, until I just… I got tired.
Tired of always being the one to try to make it right, when I wasn’t the one doing wrong.
Garrett hurt me.
Badly.
The only reason I was able to sit in his face now – hell, enjoy his company at all – was because we were so far removed from it now. Time and therapy had healed those wounds, and it would be silly of me to risk a repeat injury.
Another blow to the heart.
Maybe Garrett was a changed man, maybe he was sincere.
Maybe he shouldn’t have fucked up a good thing when he had it.
“Dance with me,” he said, more of a demand than a request, since he stood and offered his hand before I could answer. He whistled when I stood, like he hadn’t already been doling out compliments left and right all night for the wine-colored cocktail dress I’d worn. I rolled my eyes, but accepted his hand to lead me to the dance floor, just as the DJ was calling for all the “couples”.
“Happy accident,” Garrett quipped when I frowned at his timing, knowing what our presence on the dance floor implied. I quickly got over any frustration when my eyes landed on a “couple” a few feet away from us.
Nate.
With Leya.
Damn, she’s even finer in person.
She was a beautiful woman in those pictures I’d seen, but now, live and in color, I could see even more clearly what attracted Nate to her. As a couple, they were absolutely striking, and I… wanted to be happy about that.
I was supposed to be happy about that.
Instead, it made me feel a little sick to my stomach.
Before it could seem like I was staring, I turned my full attention back to Garrett, tuning in to whatever he was talking about as we danced.
Well… halfway tuning in.
In reality, I just nodded along, while I tried to sort through and figure out the baffling feeling I was experiencing.
“Excuse me? May I?”
The sound of Nate’s voice snatched me from my thoughts, just in time to take note of the exchange taking place. Garrett didn’t appear particularly thrilled about it, but he agreed to Nate’s request of dancing with me as the DJ switched songs.
I was too busy trying to hide the fact that I was flustered to be annoyed by him asking Garrett’s permission instead of mine. And by the time Nate’s hands were settled onto my hips, it felt too much like right for me to be mad at all.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, keeping my voice low enough for the conversation to remain just between us. Dancing with someone at a wedding was an innocent-enough interaction, but the fact that I had to force myself to keep distance between us, fighting my body’s natural gravitation to him, presented… a complication.
He grinned. “Dancing with the Kings’ newest position coach. Is that a problem?”
“It might be for your date.”
“Might be for yours too. He keeps looking over here like he wants me to meet him in the parking lot for a showdown.”
I shook my head. I didn’t even have to look to know it was true. “Don’t mind him. He seems to have forgotten again that I’m his ex-wife.”
“Is he trying to make you his next wife too?”
“Maybe. Are you trying to make Leya your first?”
Nate smirked about that. “Not remotely. You sure seem hell-bent on it though.”
“No I’m not,” I defended. “I’m just… I want you to be happy, Nate. That’s all it’s ever been.”
“Then let’s stop talking about Leya, and Garrett, and just enjoy our dance.” He leaned in, just long enough to speak into my ear. “Just think… none of these people know how intimately familiar I am with the taste of your pussy. That’s a little exciting, isn’t it?”
Ugh.
He had no idea.
As of late, I’d been plagued with vivid dreams of Nate and me, doing filthy things in inappropriate places, not limited to my office, his office, the locker room, the bleachers, the fifty-yard line, and… countless others. In all of them, I wa
s jolted awake just before the point of orgasm, which left me more than a little frustrated.
Especially since I had no outlet for that frustration.
A psychologist would probably say that the dreams were based on my current, baseless fear that having an orgasm would make my heart explode – hence, the whole waking-up-before-it-happened thing. I would say that the psychologist wasn’t the one taking the risk, so they could shut the fuck up.
Of course I missed sex, of course I missed orgasms, but neither of those things erased the fear. When I came, I came hard, and half the time, it did feel like my heart was stopping.
I was not trying to become a case study.
So, I squirmed a little in his arms, trying to not be affected by his warmth, and his smell, and his touch.
“Glad to know I’ve made such an impression on you,” I told him, trying to maintain at least some power in this whole thing. I was past relieved when the song ended and I could step back, putting some real distance between us.
“Enjoy the wedding, Ms. Brooks.”
I nodded. “You do the same.”
I couldn’t get away from Nate fast enough, and was in no hurry to get back to Garrett either. What was it about tonight that had these men getting under my skin?
When I got stopped by Wil Cunningham, postponing my return to Garrett’s side, I could’ve kissed her – that’s just how glad I was for the delay.
“I have been hoping to run into you,” she gushed, pulling me into a hug. “Congratulations on the new job!”
I returned her warm smile with one of my own, and hugged her right back. I loved this young woman like she was my own – well, if I actually knew her personally – had rooted for her Olympic triumphs, watched her and Ramsey’s sports show religiously, and cried like a baby over the mini-movie they’d released afterward from their own ultra-private wedding ceremony in Bali. Especially the fact that they’d been planning a bigger, later wedding, but then decided they didn’t want to wait to call each other husband and wife.
It was beautiful.
“Thank you so much,” I told her. “I’m excited to be part of the Kings organization.”
“And they’re lucky as hell to have you… which is what I wanted to speak to you about. Your hiring hasn’t really hit the news cycle yet… how about you and I change that?”
Pass Interference (Connecticut Kings Book 6) Page 11