Coach shows up here at least once a week but I never answer the door. I don't want to deal with him.
"He's just trying to help, man."
"By pressuring me?" I huff. "Real fuckin' helpful."
"He's not pressuring you. He just wants to see how you're doing. You know he cares about his team."
"I'm not on his team. Not anymore."
"You're still part of the team. You can still throw the ball."
"Lot a good that does me. I can't run. Can't even walk."
"How soon before you're off the crutches?"
"I don't know yet. I just started using them last week." I hate talking about this so I change the subject. "So what else is new?"
"Not much. I'm having a party when I get back into town. Did Jackson tell you?"
"Yeah, he mentioned it."
"The whole team's invited. You better show up. And bring your new girlfriend."
"Jackson told you about Becca?"
"Yeah." He chuckles. "He said you were in love. I told him he's fuckin' nuts."
"He's just being an idiot. I'm not in love. I've only known her a week." And yet I already feel closer to her than I've ever felt to anyone else.
"He said she's your maid."
"She's just doing that until she goes back to school."
As I say it, someone knocks on the door. Becca must've got off a few minutes early.
"Derek, I gotta go. Becca's here."
"Late night booty call?" He laughs. "Leave it to Ethan Baxter to get laid even with a broken leg."
It's not worth telling him that's not what this is. He wouldn't understand. To him, dating is about sex and nothing else.
"I'll talk to you later," I say as I open the door for Becca.
"Yeah, bye. And hey, don't forget my party. You've gotta at least show up for an hour or two."
I end the call and smile at Becca, trying not to laugh at her red and white plaid uniform. It looks like she's wearing a tablecloth. And yet she still looks hot, her hair in a ponytail, the dress showing off her legs.
"Hey." I give her a kiss.
She pushes me away. "Don't get too close. I smell like chicken."
"I told you, I love fried chicken." I kiss her again.
"Good, because I brought you some leftovers." She holds up a paper sack. "Fried chicken, biscuits, and potato salad."
"You didn't have to do that."
She shrugs. "You kept saying how much you like their food and you never go there so I thought I'd bring you some."
"Thanks."
She takes it to the kitchen and puts it in the fridge. "So who were you talking to?" She turns to me. "Sorry. I shouldn't ask. It's none of my business."
"It's fine. It was Derek. He's a friend of mine. He's on the team with me."
"Is he in town?"
"No, but he'll be back in a few weeks."
"Is that when they start practice?"
"Yeah. It's coming up fast. Seems like school just ended and now it's time for practice again." Not wanting my mind to go back to football, I pull her toward me and give her a kiss. "Long night?" I ask because she looks tired.
"Yeah. It was really busy." She pushes on my chest. "You gotta let me go. I stink. I need to take a shower and change clothes. Oh, my bag. I forgot it. It's in the van."
"I'll get it. Just need your keys."
She hands them to me. "It's in the back seat."
"Does your brother know you're staying here tonight?"
"No. I told him I'm staying with my friend, Tina. She works nights with me at The Chicken Shack. She's a hairdresser during the day. She's a single mom and has the cutest little girl. I told Mike that Tina had an early morning hair appointment and needed a babysitter so I offered to stay overnight. I've done it before so he didn't question it."
"Why didn't you just tell him the truth?"
"I will eventually. I just wasn't in the mood for a lecture. Anyway, I gotta go shower."
"Go ahead. There's towels in the cabinet."
She smiles. "I know. I do your laundry, remember?"
"That's right. You probably know where things are more than I do. I'll go get your stuff."
I'd like to shower with her but it wouldn't work with the cast. I need this damn thing off, and soon.
When she's done, I'm waiting for her in bed under the sheets. She's only wearing a towel as she slinks over to me, a sexy smile on her face. When she reaches me, I kiss her as I undo her towel, letting it drop to the floor.
"You weren't supposed to do that," she whispers over my lips.
"I'm pretty sure I was." I toss the sheet back and pull her over me and kiss her again.
"You're not wearing anything," she says, her body pressing against mine.
"I sleep naked."
"Always? Or just because I'm here?"
"Always. I like the feel of the sheets against my skin." I run my lips down her neck. "But I like the feel of you even better."
Before I even have a chance to warm her up, she takes hold of me and rolls the condom on and guides me inside her. She must've worked herself up in the shower because she's slick. Warm. Perfect. I grab her ass and she leans forward, her chest hovering over my face. I sit up enough to reach her breast, my tongue flicking her nipple.
Her eyes are closed but I see her smile, so I do it again, then take her nipple in my mouth.
"Ethan," she breathes, her head tipping back. Soft moans follow.
I love the sounds she makes. Other girls yell and scream, which I guess isn't bad, but I get more turned on with the sounds Becca makes. Or maybe it's just her that turns me on.
A few minutes later, I'm making my own sounds. Cursing and groaning, digging my hands in her ass as I come. She's right there with me, and as she comes down from it, she falls forward on my chest, breathing heavy.
"You tired?" I ask, kissing her head.
"Yeah. Long day. But that was a good way to end it."
I gently roll her off me, but keep her in my arms as she falls asleep.
Then I drift off myself, and sleep soundly for the first time since the accident. I don't wake up until seven, which is the latest I've slept in months. Even before the accident, I'd wake up at six and go to the gym to work out.
"Is it time to get up?" Becca asks, her voice groggy like she's half asleep.
"No. It's early. Go back to sleep."
She turns on her side, her back to me. I wrap my arm around her, holding her warm body against mine.
I like this. Too much. Like Becca said, this was only supposed to be temporary. A cure for our loneliness. Meeting each other's needs. But it's turning into more than that. More than I think either one of us is ready for.
Chapter Fourteen
Becca
This morning I woke up in Ethan's arms and it both freaked me out and made me happy. It freaked me out because I'm not supposed to be getting serious with him, and spending the night with him felt serious. But I also felt happy because I love being with him and being in his arms.
As much as I like him, I don't want to fall for a guy who isn't available, so I keep telling myself to stay away. And yet here I am, in his house, spending the day with him. And he's calling me his girlfriend. He says he doesn't want this to end but we both know it will, probably when his classes start again or maybe when his football buddies come back for practice.
"What's wrong?" Ethan asks, sneaking up behind me as I stand at the kitchen counter. We had a late lunch and I'm cleaning up.
"Nothing's wrong." I turn around. "Why do you ask?"
"You got really quiet."
I smile. "Sorry. I'm just tired from work. It was a long week."
"Let's go watch a movie. Or I'll watch a movie and you can fall asleep on me."
"That sounds good."
We've already had sex twice since waking up, then showered, had lunch. There isn't much left to do when you're stuck at the house.
As predicted, I fall asleep during the movie. My two jobs suck the life out of me. I'm always exh
austed on the weekends.
I wake up to the doorbell ringing. Ethan isn't around.
"Ethan?" I call out but he doesn't answer. He must be in the bathroom.
The bell rings again so I walk to the door and answer it. An older man is standing there.
"Hi, can I help you?" As I say it, I realize I know this man. I've seen him in the local paper. He's the head football coach at Laytham College.
"I'm Don Maverick. Ethan's coach." He smiles and extends his hand. "And you are?"
"Becca." I shake his hand. "I'm friends with Ethan."
"Is he home?"
"Um, yeah, but I think he's in the bathroom."
"Do you mind if I come in?"
What do I say? Do I let him in? What if Ethan doesn't want him here?
"I should probably go get Ethan." I turn to go find him.
"Becca."
"Yes?" I turn back and see the coach has come inside. "Could we talk for a moment?"
"Um, yeah. Okay." I walk back to him.
Where the hell is Ethan? And why hasn't he come back?
"This is the first time anyone's answered the door," the coach says. "Are you his girlfriend?"
"Kind of. We just started dating. So, um, why are you here?"
"To talk to Ethan. Whenever I stop by, he never answers the door and he won't answer my calls. I'm concerned about him."
"He doesn't really want to talk to anyone right now." I don't know if that's true. I know Ethan talks to his friends but I didn't know he hadn't talked to his coach.
"Do you know if he's left the house recently?"
"He went to the doctor but other than that, no. He doesn't like going out."
"Because he doesn't want people seeing him injured." The coach crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. "I understand where he's coming from. He has people watching him, wondering if he'll be able to play ball again. I know the pressure he's under. But he's been hiding here for weeks and people are starting to question his mental health. He needs to get out of this house. He needs to show people he's on the road to recovery." He pauses. "Unless he's not. Do you know how he's doing? Physically or...otherwise?"
Seriously, where the hell is Ethan? I glance behind me but he's not there. You'd think he would've heard the doorbell ring. It's not that big of a house. I look back at the coach. "Do you think maybe you could come back later? I'm not sure where Ethan went and—"
"Coach," Ethan says. I turn back and see Ethan coming toward us. "What are you doing here?"
Ethan sounds pissed, but is he mad at the coach for showing up here or at me for letting him in?
"We need to talk." Coach Maverick walks up to Ethan. "Let's sit down."
"I'm not sitting down and we're not talking. I told you, I'm not ready." Ethan takes a breath, trying to calm down. He doesn't want to yell at his coach. He's told me before how much he likes and respects the man, probably more than he does his own father.
"I just want to discuss some things."
"There's nothing to discuss. I can't play. My leg won't be ready."
"But your father said—"
"My father doesn't know shit. He's just telling you what you want to hear. You know what he's like so why would you listen to him? You know I can't heal that fast."
"Maybe so, but I still want you to attend practice in a couple weeks. The guys are counting on you being there."
"I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and watch them play. What's the point?"
"You're their leader. They need you there."
"I'm not their fuckin' leader." Ethan shakes his head. "Half those guys never listened to me before so they sure as hell aren't going to now that I can't play."
The coach narrows his eyes at Ethan. "Stop being so goddamn stubborn. You have a talent, son. A talent not many people have. Even with your injury, I've still got scouts calling me about you. You can still play pro. That dream hasn't died so don't give up on it. All athletes get injured and the scouts understand that. The sports media understands it too. But what you're doing now, hiding out here and never leaving the house, looks bad. People are starting to talk, wondering if you're struggling mentally."
"So what do you expect me to do? Go hang around town and put on a fake smile?"
"If you want to save your reputation, then yes. Take your girlfriend out. Go to dinner. See a movie. Do things people your age do. At least that way, people will stop questioning your mental health."
"So this is all about what other people want. How I look to the outside." He huffs. "Did my dad put you up to this?"
"Ethan." I hold his arm. "Coach Maverick is right. You need to get out of the house."
He rips his arm away. "Stay out of this."
"Ethan." The coach softens his voice. "I know you're struggling to deal with the accident but this isn't helping. You need to talk to someone. Let them help you move on."
"Move on?" He lets out a harsh laugh. "My friends are dead. I think it'll take a while before I can move on. And talking to a fucking counselor isn't going to help."
"Just give it some thought. In the meantime you need to get out of this house. Not for anyone else but yourself." He glances at me. "And I'm sure your girlfriend would like to go out once in a while."
"Are we done?" Ethan asks, sounding annoyed.
"I want you at practice. You're still part of the team and you're expected to be there."
Ethan just stares at the floor.
Coach pats him on the shoulder. "Take care. See you in a few weeks." He smiles at me. "Nice to meet you, Becca."
"Nice to meet you too." I walk him to the door.
When he's gone, Ethan says, "Why the hell did you let him in? You knew I didn't want to talk to him."
"Actually, no, you never told me that. The few times you've talked about your coach you told me how much you liked him. You said you two got along."
"Yeah, when I could play. But now I'm no use to him. He only came over here because my dad sent him."
"You don't know that. He seemed really concerned about you."
"Anyone can act concerned if they need to. My dad's probably paying him to check up on me, make sure I'm still working out."
I stand in front of Ethan, my hands on my hips. "Why do you act like this?"
"Like what?"
"Why do you always feel sorry for yourself? Yes, you hurt your leg but at least you're alive."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" He turns on his crutches and goes to the couch to sit down. "That I survived and they didn't? Do you know how much I—" He stops and takes a breath, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Just forget it. I don't want to talk about it. If this is all you're going to talk about then just leave."
"Are you kidding me? You really want me to leave over this?"
"You shouldn't have let him in."
"I didn't know I wasn't allowed to let him in. You have no right to be mad at me about that."
"I told you I didn't want to see anyone." He glares at me. "How much clearer could I be?"
"Fine. I'll leave." I hurry to the bedroom and grab my clothes and stuff them in my bag. Back in the living room, I stop next to the couch where Ethan is sitting. "For the record, I didn't invite him in. When I saw him at the door, I went to find you to see if it was okay to let him in and then he said something and when I turned around he was already in the house. So I didn't LET him in. He let himself in." I storm to the door. "Goodbye, Ethan."
On the drive home, I'm fuming mad. Ethan kicked me out of his house for something I didn't even do. How was I supposed to know the coach was just going to walk in like that?
When I get to my apartment, Mike is in the kitchen making something, like actually using the stove, which he never does.
"You're cooking?" I ask as I sit at the kitchen table.
He turns away from the stove. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming back until later tonight. Did Tina find another babysitter?"
"I wasn't babysitting."
"You w
eren't?" He turns the stove down and comes over to sit with me. "Where were you?"
"Don't get mad but...I was with Ethan."
"You spent the night there?" He raises his voice. "Becca, you've known him for less than a week."
"It's been more than a week and—"
"It doesn't matter. It's too soon to be spending the night." He shakes his head. "I'm gonna kill that guy. I knew he'd take advantage of you."
"He didn't take advantage of me. I willingly went over there."
"Yeah, and then he took advantage of you."
"Mike, seriously, you've gotta stop treating me like a kid. I'm 21. I'm plenty old enough to have—" I stop before saying 'sex' which would freak him out.
"I can't believe you did that! You're not even dating him."
"We are dating. We just haven't actually gone out."
"Because he doesn't want to be seen with you?" he asks harshly. "Are you not good enough for him?"
"That's not why. It's because he doesn't want people seeing him on the crutches. He thinks it makes him look weak or...I don't know. He just doesn't want people gossiping about him, or speculating about whether or not he'll ever play football again."
"They're already speculating. People are already predicting whether or not he'll play again. They've been doing that since the accident."
"Which is why he doesn't want to be seen. He doesn't want them making more assumptions that aren't true."
"You don't need this, Becca. Your life is hard enough, working two jobs, helping me out. You don't need the drama of some guy who sits around feeling sorry for himself."
It's true, but I still want to help him. Even though he won't admit it, I can tell Ethan's struggling, unable to get past the accident, unsure what's going to happen with his football career. And sitting alone in that house isn't making anything better.
"Maybe you could talk to him," I say.
"Why would I talk to him?"
"Because he's having a hard time right now. I know your situation is different, but what happened to you forced you to reevaluate your future, which is what's happening to Ethan. He seems lost, like he isn't sure where to go from here."
"His leg is broken, not gone, like mine. He'll be able to play football again. He'll go to the pros, just like he planned."
"Maybe not. He doesn't know yet. And even if he can play football again, I'm not sure if he wants to."
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