By some cruel twist of fate and a boot in the butt by two interfering friends, they'd been forced together, and he didn't regret one moment.
Sex with Rachel had never been a quick screw. It went so much deeper. Deep enough that he'd fallen for her all over again, only worse this time. This time he didn't want to let go. Ever.
His heart dug in its heels and fought for all it was worth. Even while denial fought to dominate the line of scrimmage, the reality of their situation smacked him up against the goalposts. Like a well-orchestrated game plan, things between them clicked along until all the pieces fell into place and left him with one undeniable truth.
He loved her.
Weird. Crazy weird.
He always thought love would be a trap, claustrophobic and unwelcome. He didn't feel trapped or smothered; he felt freed and content. In fact, he felt damn good.
Rachel filled every empty part of him. Gave him new life and a new outlook. When she had his back, he believed he could do anything. She'd given him back his game, his desire, his confidence. He'd grown to trust her with his innermost secrets and, more importantly, with his heart.
Which led him to an unlikely spot—her father's doorstep.
Derek rapped on the door and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. His hands shook, and he jammed them in his pockets, mortified that anyone, especially Rachel's male relatives, might see him as such a nervous wreck.
Mitch opened the door and glowered at him, the disgust on his face clearer than the headlines on Monday's sports page. Without a word, Rachel's surly brother stood back, allowing Derek past him into the dark, dreary spaces of the mobile home.
Derek hesitated and waited for Mitch to lead the way into the cramped dining room. Coach sat at the Formica table, an unreadable expression on his face. Derek's once formidable high school coach didn't look so formidable now. He'd aged decades in a few short years. His hair had grayed, and his eyes were devoid of their usual intensity and energy.
Mitch dropped into the chair next to his father, leaving Derek the only empty space across the table. Derek sat, keeping his hands anchored to his thighs and out of sight. He shifted in his chair and stared at the table, gathering his thoughts. Lifting his head, he faced a tough crowd.
"I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to meet with me today.” His voice sounded clear and calm in direct contrast to the turbulence buffeting his insides.
Both men stared at him. Not a word, their faces etched in stone and giving nothing away.
"I wanted both your sons here, but I guess Riley couldn't make it.” Derek addressed his old coach. The man just nodded and munched on a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table.
Mitch snarled something unintelligible.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Derek dived into enemy territory. “I want to marry your daughter."
"What the hell?” Mitch tried to rise to his feet, but his father clamped a restraining hand on his son's shoulder. Mitch sat back down. His gaze shot daggers at Derek from across the table.
"Is she pregnant?” Dave McCormick spoke for the first time. Their eyes met momentarily before Coach focused his attention on finding the best kernel of popcorn in the bowl.
"No, sir, she's not.” Derek swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead.
Mitch started to open his mouth, but Coach shut him up with a withering look.
"Let me handle this, Mitch.” Dave McCormick sat back in his chair and assessed Derek with shrewd eyes. Derek fought to keep from squirming in his chair. For a moment, he was transported back to his high school days when his coach approached him on the sidelines and evaluated his performance with a few effective words. Always spot-on. He hadn't a clue if he passed muster this time around.
"Why do you want to marry my daughter?” Coach put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, abandoning his interest in the popcorn bowl.
"I love her.” There, it was out. Just saying it liberated him.
"Bullshit.” Mitch snorted and rolled his eyes.
Coach glared at Mitch, then turned back to Derek. “I don't find that so far-fetched. Rachel is a catch for any man.” Spoken like a true devoted father.
Derek almost grinned. “I'd prefer to have your blessing. I know I have a lot to prove to you and your family. Give me a chance. I promise I'll make her happy."
Coach rubbed his chin and considered Derek's words. “It takes a lot of guts coming here. I respect that."
Mitch shot to his feet and leaned over the table. This time he ignored his father's protests. “You have a hell of a lot of nerve coming here with your bullshit. You don't love Rachel. You're here to buy her silence and ours."
Confused, Derek stared up at Mitch. “Silence? For what?"
"Don't play stupid with me, Ramsey. You sold Dad out. You ruined his career, his future, and took Rachel and me down with him."
"What the hell are you talking about?” Derek glanced at Coach. The man wasn't looking at either of them; instead he'd become absorbed in that damn bowl of popcorn once again.
"You helped Tyler shave points. Admit it.” Mitch glared down at him.
"What?” Derek stood to his full height and angled his body into Mitch's personal space. Eye to eye, nose to nose, they stared each other down.
"You two shaved points in the championship game, did too good of a job, and lost the state championship."
"You're fucking crazy. I never did any such thing.” Derek gripped the edge of the table to prevent slamming his fists into Mitch's smug face.
"Maybe you weren't directly involved, but covering for Tyler is as good as doing the deed yourself."
"I never covered for Tyler. Ty didn't shave points any more than I did. What the hell would we have to gain?"
"Money. Everyone knows Tyler's a greedy bastard, and you always have his back."
"Ty didn't need money growing up. His family had plenty."
"If neither of you did it, then you're insinuating my father did it.” Mitch slammed a fist into the table.
"No, I'm not. I haven't a clue what happened. All I know is I went up for a Hail Mary in the end zone and ended up fighting my own teammate for the ball. Why don't you ask Jacob Lantz who shaved points? The guy was in my face all night, tripping me up every chance he got.” Odd, he'd never even thought about Jacob until now. Everyone knew Jacob was accident-prone. Derek had never considered the possibility his teammate had intentionally gotten in his way that night. Until now.
Derek rubbed his face and dropped back into his chair. Weariness settled over him. He looked to his one-time mentor. “Tell him, Coach. Ty and I didn't have anything to do with it. You know us better than that."
Coach shrugged, avoiding Derek's gaze. “I don't know what to think. Jacob didn't play enough to influence the game. Even though he got excited on the last play and fought the wrong guy for the ball, stuff happened to get us to that point, stuff he didn't participate in."
Derek stared from father to son, speechless and shocked. He struggled to find the right words. “Coach, you can't think I—or Tyler?"
Coach shrugged and avoided his gaze.
Mitch sat down and leaned back in the chair, balancing it on two legs. “Know what, Ramsey? Rachel thinks you were involved too. Do you think her being on your farm was fate? Hell, yeah, it was deliberate fate. She set it up so she could get close enough to you to find out the truth, to clear her father. To help her career. Did you really think she loved you? That she cared? Hell, she cared about herself and Dad. Not you.” The front legs of Mitch's chair slammed to the floor with a bang.
Derek flinched. His stomach churned. The bottom dropped out of his world. He'd sworn he'd never hurt Rachel again. Now she was the one doing the hurting. Life changed its game plan and left him warming the bench.
His mind drifted to an image of his father standing in the bay window, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Bone-deep pain etched in his father's strong features, forever a symbol burned into Derek's mind of what loving someone did to a pe
rson.
And he'd almost made the same damn mistake.
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Chapter Thirty
Block in the Back
Rachel muted the sound on the game DVD they'd been watching. “Are you okay? You're acting strange."
"I'm fine.” Derek's tight voice said he was anything but. He slid a little farther away from her on the couch, his body stiff and unyielding and sheltered by an emotional brick wall. She itched to put her arms around him, to pull him close, to wipe the misery from his face. Yet she held back and postponed the inevitable bad news.
Instead Rachel endured two hours of emotional torture, unable find the courage to insist he tell her what was wrong. Unable to take it any longer, she donned her ice princess facade and waded into the frigid waters.
"Derek, what's wrong?” she croaked. The lump lodged halfway down her throat stayed where it was. Perhaps he was just uptight about the upcoming game.
He faced her, his gaze accusing in its intensity and grief-stricken in its misery. Her heart sank even deeper. This had nothing to do with football and everything to do with them. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. As if the words he needed to say were too painful to be uttered.
"How could you do this to me?” The sheer agony in his voice cut right down to her soul.
"I didn't do anything.” Rachel gripped the seat cushion and looked into his eyes, at the devastation reflected there. She could think of only one thing that could make him look at her with such disillusionment. He knew. Somehow he knew.
His eyes narrowed. “I met with your dad and Mitch last night."
Rachel's heart stalled; fear coursed through her veins. “About what?” The ice princess ran for cover and left her with no armor, no backup plan.
"About you and me.” He laughed a cynical, dry laugh. “I was stupid enough to think we had a future."
"A future?” She echoed his words, hanging on to them like a life raft in stormy seas.
He rolled his eyes. “Give me the idiot award. I didn't see it coming. I thought you loved me too."
"Too?” She gripped harder, savoring the meaning behind his words, and ignored the contradiction in his eyes.
"Yeah, too. I was in love with you, Rachel."
She ignored the past tense and clung to the words. “I do. I love you."
"Yeah, right. Love isn't a four-letter word for nothing."
She cringed at the disgust in his voice. “I love you, Derek Ramsey, with all my heart and soul.” She laid it all out on the table and reached for him. He jerked to his feet and paced the floor in front of her. Helpless, she stared up at him.
"You thought I was involved in the points shaving.” His cold, emotionless voice scared the crap out of her.
"No, not anymore.” Her answer rang true. She'd known it in her heart for months, and her words only reinforced the truth.
"Then you think I let your dad hang out to dry to cover for Tyler."
"I wasn't sure at first, but now I don't think it's possible."
"You don't think it's possible?” His anger and hurt slammed into her, leaving her breathless. “Get this straight, Rachel. I'd never make your dad pay for someone else's mistake, not even Tyler's. You don't know me very well if you'd think so little of me."
"I don't believe Tyler did it either. Not anymore."
"You played me for a fool. You took what I had to offer and used it to your advantage, all the while probing for weakness. You betrayed me."
"No, it's not like that."
His pacing grew more determined, his turns sharp and crisp. His long legs ate up the length of his living room in a few furious strides. He whipped around in front of her and stopped, hands on hips. Raising his head, he regarded her with indifference, which alarmed her more than the anger.
"Let me tell you something about that game. Something I've never told anyone. That night, last play of the game. We were behind by four points. The other team had our number on the running game, but your dad kept running the ball. Coach called a sucker play, one he'd called several times with no success. I couldn't figure out why the hell he kept going back to it."
Rachel held her stomach, sick with dread. Derek resumed his pacing. “Ty didn't call the play your dad wanted. He called a pass into the end zone instead. Lantz and I went for it. I swear to God he batted it out of my hands. Pissed me off, but I figured he'd just gotten taken in by the moment and didn't realize he was fighting his own teammate for the ball. Yet when all this came out, I wondered about the whole weird-assed night. Mostly I wondered about the plays your dad called. Tyler trusted him, kept running them until the very end."
"But my father wouldn't have sold out his team. Football is his passion. His life."
"They say every person has a price."
"Do they? What's yours?” Rachel challenged him.
"Nothing money can buy.” Sadness flickered in his dark eyes.
She winced as if he'd slugged her in the stomach.
"Who do you believe?” He threw the challenge back in her face.
"I believe you.” She stood and moved toward him.
"The real question is, do I believe you?” He backed away and crossed his arms over his chest, creating a concrete wall with his body.
"Only you can answer that question."
"I thought we had something special going on, Rachel. You. Me. Our history. Our love of football. What you do to me every time I see you smile. How you filled up all the empty spaces and made me look forward to coming home every night. Hell, I even grew fond of your damn cat. I thought with you I could get beyond my mother's abandonment and betrayal. Then here you come and do the same damn thing to me."
"It's not the same.” She pleaded with him, but he glared back, unmoving and emotionally detached.
"It is in my book.” Derek walked to the door and jerked it open.
Rachel fought for control. She felt his eyes on her, but she stared straight ahead. With a Herculean effort, she didn't flinch, didn't soften, didn't show the least bit of emotion. She walked woodenly out the door, hiding her face from him.
A woman had her pride too. She wouldn't beg.
Rachel's heart shattered like a crystal goblet dropped on concrete, irreparable and final.
She glanced back at Derek and almost caved. The stark agony on his face weakened her resolve, yet the determination in his stance pushed her away. Steeling herself against the pain ripping her in half, she hardened her heart. Hiding her agony, she stumbled down the steps and out of his life one last time.
Half blinded by tears, she ran down the driveway to the refuge of her little house. She didn't slow down until she threw herself on her bed. Huge sobs of grief racked her body. Nothing had ever hurt her so much, not even her mother's death, not their long-term estrangement. Nothing.
She'd seen it coming, yet a small part of her had held out hope for a happy ending. Somehow they'd find a way. Well, life wasn't a fairy tale. Derek wasn't Prince Charming, and no way in hell was she Cinderella. He'd fallen in love with her, a dream come true turned to a nightmare. In his eyes she'd betrayed him, mistrusted him, been no better than his mother.
Something cold touched her face. Startled, she turned her head to see Simon nosing at her. She wrapped her arms around him and cried into his fur.
A day later, Derek sat in the easy chair in Mitch's home and watched an old action-adventure movie with Ryan. He'd be damned if he'd let the situation with Rachel and her family keep him away from a dying kid. To Mitch's credit, he didn't say a word when Derek showed up. Instead he left him alone.
Ryan lay on the couch and didn't say much, in as much of a funk as Derek himself. Which suited Derek just fine. Still reeling from confusion and sadness over Rachel, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Her green eyes had haunted his dreams last night. Not seeing her smile dimmed his day. He'd walked through the motions of living, numb and disengaged. His game suffered, and he knew he needed to get it together and soon.
Derek s
hook his head and pressed his palms against his scalp. His head pounded, and the pain in his heart became unbearable. He knew better than to get attached to a woman. They screwed you over the first chance they got.
She hadn't trusted him. They'd worked and played side by side all these months, not because she cared but because she thought he had information she wanted. He'd opened the gate and let her in, only to be played for a fool.
When Ryan suddenly spoke, Derek jumped half out of his chair. Ryan chuckled at his reaction but immediately sobered. “Did—Did Tyler tell you?"
"Tell me what?” Derek's mind spun in circles in an attempt to decipher Ryan's words.
"I had him do a little research for me."
"What kind of research?” Derek sat up straighter, giving Ryan his full attention.
"I asked him to find my mother."
"Oh. Did he?” Wary of another emotional minefield, Derek trod lightly. Ryan's mother and his shared the same mold.
Silence. Cold, dead silence. Derek craned his neck to see if Ryan had drifted off again. Instead their eyes met, and Derek knew the answer. His own dilemma seemed petty in the wake of this kid's struggles. Ryan's pain became his pain. It choked him, constricted his throat, slid through him like a knife gutting him from the inside out. He waited, giving Ryan time.
"He found her in Vegas.” Ryan stared at the ceiling.
"Is she okay?” Derek leaned forward in his chair.
"Oh yeah, she's a stripper. Again.” The kid's breath hitched.
He didn't have a response to that.
"She's not coming back."
"Ry, I'm sorry.” Derek knelt by the couch and touched the kid's shoulder. Those simple words, powerful in their sincerity, had never contained so much meaning.
"I never thought it would hurt this much.” Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, but a few tears leaked out.
Derek knew how much it hurt. He'd been there. Not even time completely healed the wounds caused by a disinterested mother, and time was something Ryan didn't have. Silence permeated the room, each lost in their own thoughts.
Ryan broke the silence first. “What's your mother like? You never talk about her."
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