One Night with a Quarterback

by Jeanette Murray

  He was a good man, and he had good friends. “Well, I owe you.” With a shuddering breath, she let her head fall into her hands in a moment of weakness. “God. She could have been hurt. Did I do this? Did I screw this up? Did I break something in this family to cause this? Did I make them rebel?”

  Stephen put one arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a side hug, squeezing a little. “Nah. Teenagers are idiots. All of them, even the smart ones. From what I can tell, she’s been a pretty straight arrow up to now. She was due for a little mutiny.”

  She gave a watery chuckle. “I guess.” She shifted closer to him when someone exited the bar and walked down the front steps, brushing by them.

  “Hey, look.” The drunken man, pivoting on his heel with a slight wobble, grinned with beer-glassy eyes. “You’re the Pro-jigal Daughter.”

  Cassie assumed he meant prodigal, but wasn’t about to correct him. Instead, she ignored his stare and focused on Stephen. “Thanks again. Do you need a ride anywhere?”

  He scowled. “Why? I’m good.”

  She hesitated, and was about to ask if he would wait for Trey before leaving, when the man slurred again from in front of them. “An’ you’re a Bobcat, aren’t you? Yeah, big guy. You.”

  Stephen’s head raised and he shot the man a malicious look. One that would have had Cassie running for cover. “Piss off.”

  She scooted close to Stephen again as another man passed by so he wouldn’t touch her. Then she looked up and saw the first man taking a picture of them together. Immediately, she knew how it looked. She was all but plastered to Stephen’s side to make room for the passersby, and his arm was around her shoulder.

  Well, damn.

  Nothing to do but avoid giving them more ammo. “Trey mentioned he was coming. Can you wait for him? I don’t want Irene here any longer than necessary. I’d rather take her home now.”

  “Yeah, sure, that’s—dude.” Stephen stood abruptly. “Stop with the camera shit.”

  “What?” The moron, and his buddy who had followed him out, seemed oblivious to the anger glittering in Stephen’s eyes. “The Bobcats blogs are going to love this. What happened, your daddy set you up with one of his players? Couldn’t get a date yourself?”

  “Fuck off,” Stephen growled, and lunged for the phone.

  “Stephen, no.” She stood, but wasn’t sure what to do. Getting in the way seemed like a recipe for pain. But Stephen’s anger seemed to have stepped over the cliff of reason, never to return. Calm discussion wasn’t going to work. But one more try couldn’t hurt. “Please, Stephen!”

  But the smaller man was already swinging. He connected with Stephen’s jaw, sending him back half a foot. And the game was on. Stephen launched himself at the other man, knocking him to the ground with a superb tackle.

  Well, there was a reason he made a million a year to do that.

  “Irene!” she yelled. Even from across the lot, she could see her sister’s scared face, her eyes wide, watching. “Irene, go! Go home, now!” When her sister hesitated, she screamed, “Go!” Irene slammed the driver’s side door shut.

  The man’s friend joined the fray, and it was two against one. Sober, he might have been okay. But Cassie could see his reactions were slow, his movements jerky. The beer she’d smelled had been from him, after all. And as one man grappled with him, the other landed blow after blow, unprotected, on Stephen’s face and upper body. Eventually, he’d be knocked unconscious, or worse.

  She braced herself and did her best to imitate Stephen’s tackle, taking the other man down with a shoulder to his side. They landed together on the pavement just as she heard tires squeal.

  From her peripheral vision, she caught Irene driving away in her car.

  Good. Go home. Get out of here before this gets worse.

  She jumped up, hoping to get out of the way, but the man she’d knocked over tangled his legs with hers and tripped her. She landed flat on her ass with him leaning over her. Her head rang from the impact to the concrete. Tires squealed again, and she closed her eyes and prayed Irene hadn’t come back.

  Just as the man’s arm cocked back for a blow, he was gone. She stared straight up into a streetlight and had to close her eyes or be blinded. But after another few moments, she turned her head to the side.

  And saw Trey fighting the man who’d come close to punching her, kicking his ass like an avenging angel.

  Or demon, the way his fists were flying.

  She’d take it.

  At the sound of shouts, she glanced around and saw other patrons filing out of the bar to watch the parking lot excitement.

  “Shit,” a voice behind her muttered, just before she was picked up by the armpits and set on her feet. “Can you walk?”

  She nodded, then turned to see Josiah standing behind her. “Go help them.”

  “They’ve got it covered.” He pushed her toward an SUV. His, she assumed. After another few moments of scuffling, Trey—pushing a staggering Stephen—headed for them. Trey loaded Stephen in the front passenger seat before climbing into the back with her.

  “Hospital, now,” he ordered. Josiah seemed to take the order in stride and maneuvered out of the parking lot.

  As they drove away, she watched the two men they’d left behind crawl to their hands and knees, alive but battered.

  “Fuckers,” Trey muttered, just before his mouth crushed down on hers.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Fear was the most horrifying of tastes. He would never, as long as he lived, forget watching that animal push Cassie down and pull back to deliver a straight punch.

  He’d seen shit before that would make a grown man piss his pants. He’d been pummeled by three- hundred-pound linebackers. But in that one moment, he realized he’d never known true fear before now.

  “Are you okay?” He pulled back enough to look her over. She was draped across his lap in the back of Josiah’s SUV, her body shaking with what he hoped were nerves and adrenaline and not pain. “Where does it hurt?”

  She shook her head, then held up her hands. “Just some scrapes.”

  Her palms were raw, as were her knees. He kissed them gently, trying hard to keep himself from showing the rage boiling inside him.

  He settled her back up to help her buckle. When she winced, he froze. “What?”

  She smiled a little sheepishly. “My shoulder’s a little sore.” She rotated it once. “I tried to tackle one of them, like I’ve seen you guys do on the field.”

  Josiah laughed at that, but Trey couldn’t quite bring himself to find the humor yet. “Baby . . .”

  “I know,” she started. “My phone.” She patted her pockets, found her phone, and pulled it out.

  “No calls right now.”

  “I need to know if Irene’s okay!” She ignored him and made a call anyway, growling in frustration when either the call didn’t connect or her sister didn’t answer. She punched in another number.

  Trey blinked. Irene. He’d totally forgotten. “Was she even there?”

  “Yes,” Cassie said through her teeth. “She left in my car when the fight started, thank God.”

  He warred between relief she hadn’t been around to witness the fight, and annoyance at the girl ditching her sister so quickly. He took his cue from Cassie and let relief win.

  “Mellie!” Cassie yelled into the phone. “Is Irene back yet?” She listened, her mouth in a tense little line, eyes full of worry. “Okay. Yes, I’m fine. I’m okay. Have her park my car back by the pool house then take her upstairs. Make her shower, change into her pajamas, and get her into bed. Yes, full permission to yell at her tomorrow. Just give her some slack tonight, okay? Yeah. Okay.” Her eyes widened and then closed. She whispered, “Love you, too,” and hung up.

  Then she let her head drop to Trey’s shoulder and she cried.

  * * *

  By the time they pulled up to the ER, Stephen was slumped against the passenger door, out cold.

  “Is he . . .” Cassie swallowed h
ard. “Is he unconscious?”

  Josiah leaned in close, listened to his breathing a moment, then pried one eye open. Stephen shifted his head away, but continued to breath deeply. “Just passed out, I think. He’s banged up, but not that bad.”

  “You’re both going in to get checked out,” Trey said firmly.

  “But I’m—”

  “Going in,” he said again, then took hold of her arm and pulled her out of the car and waited while Josiah flagged down a hospital employee and they managed to get Stephen into a wheelchair for easier mobility.

  The waiting room was blessedly low on patients, and they took both her and Stephen back immediately. Though she waited more than an hour to be seen, at least she was behind a curtain for privacy. Trey continued to move back and forth between her cubicle and Stephen’s. Josiah stayed with their friend the whole time. She was glad they didn’t leave him alone, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

  After his last trip to see Stephen, Trey entered while she was being looked by an LPN.

  Cassie blinked for the light, touched her nose, followed the finger, walked in a straight line, and performed a few other tests. Annoying though it was, she was glad to get it over with. Then the nurse bandaged her hands and knees where she’d scraped them on the pavement.

  “Must have been some fall,” the nurse said easily.

  Cassie opened her mouth, then caught sight of Trey standing behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. His face said he could have ripped the head off a bear and not blinked twice while doing it. She shrugged and kept quiet.

  “You’re all done. Antibacterial ointment twice a day, and change the bandages. You should be fine, I didn’t see any gravel to pick out.” After having Cassie sign one form, then telling her where to go to check out from the hospital, she left them alone.

  “Stephen?” she asked the moment the nurse closed the curtain behind her.

  His face softened a little. “Luckily, his hard head protected him. He might have a slight concussion, but it’s hard to tell with the alcohol still in his system. They’re admitting him overnight, to be safe. But the general prognosis is he’s good, just stupid.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I—”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, his voice raised, stepping closer. He shook her shoulders hard enough to rattle her teeth.

  “Shh.” She glanced toward the curtain.

  He did the same, then took her elbow and guided her to the checkout desk, and then outside and around he corner of the front entrance, out of the way of the comings and goings.

  “Where’s Josiah?”

  “Don’t worry about him, God damn it, worry about yourself!” He was roaring now. “How could you step in the middle of that? What possessed you to think it was a good idea to get in the middle of grown men brawling in a parking lot? Especially ones who had been drinking, for chrissake?”

  “I felt guilty,” she said quietly. “He was only involved because of me, and he was doing me a favor and—”

  “And nothing.” Trey’s phone rang, and he reached into his pocket and silenced the ringer before continuing. “He was doing you a favor, yes. But he got involved in that fight because he was a moron. Don’t tell me there was no opportunity for him to walk away,” he said, cutting off her protests. “I know you’re protecting him, but that shit’s going to stop now.” His phone rang again. Again, he silenced it, then turned to pace a few feet away. “Protecting him is why we’re where we are now. I shouldn’t have been doing it all this time.”

  “Neither of us should have been.”

  Trey and Cassie turned to find Josiah standing there, watching with calm, sad eyes. “We fucked up, man. Both of us. We should have let him hit rock bottom earlier.”

  “Maybe,” Trey agreed. “Maybe we should have just told Coach earlier our concerns.” Once more, his phone rang. This time, he pulled it out and turned it off without looking at the call log.

  “Guys, what . . .”

  “He’s got a spot for tomorrow.” Josiah stuffed his hands in his own pockets. “They can take him anytime after nine in the morning, if you want to take him. Or I can. I already talked to Coach Talbin.”

  “Already, huh?” Trey shook his head. “Must have made a lot of progress while we were waiting.”

  “Friends need help, you jump on it. I’ll be in the car.”

  Cassie waited for him to be out of ear shot. “Spot tomorrow for what?”

  Trey clutched a hand in his hair. “Rehab. We should have done this sooner. Damn it!” He kicked at the brick side of the building, then let his head drop to the rough wall.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Poor excuse for help at this stage.

  Trey opened one arm, and she accepted the silent invitation for a hug. He squeezed so hard, she wondered if he’d crack a few ribs. The thought that she’d survived a bar fight unscathed only to have her boyfriend unintentionally break a bone at the hospital made her snort. Then chuckle. Before long, a torrent of unstoppable laughter fell out. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and horrified, but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.

  Lucky for her, Trey didn’t seem offended. He seemed to understand, drawing her close again for another hug. He whispered soothing sounds and rubbed her back, kissing the top of her head and making her feel safe.

  In that moment, she could have cocooned them forever and been content. And she loved him for that contentment. The peace at the eye of the storm.

  “Let’s take you home. I’ve got to get back to my car, then make some arrangements for tomorrow.”

  He wrapped one arm around her and led her to the SUV.

  “You okay once you get home? Or do you want me to come in with you?” He squeezed when she shrugged. “I will, if it’ll help. Face the entire thing together.”

  “No.” She laid her head on his upper arm for a second before climbing in the back seat. “Family stuff first, then the rest. Thanks, though.”

  * * *

  Cassie paused, just momentarily, before ringing the doorbell to the main house. She’d peeked around the corner to see her car parked in front of the pool house, and was grateful it seemed like Irene got back okay.

  The door swung open, and there stood her father. Wearing what Cassie assumed was the world’s most disappointed frown known to mankind.

  “Cassie.” His arms crossed over his chest, and he didn’t step in to let her by. “Nice of you to come by.”

  She glanced out at the dark evening sky, then back to Ken. “Can I come in and explain?”

  He hesitated, long enough to wonder if she should just go back to the pool house and pack now. Then he sighed and stepped aside so she could come in.

  She glanced up the stairs and found Mellie peeking out between the banisters on the upper landing. She didn’t wave or draw attention to herself. Irene’s door, she noticed, was shut. Hopefully she was getting some rest.

  She followed her father into his home office. The walls were lined with photos of his days in the NFL. Some taken with a sepia tone, to make them look more aged. Two ring boxes proudly displayed in cases on the bookshelves highlighted his two Super Bowl wins.

  And the crowning jewel . . . Tabitha. If her eyes were laser beams, Cassie would have been fire-roasted already.

  She stood, anger erasing some of her natural grace and elegance. Her hands were balled into fists, her simple blouse was wrinkled. And her hair, so recently done in a nice bun for the meeting, was a little lopsided.

  “How could you,” she started. “How dare you?”

  “Tabitha,” Ken started, but she cut him off with her laser beams.

  Make that fire-roasted for two.

  “Don’t you dare stand in front of her. She’s old enough to know better. She’s old enough to be trusted. You said she could be trusted. That she was mature enough to be in charge of our two babies. And look what she did.” Tabitha pointed to the computer, whose screen was faced away. “She abandoned the
m at home alone and took off to some seedy bar! And for what?”

  Ken walked around his desk to sit.

  “For some assignation. With a man. With a football player! One of yours!” She was shouting now, the polished veneer shattered. Nothing was bringing this tirade to a halt but a brick wall. “She not only abandoned our daughters, but broke the rule about no men. The heights of her disrespect . . .” Tabitha draped a hand over her heart, as if it was giving her palpitations just thinking about it.

  Cassie waited to see if she was done, but it appeared her father’s wife was finished. She flopped back down on the leather sofa and glared at her.

  “Are the girls okay?”

  Ken seemed a little taken aback by the question. “They are. Mellie was worried about you,” he added, as if to put the screws in deeper. “Irene must have missed you leaving, as she was in her room the entire time doing homework, and then went to bed early.”

  Thank you, God. “I won’t make excuses for leaving,” she began quietly. She wouldn’t throw Irene under the bus. If and when the teenager wanted to come clean—and Cassie had a feeling it would be sooner rather than later that her conscious would demand it—she would do so on her own. The confession would mean much more if it was given freely. “I will apologize for leaving them. Though I’ll say here, the girls are both very bright, and mature. There’s really no reason for them to require supervision for a few hours on their own.”

  “That’s not for you to decide,” her father said simply. His fingers were steepled in front of his mouth, and he watched her with unreadable eyes.

  “You’re right. It’s not. And that’s not the point.” She took a deep breath. “I will tell you right now, I did not leave to meet up with any players. Or to meet up with a man, at all. I don’t know what’s being said . . .” She waved at the computer. It had only been a few hours. How much could have been said about the situation?

  “Look for yourself.” Ken turned the monitor, angling it so that she could see. The screen displayed what she could tell was a blog due to the layout of the webpage. Front and center was a photo of her and Stephen sitting on the front step of the downtown bar. Her head was on his shoulder, his arm was tightly wrapped around her. Her eyes were closed. Taken out of context, it easily could be mistaken for a pair of lovers taking a breather from a bar. Rather than the truth, which was a friend giving another friend a moment of comfort after chasing down her younger sister for an hour.