Keisha: Oops.
Me: KEISHA. Warn a girl next time.
With a quick glance in the mirror, it didn’t take long to realize it was not how I would’ve chosen to look upon seeing this man who still held a massive piece of my heart.
My hair was back in a simple braid, there wasn’t a stitch of makeup on my face, and I’d grabbed a vintage Tootsie Pop T-shirt out of my closet. Digging around in my purse, I breathed a sigh of relief when I found a tube of mascara because honestly … what woman would judge me for that?
I had a healthy enough sense of vanity. Mascara was the least I could manage.
But it didn’t take long, walking with my chin high and my heart hammering in my chest, to realize that mascara was about as effective as a paper plate protecting me from a hurricane. Because he was the first thing I saw when I walked through the door.
At the sight of his broad back, covered in a black T-shirt, it felt an awful lot like someone hit the flat of my back with a steel pipe. Keisha was facing me, a clipboard in her hand, and she caught sight of me first. The hallway was blessedly empty of kids because when Dominic noticed the shift in Keisha’s attention and did a double-take at the sight of me, I almost passed the frick out.
Whatever hit me in the back must’ve hit Dominic straight in the gut because I could see the shocked gust of air as it left his body.
His eyes, dark and intense, swept me from the top of my head to the bottom of my Converse. And when he stopped at my T-shirt, his lips curled up in a crooked smile.
I tucked my hair behind my ears, and his smile went a little pained at the edges.
His gaze only left mine so he could say something to Keisha. She nodded, giving me a tiny wink as she went back into her office.
Dominic tucked his hands into his jeans and approached me slowly.
“Hey, sunshine,” he said.
My throat went dry at the sound of his voice. It took everything in me not to throw myself into his arms.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I know you’re not scheduled for any official volunteer time.”
His eyes searched mine. “You checking up on me?”
I breathed out a laugh and stared down at my feet for a second. “Once or twice,” I admitted when I could look at him again. “How have you been?”
“Fucking miserable,” he said immediately. “But … I’m working on it.”
My nose tingled, a warning siren for incoming tears, and I willed them back. “I’m … Dominic…” My voice trailed off because I wasn’t even sure what to say now that I was faced with him. In my last message, I’d charged him with this massive thing, and now as I saw him, smelled him, desperately wanted to curl myself into his arms, I wasn’t even sure that what I’d said was fair.
Or that it wasn’t fair to disappear once I’d said it.
I didn’t even know anymore.
I miss you.
I’m still in love with you.
Please … tell me we can do this.
All of those thoughts stayed locked tight because I wanted some sign from him that he felt ready to try again. Maybe what he was working on was a way to live without me.
“I know, Faith,” he said quietly. “You were right, you know. For what you said to me. How you held me accountable to fix my own shit.”
“It doesn’t feel right,” I whispered. “Not right now.”
His jaw clenched, his eyes moving over my shoulder while he nodded. “It doesn’t.” When he locked gazes with me again, it was so powerful, what one look from him did inside me. Before, I remembered thinking that his eyes were the center of the hurricane, the quiet around all that chaos. But they were different now.
Everything about him looked different, even if it was still him.
I opened my mouth to comment when Keisha cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but here are those names I told you about, Dominic.”
He smiled. “I can’t thank you enough, Keisha.”
“You’re doing a great thing, Walker.” Then she looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes. “You better ask him what he’s been up to, Faith.”
When she disappeared, he gave me a rueful smile. “She’s subtle.”
“What does she mean?”
Dominic blew out a breath and handed me the file tucked under his arm. When I flipped it open and saw the letterhead, I covered my mouth with one hand.
“Ivy’s League?” I said. My finger traced the logo, and once I could get past that, I saw what was on the paper. The mission statement—a scholarship program for girls from low-income families who wanted to pursue their athletic dreams. The names from Keisha were well-known supporters of the philanthropic community, and lined up with who he’d listed from the sports community, he’d have a home run. It was exactly who I would’ve suggested he reached out to. “Dominic.” I paused, shaking my head. “This is amazing.”
He blushed, just a little, at my praise, and I wanted to heap about a hundred times more of it on him. “Thanks.”
“Do-do you need any help?” I heard myself ask. “I mean, if you want. I don’t have to.”
At first, Dominic didn’t answer. He just stared at me in that way of his, where I very much felt like he was digging a foothold into my heart or my soul or whatever intangible thing still hummed between us.
“It might be too hard,” he said finally. “Even seeing you like this”—he shook his head—“when I don’t think I’m where I need to be.”
I miss you.
I’m still in love with you.
Please … tell me we can do this.
It was the kind of answer that spoke to how much he was trying, and again, my heart was split straight down the middle. Happiness and the gut-wrenching ache of missing him.
But if he could respect me, what I’d said to him, then I could do the same.
“I understand,” I told him. “I’m so proud of what you’re doing.”
Carefully, he took a step closer, and with a sharp inhale, he lifted his hand and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His finger lightly trailed the curve, and I shivered, my eyes falling shut.
“I miss you.” He whispered so quietly, I almost didn’t hear him.
With my eyes still closed, a tear slid out, and I expected Dominic to wipe it away with his thumb.
But when I opened my eyes, he’d backed away a step, his forehead wrinkled like he was in pain.
The breath that left my lips was shaky, as unsteady as my wobbly, Jell-O legs that could hardly hold me up.
Dominic smiled. “I should go.”
My heart was breaking all over again, just from being near him. I’d never get over this man, and I didn’t want to.
As that thought entered my head, my selfish heart pushed words straight out of my mouth. “Do you think you’ll be ready soon?” I asked. “Because I miss you too.”
He swiped a hand over his mouth as he studied me. His jaw clenched before he answered. “I’m close.”
My hand brushed away another tear, and I barely managed a shaky nod. This was what I’d asked for.
“Good luck in the game tomorrow,” I told him.
“Will you be there?” he asked.
I smiled. “Yeah. We always watch the first preseason game from the sidelines. I’ll … you won’t even notice me.”
Dominic grinned, a small dimple appearing in his cheek. “Impossible.”
Then he turned and walked away.
Day thirty-three. What a dick.
And at that point, I had no clue what was waiting for us on day thirty-four.
Dominic
It might not have been the regular season kickoff, but the energy heading into our first preseason game had me amped. Music pumped loudly through the speakers in the stadium, a deep throbbing bass that rattled my bones as we lined up in the tunnel. Around me was a sea of black and red and white, the growling rumble of the stands reminded me very much of the howling wolf on our jerseys, that decorated the middle of the field.
My headspace now, about to enter the field for a very different reason, couldn’t be further from the first night I’d signed my contract.
The buzz of the crowd, the jumping and jostling of my teammates as we waited to take the field to fireworks and screaming and waving flags, it all rolled through my body in a wave that I never wanted to end.
It was the high that every football player experienced and craved when the season—or our career—was over.
For a moment, I let my mind wander from the game, the stadium, the fans, and I thought about seeing her the day before.
There was hope.
I knew it. It was no longer a slight glow or a slow build.
I saw it in her eyes, in how she held her body so carefully in that hallway.
And tonight, I’d get a glimpse of her again. It was enough to sustain me, those little snippets. Until I could walk straight up to her and trust myself to love her the way she deserved. No secrets between us, no minefield to navigate.
James approached with a slap to the back of my helmet. “You ready, Walker?”
“I’m ready, cap.” I punched a fist to the C on his chest proclaiming him one of our leaders.
He grinned. “Proud of you. Want you to know that, before a single snap happens.”
“Thanks.” For just a moment, I allowed myself to absorb the full impact of his compliment, handed to me so casually.
Until I was at Washington, I didn’t think I ever would’ve recognized what true leadership looked like. And without the years at Texas, clawing my way to a starting position when my coaches never thought I could hack it, and then at Vegas, where the bad behavior became a badge of honor, I never would’ve fully appreciated that leadership either.
The announcer started, stirring the fans into a crazed roar as he teased our entrance.
“But you know, you can still get a little angry out there,” James yelled over the noise.
I laughed. “Good. Not sure I could ever fully turn that off anyway.”
He smacked my back. “Let’s do this, Walker.”
At the sound of his name and the answering roar of the Wolves fans, he took the field first with his fist raised.
In front of us, ready to usher us through the tunnel with shouts of encouragement were Torres and Ward, walking past each player to tap their helmets. Torres grinned when he hit mine, and before Ward did the same thing, he paused, then held his fist out for me.
I tapped it. “Ready, Coach?”
He smacked my helmet. “Always.”
After that, the music cranked louder, and so did the fans. We all hopped once, twice, and took off sprinting down the line of waving flags.
Preseason games were almost always the same. A chance for the starting players to take a few snaps, run a couple of plays to get the initial kinks out and give the fans a small preview, but the majority of it would be left to the rest of the team.
We won the coin toss, and it took everything in me not to scan the people gathered on the Wolves sidelines for Faith.
This entrance to a new season with a new team, and an energy that was electric, I wanted her to witness it along with me.
It was just another way we would be so right for each other. Not just loving something, but experiencing something together that very few people could understand. Even in the midst of all these things I was trying to balance in my life, I worried that I wouldn’t be patient enough to wait for my head to straighten out before going to her.
If seeing her yesterday proved anything, it was just how real this thing with Faith was. A month of nothing, and all it took was five minutes with her, and I had this jittery, frantic need to finish what I’d started.
I could do it, right? I could manage to keep my focus on this job I had to do and not wonder all the time if she was watching. Wonder what she was thinking.
James and the captain of the other team chatted amiably as the camera crews filmed their exchange, and just as we turned to let the kickoff return team line up, I caught a glimpse of blond hair, and a wide set of shoulders right behind, take off running down the tunnel.
It was Allie and Luke.
Running out before kickoff of the first preseason game.
My eyes narrowed as I watched them disappear from view. My eyes scanned the rest of the sidelines, unable not to look for her anymore, and there was no sight of Faith or her sister.
Coach Ward had a cell phone up to his ear, which was odd enough by itself during a game, but it was the concerned look stamped on his face that caught Cartwright’s attention, just as it caught mine.
“What happened?” I heard the rookie ask James, who was listening to something in the mic piped through his helmet.
James glanced at me. “Come on, let’s review this first offensive series, okay?”
“What happened, James?” I asked.
He gave me a steady look. “I’m not sure, and I don’t think it’ll help anyone to speculate when we’ve got a game to start.”
“James,” I snapped. “What the hell happened?”
Players around us shifted uncomfortably at my tone. Torres approached the huddle, his eyes serious and his jaw set. “What’s the problem, boys?”
James looked at Torres, then back at me. “Just trying to keep everyone focused.”
The three of us weren’t even watching the field while the return team brought it up to the forty-yard line, a more than respectable starting line.
Something was wrong.
“Why did Allie and Luke just leave?” I asked Torres.
James dropped his chin to his chest.
Torres’ jaw twitched. “There was a family emergency.”
“What kind?” I managed between gritted teeth. My stomach was a giant block of ice.
“We will figure that out, and they have our thoughts and prayers in the meantime, but we have a game to play, Walker. Time to get your head on straight.”
I pointed at the tunnel where they’d escaped. “Where did they go? Why doesn’t James want me to know what happened?”
“Hey,” he said firmly, “I’m trying to be the quarterback you need right now, which is someone to keep you grounded when we don’t know anything.”
“You know something.” I looked between them. The kickoff team left the field. I should’ve been going out there. James too. The ref yelled for us to line up.
Torres gave us a firm command, even if his eyes were kind. “Go line up, Walker. Run the play, and I’ll try to get more information.”
“Fucking tell me what happened,” I yelled. “Is it Faith?”
Coach Ward strode over. Torres dropped his gaze to the ground.
“The girls got in a car accident on their way here,” Coach Ward said. Even as my heart dropped out of my stomach, down to my feet, and I tried to pull in a shallow breath, he held my gaze, and I could see how badly he was willing me not to freak out by saying it. Almost like you’d speak to a spooked horse, in gentle, hushed tones. Steady now, I could practically hear him say.
Torres said something under his breath, and Ward snapped his attention to the offensive coordinator.
“What happened?” I asked around the rock in my throat. “Are they okay?”
“We lining up, guys?” the official came over. “Come on. Game clock won’t wait for you.”
“Give us a second,” Ward asked. The official nodded reluctantly.
My eyes stayed locked on Ward. “What happened?”
He held up his hands. “I don’t know. My wife got a call from Allie. The girls got in a car accident. All they knew was that one of them was being transported by ambulance.”
The ice wasn’t just in my stomach. It was my entire body. I’d never known fear like that, not even when Ivy was sick. That was an impossibly slow process that sapped away one small piece of your sanity as each day passed. But this, it was immediate and all-consuming. And I had to get out of there.
“Fuck!” I yelled. A camera guy eyed me from the side of his camera, but thankfully,
he kept it trained on the field. I started toward the tunnel, heart racing, and Torres grabbed my arm.
“You can’t leave, Walker. We’ll find out what happened, and you can go to the hospital as soon as the game is done.”
“Fine me,” I told him. Before, I might have shoved my way out, might have whipped my helmet off and threw it, just for an outlet for my helpless energy. But instead, I just let the fear roll through me. “Take half my fucking paycheck, Torres, and see if I lose a second of sleep over it. You don’t need me out there right now, and I swear on everything I hold dear, if it’s Faith, and something h-happens…” My voice stumbled, just once, as my brain entertained the image of Faith strapped to a gurney. “If something happens to her before I can get there, you won’t want to be within a city block of me, Torres.”
There was chaos and noise and yelling, the palpable energy of the stadium all around us, blissfully unaware that I could feel the foundation crumbling underneath me at the thought that something had happened to her.
It would’ve been so easy, to let all that fear turn to anger, to slowly color my insides until I became something—someone—different. But I curled my hands into fists, took a deep breath, and locked eyes with Coach Ward.
“Help me out here. Please.”
Ward set his hand on Torres’ shoulder, gave him a quick glance, before turning to me. “Go,” he said, his tone brooking no arguments. “I’ll deal with the fallout.”
Torres glanced between us, then nodded slowly.
“Where?” I asked urgently.
“Swedish on First Hill.”
Without a backward glance at the other players, the cameras who panned to film my sprinting exit down the tunnel, or the coaching staff with raised eyebrows, I left.
A custodian in Wolves gear was in the empty locker room when I shoved the door open, his hand clutched over his heart at my abrupt entrance.
“You all right, Walker?” he asked.
As I tore off my jersey, then my pads, my gaze narrowed on his face. He was the same guy I saw during my very first meeting with Allie, when I’d met Faith.
My chest heaving, I ran my hands through my hair as I tried to steady my racing heart. “You’re Max, right?”
The Lie : a bad boy sports romance Page 24