Whatever Happens

by Lyla Grace

  “So, you’ve told him who you are then?” she presses.

  “Um…Not exactly.”

  She shakes her head. “Lexie, you need to tell him. If you don’t—”

  "He'll end up hating me and ending things? Same result if I do tell him. Either way, I lose, so I may just as well enjoy it while I can." Girl logic. Yes, the longer I keep it from him, the more devastating it will be when it ends. But it's going to end. That's a fact. So, what's wrong with enjoying it while it lasts? Either way, he hates me.

  “And fall more in love with him so your heart can be irreparable?”

  “I’m not in love with anyone. Lust, maybe. But, not love.”

  She laughs so hard that she snorts.

  When I approached Carter last week at the club, it was with one purpose – to have sex with him. The guy is gorgeous, with his sandy brown hair and washboard abs. I've always had a thing for football players, quarterbacks in particular. The thing is, I've never been able to date one before. The minute any man who knows anything about football hears my last name, there is only one question they ask: Are you Coach Masterson's daughter? Unfortunately, the answer is yes. The Knight's head coach, Carter's "boss," is my father. That is precisely why I have done everything in my power to avoid telling him my last name.

  None of this would be an issue if the man would have just stuck to my plan: sex, shower, see you. But, nope, he had to go and run me a bubble bath. Not to mention he's funny, smart and probably one of the sweetest guys I have ever met. Throw in the fact that the guy has the most amazing, non-stop cock I have ever seen. And, well, what can I say? He has me hooked.

  All of that will end the minute I tell him, Lexie Masterson. I know my dad; I know his rules. "Stay away from my daughter." I've heard it and felt the repercussions of it my whole life. So for now, he doesn't need to know. We can enjoy each other's company for a while. Have some laughs and some show-stopping sex and then part ways. When his arms are wrapped around me like they were last night, warm and safe, the portion where we part ways seems more difficult than I anticipated.

  “Whatever you say Lex, but I know that look. You like him.”

  Of course, I do. But it's a moot point. The minute Carter finds out who I am; we're finished. If only I would have told him that first night. I tried. But then he slid his hand under the water, between my legs,

  I groan. Out loud by the look on Abbie's face.

  “What’s not to like?” I say with a shrug.

  "Between the look on your face and the stories you've told me? Absolutely nothing. That is why I want you to tell him." I look at her utterly confused. "That way he'll dump your ass, and I can have my turn."

  I throw a pillow at her. “Over my dead body, you will.”

  "Oh yeah, you're not falling for him at all." I glare at her, but rather than care, she begins to sing Lexie and Carter, sitting in a tree F-U-C-K-ING. One verse of her rendition and I am doubled over laughing.

  “You’re an idiot,” I tell her, trying to control my laughter.

  When our laughter subsides, Abbie asks, "Hey, want to hit a club tonight? Do some dancing?"

  “Nah,” I tell her. “I’m pretty tired.”

  “Oh, so you’re going to stay home then?”

  I don’t reply.

  "Oh my God, you're seeing him again, aren't you? It has officially been seven days in a row."

  “Why the hell are you counting?”

  With her arms folded and an evil look in her eye, she says, "Just want to see how long it takes for everything to come crashing in on your lying ass."

  With my hands on my hips, I say, “I’ll tell him today. Satisfied?”

  "I call bullshit," she laughs. "Make sure to pass my number to Carter before he kicks you out."

  “Some friend you are.”

  “When it comes to hot ass football players, it is every woman for herself.”

  That reasoning right there is precisely why when he opens the door to let me in, I forget any idea I may have had of telling him who I am. Instead, I lose myself in his eyes. A look filled with desire. It's a desire that is about more than just sex. That part that's the best; he wants me, and he likes me - just the way I am. From the moment we met, I felt an instant connection to him, one so pure that I never felt the need to be "extra" like I would be with other men to grab their attention.

  We are real. One hundred percent real. That is what makes the idea of this all caving in on me that much more awful.

  “You okay?” he asks the moment he lays eyes on me.

  "Never been better," I reply mustering up a smile. It's simultaneously the biggest lie and most important truth I have ever told.

  The concern in his eyes is evident. It’s sweet and makes my heart smile. I give him a gentle kiss as I enter the house.

  “Can I ask you a favor?” he says.

  “Anything,” I reply.

  “Would you mind taking a look at my shoulder? Tell me what you think?”

  “What? Why? I’m sure you have the best of the best looking after you.”

  “Maybe. But I trust you.” Oh hell. Guilt kicks in instantly. “So, what do you say?”

  I make my way closer to him and gently remove his arm from the sling.

  “Tell me when it hurts,” I say.

  With extreme caution, I begin to manipulate his arm. Everything “feels” okay; the surgery did what it was supposed to. But the tightness, the scaring, it’s not right.

  “What did you do?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” he replies.

  “Your arm is bad. It shouldn’t be like this after the surgery and weeks of therapy. So, what did you do to reaggravate it?”

  His shoulders slump, eyes trained on the floor. “I uh, got into a fight.”

  "You got into a fight and hit someone with the fist that connects to an arm on which you just had surgery? Have you lost your mind?"

  “Kind of,” he smirks. “Until I met you.”

  I blush uncontrollably at the compliment. But, the other part of me, the therapist, is concerned. Setbacks like that can end up permanent. If that’s not bad enough on its own, I’m pretty sure if my dad finds out he’s going to kill him. “Why would you risk it?”

  He doesn’t look at me while he speaks. “I was pissed and stupid and drunk. I was out with the guys one night; I was fed up with everything and tired of listening to them talk about how well practice was going. So, I drank more and started running my mouth. Some guy bumped into my arm, called me a pussy in a sling…” He hangs his head. "One thing led to another, I lost my cool, and the sling came off. I punch him square in the jaw, he hit the ground, and my shoulder hurt damn near as bad as it did when I first injured it."

  I find it so hard to believe because everything I have come to know about Carter the last week is the exact opposite of that story. He's kind and gentle – mild-mannered, not some raving lunatic. Though I do suppose having the thing you love most taken away from you could do some severe mental damage.

  “Promise me you won’t do it again,” I say.

  His lips curl into a smile. “Are you saying that as a therapist? Or as my girlfriend?”

  He's looking at me now, patiently waiting for my reply. Girlfriend? Is that what he wants? My heart does this weird pitter-patter thing, and my stomach has butterflies. It's exactly what I wanted to avoid today, losing him. But his question leaves me little choice. I have to tell him.

  “Carter, there’s something I need to tell you,” I say.

  “What’s that?” he asks as he caresses my face. The way he’s looking at me, the adoration, eyes filled with emotion.

  “I really like you,” I blurt out. Definitely not what I intended on saying and certainly not what I should have said. But, it is what it is. And in the least, it is the truth.

  “Back at ya, Princess,” he says with a smirk. His lips brush against mine in the most gentle of kisses. “So? Girlfriend?”

  "Yes. Girlfriend." I say the word because it feels so surre
al even if it is only for a short while until I tell him the truth.

  If it's even possible, his smile gets bigger. He looks like a little boy on Christmas morning after Santa just brought him his favorite gift. When he grabs me and tosses me over his good shoulder, a squeal escapes me. This moment is officially the happiest of my life.

  Chapter 5 – Carter

  She giggles as I climb on top of her, my stubble tickling her neck. “Carter, stop,” she laughs as she tries to swat me away.

  “Oh come on, one more time,” I say. My dick is in love with her and likes to show her just how much, repeatedly.

  “I have a meeting,” she replies between kisses.

  "Can't you be late? Just this once?" It's been nearly two weeks since I first met her, and I'll be damned, but I think I might be in love with this girl. My kisses trail down to her breasts, then to her stomach. I look up at her. "Please?"

  Her hands hold my face steady. "Tonight, I promise. I really do have to go. I need to stop at home and change." She crawls out from under me. "Besides, your phone is going off like crazy."

  She's right; it is. Given a choice between her and whoever is messaging me, I choose her, hands down.

  "Maybe you should leave some stuff here. That way, you don't have to rush home to get ready all the time." She stops dressing and stares at me like I have grown a second head. "What?"

  "Carter, it's barely been two weeks. I can't. I shouldn't…"

  I get out of bed and hand her the shirt I tore off of her last night. “It’s up to you, but the offer stands.”

  I grab my phone and give it a quick glance. Sixty text messages? What the hell?

  “Everything okay?” she asks as she finishes getting ready.

  Everything is not okay. Far from it. From the video, Green sent me to the texts that follow ending with an apology. Shit. How the hell did this happen?

  Stupid question. I know exactly how this happened. Green. Asshole.

  My eyes cannot believe what they are seeing; me, Lexie, and a compromising position against my truck.

  "What is it?" she asks as she glances over my shoulder to see. I try to shield her from it, but she grabs the phone from my hand. "Oh, my God."

  "It's okay," I tell her. It's not. Nothing about this is okay. It's bad enough that it's happening to me. For Lexie to be in it? My Lexie? I keep picturing men ogling her, whacking off thinking about her. No, this is not okay.

  She watches the video in slow motion.

  “You never see your face,” I tell her. Not that it’s much of a consolation, but at least no one will know it’s her. Though, with our dating, I am sure they will suspect.

  She shoves the phone into my chest. “I have to go,” she says. “I’m going to be late.”

  “Lex, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this. I’ll fix it, somehow.”

  "I can't deal with this right now. I really need to go." With a quick kiss, she hurries out of the room, then the house, the door slamming behind her.

  I look back down at the phone and the still of me with my mouth on Lexie, pleasuring her. I’m going to kill him.

  I stalk into the locker room. "Where is Green?" I shout.

  Landon’s hands are on me in an instant when I see Green, Chase’s following suit.

  “You son-of-a-bitch! What the hell did you do? Why the fuck would you do this to me?” I shout.

  “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t…” Green stammers.

  “You didn’t mean to? You didn’t mean to take the video? Or you didn’t mean to send it out to the world?” I struggle against Landon’s hold.

  “Man, it’s not what you think. It was just supposed to be funny. I only sent it to the guys,” Green tries to explain.

  I don't give a shit what he's saying. All I care about is connecting my fist with his face. Even though I know, it's more my fault than it is his. I should have been more careful. Hell, I shouldn't have done it.

  “Wallace, get your ass in here, now,” Coach yells.

  “This isn’t over,” I warn Green before I break away for Landon and head to the coach’s office.

  I slink into the chair, ready for the lecture I am sure he is going to give me because I am already giving myself one.

  I hear the door open behind me. "Hi Daddy, sorry, I'm late." That is not something I was expecting to hear. It can't be. I turn toward the voice that sounds insanely familiar and just called my coach, "Daddy."

  No, no, no, no, no. This cannot be happening. What the fuck is going on here?

  “Coach, I can explain,” I tell him. I need to give him my side. I hope he believes me when I tell him that I didn’t know she was his daughter. I’m not that stupid.

  Coach Masterson holds up his hand. “Please. Don’t.”

  There goes my football career, everything I have been working for my entire life. All because I couldn't keep my dick in my pants.

  “I thought we were meeting to talk about my job,” Lexie says as she stands next to me, hands on her hips. For the first time since the night we met, I see shades of the spoiled rich girl that I first thought she was.

  “Yes, Lexie, I am well aware of why I asked you here. Now, sit down.” She takes a seat next to me. “Carter, this is my daughter Lexie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Carter,” Lexie says as she extends her hand to me, the same hand that she had been stroking up and down my cock last night.

  I stare at her for a long minute, my eyes searching for an answer in hers. “Hi.”

  Pleasantries are over, but I'm still holding her hand. I can't take my eyes off her. Moreover, I cannot wrap my head around what the hell is happing. She glances down at our still joined hands, and when she does, I yank mine back.

  "I'll just go and let you two talk," I say. I begin to stand from my seat, needing to get the hell out of this office, but he stops me.

  "Sit your ass down, Wallace. I'm not finished with you yet," he says.

  Coach begins to pace. “What the hell were you thinking? Christ Carter, I know that this injury sucks, but at this rate, your behavior is going to destroy your career before your shoulder does. Drinking, bar fights, and now a sex tape?” Coach shakes his head. “I expect this shit from some of the other guys but not you.” He looks me in the eye, disappointment written all over his face.

  “I know, I’m sorry Coach,” I admit. “I’ll do better.”

  "Damn right, you will," he says.

  “I hate to interrupt, but what does any of this have to do with me?” Lexie chimes in.

  “I’m glad you asked,” Coach responds. “I know you have been dying to get onto the staff here, so I have a proposition for you.”

  “Whatever it is, I accept,” Lexie says eagerly.

  It's become evident that she wants to be a part of our training staff. And based on the way this conversation seems to be going, I'm her ticket to getting there. To think I thought she gave a damn about me.

  “I need you to be Carter’s dedicated therapist,” Coach says.

  "I already have a therapist," I argue. "A real therapist. Not some chick that is trying to earn Daddy's approval."

  Lexie's mouth falls open. Hurt written all over her face. Good. She deserves it after damn near destroying my life. And, for making me fall for her.

  "Lexie is a therapist, a damn good one at that," Coach remarks. Despite the compliment, her father just gave her, Lexie's unhappy.

  “Thanks, Daddy, but if Carter doesn’t want to work with me…”

  “He doesn’t have a choice.”

  Like hell, I don’t.

  “This is coming from above me. You violated your contract, so either you do what I say or…”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I shout. “That’s not fair. I fucked up, but it’s no worse than what anyone else has done. Jesus, Chase is a great example.”

  “Chase didn’t sign with the same terms you did. Besides, that’s not the point. The point is, you’re doing your therapy with Lexie, and that’s final.”


  I lean back in the chair, arms folded across my chest. “Fine.”

  “So if I can get his arm better pre-season…” she says.

  “You get the trainer position, yes,” Coach replies.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” she replies.

  Great. What do I get? Tortured having to spend time with the woman I am falling for, but apparently, don't know at all.

  “Can I go now?” I ask.

  “Not yet,” Coach begins. “There’s one last thing.”

  What else could there possibly be? What more of a fresh hell could he put me through? Though I suppose I should be grateful that you can't see Lexie's face in that video. Because if you could, if he knew. Fuck.

  “Carter, you’re going home. I already talked to Rick about it; we both think it’s best if you lie low for a while. You need to get your shit together and get back on the straight and narrow.”

  I'm not thrilled about the idea, the last thing I need right now is to see Cody considering how pissed I still am about the accident, but he's right. How the hell is Lexie going to do my therapy if. Oh no. No. He can't do that to me.

  “And Lexie’s going with you,” he finishes.

  "No way," I tell him. "Not happening. This idea is bullshit."

  Coach shrugs. “Bullshit or not, it is what it is. All you have to do is go home, work on your arm, and in the end, you will both get what you want,” he says.

  Except that I won't. Because what I want is sitting right next to me. And it's the one thing that I cannot have – Coach's daughter. A woman that I actually thought could be "the one." If the man is trying to punish me, he has no idea how good of a job he's doing with this little set-up.

  Coach takes a seat at his desk; a motion that both Lexie and I seem to be aware of that means he has dismissed us.

  I stalk out of the building and head straight to my truck. My head is spinning. First the sex tape, then finding out Lexie is my Coach's daughter? How the hell could she do this to me? I thought we had something special. It seems that I am nothing more than her meal ticket after all – straight to her dream job. Fuck I am such an idiot.

  I can hear her calling after me, but I don’t stop. I don’t want to talk to her. Hell, I can’t even look at her right now. I need time to process this. Not that I have much since apparently Lexie is coming home with me. God, this is a disaster.