Small Town Daddy: A Dark Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  He stared hard at me. “Why would you ask around?”

  “Because you seemed upset. I wanted to see if I could help.”

  “You can’t help.”

  “Okay,” I said, surprised by his sudden change in mood.

  “And you should stop asking. That guy was nobody. Forget about him.”

  “Okay,” I said again.

  Owen struggled to his feet. “I think we’re done for today.”

  “We have a few more exercises—” I started to say, but he cut me off.

  “See you later.” He turned and quickly left the room.

  I stared after him, shocked at how that had played out.

  I had suspected he’d be annoyed, but I had never guessed he’d be that angry. Maybe I was being a little pushy, but I meant well.

  Still, the whole thing was bizarre. He didn’t want to talk about it, so I was going to drop it, but I knew something else was going on, something on top of his injury and whatever was happening between the two of us. Maybe it was even more important than anything else.

  I sat in the training room, alone with my thoughts, trying to figure out where the heck things had gone wrong.

  20

  Owen

  I hated blowing Taylor off like that.

  The last thing I wanted was to be on bad terms with her. It fucking pained me to walk away from her, but I couldn’t sit around and try to answer her questions. I wasn’t a good liar, and I was afraid she’d see right through me.

  She was too perceptive. It scared me a little bit to think about. She had known something was up with Tony the second she saw him, even though I hadn’t given her any real indication to worry. We spent a lot of time together, and she must have gotten good at reading me.

  I had to keep her away from him. It wasn’t just because I was afraid of her finding out about my mafia connections, although that was a real problem. I couldn’t let her get sucked into my fucking bullshit, and I wanted Tony to stay as far from her as possible.

  Maybe it was a little too late for that. She was already asking questions, and she probably knew something was up just based on the way I had responded. Maybe she’d back down and let it go, but I doubted that would be the case.

  I worried about it all that night on top of my other problems. I hadn’t heard back from the team doctors yet about my MRI, so I had no clue how bad the damage was.

  The pain wasn’t awful. It was getting better every day, but I also wasn’t straining it much. Coach had me sitting out of practice and mostly just watching film. That, plus my usual therapy sessions with Taylor.

  I had barely missed any field time, and yet I already wanted to get back out there. I hated being on the sidelines instead of in the thick of things. I wanted to burst through the line and break tackles like I normally did. That was the best way for me to get rid of my stress, but it would be stupid to try to push myself. I needed to listen to my coaches and to heal.

  The next day, I was in the facility early. I got into the hot tub and soaked myself while I waited for Taylor to come find me.

  I heard her voice before I saw her. She was asking people where she could find me, and one of the other trainers pointed her into the hot tub room. She walked inside and sat down on the edge of the tub.

  “You look comfortable,” she said.

  “I got nothing better to do.”

  “We should get to work.”

  I sighed. “Ten more minutes.”

  “I don’t have ten minutes. I have a schedule.”

  I grinned at her. “How about you join me then? We can do some work in here.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t pretend like you already forgot.”

  She blushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. I’m talking about the time I fucked you until you begged to come on my big long cock.”

  “Owen! Not so loud.”

  “Nobody can hear us.”

  “Come on, get out. We need to do your stretches.”

  “You get in here. I’ll stretch you.”

  She made a face. “Don’t be an ass.”

  I laughed and stood up. “Fine. Grab me a towel?”

  She grabbed one from the stack and tossed it to me, I toweled myself off, wearing only a pair of mesh shorts. I noticed that she was watching me rather intently, but that was okay. I wanted her to think about the other night, about how I had made her body feel. Even if she was pissed at me, I knew she still wanted to feel that way again.

  “Come on,” she said. “Now you’re just putting on a show.”

  I laughed. “Best show around.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I followed her back out into the main training room, back into the hall, and down toward our usual spot. We walked into the exercise room, and I watched while she rolled out the padded mats we used.

  When she was done, we launched into our normal routine. We weren’t talking much, and I could feel the strain from the day before still settled over both of us. We normally had an easy, comfortable conversation going throughout the whole thing, but this morning it was pure business.

  Taylor finished my leg and switched to the other one. “Listen, about yesterday,” I said.

  “It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have been prying.”

  “I get it. You just want to help.” I paused. “But that guy is bad news, Taylor. Please, stay far, far away from that man.”

  She stared at me for a second and then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I won’t ask who he is. I just want you to know that you can trust me.”

  “I know.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “Now leg out, cripple.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As I stretched out, someone appeared in the doorway. Taylor stood up, and I saw the head doctor looking in at us.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Morning, doc,” I answered.

  “Doctor Travis,” Taylor said.

  “Owen, can I speak with you privately?” he asked.

  “It’s okay, doc. Just give it to me here.”

  He frowned. “I’d rather we were alone.”

  “I’ll leave,” Taylor said, standing.

  “Just tell me, doc. Is it bad?”

  He sighed. “Well, Taylor, you might as well hear. Owen, there is no permanent or long-term damage to your knee. The scan came back negative. That’s not to say that you’re fine and cleared to play, but I don’t think this is going to end your season.”

  That was exactly the news I needed to hear. I let out a huge breath. I felt like an enormous weight was lifted from my chest.

  Part of me had thought my career was over. There had been a serious chance that it was, and that little voice in the back of my head hadn’t been quiet about it. I had felt like everything was falling apart around me. Between my injury, Tony, and Taylor, things had been looking bad.

  This was some much-needed good fucking news.

  “Thanks, doc,” I said. “That’s good news.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank your therapist here. Whatever she’s doing with you is clearly working.”

  I grinned at her. “She works me hard.”

  “Good,” Doctor Travis said. “I already told Coach Kelly. He’s on his way down here to speak with you now.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  “Good luck.” He smiled, nodded, and then left.

  Taylor grinned at me. “That’s awesome news,” she said.

  “Part of me thought my career was over,” I admitted.

  “Not me. I never thought that for a second.”

  “Why?”

  “Because some stupid injury isn’t going to stop Owen Rack.”

  I grinned at her, and I wanted to say something back, but we were interrupted by Coach Kelly coming into the room.

  Coach was a short man, pale and in his mid-fifties. His hair was thinning and gray, and he had an intense demeanor. Coach was a drill
sergeant, and he expected the team to function exactly the way he wanted it to.

  “Rack,” he said. “How you feelin’?”

  “Better now.”

  “I saw Doc Travis on the way over. I guess he gave you the good news.”

  “Yeah, Coach. Does this mean I’m playing on Sunday?”

  He laughed. “No. You’re not.”

  I blinked, surprised. “But he said I’m not seriously hurt.”

  “Yeah, but you’re still hurt.” Kelly looked at Taylor. “Tell him how injuries work. Explain to the young man that small injuries can turn into big ones unless they heal.”

  Taylor looked at me. “What he said.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I said to Coach.

  He shook his head. “Even if it’s not, we’re not practicing you all week, and you’re missing the next game.”

  “Fuck,” I said.

  This was my worst fear.

  The NFL was full of stories like this. A guy got injured, giving his replacement a shot. The replacement played great, earning him a starting role, and the original guy never started again.

  That was what had happened with Tom Brady. The guy was drafted in the sixth round, number 199. He was the fourth-string quarterback until he worked his ass off and earned the backup position. When the starter, Drew Bledsoe, got injured, Tom Brady took the field and never left it again.

  Not many people talked about Drew Bledsoe, but he was a damn good player. One injury, though, and he was benched, never to start for the Patriots again. That one play had ruined his entire career.

  That was my biggest fear. Missing a game could destroy everything I’d worked so damn hard to create.

  “Relax, kid,” Kelly said. “Kennings isn’t nearly as good as you are. Even if he plays his ass off, you’re still our man.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Rest yourself, heal, and be ready for week four.”

  “I got it.”

  Kelly nodded and then left. I lay back on the mat, staring up at the ceiling.

  “You okay?” Taylor asked.

  “Yeah,” I grunted.

  It was a fucking rollercoaster ride. One second I got amazing news, and the next I found out that I was being benched.

  Coach had been reassuring me when he told me that I was better than Kenning, but that didn’t matter. Of course he’d say that shit. But in the long run, he’d do whatever he felt was best for the team. And if Kenning played well, that might mean starting him and downgrading me to his backup.

  Taylor sat down next to me. “Well,” she said, “at least you’re healthy.”

  “There’s that, I guess.”

  “Want to say something totally dirty and inappropriate to me? I know you love that.”

  “Maybe later. Let’s just get to work.”

  “Okay.” She got back up and we went into our routine.

  I couldn’t concentrate, so we lapsed back into a different sort of silence.

  21

  Taylor

  I could tell that Owen was devastated, but he did his best to hide it. I knew that I shouldn’t push, or at least I had learned my lesson when it came to that strange man.

  Questions still lingered, but I wasn’t going to let myself get hung up on them. Something was happening with that man, that much was clear, but Owen wasn’t sharing. If he wanted to keep it private, then I had to respect that.

  We had other things to worry about. On Wednesday, I was ordered to work extra sessions with Owen in the hopes that we could get him ready for the next game. He was definitely sitting for the upcoming match, but it was a less important game against a team that was traditionally pretty bad.

  The following game, though, was against our division rivals, the Dallas Cowboys. Coach wanted Owen ready for that game, and my rehab regimen was a big part of that preparation.

  That was how I found myself working late with Owen. I sat on the rim of the hot tub as he soaked himself, my back up against the wall. It was warm, and I was sweating slightly under my work clothes, but I didn’t mind.

  “What’s your favorite movie?” I asked him.

  “Scarface,” he said.

  I laughed. “Really? What a typical boy answer.”

  He grinned at me. “I also love The Green Mile.”

  “That’s a good one.”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  “I don’t know. The Goonies, maybe.”

  “Great film. I used to want to be Chunk.”

  “Really? They make fun of him the whole time.”

  “Yeah, but he’s the real hero. He bears all that silently and then helps save the day when he befriends Sloth.”

  “Good point.” I kicked my shoes off and stripped off my socks before dipping my feet into the tub.

  “First CD you ever owned?” he asked.

  “Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morissette.”

  “You were a cool kid.”

  “What can I say? I’ve always been awesome. What about you?”

  “Big Willie Style.”

  I laughed. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Will Smith was an idol of mine back in the day.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Oh can you? It’s because I have such a clean mouth.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “That’s what he was famous for, at least. He didn’t need to curse to make music.”

  “You curse plenty, though.”

  “Good fucking point.”

  I smiled at him. “Look at you now, living in Philadelphia, just like Will Smith did.”

  “Sort of. He grew up rich, I think. Went to prep school.”

  “You’re not exactly poor yourself.”

  “Didn’t always used to be this way.”

  I nodded. “Good point.”

  “What about you? Grew up normal and middle class?”

  “Pretty much. I didn’t have an exciting childhood like you did.”

  “You’re lucky then. There’s nothing fun about growing up the hard way.”

  “Do you ever wish things were different?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I mean if your parents were like mine, maybe you wouldn’t have had the drive to succeed like you did.”

  “Good point. I had to work hard early on to get anything in my life.”

  “If you grew up like I did, maybe things would be different.”

  “Maybe. But you had opportunity. You had comfort. I’d trade all this for a comfortable childhood.” He shook his head. “You have no clue how hard it can be.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk.”

  “You’re not. Don’t worry. The media can be worse.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. They love to ask hard questions about my parents and about the way I grew up. One guy even suggested that my grandmother was unfit to raise me.”

  “What an asshole.”

  “He just wanted to get a rise out of me.” Owen smiled and shrugged. “It’s what they do.”

  “Must be weird, being famous.”

  “You saw a little bit of it. But I’m not that famous, not really.”

  “Not yet at least. You’re going to be a superstar.”

  “Maybe, if my knee doesn’t fall apart first.”

  “It won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Well, you have a little more than a week to put me back together. Think you’re up to it?”

  “I think so.”

  “And how are you going to pull it off?”

  I shook my head. “I have no clue.”

  He laughed. “That’s really comforting.”

  I glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was half past six in the evening, and the place was already emptied out. I wanted to get one more stretch in before we called it a night, but there was just something so comfortable and relaxing about sitting around and chatting.

  It always felt good when things were easy with Owen. There were tim
es when we worked in strained silence, but mostly we chatted and laughed. I had to admit that I looked forward to coming into work just on the off chance that things would be great between us. My days were easy and good when that happened.

  “Hey,” he said, “get in here.”

  “What? No! I can’t.”

  “You have before.”

  “People are still here.”

  “So?” He reached up for me.

  “Owen!”

  It was too late. He grabbed my hips and dragged me down into the water with him, laughing. I was instantly soaking wet, and fortunately I left my cell phone at my desk. My clothes were drenched as he grabbed me and pulled me toward him.

  I laughed along with him and playfully splashed him. He grinned and pulled my body against his, and I felt my heart begin to race in my chest. I knew I should stop this, but I couldn’t.

  He kissed me hard, and I kissed him back. I was kissing the guy who bought a Will Smith CD when he was just a little kid, not Owen Rack the superstar. I kissed the guy who made me smile and laugh, and who made my body feel incredible. I didn’t care about anything else.

  Just as I began to press myself harder against him, my hips rolling along his leg, his phone began to ring. I kissed him softly on the mouth. “Get it,” I said.

  “Fuck that.”

  “What if it’s the coach?”

  He frowned. “It’s probably not.”

  “Get it.”

  He moved me off him and sighed. He stood up, and I smiled when I noted that his cock was hard and straining against his shorts. He walked across the room and grabbed his phone from the chair.

  He opened it. “What?” There was a short pause, and he looked at me. “I need to take this,” he said, and then walked into the other room.

  He had that look on his face. It was the same look he’d had when that guy appeared after the game the other day. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it wasn’t good.

  I couldn’t help myself. I moved out of the tub and softly padded across the room. I could just barely hear what he was saying.

  “. . . not going to play,” he said. “What do you mean, you don’t care? I’m not betting on a game I’m not even a part of. No, that’s not better.” He sounded angry, strained. “Fuck off, Tony. I don’t want to be a part of this.”