The Running Back: A New Adult Sports Romance ~ Sean (The Rookies Book 3)

by Zoë Lane

  I kept my eyes on Sean, who was across the parking lot talking to somebody.

  The team had an early morning practice given their last-second win the night before. Something about how they were going to work on some plays that should’ve been more effective against Miami, but weren’t.

  Sean had fumbled at least twice, but he’d scored the winning two-point conversion that had all their fans breathing a sigh of relief.

  The guy Sean was talking to had one hand in the air, pointing downward at Sean, his face contorted into a frustrated or displeased expression. Sean kept shaking his head. I weaved through the vehicles. If the angry guy would leave, I could talk to Sean before I had to work.

  “For the last time, I didn’t do it for you. I’m not accepting your money.”

  “Take it. And just keep playing like you did.”

  Sean’s shoulders hunched up, and he took a step closer to the guy. “I’m going to make it my mission not to drop another ball the rest of the season.”

  “Then I’m going to make it my mission to make sure you pay us what we’re owed.” He got into the passenger side of a nearby black vehicle with the darkest tinted windows, and it drove away.

  “What are they doing here so early?” I asked from behind Sean.

  Sean jumped and whirled, hand on his chest. “Geez, Lacey. You scared me.”

  “I’m sorry. What do you have to be scared about?”

  He frowned. “Nothing, I guess.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “You were having an argument with that guy. Who was he?”

  Sean sighed heavily and started walking toward the front doors of the HQ building. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. He’s a guy I know from the old neighborhood.”

  “Why was he giving you money?”

  He stopped and gave me a startled look. “You heard that?”

  I nodded.

  Sean started walking again. “He’s got some sort of gambling thing he’s doing. Was giving me money for dropping a couple of passes in last night’s game.”

  I gasped and put my hands on my mouth. “Sean, you threw the game?” I whispered loudly.

  He put his own hands on top of mine. “Shh! No! I didn’t throw the game. We won, remember?”

  I moved my hands, and he dropped his. “Then I don’t…”

  Sean leaned in close. “He’s betting against me. A lot of people, apparently. Thinks I won’t do well this season.”

  “That’s insane. You’re one of the best running backs. Why would they do that?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know. I think this thing runs deep. Either way, he’s threatening my family if I don’t do it.”

  “Sean! Are you going to do it?”

  His brows slanted down and he looked pissed. “No! I…I can’t mess up what I have. I’ve worked too hard.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  He shrugged. “Talk to the coach. See what he thinks.” He glanced around the parking lot. “Where’s Landyn?”

  “He’s already inside. He’s mad at me, so I’m not surprised he left me out here.”

  “Why is he mad?”

  I grinned at him. “Well, for starters, that fight you two had about me.”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “I was just telling him to give you some respect.”

  “I know. And I appreciate it.”

  He cocked a brow. “You do?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He licked his lips and grinned. “How much?”

  I giggled. “How ’bout I show you later? He said he was going to be busy tonight—out. Figured it’ll give me time to see you and my father.”

  His smile froze. “Wait. Did you say your father?”

  I nodded. “Going to take a bus and see him. I already set it up. Landyn doesn’t know.”

  “Uh, are you sure about that, Lace?”

  “I need to know what he knows. Besides, the investigator said people who knew my mother thinks she was probably murdered.”

  Sean blocked my progress by stepping in front of me. His beautiful amber eyes shone determination. “Then you are not going.”

  “What?”

  He put his hands on his thin hips. “Uh-uh, Lace. Not a good idea.”

  “You think you can order me around like Landyn, now? Guess you’re not too keen on seeing me tonight, then, huh?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t hold the kitten hostage. I’m just saying you want to go see a murderer about a woman he probably killed. Have you said that out loud? Because it sounds crazy.”

  There’s that word again.

  “Sean, I’ve got to know the truth. I feel…” I shrugged my shoulders, my hands going to my chest. “I feel like pieces of me are missing. I don’t even know what they are, but want those pieces back.”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  I nodded my head once. “Okay.” I stepped around him. “I’m going to be late, so let’s hurry up.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah. You want to come, right?”

  “Sure, I do. To protect you.”

  My lips slanted to one side. “I appreciate the gallantry, but I think I’ll be fine. He’s got a pregnant wife at home. What’s he going to do?”

  “I dunno. But with me there, he’s not going to try anything.”

  I smiled at his arrogance, or maybe confidence. He stood a little taller next to me, his gait more determined. My own personal bodyguard.

  I’d make it all up to him.

  Tonight.

  12

  LACEY

  “Would you like any sugar?” Abigail Gallagher asked after setting cups of tea in front of me and Sean. She eyed Sean with a slightly more narrowed look—as did Carter.

  “I’m so happy you came to see me,” Carter said for the fifth time since I’d entered their home.

  I squirmed on my seat on the couch. Sean adjusted his position until our legs touched. Instantly I relaxed.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” I said awkwardly. Again, for the fifth time. “No thanks,” I finally answered Abigail. She took her seat in an armchair, her hand rubbing her massive belly.

  They were having a boy.

  My half-brother.

  Landyn had felt helpless at the thought of another child being raised—or not—by Carter. I was indifferent. I didn’t know Abigail, and I certainly felt nothing for the baby, whom I hadn’t met.

  “So…how are things at school?”

  “Uh…” I glanced at Sean, who politely sipped his tea. “I’m taking this semester off. I was in the hospital for—”

  “Oh, right. I saw something about that on television. How are you feeling? You look really good.”

  I did not know this man.

  Not at all.

  Asking me questions about my life. Complimenting my appearance. He’d never cared when I was growing up.

  He looked really different too. Not sweaty with greasy hair and an overextended belly. He’d toned up, his hair was trimmed, as was his goatee, and he looked like he’d bathed recently. Like today, maybe.

  “Thanks,” I said flatly.

  “You’re welcome,” he said with a smile.

  I averted my gaze and drank some tea, burning my tongue in the process. “I just wanted to…”

  Chicken out.

  Wanted to talk to you about abandoning me, the abuse Landyn said you had committed, the murder of my mother. By the way, Abigail, I’d probably leave now while you and the baby are still alive. Did she have any bruises? I briefly scanned her neck and the area beneath her collarbone that was visible. Nothing.

  “How’s the baby?” I asked Abigail.

  She smiled thinly. “Due very soon. We’re hoping he has his father’s handsome looks.” Her lips parted in a wide smile as she gazed at her husband.

  Kinda made me feel a little like throwing up.

  “You have a name for him?”

  “We’re keeping that private.”

 
“Oh…”

  I took another sip, trying to gather my courage but finding myself failing. My eyes found my father, who watched my keenly, sitting with his elbows resting on the chair’s armrests, his hands clasped in front of him. After a few lingering seconds, he took a piece of gum out of his mouth.

  “You mind if I have one of those?” Sean asked.

  “Do you smoke?” Carter responded.

  “Uh, no.”

  “It’s for smokers trying to quit. I haven’t smoked since meeting Abigail, but I’ve had to chew a lot of gum.” His laugh mingled in with her fake one.

  He reached over to the drawer in the table separating his chair from Abigail’s and produced a pack.

  I stiffened. Cigarettes.

  “I keep this pack here—full, to tempt me. Each time I’m successful, it gets easier to chew the gum, because the gum is shit. But I love Abigail more than cigarettes.”

  “You better.” Her fake laugh rang out merrily again.

  “You remember this?” Carter held up his wrist, showing a circular scar.

  I shook my head.

  “You were probably ten or eleven, but you dropped my lit cigar onto my wrist.” He chuckled. “Kids… it’s a reminder that you can never be too careful.”

  My eyes found the burn scar on my wrist. My head hurt and I closed my eyes, seeing the clearest image of my childhood that I had in a long time.

  It was of me handing my father a plate and him knocking it out of my hand before grabbing my wrist and putting out his cigarette into my skin.

  Then a second one from when Carter had been lying on the sofa, drunk-smoking, and I’d yanked the cigar out of his mouth and burned him.

  Just like he’d said.

  I opened my eyes, and a tear escaped. I quickly brushed my cheek and put a smile on my face to hide my discomfort.

  That’s why I was afraid of cigarettes. Landyn had told me, but I hadn’t remembered.

  “Well…uh…” Sean started to say, looking at me imploringly.

  “Yeah. I was wondering if you could tell me about my mother,” I blurted out.

  I said it. I breathed out and my body relaxed a bit.

  Carter calmly placed the cigarettes back into the drawer and shut it firmly. “You want to know about your mother?” he asked, his voice much lower than it had been since I’d arrived.

  I glanced at Abigail, whose sour expression shifted from me to her husband’s.

  “Yes. I…I don’t remember her. It’s part of my therapy,” I added quickly, hoping that excuse would encourage him to speak. “My doctor said it would be great if you could share some memories. Help me piece together parts of my childhood I’m missing.”

  “How much are you missing?” Carter asked.

  “Uh… the parts with my mother in it.”

  “She left when you were three, so I’m not sure what else you think you’ll remember.”

  Sean shifted next to me. I glanced at him. His lips were sucked in, and his eyes a little rounder than normal. His unease made my heart beat quicker.

  “Do you remember some of her favorite sayings? Maybe that’ll trigger something that—”

  “I’d rather forget a woman who left me.” Carter looked at Sean. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Uh…probably, yeah,” Sean answered before dropping his head.

  I let out a frustrated breath. “Well, we’re trying to find her.”

  Carter’s brows came together. He laced his fingers again, and I got the chills. “Who’s we?”

  “My brother and I. We want to know why she left. I want to know. Can you tell me anything else?” I asked urgently.

  Carter laughed. “And here I thought you wanted to get to know me more. Visit with me. No. You want to know about that woman who didn’t have the decency to stick around and raise her own kids. Look at this woman.” He pointed to Abigail. “This is the only woman I care about. The only woman I’m going to talk about.”

  “What about what you said on TV?” I asked quickly, sensing we didn’t have much time left. “I forgive you and all”—complete lie—“but I want to know why you said those things about me. I’m not a prostitute!” I kept my eyes open so the air could dry the onset of moisture.

  He stood. “We’re done here.”

  Sean and I stood quickly. Abigail remained seated, her hand rubbing her belly, a satisfied grin on her face.

  Bitch.

  I almost felt sorry for my half-brother. But maybe he wouldn’t be a thing like her.

  Probably would.

  Sean and I were shown the door, and on the way back to our high-rise, Sean said, “Well, that didn’t go well. What do you think?”

  “I think he doesn’t care about my mother.” Or me, for that matter. Of course a man who could say those things about his own child wouldn’t care.

  “That’s obvious. You think he killed her though?”

  “He looked so happy with Abigail, that…I dunno. I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I didn’t drink a lot of that tea. Thought she probably poisoned it or something.”

  “Poison? Really, Sean?”

  “I saw the way she looked at me. She definitely spat in it.”

  I chuckled. “You’re paranoid.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you.”

  He glanced at me, his humorous expression now gone. He squeezed by thigh. “I saw you cry. What happened?”

  If he saw it, then Carter might’ve. “I had a memory. Two, actually.”

  “Wow. Really? Of what?”

  “Of him putting out a cigarette on my arm.” I showed him my wrist, which he glanced at between keeping his eyes on the road, since he was driving. His expression darkened. “And of me putting a cigar out on his.”

  He whistled. “Badass. You, I mean, not him. He’s just an asshole.”

  More of an asshole than me.

  13

  LACEY

  “You have better taste than my brother.”

  I looked around Sean’s apartment. Yes, he had the typical oversized reclining leather couch, and the massive mounted flat-screen television, but he also had interesting African and Chinese art on the walls, and a few sculptures on pedestals.

  “I didn’t know you liked art.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. I got really interested in college when I took an art history class. I was also able to take a quick summer trip to China and another one to Kenya. I love traveling.”

  “Guess you can’t really do it too much playing football,” I commented, my fingers itching to touch the safari-like landscape piece on the wall. The tall grasses actually looked like they were blowing in the breeze.

  Trick of the eyes.

  “Definitely not during the season, but we have a month off during the spring and summer. Before training camp in July.”

  “Where would you recommend I travel to?” I asked with a smile.

  I’d never been anywhere. Not outside the US. To travel across the world to China seemed liked a fantasy.

  “Kenya. Definitely Kenya,” he said enthusiastically. “The wildlife and—oh, man—Mount Kilimanjaro. That sight in the early morning at sunrise? That’s the best thing I’ve seen.” His eyes traveled across the living area. “Well, except maybe my Heisman,” he ended with a chuckle.

  I playfully rolled my eyes. “Right. You boys and your trophies.”

  I tossed my bag onto a chair and walked up to another picture of some mountains with interesting looking trees. “Where’s this?”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. “China,” he whispered into my ear.

  “Ah… Beautiful.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He nuzzled my neck, laying kisses there.

  I leaned back into him, feeling a long ridge behind his windbreaker pants. “Sean…” I closed my eyes and allowed my body to be explored by his hands.

  Large hands.

  Perfect for catching footballs.

  I faced him and pressed my mouth to his, eager to taste his tongue
and feel the softness of his lips. He pulled me in close. My breasts smashed against his hard chest, and he cupped my ass and drew me in tightly to his groin.

  My legs were up and straddling his waist. I was being carried somewhere, but I was too busy sucking on his gorgeous mouth. “I owe you a lap dance,” I breathed.

  “And you’re going to give it to me right now.”

  I giggled.

  I’d been near-death drunk that night, but I had recognized sexy-as-hell when I’d seen it. And that was Sean. Not as tall as Landyn, but so cut—everywhere.

  And he wasn’t a dick like most jocks.

  He was nice. And he liked kids. Not that I really cared about kids, but it was nice by societal standards anyways.

  He sat on a bed, and I rested my knees on either side of him. I dipped low into his groin and took my time kneading and grinding, encouraged by his grunts and groans.

  His hands worked to remove my top after he threw off his hoodie and t-shirt. He cupped my breasts with both hands. I raised my arms above my head and kept my hips moving.

  “If you don’t stop,” he said with difficulty, “this is going to be real short.”

  I grinned viciously. “Make me stop.”

  He growled and tossed me onto my back on the bed. I laughed. My pants were yanked to my ankles and flung somewhere in the dimly lit room. He grabbed my thighs from underneath my knees and roughly forced my legs up. I moaned, desire exploding in me.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “No need to beg, baby. I’m going to do whatever you want.”

  He slipped his boxers down. “I want you to touch me.”

  A loud banging noise and then Sean jumped back.

  “Miller! Lacey!”

  “Shit, it’s your brother!”

  I sucked in air and closed my eyes.

  “Don’t say anything. I’ll make him leave.”

  I felt the bed shake as he got off, but it kept shaking and wouldn’t stop.

  “I want you to touch it.”

  No! I don’t want to! I wanted to shout, but I couldn’t. If I did, I’d get in trouble.

  “Lacey!”

  My brother’s voice.

  “Don’t you touch her! Lacey!” My brother kept banging on the door.

  I rolled over and screamed into the pillow. I curled myself into a ball. I couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. But the man’s voice…his face…