Infraction (Players Game Book 2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Sanchez reached across the table and handed Jax the carving knife with a solid nod of encouragement.

  “Now, boys.” Paula laughed. “I think the girl has a point. You’ve got a tough year ahead of you.”

  “How nice”—Jax sounded like he was choking on the words—“of the model to point that out to us.” He grabbed the knife and started cutting through the chicken so hard a piece flew onto my plate and then Kinsey’s.

  “Careful, sweetie!” Paula instructed, “It’s a soft bird.”

  “I know something else that’s soft,” Harley said in a low voice.

  Emerson choked on her wine while Sanchez reached for the bottle and filled up Jax’s empty water glass with wine, giving him another nod of encouragement.

  Once the food was passed around, I had assumed there would be peace.

  Chewing.

  Small talk.

  A bit of coffee.

  I’d go home, bang my head against the wall, take a cold shower, and attempt not to dream about Kinsey naked.

  All in all, exactly what I’d been doing for the past few months while she was away in Europe.

  But fate wasn’t that kind.

  “So, Miller,” Ben piped up, knife in his left hand pointed in my direction like he was getting ready to throw it. “You sleeping with my daughter?”

  Wine spewed out of Jax’s mouth directly into Sanchez’s face.

  Emerson handed him a napkin but not before laughing into it first and wiping away a few tears.

  Sanchez cursed and wiped off the red wine then tossed the napkin in Jax’s face.

  “Daddy . . .” Kins just had to speak. Right now. With a knife pointed at my heart. “That’s a silly question, we just started dating!”

  “Uh-huh.” The knife didn’t budge. “And your mama and I were virgins on our wedding night. You do realize that Jax was either a preemie or born out of wedlock?”

  Sanchez gave a fake gasp while Harley shrugged and said, “Huh, I’d say preemie. Doesn’t that affect muscle development?”

  Jax groaned into his wine and kept drinking while Harley gave a little yelp like she’d just been pinched.

  “Hah-hah.” Shit, was it hot in there? I tugged at the collar of my shirt and gulped against a dry-as-hell throat. “Sir, with all due respect, I would never—” Lies, all lies, I saw her boobs! It was literally on the tip of my tongue to confess, I was usually better under this kind of pressure, I was a tight end, for shit’s sake! “I wouldn’t disrespect her in that . . . way.”

  He lowered the knife.

  I exhaled.

  He raised it again.

  My dick twitched with absolute guilty horror.

  “So you’re saying . . . that the kiss you two shared—what was that, Paula, two days past?”

  “Sounds about right.” She nodded excitedly. “Dear, your tongue was quite . . . visible.”

  “Very visible,” he agreed. Hell, I thought the man had cancer? Why did he look seconds away from castrating me? “You’re saying that’s as far as you’ve gone with my little girl.”

  “Sir, yes sir.” I was suddenly in the military. Ready to die for king and country—or just protect all the lower extremities from the current terrorist with the knife.

  “Huh.” He dropped the knife. “Well, what the hell’s wrong with you? Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

  Jax growled, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth, leveling me with a glare that would make most men piss themselves.

  “Beautiful,” I said, staring down at my plate. “One of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.”

  Small fingers grazed my thigh and then a hand followed—I knew it was Kinsey, I gripped her hand like a lifeline.

  “So, she’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen and yet . . . you’ve kept it in your pants?”

  “For fear of this one chopping it off.” I pointed at Jax. “Sure, yeah, pretty much.”

  Kinsey snorted a laugh next to me.

  “Well, if there’s anything I’ve learned . . .” He started cutting his meat again. “It’s that this life is so damn short—hell, don’t be that guy, son. The one that lets the pretty girl get away. Had I done that with Paula I wouldn’t be stuck with this jackass over here.” He pointed at Jax. “Or my little princess.”

  “I’m a princess!” Kinsey laughed in Jax’s direction while he grinned back at her. Apparently, this was normal for their family.

  “Okay, sir . . .” I exhaled. Had I just agreed to have sex with Kinsey? Did her dad just . . . ask me to? What the hell kind of family was this?

  “Thank you,” Kinsey said under her breath. “He’s very passionate about . . . love.”

  Her eyes fell.

  And with that, the guilt over the whole situation came surging back. Because I was withholding everything from her—because of my own fear, my own selfishness.

  “You do know how to perform?” Oh good, more questions from Ben . . . the guy needed his own sitcom.

  Kinsey’s hand moved to graze the front of my jeans.

  I nearly leaped out of my chair.

  “Miller?” Sanchez piped up. “Trust me, if you would have heard the noises coming out of his apartment this summer, you really wouldn’t be needing to ask that question.”

  Kinsey jerked her hand away.

  While my dick wept with the loss of her fingers.

  Fuck.

  I lowered my head.

  Two girls. I’d slept with two meaningless girls while she was gone. I hadn’t planned to tell her—it wasn’t like we’d been dating.

  But I knew it would matter.

  To her, it would matter.

  Because, like she said yesterday, she wasn’t that girl, the one you sleep with and send packing the next day. I bet that the last guy she was with was Anderson, the asshole who still had a crazy mental and emotional hold on her.

  I’d gone and had meaningless sex with two girls who saw nothing but cash in my pockets and a body that could give them a good time, and I was just as guilty because I used them to forget about Kinsey.

  Silence fell over the table.

  Emerson shook her head slowly at me.

  Great, now Em was disappointed too.

  Like she wasn’t marrying the guy that last year told her he wanted to screw her for fun.

  And look how that turned out!

  “Mom.” Kinsey’s voice shook. “I’m just going to check on the pie, okay?”

  “I’ll come with you.” I moved to stand.

  “No.” Jax gave his head one shake. “I’ll go.”

  I tried for a smile.

  I failed.

  And wondered if I had lost Kinsey.

  And then wondered, had I really had her in the first place?

  Chapter Thirteen

  KINSEY

  I was over him.

  Over it.

  Until Jax forced the big dummy back into my life without giving me a choice in the matter. Maybe if we both had kept our distance, it wouldn’t hurt this bad. If he hadn’t apologized.

  If he hadn’t searched every room in my house for an intruder, if he hadn’t promised he was going to kiss me again once I gave up on the friendship ruse and asked. If he wasn’t such a big giant flirt with his crystal-blue eyes and mocha skin.

  If he didn’t tell me with his eyes and actions that all he wanted to do was protect me from the world.

  But Miller did all of those things.

  Two days. It took him two freaking days to get under my skin again like a disease, to make me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could trust him, trust the words he said.

  “Hey there.” Jax’s voice was calm, rational, exactly what I needed. “Want help with the pie?”

  “No.” I jerked it out of the oven and sat it on the granite counter, tossed the oven mitts onto the floor and started cutting really uneven pieces, getting sugar and crumbs all over my hands before Jax grabbed me from behind, placed his hands on mine, and whispered, “Stop.”

  I did.
>
  I closed my eyes.

  I breathed him in.

  The constant in my life.

  The two men I trusted more than anything, my brother, my dad.

  And yet again, it had just been proven, maybe that’s all I’d ever have, and I wasn’t okay with it—I wanted to be. Maybe someday I could be. Not now.

  “He’s young and stupid,” Jax said in a low voice. “When you’re in the league, and you have that much money, fame.” He sighed. “You forget how many girls propositioned me before I got my legendary ice man reputation. I had one girl literally strip in front of me, spread her legs, and ask me for at least one minute of my time so she’d die happy.”

  I shivered. “You’re kidding?”

  “That happened all the time, Kins. I’m not saying go back in there and give him a high five for thinking with his dick—especially since this is one of the many reasons I don’t want any player near you. All I’m saying is, when you’re single, there’s temptation. Miller’s one of the good ones, and he just had a rough year last year, with everything that went on with Em and Sanchez.”

  And there it was.

  It would always go back to Miller’s past.

  His past with Em.

  And now, it felt like I would never really be a part of his future.

  “You’re right.” I didn’t feel better. I didn’t get it. I never would. But I didn’t want my brother to know why it hurt me so deeply—why when I was on that plane to Europe and the first-class flight attendant had to give me more tissues, I thought my heart was going to explode.

  While Miller was having naked time with some nameless face who probably didn’t even know his favorite color.

  Pink. It was pink.

  Don’t ask.

  “I just . . . it’s been a stressful night, you know?” I turned in Jax’s arms and gave him a bear hug. “Thanks for being the best big brother ever.”

  His face fell while his arms squeezed around me like a tight band. “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “No, Kins.” He pushed me away. He’d never done that before. Pushed. “I’m really not.”

  I’d never seen that look on his face—it reminded me of guilt, of the kind that you didn’t get out from underneath, the kind that followed you until it killed you. The kind that I used to suffocate in when Anderson made me feel bad about myself, my body. “Jax?”

  “I knew.”

  “Knew?”

  “About Dad,” he whispered. “Before I sent you to Europe. I knew.”

  The world fell around me, first in tiny shattering pieces, and then all at once, the ground gave way, and I was on the floor, on my knees, staring up at the one man who had sworn he’d never let me down—who had said he’d always be my rock.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Kins.” His eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, so fucking sorry, I didn’t want you to get sick again, you know what stress can do to you, and at the time it wasn’t so bad. The chemo worked on the first round, and—”

  “Shut up, just shut up!” I screamed, tears running down my face. “I could have had months with him, MONTHS, and you sent me away!”

  “I thought—”

  “You thought?” I yelled, pounding my fist into the wood surface. “You thought what? That you’d just do what you do to everyone? Pull an Anderson on me and control the entire freaking situation? YOU THOUGHT?”

  Mom and Dad suddenly ran into the room, Mom’s face pale, Dad’s even paler.

  I closed my eyes.

  Suddenly frail arms were around me. “We didn’t want you to hurt.”

  Daddy.

  Both of them.

  Betrayed by both of my parents and Jax.

  I sank into myself, wanting to crawl into the floor and cry, scream, and repeat the process. “You had no right.”

  “I know, honey.” Dad kissed my head. “We misjudged how fast the cancer was moving, we just . . . we had no idea. We wanted to protect you—”

  “It wasn’t your call to make,” I said in a low voice, one I didn’t recognize, one that dripped with such sadness and betrayal I felt like a foreigner in my own body. “I need . . . I need to go.”

  “Honey.” Dad squeezed me tighter. “Don’t go, not like this.”

  “You all knew.” I ignored him, and chose to eye my mom, brother, and finally my dad. “All of you? And you still chose this for me? When your time has been literally cut to what? A year?”

  Dad glanced away.

  I swallowed. “How long, Dad?”

  “Six months, honey. Maybe less. I’ve stopped treatments.”

  “And you were going to keep that from me too?”

  “Tonight,” Mom interceded, “we were going to tell you tonight.”

  “Some family dinner,” I mumbled. With a sigh, I kissed my dad on the cheek. “I love you, but I need to go. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you, I just . . . need space right now. I don’t want to leave angry, but . . . I’m so angry.” My voice shook.

  Jax gave me a nervous glance before helping me to my feet. I jerked my hands away from him and glared. “I’m moving out.”

  “What?” he roared. “Over this? Over me protecting you?”

  “That’s all you do! You’re an overbearing pain in my ass! How about you focus on living your own life, instead of trying to keep me from living mine!”

  I charged out of the room, grabbed my purse, and ran outside.

  It wasn’t until I made it to the curb that I realized Miller had given me a ride.

  Two seconds later, his familiar scent wrapped around me. “Where to?”

  “Jax’s apartment. I’m grabbing some stuff.”

  “And going where?”

  “I don’t know yet. A hotel. I’m still pissed at you. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”

  “Me neither,” he whispered. “I’m just glad you are, even if it’s louder than you normally talk.”

  “That’s because I’m trying not to scream at you.”

  “It shows.”

  I would not smile.

  “I’m driving.” I snatched the keys out of his hand.

  He let me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  MILLER

  Every single person at dinner heard the yelling. Even Harley had sobered, her expression pale while Jax yelled at Kins, while she yelled right back.

  I’d known them a little over a year. Not once had I ever seen them fight—it used to bother me, the type of relationship they had as brother and sister was scary close. I wasn’t stupid. There was something else there between them. Something that I and everyone else in their lives didn’t get, some bond that was unbreakable.

  Part of me was afraid to ask.

  Afraid of the answer.

  Afraid of what it would make me feel.

  I was still pissed at Sanchez, but the more I thought about it, the less my anger felt directed at him and more inward, like I was the dick that decided to have a few meaningless one-night stands because I was too chickenshit to admit my feelings for Kinsey were fueled by more than alcohol and lust.

  “Kins.” It was useless trying to calm the woman down. In the ten minutes since we’d been at her apartment she’d grabbed two duffel bags and shoved so many clothes into them that she couldn’t zip them up. A pair of flip-flops went flying by my head, followed by a heel that narrowly missed my right ear. “Did you want me to carry these?”

  “Or stab yourself with them,” she said in a sweet voice. “Just try not to get any blood on the cloth part of the shoe, those cost a fortune. Jax bought them for me last year. On second thought, light them on fire, I don’t care.” Her grin wobbled like she was going to burst into tears and then thought better of it.

  She heaved another bag into the living room then marched over to the fridge and jerked it open—was she humming?

  With a smile she pulled the cap off the milk then chugged the jug, her throat moving slowly as she tilted her head back farther to get all the liquid. S
ome missed her mouth, dribbling down the sides and into her shirt. Fuck, I couldn’t look away.

  “Does a body good, hmm?” I joked.

  She slammed the empty jug against the counter and turned her piercing gaze to mine. “His biggest pet peeve is when I finish the milk.”

  I crossed my arms, needing something to do so I wouldn’t reach for her and end up with broken fingers. “That would be any athlete’s pet peeve, especially one who likes his protein shakes every morning.”

  She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and I felt my body shake with a savage desire to lick the rest of the milk away from those swollen lips, or at least lick my way down her body to see if any liquid found its way down her curves.

  I took a slow, even breath, knowing already that my body was betraying me by swaying toward her, my lips parted.

  “Don’t.” Her nostrils flared. A finger was pointed in my direction. “Right now I’m more pissed at him than you—count yourself lucky, Miller.”

  Kins’s mouth suddenly broke out into a smile, and with a wicked grin she grabbed a bar stool, crawled up on it, and opened the cupboards above the stove.

  “Catch!” She threw a giant box of fruit snacks at my face so I had no option but to put my hands out since I missed the memo about bringing my football helmet. Another box of fruit snacks followed, the kind you get at Costco that could feed an entire lunchroom full of first graders, and then two five-pound bags of M&M’s were careening toward me.

  She hopped off the bar stool and wiped her hands on her black leggings. “I suddenly feel so much better.”

  I snorted and lifted one of the bags of candy in the air. “Because you got your stash of sugar?”

  “Nope.” She winked then whispered, “Because I’ve got his.”

  I frowned. “Jax? But he eats salad.” The guy was notorious for being the only one on the team that ate like a rabbit whenever we went out to dinner, no chance in hell would any sort of white processed sugar pass through his trap. The last time a guy brought a Snickers to practice he’d swiped it.

  Son of a bitch. Had he eaten it?

  “Jax is a liar from the pit of hell, he’s got a sweet tooth the size of his stupid egotistical head—which, FYI, is ginormous, the asshole.”