Scoring Off the Field

by Naima Simone

  Unlike Tenny. Who’d not only made the decision but had sought the opportunity to move several states away. How ironic that he’d been worried that sex would damage their relationship, when it’d been in trouble even before the first time they’d made love.

  Made love. As soon as the phrase echoed in his head, he mentally recoiled from it. He didn’t make love; he fucked. One required commitment, promises. The other just good ol’ fashioned animal lust. That’s what he did…what he’d always do.

  Even the words rang hollow in his head.

  The truth was his best friend had left a wide, gaping hole in his life, in his fucking chest, since she’d walked out of that hospital room three days ago.

  “For someone who’s supposed to be celebrating, you look like someone pissed in your cornflakes,” Ronin said, dropping onto the couch next to him. Leaning forward, he nabbed one of the bottles from the ice bucket on the low table in front of them. “I was wondering why you agreed to come out. This isn’t really your thing.”

  Dom didn’t immediately reply, instead chugging another gulp of beer. “I could say the same for you,” he finally said, arching an eyebrow. “How did you get in here wearing that anyway? Doesn’t this place have a dress code?”

  Ronin glanced down at his black T-shirt with a vintage Harley Davidson logo, worn, ripped jeans, and brown hiking boots. “What’s wrong with what I have on? This is my best shirt.”

  Snorting, Dom shook his head.

  “You know just because Jensen had one good game doesn’t mean he’s going to replace you, right? The kid’s good, but he’s still young and needs more experience. And besides, you’re our quarterback. There’s not a man on this team who doesn’t recognize that or doesn’t have your back.” The observation, as well as Ronin’s uncharacteristically serious tone, had Dom jerking his head in his friend’s direction. “You think I don’t know what’s being bothering you? What’s been bothering you since Wednesday?” Ronin continued, giving Dom a mocking half smile. He tapped his temple with the opening of his bottle. “Vulcan mind meld. You bitches better not ever doubt me again.” He grinned, his gravity disappearing as if it’d never been.

  Dom stared at his friend, unable to speak because of the boulder of emotion lodged in his throat. He sipped his beer, nodding at Ronin. And maybe the other man understood, because he clapped him on the shoulder, then turned and started flirting with their cocktail waitress.

  “Dom!” the familiar voice called out his name, and Dom glanced in the direction of the entrance to the VIP section. Brian stood in the door, partially blocked by the club’s security.

  Frowning, Dom jerked his chin at the built-like-a-tank bouncer, indicating he could allow his agent in the cordoned-off area. The man shifted aside, and Brian entered, followed by a tall, slender, lovely redhead in a short, tight, black dress that showcased all her…assets.

  “Daaaaaamn.” Ronin drawled. “That Brian’s woman?”

  “I don’t know,” Dom said, shrugging. “She looks familiar, though.”

  “Dom, Ronin.” Brian approached them with a big grin. He settled a palm on the small of the woman’s back as Ronin and Dom stood. “I’d like you both to meet Megan Wright. Megan, Dominic Anderson and Ronin Palamo, quarterback and wide receiver for the Washington Warriors.”

  “Nice to meet you, Megan,” Ronin greeted with a smile.

  “Megan.” Dom extended his hand, and she slid her palm across his. “A pleasure.”

  Her fingers squeezed his, holding on a couple of seconds longer than the required, polite handshake. O-kay. Dom glanced at Brian, but his agent seemed oblivious to his date’s flirting. Extricating his hand, he switched his attention to Brian. “When I talked to you earlier, you didn’t mention coming here.”

  Brian’s smile widened. “It was a spur of the moment decision. I was having dinner with Megan and her agent when we spoke. Since she’s been wanting to meet you, we swung by.”

  “Megan’s agent?” Dom repeated, suspicion burrowing inside him.

  “Yes. Since you were unable to attend her movie premiere, I thought this would be a wonderful opportunity for you two to finally get together.” Brian shifted his hold to Megan’s elbow and guided her down to the cushion next to Dom. “She’s a huge fan.”

  “I am.” Megan smiled, settling close beside him, her blue eyes warm with an invitation he had no intention of accepting. He wasn’t being narcissistic; he’d been around and with enough women to recognize when one was attracted to him and throwing signals. Megan was hurling them at a hundred miles an hour. “Last year, you passed for fifty touchdowns during the regular season, three game-winning drives, a 75% completion percentage, and a 99.9 quarterback rating.”

  He blinked. “Okay, I believe you’re a fan,” he drawled, even as anger slid through his veins. Fucking Brian had ambushed him after he’d told the bastard he had no intention of meeting or hooking up with the actress. What? Had he believed seeing her face-to-face and finding out she could recite stats would change his mind?

  “I hope you don’t mind us barging in on your night. Since you couldn’t make the premiere, which I was really disappointed about,” she purred, wearing a pout that, at one time, he might have found sexy, “I jumped on this chance.” Her fingers gently touched his thigh, and he barely managed to control the flinch from her touch. It felt…wrong.

  “Megan, I’m hoping you might be able to change his mind now that he’s met you,” Brian said with a chuckle.

  His agent’s remark struck a match to the fury already pouring through him. Dom struggled to hang on to his polite smile, when he really longed to shove her hand off him and punch his agent in the face for putting him in this position.

  “Listen, Megan, I’m sorry.” Dom stood, hoping his smile didn’t appear as fake as it felt on his mouth. Well, actually, nope. He didn’t give a flying fuck if it did. “Brian, can I speak with you for a moment? Privately,” he stressed, injecting enough steel into the request his agent would have to be deaf not to recognize it as a demand.

  Not waiting to hear or receive Brian’s agreement, Dom strode from the VIP section. He descended the steps and waited for the other man in the alcove beneath the staircase. Seconds later, his agent appeared.

  “What the fuck, Brian?” he growled.

  “What?” Brian shrugged, his palms held face up. “What’s the problem?”

  “Don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look,” Dom snapped. “And it’s an insult. What the hell were you thinking bringing Megan Wright here after I told you I didn’t want to be seen with her?”

  “No,” Brian disagreed, cocking his head to the side. “You said you didn’t want to escort her to the premiere. You didn’t mention anything about not being seen with her.”

  “So we’re splitting hairs now?” He laughed, and he wasn’t in the least bit amused. He was pissed. “You know damn well what I meant. I said no, but you’re just going to force me to bend to what you want? I thought I was the client and had the final say.”

  His agent’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “C’mon, Dom. We both know you made that decision with your dick.”

  “Excuse me?” A flicker of anger leaped in his chest, burning there and growing hotter by the second.

  Brian scoffed. “What? You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice? Wouldn’t know that you and your best friend are fucking?” His sneer deepened into something uglier. “Admit it, Dom. You wouldn’t have turned down this opportunity if not for her. I told her she was a hindrance to you. Dead weight. An albatross that’s been dragging you down from the beginning. It’s time you made a decision about what’s more important to you. A chick or your future.”

  Dead weight. Dragging you down.

  A hindrance.

  Immediately, Tenny’s statement punched him in the gut.

  “I don’t want to be a hindrance to you, to your career.”

  That flicker burst into a backdraft of fury. It’d been Brian who’d put that shit in Tenny’s head. Brian who had made
her feel like a detriment to Dom’s career. Brian who’d—

  No, that was you, asshole, the snide indictment from inside his head taunted.

  He smothered an anguished moan.

  Brian might’ve planted the seeds of that thought, but it’d been Dom who’d sown and nurtured it with his actions and complicit silence. And all because he’d been too afraid of losing control over his career, his life… So instead, he’d been a coward and driven her away.

  She’d never been a stumbling block, a hindrance. At one point, her very existence had pushed him to keep his head on straight when he could’ve easily tripped off that path into drugs or crime. As angry as he’d been, even in spite of being adopted and given a family, that decision might not have surprised anyone. But because of Tennyson, because she’d needed him, he’d played his ass off and worked hard so they could both have lives they’d only dreamed about. She’d been his anchor, his one security, because when everything changed around him, she never had.

  If not for her, he may not have had football, his career, his present or future.

  So now he had to decide. Did he exist in fear, constantly protecting himself? Or did he live how he ran out on that football field every Sunday? Bold, resilient, unafraid, confident that he didn’t have to guard himself because he had someone—Tennyson—who cared about him already doing so.

  So yes, God yes.

  He had nothing without her. His game sucked. His playing sucked. His fucking life sucked.

  He chose her.

  A rush of breath exhaled from his lungs. Hope and a fair share of fear huddled in his chest.

  Fear of moving out of their friendship that was as familiar and comfortable to him as running out on that field every day. Fear of fumbling and ruining the most important relationship in his life. Fear of not knowing what the fuck he was doing.

  But he had to try.

  He clapped Brian on the shoulder. “Thank you, Brian.”

  The other man frowned, but then grinned, a smug satisfaction suffusing his expression. “Of course. You’re welcome. That’s what I’m here for, to help you make the tough decisions.”

  “You’re so right.” Dom pounded Brian on the shoulder again. “By the way, you’re fired.”

  Striding away while his ex-agent sputtered in outrage, Dom pulled his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. He scrolled through his contacts and located the number he needed. After hitting call, he listened to the other line ring several times as he maneuvered through the throngs of people.

  “Declan.” Though the game had been over for hours and he should’ve been home, relaxing, Coach Declan sounded alert and wide awake. Knowing the man, he was probably back at his office in the practice facility. He never stopped working.

  “Hey, Coach,” Dom greeted, more of that fear throbbing inside him. “I need to meet with you tomorrow. The earlier the better.”

  “You’ve called me now, Dom. Talk. What’s the problem? If it’s about whether or not you’re playing in the upcoming game, you know I won’t make that decision until Friday,” his coach warned.

  Pushing through a side exit, Dom cupped the back of his neck, staring down at the ground. “It’s not about that. Well, in a way it is. God.” He blew out a hard breath. These were the hardest words he’d ever had to say to this man. “Coach, I’m going to miss practice on Wednesday and Thursday.” If not for an appointment on Tuesday that had been arranged weeks ago—an appointment he needed to keep—he would leave tonight.

  A long pause seemed to echo louder and louder over the line.

  “Excuse me?” the other man said, softly. Ominously.

  Damn. Even as he uttered the words, he still couldn’t believe he’d stated them. He was about to commit a mortal football sin, very possibly lose his chance to play Sunday or any games after that. Hell, he was about to put everything on the line.

  But for Tenny, it was worth it.

  “If it wasn’t important, there’s no way in hell I’d miss a practice, but trust me, Coach. It’s important,” he said, knowing that excuse wasn’t going to fly with the stern but fair man.

  “I’m not going to sugarcoat shit for you, Dom.” Dom caught the creak as if the other man was adjusting his large frame in his ancient office chair. “A fine is the least of your worries when it comes to skipping out. You’ve been injured, you didn’t play this week, and we won. Add in you haven’t been at your best the last few games. Your position could be on the line for the rest of the season. And it could mean your damn job with your contract up for renewal. Is what you’re missing practice for worth all that?”

  Dom sighed, everything Coach Declan pointed out piling up like bricks on his shoulders. This was what he’d worked for, to not just play, but to start for the Warriors. To be the best. Now, as he faced the possibility of watching all he’d worked so hard for slip between his fingers, none of it terrified him as much as losing Tenny forever. Of not having her in his life.

  “Yes,” he answered Declan’s question. “Yes, it’s worth it. I know I’m in somewhat of a slump. But if I don’t somehow fix what I’m missing practice for, that slump won’t be fixed either.”

  He didn’t know how seeing Tenny would solve his issues with his season and his playing, but one thing was as certain and strong for him as the stench of piss in the side alley he stood in.

  If he didn’t talk to her, make a play for her, tell her how much of an asshole he’d been, his game would just get worse. And so would his life.

  A heavy sigh rolled down the connection. “Fine, Dom. If your mind is made up, there’s nothing I can say. But just know nothing is guaranteed, and there are consequences for everything.”

  As Dom said goodbye and ended the call, Coach Declan’s last words reverberated in his head like an eerie foreshadowing.

  He was headed to Dayton, but he had no idea what awaited him when he got there.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tennyson emerged from the hotel bathroom, the steam from her shower following her out. Sighing, she tightened the belt of her robe around her and pulled the band from her hair.

  God, she was tired.

  She glanced at the digital clock over her shoulder on the bedside table. Just two o’clock in the afternoon. But it might as well have been two a.m. considering the weariness that weighed down her shoulders like wet sandbags.

  Unable to sleep the night before, she’d stared at the cream-colored walls of her hotel room for hours. Nerves hadn’t kept her up; she’d like to blame her tossing and turning on anxiety and excitement over this job opportunity—this possible new life—for her. But she couldn’t.

  The past few weeks had sped through her mind like a movie reel. Moments of joy, laughter, desire, anger, disappointment, and grief. Images of Zeph, Ronin, Sophia, Renee…Dom. Always Dom. Especially those last moments in the hospital room.

  When the infomercials finally started to roll on, she’d gratefully dropped off in a restless doze. Because her mind had slowed down, the memories had paused even for those few, short hours.

  An extra layer of makeup had been required that morning so she didn’t resemble the walking dead for her eleven o’clock interview at the County offices. An interview that she’d managed to reschedule to Wednesday since she was in Dayton a week early. It had gone very well. Better than she could’ve hoped.

  And a part of her still remained shell-shocked that she’d turned the job down.

  Exhaling, she flattened her palms on the bathroom counter and leaned forward, studying her reflection. Exhaustion stared back at her. Hurt did as well. Even a little bit of fear. But so did strength and resolve. Certainty.

  At some point between the fountain of youth miracle cream infomercial and an episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent, she’d had an epiphany. All of this—her secret of unrequited love, keeping Dom in the dark for years about her feelings, refusing to tell Dom she loved him—had been more about her than Dom. Her insecurities, her doubts, her fears.

  She’d started this
journey to Dayton, had pursued it, because it’d meant finally discovering who Tennyson Clark was meant to be. Finding out if she could stand on her own without Dom as a safety net. Learning to forge her own path, be her own person. Those had been her reasons for moving to Dayton. At least the ones she’d told herself to justify the truth.

  She was running. From her past. From her feelings for Dom. From herself.

  And, God, she was so tired of running.

  On Monday and Tuesday, she’d spent hours scoping out possible apartments, but she’d also visited the house she’d lived in with her mother. It was abandoned now, the windows boarded up, the steps cracked and broken, her one parent long gone. But standing on that sidewalk, remembering the terrified child she’d been, it’d hit her: she was a survivor. She’d not just endured, but survived.

  The strength she’d been seeking in herself had been there all along.

  That sounded cheesy as hell even in her own head, but there it was.

  So she was going home. To Seattle. Back to her family, the one she’d created through close friendships rather than birth. Back to her present and her future. And if it didn’t include Dom, okay. She could deal with that. Because none of what she’d told him last Thursday had changed. She deserved someone who loved her above everything else. The house of her childhood had only reaffirmed that resolve.

  She wasn’t returning to Seattle for him, but for her.

  A quick, hard knock echoed in the hotel room.

  For several seconds, she frowned, staring at the door. Who could that possibly be? She hadn’t ordered room service. And it was extremely doubtful Veronica Maitland had showed up to ask her to reconsider. She snorted. Yeah, right.

  Still frowning, she crossed the room and pressed her eye to the peephole.

  Oh my God. It couldn’t…

  Heart thumping against her sternum like a jackhammer, she peered once more through the glass. But the person on the other side remained the same.

  Dom.

  She blinked. Blinked again, making no move to open the door.