Players to Lovers (4 Book Collection)

by Ketley Allison

  “If it weren’t for Ben…for Ash and Easton, I’d still be that way. They helped me kick the drug habit, but they couldn’t help with the drinks. I liked myself drunk a helluva lot more than I tolerated myself sober. And like I said to them, it was gonna take something world-ending, a moment of such upheaval that it has to be short of death—to make me give up that bottle.” I give an empty laugh and glance over at my daughter. “Turns out, that kind of Armageddon is entirely possible.”

  Carter’s hand, the one that I can see, fists on her thigh.

  “So, no,” I say. “I don’t regret sleeping with Paige. I don’t regret Ben daring me to and Ash offering up the bills and Paige saying yes. You know why? Because it gave me my life back. It gave me Lily.”

  The driver slams on his breaks and honks. Carter jerks against her seat belt and Lily begins to cry.

  I unclip my own seat belt to fly between the seats and put the guy in a chokehold, wheelchair or no wheelchair, but Carter chooses that moment to turn around. Her cheeks are shining. Her gold eyes are so bright they sting when they hit mine. They pierce the road rage right out of me.

  “I’m sorry,” she says to me. “I’m so sorry I’ve treated you this way, made you think I consider Lily to be a mistake.”

  The pressure in my chest eases, and I’m sure it’s more than the blood clot getting smaller. “It’s my issue, one I should’ve been clear with you on. I’m sorry, too, Carter, for not giving you the trust you deserve.”

  She reaches her arm between the console, and I hold onto her hand and squeeze. I use the other to shush Lily.

  “You brought Lily to me,” I say to Carter. “That’s no mistake.”

  39

  Carter

  My last week in New York passes by too soon, and Lily’s first birthday is tomorrow.

  Locke and I settled into pleasant days when we brought him home. He isn’t 100%, but he’s getting there, especially considering he’s got a new drill sergeant for a roommate.

  Much to Locke’s chagrin, I let Asher in on Locke’s physical therapy sessions, and he’s been by every day since basically booting Locke in the ass to get the exercises out.

  Three times, Locke’s attempted to lift Lily’s stroller down the stairs when he thinks I’m not looking, or so distracted by filling my Instagram up with my paintings that I won’t see him limping over to her stroller, strapping her in, and creaking through the door.

  Each time, I’ve yelled at him. That seems to be the way to get through to Locke—act like a coach, and he’ll act like a player. A real one, not the whore one.

  I like this tactic and have employed it often, giving him a shit-eating grin every time he glowers at me, too frail to run away.

  We’ve settled, Locke and me. Even discussed my potential return to see Lily next, and when he’ll come to Orlando with her to visit Disney for the first time.

  “You have to be there,” he’d said one night while we were on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn. “Her first Minnie encounter? Or—hold the phone—Thumper? You gotta come.”

  Luckily, my watery eyes were hidden from the dimness of the room and the horror movie we’d put on that barely contained any light.

  “I’d love that,” I said, feeling his study of me despite the dark, and I thought my voice might’ve given me away.

  We were happy together, but tentative, ever since the car ride home when he admitted his faults, the worst of himself when all he wanted was to start living with his daughter.

  I can’t deny him that. As much as I want to protect Paige’s dignity, I can hear her whispering in my ear, I’m dead, girl. Who cares? Lily was the result. That’s all that matters. Please, forgive him.

  And maybe, just maybe, I did.

  When he wandered into Lily’s nursery for the first time after coming home, he limped back out, using a cane instead of his hated wheelchair, went to the main closet without a word to me, and fished around until he found what he was looking for.

  Locke deigned a glance in my direction as he passed by again. I was using his laptop on the couch. In his free hand, he held a toolbox.

  “I’m hanging it,” he said. “And I don’t want to hear anything about how I should take it easy.”

  I smiled at his back.

  Paige now overlooks her daughter, right above the crib.

  “So,” I say to Locke now, cleaning Lily’s breakfast plate while she naps. He’s wiping down her high chair. “Are you going to tell me your plans for Lily’s birthday tomorrow?”

  “Nope. I said it was a surprise.”

  “Shouldn’t the surprise be for the birthday girl and not her guests?”

  Locke smiles. “No other guest is going to be surprised.”

  “Why me?”

  “Why not you?”

  I turn away in mock-disgust. “If you’re combining this into some kind of birthday-slash-good-bye party for me, you’re lame.”

  “I’m not,” he says, and he’s come closer. I can feel him at my back, my body tingling at his presence despite my brain’s attempts to argue otherwise. “Promise.”

  His whisper comes daringly close to my neck.

  I duck away, needing the distance. If I’m to leave tomorrow night as planned, I must maintain our comfortable distance.

  It’s working out well so far if I ignore his recovering body, often sweat-drenched in the living room. If I avoid his long stares as if he’s doing everything possible to stop himself from saying something heart-rendering. If I pretend we don’t have memories together, precious ones, sexy ones, orgasm-inducing ones.

  I’m noticing his strength returning, his cocky sentiments coming with greater ease out of his mouth. And I’m ready to dodge, to parry, to banter—anything to stop falling in love with him.

  It turns out, it’s not as difficult as I made it out to be in my head, because Locke is respecting all the rules. He’s not chasing or fighting. There are times he tests the boundaries, such as now when his breath tickles my ears, but like a single shark bite, he backs off, never to return. As if my blood isn’t as delicious as he thought.

  That’s the worst. Feeling like I don’t meet his standards anymore, now that we’ve come clean with each other.

  Believe me, it annoys me, too, that I can’t get it straight—either I want him, or I don’t.

  I stare at Locke as he comes out of the nursery, a bleary Lily in his arms. She’s rubbing her eyes, waking up slowly, and Locke peels one arm away from her face and starts waltzing with her in the living room. It’s with a limp, but he’s careful in his sway, favoring both his leg and the baby in his arms.

  I sigh, leaning against the counter as I watch them with a sad smile and a full heart, the dishrag limp in my hand.

  Can you blame me for being so conflicted?

  40

  Locke

  Lily’s Birthday

  I stare at the unsent text message, wondering if it’s enough.

  Of course, it is. It contains an address and a time. That’s all I need.

  Do it already. Hit send. Not like it’s a dick pic.

  I don’t send those, ever. Don’t need to. I get my point across just fine in real life. Yet…sending this text might as well be a dick pic because the response could be just as emasculating.

  What if she doesn’t show?

  Nah. Carter’ll come. If not for me, then for Lily.

  Carter’s at the cafe for the moment, collecting the paintings that didn’t sell. Pierce, a mystery I have yet to shake hands with, offered to keep three on display, since he liked them so much—or more likely, enjoyed Carter too much.

  Dude. I’ve got to kick this jealousy. I don’t enjoy such insecurity writhing around in my gut. It’s in competition with my disintegrating blood clot for space. I can only do one or the other, and even then, I’ve still got a limp.

  I’m walking well enough that I start work next week, meeting with Coach, setting up a training schedule for the upcoming semester. I’m excited—not nervous—because I h
ave nothing to prove on the field, but I’m hopeful. Ready to begin torturing fresh blood, a pastime I didn’t know I enjoyed until Asher employed it regularly on me this past week. Can’t wait to be on the other side of that.

  Hit the fucking send button already.

  Fine. Done.

  I stuff my phone in my back pocket, spinning Lily in her stroller. We’re downstairs, away from the dreaded stairs, and Ben has taken both Lily and the stroller from my apartment to this spot. I hopped the last staircase step on one leg and settled behind him.

  Ben turns.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “As I’ll ever be,” I admit, and he helps me lift the stroller outside.

  Ben spends time assisting me in setting up the space. There’s not much to decorate since the place itself is decoration enough. The colors are blinding, the noise deafening, but I make sure a frozen Pina Colada sits in waiting on the table.

  “She good in this high chair?” Ben asks, eyeing where Lily sits, surveying her like a mom inspecting her kid’s private school uniform for the first time. “It looks a little flimsy.”

  It’s nice, seeing him attach to Lily like a barnacle over this past week, become the mother she never had. I grin, about to tell him as much, but he preempts me and says, “Shut up.”

  “She’s fine,” I say. “She’s adapted to these wooden things as easy as she’s become a city kid.”

  Ben takes his hands off his hips. “If you say so. But as soon as she figures out how to stand on it, this thing is gonna topple like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

  “As much as your architectural knowledge thrills me, you need to get lost. Carter’ll be here any second.”

  “Right. The cock-block shall be removed.” Ben bends to kiss Lily on the cheek. “‘Bye, Princess Hayes. And good luck, soldier. Can I say one thing?”

  “No.”

  “This is cute.”

  “Be gone.”

  “Really heart-warming. My insides are cotton candy—”

  “Want a punch to the eye?”

  “Can I at least tell the guys you’re doing this?”

  I feint a shoulder at him, and he backs off, chuckling.

  “‘Bye, sweetheart,” he says, and disappears before I can lob a plastic cup at his head.

  I take a seat next to Lily, pretending like I’m anything but a hopeless moron. I try not to check the time on my phone since I did that a few minutes ago.

  Carter’s late, and her simple yes to my text asking her to meet me here doesn’t tell me much. Did Pierce talk her into a cup of coffee? Are they lingering over their empty cups? Is he asking her to come up to his apartment upstairs for a quickie?

  All better left unanswered.

  The restaurant is filling up with tourists and children, lunchtime being a popular time to enter Times Square in the summer. I hate every second of it.

  Pressure builds in my chest the longer we wait. I order some fries for Lily to munch on, dance some upside-down cups in front of her to make her clap. She’s distracted by all the busy-ness, the music, and people, but I’m smart enough to understand I’m on borrowed time with a one-year-old.

  One year old.

  “Holy hell,” I say to her. “When did you get so big?”

  Lily seems to have sprouted in a mere month, is somewhat walking now, and I got to see it all happen.

  My chest releases. No matter what comes next, I have my girl. I get to raise her, be there for her, yell at her, discipline her, chase boys out of her window, and I have Carter to thank for that. She made Lily’s transition easy. She sacrificed a lot to give Lily her father, and whatever she decides, I’m forever grateful to that wonderful, beautiful, addictive woman I can’t get out of my head.

  The restaurant suddenly goes quiet.

  I’m not sure if this actually happened, but ask me later, and I’ll assure you it did.

  The music’s turned down and a crowd of patrons distance from my and Lily’s table, making a path for a dark-headed, golden-eyed lady, who doesn’t have to say excuse me to make space for herself. The way was given to her, people parting as two waves, and she walks up to us with a smile.

  I stand as she approaches, my smile on shaky ground. “Surprise.”

  She returns my smile with a tentative one of her own. “Sorry I’m late. I…” Carter looks around, confused. She lands on the three candy bowls I’ve laid out in the booth. “Are those…are those green Skittles?”

  “They are.”

  She meets my eyes like she can’t believe what I’ve done. “Locke, that’s…that’s…”

  “I wanted Paige to be here, too,” I say. “And this is one of the best memories you have of her.”

  Carter palms her chest like she’s trying to clutch her heart. “I can’t believe this. Locke, this is amazing.”

  “You deserve a whole lot more,” I admit.

  “Aren’t the guys supposed to be here? Astor? Astor’s fiancé—what’s his name again?”

  “Mike.”

  My voice catches on that word. Not because of the name. More like nerves have crawled like termites into my vocal chords.

  “Yeah, him. Where are they?”

  “I asked them to come later. I wanted to, ah—talk to you first.”

  Oh, well done, me.

  “This place,” she says, her lips lifting higher. “I can’t believe you chose it.”

  I shrug it off as if I didn’t plan every single detail to the goddamned second. “I did it for you, Carter.”

  “Wha—me?”

  There it goes again. The restaurant silences.

  “Yeah, you. This place, you remember it?”

  She laughs. Neither of us has sat down yet. Lily looks back and forth between us, happy to be in the middle. “Of course, I do. It’s where you told me you wanted to be Lily’s father.”

  I nod. “It’s also the exact location where you told me you were flying back to Florida, and I let you go. Dumbest decision I ever made.”

  She looks at me questioningly.

  “And I’m not doing it again.”

  Her expression clears. “Locke, I’ve made my choice—”

  “We didn’t know it at the time,” I say. “I sure as hell didn’t. But facing you, sitting across from you at this very table, we spoke as parents. As a unit.”

  She shakes her head, an obvious denial on her lips.

  “You’re her mother, Carter. The minute Paige honored you with the title, you became Lily’s mom.”

  Carter’s eyes are shining, reflecting these mutant, neon lights, but she makes them beautiful. “I’ve had a lot of time to think,” I continue, before I pussy out. “A lot of days in that hospital bed, figuring out where I went wrong and how I ended up there instead of with you and Lily. But I had no fear of where Lily was, how she was doing because she was with you. And that, more than anything in my past, is the greatest proof I can give you: my daughter. I trusted you, Carter.”

  She’s sniffling, rubbing under her nose, about to dismiss the heavy words. I finish with, “And I love you.”

  Her eyes close. Her shoulders shake.

  Oh, fuck, she’s sobbing.

  “Carter, I—” I look around, helpless, then land on the melting Pina Colada. “Do you need a drink?”

  “No,” she says, but it comes out as wail as she glares at me. “I need to love you. I want to love you.”

  I don’t want to spook her, but hell, does this mean she wants to but can’t? Have I lost my shot with her? Is my past way too much of a plague for her to even want to contend with?

  “I don’t deserve your trust in return,” I say quickly. “Not after what I’ve kept from you. But I was so scared of making you hate me.”

  She inhales. Meets my eye.

  “It’s not an excuse,” I say. “But by some miracle, you started to like me. And I couldn’t fuck that up.”

  Carter still doesn’t speak. I’m about to combust. “It took me too long to realize I was wrong. I should’ve told you everyth
ing, should’ve trusted you wouldn’t despise me all over again.”

  “I’ve never hated you,” she whispers, and I’m bolstered by her voice. “I hated the image you created for yourself, the makeshift personality and ego.” She takes a deep breath. Lily makes a noise, and we both glance down, but Lily’s blissfully distracted by the laminate menu.

  “Because that’s not you,” she continues. “The player, the dumb jock, the asshole. You’re amazing. You’re a wonderful father. A terrific man. And it makes me so sad you couldn’t see it before I did.”

  Carter’s nailed me. Right between the pecs. Exactly where my heart beats for her.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” I play dumb because she’s made me speechless. The first woman, other than my mom, who’s ever successfully tucked my tail between my legs.

  Carter shakes her head. Licks her full lips. “Something Sophie said to me before she left…that all I want to do is love. It could be seen as a flaw or a strength for anyone on the outside, looking in. But to me, it’s both. I love this little girl like she’s my own. I want to love you, but I don’t know what’s left of me. But I…you don’t have to say these things. You don’t have to say you love me out of some obligation. We can make this work without—”

  “Jesus Christ, is that what you think? That I have to force myself to love you because you’re more of a mother to Lily than any woman, ever, who will come into my life?”

  She nods, too choked up to speak.

  “Oh, honey, hell no.” I move. I crush her to me because if I’m at a loss for words, she can at least feel how much I want her, adore her, love her.

  “I’ve loved you since the moment you crashed into my apartment and called me a wimp,” I say. “I loved you when you couldn’t let go of this baby, when you shrieked yes once I asked you to stay with me until Lily and I were more than strangers. I’ve loved you every morning, every afternoon, every evening, you’ve been here. And I want to keep loving you. You.” I pull back to see her. “This woman. Not simply a mother to Lily but a lover and supporter of me. A best friend. You’re my person, my perfect. You’re everything I didn’t know I was waiting for to feel whole again.”