Cocky Quarterback: Eric Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 12)

by Faleena Hopkins

  I wave and do my damnedest to obey the speed limit, and all the other laws, from here to Wren.

  Pulling into the small parking lot my eyes narrow on a party of four, and I slow down, giving a honk as Eleanor ushers two kids into a black four-door Toyota. She glances to me at the same time Wren does. Her eyes light up, but Wren’s darken. Thank God I’ve got one ally.

  Leaping out of my Jeep I smile, “Eleanor! These munchkins yours?”

  “All mine. And they have a cold so I’m getting them in the car so you stay healthy for the season.” To Wren she asks, “Call me later?” Satisfied with the nod she receives, Eleanor steals another curious glance at me, before climbing in. “You guys buckled in?”

  “Yes, Mommy!” they answer before the door closes.

  Wren and I move aside as the car backs out and pivots. She gives one last wave, and without saying a word, we walk together up a path that leads to a selection of easy hiking trails. We’re the opposite of last we saw each other. I’m dressed for a nice, celebratory brunch in slacks and a long-sleeved button-up. Wren is casual in shorts and a halter-top, sunglasses poking out of a stuffed pocket. No purse.

  “You waiting long?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Having a good day?”

  Her eyes are locked on the ground blurring under our footsteps. “Not really.”

  Chapter 23

  ERIC

  My lips get chewed pretty heavily as silence takes us deeper into the woods. When the path thins I step back, motioning with my right hand for her to walk ahead. She notices my knuckles for the first time. Until I see her reaction I’d forgotten all about the bruises, the dried blood. I’m not a fighter by nature—I don’t go around looking for them—but because some guys need to be punched, me and my family, well we tend to get in more than our fair share of scuffles. It’s not a big deal to me. That’s why I’d forgotten, but now her eyes widen as I bring my loose fist higher.

  Guess I found out how to bring up Peter.

  No delaying it any longer.

  Her touch is soft and warm as she inspects it. “Were you in a fight?”

  Gazing at our hands, acutely aware that this is the first time they’ve ever touched, I struggle with the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say. “Wren, I have to tell you something.”

  Her confused gaze slides up, copper eyes dark and brow deeply furrowed.

  I swallow hard, summoning the courage to break her heart. “I caught your boyfriend with another girl.”

  She releases my ugly fingers. “What?!”

  It’s not the question of a girl who didn’t hear me. It’s one who didn’t want to hear those words coming from anyone’s mouth, ever.

  “My teammates and I were having a celebratory brunch with Coach and your guy was there, kissing a girl in a booth. At first I thought it was you…but it wasn’t.”

  Her hands fly up on shocked gasp.

  I finish by saying, “And since it was morning, I’m pretty sure they’d spent the night together. She had a bag next to her and I caught a glimpse of clothes in it.”

  Tears spring up. “He said he had to work this morning! That’s what he said at the diner!”

  “What diner?”

  “After the show!” She spins around and breaks into a run like she’s trying to escape the truth. I stay with her, so she knows she’s not alone, all the way until she runs out of breath, bending over and grabbing her knees, trees in every direction as she chokes out, “I can’t believe it! He lied to me! How long has he been lying?! I’m so stupid!”

  I was standing a polite way, feeling terrible, until I heard that.

  “Come here,” I groan, pulling her into a hug. Her arms fly around me. But they’re weak like she has no strength anymore, her chest wracking with gasping sobs. “I’m so sorry, Wren. It’s him. He’s a bad guy. You just trusted him. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

  Tearing away from me she covers her face. “I should have seen it. I feel so stupid! He’s been acting…oh God! Why didn’t he just break up with me? Why would he do this?” She holds her head in a vice, blinking heavily, her face a salty ocean. “What did she look like?”

  “A whore.”

  Wren blinks at me, and a grin flashes. She knows I just said that to make her feel better, but then she melts in more tears and covers up, groaning, “He went from me to her last night.”

  “You slept with him just last night?”

  “No! But I was with him as his girlfriend. His band thinks we’re together. Do they know about her? Were they laughing at me?”

  Taking a step toward her I reach out, inviting her closer but she needs to make the step. “Look, I can’t stand to see a woman cry. Come here.” She inches forward, looking fragile but that’s all the permission I need to envelope her in my arms, rocking her and whispering in her hair, “He’s a punk. Fuck that guy, Wren. You did nothing wrong. Shhhh…he didn’t deserve you, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve your tears.”

  “Eleanor was just telling me…” she rasps through heavy emotion, but doesn’t finish the sentence.

  Doing my best not to breathe in the sweet scent of her hair, her skin, I quietly ask, “What did she say?”

  “The truth. That he’d whittled away at my self-esteem so I couldn’t trust my instincts anymore. He probably loved cheating. Knowing I had no idea, and there he was, with her. And who knows how many others!” Sniffling, Wren pulls away from me and searches the woods. “I need a tissue. Badly need something to wipe my nose. Don’t look at me!”

  I grab a few leaves off a plant and hand it to her. “Here.”

  With her hand hiding her dripping nostrils she glances to my offering, stares at it, then locks eyes with me. “That’s Poison Ivy.”

  I fling it away from us and reflexively step away from the source. “Fuck!”

  Wren laughs, and the sound is so welcome that I milk it.

  Dancing around like it’s all over me I cuss so much that wherever my Grams is, I know she’s shouting, Language! purely from familial telepathy alone. I wipe it off on my slacks, hooting like I’m on fire.

  It works—Wren cracks up, covering her nose with both hands so snot doesn’t go everywhere. It’s a futile attempt though.

  I dance over to a tree, a spastic jubilee of motion, snatching safe leaves with my left hand and dance them over to her. “You got a little river of something there.”

  She tries hard to compose herself, turning around and blowing her nose. “Um…ew…need more.”

  “I’m on it!”

  It takes a whole tree, seems like, but as soon as her face is back to normal-ish, we quiet and I think the worst of her shock and anger is over. At least that’s what I’m hoping, because watching her punish herself for that guy’s actions made me feel the most helpless I’ve ever been.

  “You want to keep walking? Do you have to be anywhere?”

  She shakes her head, “No, I don’t want to go home yet.” Stealing a glance at me. “Do you have to go?”

  “Nope. I’m staying right here.”

  Chapter 24

  ERIC

  Now that the tears have stopped, I’m devising a way to keep them gone, of a way to keep her mind off that jerk. “You want to hear a story?”

  Staring at the path she nods.

  “When we were kids we spent a lot of time out here and at the old mill in Roswell. A lot of time with our cousins. Ben, who you met. And Hannah was almost as old as Emma, my sister, so they were very close. Hannah has a couple of twin brothers, they’re a little younger than me.”

  “And how much older is your sister than you are?”

  “Almost five years. Hannah’s seven, almost eight years older than Gabriel and Elijah.”

  “Gabriel, the singer, right?”

  “That’s the one. You a fan of just football or do you like music, too?”

  She smiles like I’m scratching the surface of a great love of hers. “I like music.”

  “Yeah?”

&nb
sp; “I was in a band for a heartbeat.” She quietly says, then jumps and grabs my arm. “Sorry, the rustling there in the leaves. It was just a squirrel. We saw a snake earlier. Got me spooked.” Her fingers release but I still feel where they were even in their absence.

  “It’s okay. If we see one I’ll stomp on it.” That gets a smile out of her. “You were in a band? Playing what?”

  Inhaling like she’s not sure about this subject, she pauses, “Singing mostly. And writing. I play guitar but not well enough for stage.”

  Impressed and wishing this was a day she’d be up for allowing me to hear those pipes, I settle for merely asking, “What do you like to sing?”

  “Alternative music, folky stuff. You’d probably find it boring.”

  There’s that insecurity popping up again. “You think I like Metal?” I tease her, bumping our arms together.

  She glances up, a shy smile sending light into her eyes. “No, probably classic rock.”

  Laughing outright I admit, “You’re not wrong!”

  “See!” she grins. “I knew it.”

  “Sure, I like the classics, but I’m a sucker for a woman’s voice.”

  Her smile fades, eyelashes dropping back toward the ground. “Tell me more about your family.”

  Wondering why the subject closed her up, I’m happy to talk about something else. Anything that could inspire those little crinkles around her eyes to come back. “Oh right, I didn’t finish my story. So, we’d come here with our cousins, but sometimes it’d be just our immediate family. Emma, Ethan and I would race each other while Mom and Dad would stay back, strolling hand in hand. Back then I thought they were so cool to let us run off like that, all that freedom! But now that I’m older I figured it out that they wanted to be able to kiss in private.”

  Wren glances to me, “Your parents used to kiss like that?”

  “Used to?” I laugh.

  Her eyes widen. “They still do?”

  “All the time! Are you kidding? They’re crazy about each other. Been that way since day one. And holy shit, the fights? They’re just as passionate. Usually my dad getting all loud, pounding on his chest like a gorilla while my mom’s over there with her sweet Southern drawl and acerbic wit cutting him down to size. Then he swoops in and carries her away to make up. My parents are so in love with each other it’s wrong. Dad just built a bigger porch to house a hot tub and it’s not for relaxing.”

  Wren whispers, “Wow,” thinking about it. “My parents divorced when I was ten. Never saw them kissing. I honestly can’t remember one time they ever did.”

  “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

  “Tell me more.”

  Jogging up a short distance ahead to a fallen, dead tree trunk blocking our path, I offer my hand to help her over. “Gladly—I love talking about my family.” Her fingers slide onto my palm and I firmly clasp them, locking eyes with her. Wren offers my encouraging grin a fragile smile with gratitude behind it. I’m aware she’s curious why I’m here, what’s my angle. I don’t have one, but I can’t tell her that. I figure the best way for her to know is for me to show her.

  “You wore the right shoes for this. I didn’t. You should be helping me.”

  “Yeah, right,” she teases me as we walk onward.

  “I could fall down at any minute in these dress shoes!”

  “Puhlease.”

  “Look, whoa! See? Almost fell!”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “At least you’re standing.” I drop to the ground. “Shit! How the hell did I end up down here?”

  Welcome laughter bubbles up. “You’re ridiculous.”

  Wrapping my arms around my knees I smile up at her and offer a lame joke, nothing better coming to mind since all I want to do is hold her hand. “Guess you’re going to have to carry me.”

  “That’s a funny image.”

  “How am I going to navigate this treacherous terrain without your help?”

  She extends her hand and the simple gesture has a stilling effect on my heart. Her nails are bitten short, and there’s a scar on one finger from a slice that must have healed many years ago. I reach out and stare at our hands for the second time today feeling a powerful connection in her touch.

  Standing up, our bodies are closer than they should be, and I find myself gazing into her eyes, searching them. She’s staring back with the same confused look I have.

  “Wren…”

  She shakes her head, “Eric…”

  “You just got bad news, the timing is shit, but do you want to spend some time together as friends? I’d like to get to know you better. I won’t try anything.”

  Surprise flickers, and she nibbles her bottom lip. Of course my gaze slips down to watch, because I’m a man and I can’t help wishing I was those teeth. Forcing myself to meet her anxious eyes again, I wait for her answer. Feels like years pass by. “Okay, Eric. But if you change your mind, that’s okay.”

  Frowning at her insecurity and knowing he put it there, I tell her without reservation, “Pretty soon you’re going to remember who you are, and you’re going to be amazed.”

  Her gaze drops to my lips and flits back up, and I know from that involuntary slip that she wants to kiss me, too. We won’t, and shouldn’t, today. Yet still, it’s like someone shot adrenaline right into my groin. The man in me loves how soft and feminine she is. I want to protect. Hold her. Make sure nobody makes her cry again.

  She doesn’t let go of my hand. So I gently tighten my fingers and she keeps gazing at me like it’s okay. Blinking away from her before I go in for a kiss despite my better judgment, I lead her further into nature, our hands clasped, with birds singing in the distance.

  No cars,

  traffic,

  voices,

  …nothing.

  Just a Wren and a Falcon flying together in peace.

  Chapter 25

  WREN

  A lizard darts by, little feet causing a lot of noise in the crunchy, dead leaves. I jump, like I did with the squirrel, but relax and watch it skitter to and fro. “Normally I’d chase that,” I absently say aloud. “I love lizards. They’re prehistoric and weird.”

  “I’m gonna catch him!” Eric comes to life, stalking the creature with bended knees and fingers outstretched up a wide incline, leaving the path. His right hand looks like a disaster, reminding me I never asked about it. “Who did you get in a fight with?”

  His spine straightens as Eric stretches out his hand, inspecting it, the lizard forgotten just like that. “It wasn’t so much a fight as a beating.”

  “Who did you…?” The answer hits me before I finish the question and my hand flies to my mouth. “You beat him up?”

  “Broke his nose a little. Punched him in the nuts pretty good, too.” At my silence and shock, Eric tromps back to the path cleared by hundreds of footsteps over countless years. “Hey, you’re not going to defend that guy are you?” he demands.

  “That’s…”

  “Because he deserved what he got.”

  “That’s…”

  “Kissing that chick out in front of everyone.”

  “That’s…”

  “I should’ve kicked his nuts, not just punched them!”

  “That’s…”

  “What?! That’s what!”

  “The sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me!”

  He blinks in surprise and I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly I might cut off his circulation. His hands press into my back, arms tightening around me, too. “I had to do it. He hurt you.”

  I explore his face with a look of utter amazement and gratitude. “But why?”

  “You know how many times you shot me down because you had a boyfriend? Here you were being loyal to that punk and I respected the hell out of it. No, don’t make that face. Even though I fought you on it I respected it! And I knew you were attracted to me, too, but you were in a committed relationship and that mattered to you more than this.” He motions between our bodie
s. “And yet fuckhead over there was doing what he wanted and treating you the opposite of how you were treating him. It pissed me off. He hurt you. And I realized you can’t do that to someone. It’s not right. He needed my fist in his face, and I’d do it again!”

  I kiss him. I didn’t mean to, but I did it anyway. I had to.

  And Eric responds, but then he gasps and releases me, pulling free to stare into my eyes, his wild with confusion. “No, not like this!” he rasps then changes his mind and growls, “Aw, fuck it,” crashing a kiss into me. We tear into each other, the kisses hot and furious. We can’t get close enough.

  His fingers claw at the bottom of my tank top and yank it up. I throw my arms into the air so he can remove it, gasping, “Hurry!” With it balled in his right hand he hooks his arm around my waist and lifts my feet mostly off the ground, dragging me behind moss-covered boulders, our mouths latched, devouring each other every inch of the journey.

  Hidden back here, Eric pulls at my shorts while I yank open the buttons on his shirt, hands shoved inside and groping his chest, his ribs, his shoulders, tweaking his nipples while he grunts, urgent hands yanking my panties down my hips. “Fuck, I want you so bad,” he thickly murmurs against my parted lips.

  “This is okay, right?”

  “You mean, are you cheating?”

  “Yeah,” I breathe, torn and wanting absolution.

  Hazel eyes lose their smile as they gaze down at me. “Wren, you still want that guy?”

  “No!”

  “You love him?”

  “No.”

  “You think it’s done between you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Think he knows?”

  My soul lightens as I realize, “Peter can go to hell.”

  “That’s right, he can burn in it for all we care,” his eyes turning gentle as they travel around my face.

  “Eric?”

  “Shhh,” he whispers, brushing his lips against mine and staring at me. My heart knocks in my chest as he slides the pads of his fingers over my lips before he kisses me in a new way, in a way I’ve never been kissed before. It’s quiet, tender brushing of his lips against mine as our eyes remain locked in a passionate embrace of promises being made. My breath holds as I give myself over to him, softening. Responding he grows harder, eyes flashing with lust before he claims me in a rougher kiss, deepening it. The taste and feel of him intoxicates me. Everything feels hot, pulsing with desire and surprise. It’s like I’m waking up for the first time and seeing the world is in color.