Offensive Rebound

by Mj Fields

  Then I slow, knowing I’m going to burst at any second, and I’m afraid that when I do, I may fall into a million little pieces because of him, of us, of want, of need, of—

  “Come for me,” he demands.

  “No. Not...Not yet,” I cry softly.

  “Right,” he groans as he pushes harshly into me. “Now.”

  He calls to every part of me, all parts telling him the same thing I am.

  “Yes, yes! Oh, God, yes!”

  He stands up, my ass in his hands, and roots deep inside me, making me come harder. Then he walks to the fridge and uses one hand to open it.

  “What? What are you—”

  “Shh...” He pulls out a bottle of water and opens it with his teeth before taking a drink. Then holds it up to my mouth. “Drink, Court.”

  “What?”

  “You’re gonna need to stay hydrated, because we’re gonna do this all day long.”

  “You’re crazy,” I say, to which he just pours water into my mouth.

  I close my mouth, but not soon enough, and some of it drips onto my heated flesh. He watches it run down my body, and then catches it with his tongue.

  “More?” he asks.

  “No.” I look at him like he’s nuts, because his dick is inside me while he’s carrying me around and drinking right now, because he...he’s nuts.

  He drinks down the rest of the water then tosses the empty bottle into the sink. Then he grabs the back of my head and kisses me senseless.

  Walking toward his apartment, still kissing me, still fucking me, I am one hundred percent sure now that he is nuts. And as sure as I am of that, I’m just as sure that I am crazy about him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Life is So Good

  TRAE

  SHE LIES THERE, PANTING ON the apartment floor with me hovering above her.

  “I still have another in me.”

  “Trae...” she nearly pleads.

  “But you told me many, many times that it was so good,” I tease.

  She groans and shakes her head.

  “Are you denying it?”

  “Are you going to deny that you said you could live with your face between my legs?”

  “Hell no, I absolutely could,” I answer, kissing her. “Tastes good, right?”

  She pushes against my chest and rolls her eyes. “What time—”

  “Her time,” I say automatically, holding up the fucking finger with the hysterical yet annoying tattoo wedding band inked permanently on it.

  Who’s fucking idea was that? We may never know.

  She sighs, looking down at our bodies. “We’re a mess.”

  “That’s not a mess; that’s come.” I look at our bodies. “And like I said—”

  “Please...” Now she’s begging.

  I like it.

  “Fine.” I pull out of her, regretting it immediately. “My dick’s cold.”

  She hurriedly crawls out from under me, laughing. “Put some clothes on; it’ll get warm again.”

  She stands up, her ass inches from my face. I try to bite it...again, but she moves out of my reach.

  I grab her, and she stops, telling me, “You have groceries to put away.”

  I look at my clock. “That was two hours ago.”

  “Two hours!” She looks at her wrist. “Where’s my watch?”

  “I slipped it off you between orgasms, and you didn’t even know,” I tell her, feeling pretty damn impressed with myself.

  “What time do you need to call Callie?”

  “Shit.” I scramble to my feet, rushing toward the door and grabbing my sweats, throwing them on as I go. “Phone’s in the house.”

  “So are my clothes!” she yells after me.

  “I’ll get them,” I let her know as I run down the stairs.

  When I fly into the kitchen, I grab my phone, snatch up her clothes, tossing the bra into the corner, and am out the door.

  I hit the Facetime app and call home.

  “Mom, sorry. Things are a bit—”

  “I know,” she says, seeming semi-annoyed.

  “Don’t blame you for being upset with me. But I promise,” I tell her, turning so she doesn’t see me tossing Court her clothes or get a look of her naked, “that I’m going to get back on my game.”

  “Your new game, or your old one?” she asks.

  She knows damn well I am not here to fuck everything that walks. I will let it slide, though, because yeah, she’s fucking annoyed.

  “The only game I have, Mom.” I try to keep the fact that I’m annoyed at bay, watching as Courtney throws on her clothes and trying to drag my eyes away from her.

  “Is my daughter-in-law there, Trae?”

  I look at the screen, and she raises her eyebrows at me. I give it right back to her then look up to see Courtney’s shocked face before she jets.

  “Just missed her.”

  “I’d like to meet her.”

  “Mom...” I warn.

  “Trae...” she tosses back. She has that determined look in her eyes that means I better do it. Otherwise, we will be staring at each other all night.

  “Fine, but really, we have this situation under control.” I walk to the stairs and head down. “She’s also my boss, so tread lightly.”

  “She’s also an ex of Brock’s.” Of course she would say that as soon as I walk into the house.

  Courtney looks up from the floor, her mouth forming a perfect O.

  “My mom would like to say hi,” I tell her.

  She shakes her head no, and I hold the phone facing down so Mom doesn’t see me nodding my head yes.

  Before she has a chance to say anything more, I hit the button that flips the screen to her.

  She takes a deep breath and smiles. “Hi, Mrs. Rhodes.”

  Mom sighs. “My name is Theresa. I’m not married. Has Trae not told you anything about his family?”

  Fuck, I hope my mom’s not going to go ballistic.

  I walk around and sit behind Courtney on the ground, switching the phone’s camera direction.

  Before Courtney can respond, my mom continues, “Never married Trae’s dad. Never got his last name.”

  “I’m sorry,” Courtney says, looking down at her wrist.

  “It’s no big deal,” I tell her. “Right, Mom?”

  “Nope, we survived.”

  “I think we did better than survived.” I chuckle uncomfortably.

  Courtney looks over her shoulder at me, looking totally fucking uncomfortable yet concerned. Then she takes in a slow, deep breath and looks back at the phone.

  “Well, if it means anything at all, I’d say you did a great job with Trae, Theresa.”

  Mom smiles. “I had some help.”

  One thing I know for sure is that my mom takes motherhood very seriously, and Courtney just gave her the biggest compliment she could receive.

  “We all need help sometimes,” Courtney says.

  I watch the split screen reflection of her face and my mother’s. Both seem to be doing the same thing—treading lightly.

  “What’s all lined up in front of you on the floor?” Mom asks, breaking the silence.

  “Just work stuff. The Stallions’ schedule. I need to get organized and—”

  “It’s in piles, in a line?” Mom says.

  “By the month,” Courtney replies.

  “Color coded?”

  Courtney nods then tucks her hair behind her ear. “I like things in order and scheduled. It gives me a sense of control. False sense, I’m sure. But if I tackle one thing at a time, I can usually get through it.”

  I see the way Mom looks at her, studying her.

  “And when things are out of control, how do you cope?”

  “Mom...” I warn, knowing that everyone is a case study to her.

  “It’s a valid question, Trae. I’m just trying to get a feel for my son’s wife.” Mom smiles curtly, and I shake my head.

  “We messed up,” Courtney says quickly. “We were dru
nk, and just won a game, and then there was a fight, and...Well—”

  “Do you drink often?” Mom asks bluntly.

  “No.” Courtney shakes her head. “Well, not really. But honestly, more now than ever.”

  “That’s not a way to cope when you’re struggling or celebrating,” Mom says, saying it like she would to me or my brothers.

  “Right. I know it’s...I’ll work on it.”

  I snicker. “She’s not an alcoholic, Mom.”

  “Of course not!” Courtney exclaims. “But I do think I have been using it as an excuse for poor choices as of late.” Courtney looks down at her watch again.

  “Like your choice to marry Trae?”

  “Of course not, misses...Um...Theresa. I was being honest when I said you raised a good man.”

  “Mom”—I roll my eyes—“she wasn’t alone in that.”

  “Are you working on an annulment?”

  “We just got home a few hours ago, but my folks and lawyer were in Vegas, and we know—”

  “You’ve met her parents?” Mom gasps, looking at me.

  “Not by choice; trust me,” I answer, and Courtney elbows me. I laugh.

  “My mother’s a little hard to handle,” Courtney explains.

  “So, when do I get to meet you?” Mom asks, looking back at Courtney.

  “Oh, I...um...” she stammers. “We’re probably only going to be married for a year.”

  My mom’s eyes widen.

  Shit.

  She looks toward me. “Is there something I need to know?”

  “Still just here for a season, Mom,” I assure her.

  “Have you two consummated your—”

  “Mom! Jesus Christ.” I start to stand.

  “Trae,” both Mom and Courtney scold me.

  Courtney continues, “Theresa, while meeting with my lawyer, something was brought to light that may help the team out a lot. We haven’t had time to really think it all through and weigh the options, or do a proper pros and cons assessment, but—”

  I let her talk. Why not? It’s the truth.

  “Assessment of a night that was a foolish, drunken mistake?”

  “It was, but you know...Well...”

  Now Mom is crossing a line. “Courtney, you’re fine. Mom, you—”

  “I like your son,” Courtney blurts out. “I like being around him, and we’re going to be around each other a lot for a few months. I haven’t made many friends here—well, none except for Gate Guard Bill. Hell, I even hired my best friend because I can’t trust anyone around me to do what’s right for the team, and I want this. I want to do something right and as independently as I can. I want to prove I can.”

  “I hear a lot of what you want, Courtney, but what about my son?”

  “Mom, I can assure you that I started this between us.”

  “To piss off that—” She stops and clamps her lips shut.

  “Yeah,” Courtney says quietly. “Plan B.”

  Everything is quiet. No one says a damn thing.

  Courtney leans back a little and turns, whispering, “We should just fix this, and—”

  “Enough,” I tell her. “We’ll do your little lists and shit; see if we can’t get Coach D’s ass out—”

  “You’re not getting anything out of this. I can’t do it. I’m a horrible—”

  I lean in close and whisper in her ear, “Her time. His season.”

  She closes her eyes and shrugs. “Still doesn’t seem right.”

  “Feels right, though, huh?” I smile then kiss her cheek.

  “Trae.”

  Fuck. I almost forgot my mom is still there. “Mom.”

  “Would you like to see Callie?”

  “Yes, of course.” I start to stand, but Courtney grips my knee, stopping me.

  “Can I see?”

  “You’ll have to be calm and quiet. She copes best that way,” Mom instructs as she walks down the hall, flipping the camera direction.

  “Of course,” Courtney says then looks back at me and smiles.

  I don’t know why it makes me nervous, but it does. Callie will never know. Well, that’s what the doctors tell me, anyway.

  “Is she having a good day?” I ask.

  “Yes, she is,” Mom answers.

  The door opens, and there she is, sitting on the blue mat, her dolls all lined up. She is rocking back and forth, holding her brown teddy bear in one hand and the hem of her shirt in the other, until she sees Mom.

  “Callie, the phone is for you.”

  “Hey, baby girl,” I say softly.

  She looks up at the phone, and I smile.

  “You wanna talk to me today?”

  She reaches up and grabs the phone. Then she places it on the floor in front of her and waves.

  I wave back.

  “We’re having a good day, aren’t we, Callie?” My mom squats down next to her.

  At this point, the phone normally gets set down, but she brings it closer, studying the screen. She puts her finger on it.

  “That’s Courtney; Daddy’s friend.”

  “Hi, Callie.” Courtney waves.

  Callie puts the phone down in front of her again, and then lies on her stomach, propping her head in her hands and just stares. Then she reaches off to the left. When her hand comes back into view, she is holding one of her dolls. One with long, dark hair. She looks at the doll then back at the screen several times, and then waves.

  I see Mom’s face as she stands over Callie. She looks at me, I look at her, and we both smile.

  Courtney waves at her again and says, “I like your dolly.”

  Callie holds it up then seems to try repeatedly to put it through the phone.

  “That’s okay,” Courtney says with a sweet smile. “You keep it.”

  I can see the frustration building in Callie and know it’s time to redirect.

  “Callie, I miss you and will see you soon.”

  She briefly looks away from the phone and grabs something. Then she holds the doll and the bear tight to her little chest, almost like she’s hugging them, and I swear she smiles.

  Mom walks out of the room and flips the camera’s direction. We smile at each other, and I see tears in her eyes.

  “Mom, don’t cry.”

  “She hugged a doll,” she explains.

  “She hugged a doll,” I repeat.

  “She’s associating it with your wife.”

  I stand up, wanting to shield Courtney from this, but it’s too damn important to table.

  Continuing, I walk into the kitchen, “She’s growing and changing.”

  “She pooped on the toilet today.”

  “She’s been doing it for a while, Mom.”

  “Trae, she pooped on the toilet,” she says slower.

  My eyes widen. “The real toilet?”

  “Yes, in the bathroom.”

  “Do you think me being away is a good thing?” It hurts to say, but fuck, it could be true.

  “No, Trae, like you said, she’s changing.”

  “And I’m missing it.” I shake my head.

  “It’s part of this. That room, the move—it all happened because of your talent.”

  “And Charlie Cohen’s deep pockets and probable hatred toward that fucking shitbag.”

  “Trae, your mouth.”

  “Yeah, well, it speaks the truth. You taught me that.”

  “I want to meet that wife of yours.”

  “Mom...” I shake my head.

  “You met her mother; it’s only fair.”

  “Like she and I both said, it wasn’t intended.”

  “Then what was intended, Trae?” she asks sternly as she sits at the kitchen counter.

  I shrug. “We need to see our way through this.”

  Mom looks past the screen and gasps.

  “What? Is she okay?”

  “She opened the door,” Mom whispers then hits the button, turning the camera around.

  I see Callie walking across the hall, holding both
the bear and the doll as she heads into the bathroom.

  Mom gets up, and we are in motion, neither of us saying anything. We know better.

  Right before Mom gets to the door, it shuts. I see her try the handle, and then she mumbles, “Shit.”

  “Is it locked?” I ask, trying to keep the obvious fucking anxiety over my little girl being locked in the damn bathroom at bay.

  “Yes. Shit,” she says, running down the hallway and toward the kitchen.

  “Keys are in the pantry, Mom. All of them. They’re marked.”

  I sit down and repeatedly hit my head against the phone. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I look over.

  “Is she okay?” Courtney asks.

  I nod. “She’ll be fine.”

  “Does this happen often?” She watches the phone screen intently.

  “No,” I answer, knowing I now sound panicked.

  Both her hands are now on my shoulders as she looks over my left one.

  “Got them!” Mom yells.

  “Shh...Stay calm,” I warn her, telling myself the same damn thing.

  She runs down the hall, camera bouncing, and I hear the lock pop. When the door swings open, I see Callie on the toilet, still holding the bear and doll.

  “Aw, yay, Callie!” Courtney laughs.

  Callie lifts her eyes, looking stunned.

  “I mean,” Courtney drops her voice to a whisper, “yay, Callie.”

  Callie smiles then looks down.

  “Good job, baby girl,” I whisper, making her smile grow, just like she is every day.

  “I’ll call you later?” Mom asks.

  “Yeah, of course.” I laugh as the screen goes blank. Then I turn and look at Courtney. Feeling a bit emotional and uncomfortable, I nod then shrug, telling her, “I should prep meals. You should”—I point at her piles of papers and Sharpies—“color or sort or whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

  She smiles. “Your baby is going on the potty.”

  I shrug. “Happens, right?”

  “Sure does.” She kisses my cheek then walks over to her piles, lies on her stomach, opens her planner, and goes to work. And yeah, right now, she reminds me of Callie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It’s All New Again

  COURTNEY

  I WATCH AS TRAE PUTS away his groceries, sputtering when he pulls out a dripping container of ice cream and tossing it into the garbage. He puts things where they are supposed to go without searching, and it suddenly occurs to me that he knows my home better than I do.