Copyright © Kate McCarthy 2015
ISBN-13: 978-0-9875261-8-2
ISBN-10: 0987526189
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any other information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for brief quotations in a review.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Title and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual person’s, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editing by Maxann Dobson, The Polished Pen
http://www.polished-pen.com
Cover art courtesy of Mae I Design and Photography
http://www.maeidesign.com/
Interior Design by Allusion Book Formatting and Publishing
http://www.allusiongraphics.com/
Cover models are Maximilian Gust and Hannah Peltier
There are two main characters in this story. Jordan, an Australian, and Brody, an American, which begged the question, which spelling should I use for the dual point of view? I’ve decided to go with American for the entire story to reduce confusion. My reason being the majority of the story is based in America, however I am an author based in Australia, therefore you will find Australian slang and Australian terminology in this book from Jordan’s perspective.
Due to the subject matter contained in this story, some Universities, sporting teams, and processes, have been fabricated for legal reasons.
Thank you for purchasing a copy of The End Game. I hope you enjoy Brody and Jordan’s journey as much as I have writing it.
To my mother with so much love.
You taught me the value of having dreams,
and how important it is to reach for them before it’s too late.
I miss you.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Books by Kate McCarthy
Other Books Synposis
About the Author
Jordan
I walk off the soccer field at North Sydney Oval. Dried sweat coats every inch of my skin from a bout of training I’d rather forget. I’m the best damn player this team has, better than all of them, and they know it. Yet I’m not wanted here.
Distrust glares back at me from my teammates’ eyes as they make their way toward the waiting bus. Their open hostility should hurt, but I can’t feel it. It’s an odd feeling, I think. Numbness. Like being injected with anesthetic. I wonder how long it will last.
My brother is propped in front of the bleachers, leaning against the fence behind him. He looks like he always does. Honey-colored curls peek out from a gray beanie, skin tanned no matter what the season, and cheeks tinged pink from the cool air. His clear blue eyes stare back at me, solemn and resigned, beautiful, yet always so damn sad.
He’s here to watch me train. I’ve been contracted to play for the Australian women’s soccer team in the upcoming FIFA World Cup. It’s a huge honor, and one I don’t take lightly, but I’m tired. My mind is elsewhere right now, which means my focus is shot.
Forcing a smile, I wave and make my way toward him. It’s a cool night and my cleats crunch loudly in the crisp grass, the rich scent of dirt rising up and teasing my senses. I breathe it in deep, feeling it lodge inside my lungs. It gives me no satisfaction. No sense of achievement. Tonight it gives me nothing.
He waves back. Nicolas, or Nicky as I call him, is my safety net. Being older by three minutes has given him a sense of responsibility, and he wields it like a weapon. Perhaps I’m selfish because I let him. How can I not? My brother’s given up his own future so I can have mine. I owe him everything.
“You call that soccer?” he shouts as I get closer.
“What do you call it?”
He shakes his head. “A fuckin’ train wreck.”
My breath huffs out sharply, fogging the air in front of me. “Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”
Nicky tucks his hands inside his pockets and shrugs. “Sugar is for girls and spice and all things nice.”
I laugh, but the sound isn’t a happy one. I’m not any lighter for it. It only weighs me down further because Brody’s gone and I’ll never laugh again. Not on the inside.
“And I’m none of those?”
“Nope,” he says simply, his voice firm and matter-of-fact.
Reaching his side, I take a seat on the bench with a deep, exhausted sigh. Bending over, I begin untying my laces. “What am I then?”
“A fighter. Fearless. A fuckin’ thing of raw beauty out there on the field. No one can catch you,” he says, and I pause to look at him. Pride shines from his eyes, lighting him up from the inside, but when they begin to harden, my stomach sinks like lead. “Some of those girls out there play with heart, and some play just because they’re good at it, but you? You bleed the game.” He looks away, fixing his gaze on the field in front of us. “You play with a fire so bright it hurts my eyes. This game is a part of you. It’s a part of you that no one should be able to take away, and out there you were letting them do just that.”
“Nicky—”
“Don’t.” His voice is sharp and cuts right through me. Shaking my head, I return to my laces, unable to look at him anymore. “Don’t let them.”
One of the ties tangles in my fingers. I give up and rest my elbows on my knees, letting my head hang low. “They’ll get over it and tomorrow it will just be yesterday’s news.”
“Bullshit, Jordan.” Nicky jerks to his feet. Facing me, he crouches so I can’t avoid looking him in the eye. “This kind of crap doesn’t wash off after a hot shower. It sticks like fuckin’ tar.”
I force a chuckle. “Don’t be such a drama queen, Nicky.”
A strangled, angry sound rises from his throat. I know he’s only five seconds from losing his shit, but I can’t help it. I know what he’s asking me to do, and the very thought squeezes all the air from my lungs. I won’t do it.
“I love him.
”
“You loved him,” he corrects me. “And now you have to let him go. He wants you to, honey. What happened out on the field tonight, teammates shunning you, hating on you, do you think he wanted that for you?”
No. He didn’t.
My jaw locks tight in a desperate battle to hold back the tidal wave of pain. I lose and it crashes over me, ripping away my blanket of numbness. My body begins to shake, and I tense every muscle hard so Nicky doesn’t see.
“Jordan?”
He says my name but I don’t hear him. My eyes close and the world drops away from me. All I see is Brody in its place. He’s wrapped around me, his naked skin pressed against mine, our bodies tangled in bed sheets. It’s suffocating, but I love it. I’m warm and safe, and his lips kissing along my brow are heartbreakingly tender. He speaks to me, but my breathing is deep and even. He thinks I’m asleep.
“Don’t go,” he whispers, and his voice cracks with so much pain it squeezes my chest. “You made me want you and need you, and now I can’t live without you anymore. Not for a single second.”
I draw a deep, scratchy breath and open my eyes. My brother is standing now, rubbing a hand over his face like he has no clue what to do or say. I rise to my feet with purpose. What happened is my fault. I know it is. Brody needed me and I wasn’t there. I was never there. And now it’s too late.
“What, Nicky?”
His eyes turn hard. “Let him go.”
“I can’t.” There’s no letting go. Not ever. Even with him gone, Brody’s hold on me will last a lifetime.
“You have to.”
My chin juts out, stubborn to the core. “I don’t have to do anything except what’s right for me.”
“Goddammit!” Nicky growls his frustration. Ripping the beanie from his head, he tugs fingers through his hair. “What are you going to tell them at the press conference in the morning?”
“The truth.”
I begin the walk toward the locker room to collect my training bag. The majority of the team is already on the bus. They’ll be waiting for me if I don’t get a move on. Nicky doesn’t follow.
“Which is what exactly?” he calls out.
I turn, walking backwards. “I’ll figure it out.”
But I already have. I’m just not prepared to argue about it with my brother any longer.
Head bowed, I make my way inside the locker room, water bottle dangling from my hand. Finding my locker, I pull out my bag and shove the bottle inside. After taking out my team jacket, I shrug it on, all while holding myself together when I feel ready to fall apart.
Changing out my cleats for a pair of slip-on shoes, I zip up the bag and carry it out toward the bus, my head held high.
My brother wants the truth? It’s that I once believed being the best was all you had. So did Brody.
But we were both wrong.
Jordan
Two years earlier…
The automatic doors at Austin International Airport whoosh open, ejecting me into a bright, sunny afternoon. I fill my lungs, taking in my very first breath of United States’ air. It’s thick and warm, and after spending seventeen hours stuck inside an airplane sucking down funky, recycled oxygen, it smells delicious.
It also smells like great expectations. My entire future is riding on my year in this country. Rather then crumble under the weight of the pressure, I’ve been telling myself I’ve got this. I’m going to be focused and determined, and I’m going to kick ass. The positive mantras worked well these past six months, which was how long it took for the college dean and my international scholarship agency to get the paperwork in place. Now that I’m actually standing here on American soil, my lungs have seized. I’m not nervous. I’m bloody terrified. I haven’t got this at all. I’ve left behind my entire life in Australia to complete my senior year in college in a foreign country where I don’t know anyone.
My next deep breath of United States’ air starts to taste a little less like excitement, and a little more like an anxiety attack. I start to turn. My only plan: barrel through the elated hordes of reuniting travelers and demand a ticket from the departures counter for the next flight home.
“Jordan Elliott!”
A loud, Texas twang shrieks my name and halts my escape. I turn back, keeping a tight grip on the handles of my luggage as I scan the direction of the shout.
A long, waving arm catches my eye. It’s attached to a slender, athletic female with tousled dark hair and impish brown eyes. She’s looking directly at me, an excited grin plastered across her face.
“Elliott!” she shouts again and starts pushing her way toward me. She’s wearing a Colton Bulls tank top, cute denim shorts, and cowboy boots that look like alligators have attached themselves to her feet.
A smile begins to form and recognition clears the panic from my eyes. “Leah?”
My inspection is interrupted when she envelops me in a hug and dances up and down. I’m squeezed and jostled, and when I’m eventually released, Leah spreads her arms out wide.
“Welcome to Texas!”
Leah’s my new roommate in an athletes’ apartment block right off campus. She’s also a defender in one of the best women’s college soccer teams in the world. After three months of pre-season training, I’ll be starting striker for that very same team.
My lungs seize again. Breathe, Elliott, I chastise internally. Enjoy the moment. The world is your oyster. Glory will soon be yours, blah blah blah.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Leah’s gaze takes in the two hefty suitcases resting behind me with disbelief.
“Yep, that’s it,” I reply.
“But…” she looks at me, doubt furrowing her brow “…you’re here for fifteen months. You do know that right?”
“Of course I know! One suitcase alone is full of soccer gear. What more could I possibly need?”
Leah grabs the handle of the bag sitting on my right. “Screw the soccer gear. You know, if I had to leave my boyfriend and travel halfway around the world, one suitcase alone would be dedicated to shoes and vibrators.”
I take hold of the other and walk alongside her as we make our way out to the parking lot. A sly grin forms on her face. “Did you pack any?”
“Pack any what?”
“Vibrators!” she says in almost a shout. The word garners the attention of several people around us and a flush heats my cheeks.
“No! Of course I didn’t. I mean, those things show up on X-ray scans, right? How embarrassing. With my luck, the TSA would think I’m smuggling drugs inside them and take them out for a closer inspection.”
Leah’s laugh is loud. “It doesn’t matter anyway. There’ll be plenty of male bodies for you to choose from. The guys on campus love female jocks.”
I snort. “I’m not here for sex.”
“Of course you are. It’s college.”
After my luggage is stowed, we’re in the car and zooming directly toward my new home. It only takes half an hour, but with Leah talking non-stop the entire trip feels like minutes.
I barely have time to take in the scenery, but it’s enough to realize that Austin, Texas, isn’t all brown dirt and tumbleweeds, cow dung on the sides of the road, and dusty cowboys riding horses into town. I knew it wouldn’t be. Wikipedia explained in great detail that Austin is a beautiful, thriving city, with clean air and condos, yet I still feel slightly robbed.
“Have you lived here long?” I ask.
“Yep. I’m a born and bred Austinite,” Leah replies as she accelerates through a yellow light. “What about you?”
“Born and bred Sydneysider.”
“What about your family?” she asks.
The familiar pull of loss tugs at me. I try to get a handle on it and force a smile for my new friend. “I have a twin brother, Nicolas, or Nicky as I usually call him.”
“Oh my gosh, that is so cool. Are you guys like, identical?”
I shake my head. “Fraternal, but we look a lot alike. Unfortunately, he’s way bigger than me
and the eldest by three minutes, so he likes to boss me around.”
“What about your parents?” she asks.
“It’s just the two of us.” There’s a brief silence, which I feel the desperate urge to fill before she starts asking more questions. “What about you?”
Her eyes light up and she starts telling me about her three older sisters, all of which are scattered across the country.
“You all sound close,” I say. “Do you miss them?”
“Are you kidding? We fought like a pack of wild cats. My parents are enjoying their empty nest far too much.” She grins at me quickly before returning her attention to the road. “I do miss borrowing their clothes, though.”
Leah pulls into a parking spot in front of a majestic, red-brick block of apartments. The windows are trimmed with white timber and matching decorative grids. The surrounding gardens are lush and green, and well kept.
“This is us?”
She nods and grins. “This is Colton Park University, Elliott. Home to the best student athletes in all of Texas.”
“Wow,” I breathe as I take it all in, finding it hard to believe I’m finally here. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so pretty.”
Leah shakes her head as she gets out of the car. “What were you expecting? The Wild West?”
“At the very least.”
The building is five floors and our apartment is halfway up on the third. We make our way up the stairwell. My suitcases make a loud clunk as we roll them up the wide, tiled steps. After moving down the long corridor, we stop at a dark timber door. Nervous anticipation fills me. This is going to be my home away from home for more than a year. It might not seem like much, but right this minute it feels like a big deal.
Leah hands me a key. “You do the honors,” she says, bumping my shoulder with hers.
“You’re not going to carry me over the threshold?” I ask as I take it.
With a laugh, she snatches the key back, unlocks the door, and makes a grab for me. “What are you doing?” I screech, leaping backwards with a giggle.
Leah crouches and locks her arms around me, just under my backside, and lifts me up. We’re shrieking with laughter as she carries me through the doorway, but when she trips over my bag near her feet, we take a header and spill across the floor like a figure skating trick gone wrong.
The End Game Page 1