Next Man Up (Making the Score Football Romance Book 2)

by Tawdra Kandle

  He laughed. “Never do. Now . . . I have about fifteen more minutes before I need to leave. Since we’ve talked football already, you can spend the rest of our time telling me how amazing my daughter is.” He lowered his voice. “Thing is, that’s all her mother’s doing. My wife is an incredible woman.” He rapped on my desk with his knuckles. “That’s my best advice for any man. Find yourself a partner who blows your mind on a daily basis. Someone you know you don’t deserve, but who loves you anyway. You have a wife, Tucker? A girlfriend?”

  I lifted one hand. “Not really, but . . . there’s someone. I know she’s the one. She’s still not sold on the idea.”

  “Don’t give up. Don’t let her get away.” He pointed at me. “Love can be like the most important game of your career. You play it with no holds barred. No fumbles. Take no prisoners. Every down is life and death.” He smiled, his face lighting up. “Because when you do that, you win. And winning your woman—that’s everything. That shit’s the meaning of life.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Zelda

  God, I missed sex.

  I didn’t like to think about it too much, because it hurt, but this was the longest I’d gone without sex since I was fifteen. Six whole months of just me and my vibrator did not a happy Zelda make.

  But I didn’t want sex with random men anymore. I wanted sex with just one particular man, but since I couldn’t have the sex without the commitment and all the other crap that surrounded the sex . . . here I was, back at square one.

  “I just want an orgasm that someone else gives me.” I didn’t realize I’d muttered the words aloud until the man sitting in the next seat on the airplane turned to stare at me. “Not you. No offense. I’m sure you’re great at giving women orgasms. Hell, you may be the orgasm king for all I know. But I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to myself.”

  The dude didn’t answer. He just eased slightly away from me, probably thanking his lucky stars that our plane had just landed in Philadelphia.

  I was glad to be home . . . mostly. The trip to San Francisco to visit Quinn had been like balm to my soul. I’d missed my best friend since she’d impulsively taken a temporary ghostwriting job in California, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend time in a new city that I’d always wanted to visit.

  Quinn and I had had a blast. We’d eaten at quirky little restaurants, danced at hot clubs, done the touristy sight-seeing deal, stayed up late talking, drunk more than our share of wine . . . and I’d even gotten a tattoo, something I’d never really considered doing.

  I hadn’t been sure what kind of permanent ink I wanted on my body. I’d hemmed and hawed at the parlor long after Quinn had finished getting her belly button pierced. Finally, her face lit up.

  “You should get a star.” She touched my pendant gently. “It would be perfect.”

  A star. I considered it, nodding slowly, and then I ran my fingers over the delicate bracelet that I’d never taken off, not even over these past six months.

  “I want a star . . . and then I want the words ‘try everything at least once’,” I told the tattoo artist.

  She’d smirked. “I like it. A great life philosophy.”

  Afterwards, as Quinn and I sat at a nearby bar celebrating our new art and bling, she’d asked me about Eli. I’d been waiting for the question since I’d gotten off the plane, but she had been oddly silent on the topic.

  “He . . . I guess he’s okay. I hear about him from Gia sometimes. He checks on her now and then. I know he’s living in Eatonboro, still working at the school.”

  “Hmmm.” Quinn had nodded. “And have you told him yet how much you miss him? How much you love him? What’s the hold-up, Zelda? Haven’t you learned anything from Nate’s life? Time is precious. Woman up and claim that man. You want him—there’s no doubt about that.”

  “It’s not that easy, doll,” I’d sighed. “I don’t want to start up with Eli just to lose it all again. I can’t do that to him—or to me.” I’d shrugged and turned the tables. “What about you? Maybe you need to take some of your own advice.”

  Quinn had smiled. “I already am. Leo and I have been talking since I moved out here. Correction—we’ve been texting. But I think that’s even better. We’ve been getting real on a lot of stuff.”

  “Is it good? You and Leo talking, I mean.” I’d taken a sip of my wine. “Or texting, rather.”

  “It is. It’s so good. I feel like . . .” She hesitated, thinking. “I had to get away to realize a few things I might never have known. I had to recover and to recognize the part that my own decisions played in all of this mess that’s been our lives the last few years.”

  “And you did that?”

  She smiled. “I did. I learned that I wanted something from Leo that wasn’t fair to ask. I wanted him to validate my choices, even when they were wrong—or wrong from his point of view, anyway. I wanted his approval for marrying Nate, and that was damned unfair. It was almost cruel.” She sighed. “I spent a lot of time crying, but they were good tears.”

  “Do you think you and Leo will end up together?” I needed the answer to that question. It felt as though what Quinn replied might give me hope.

  “I think we will. I know we belong together. We belong to each other. He’s not perfect, and God knows I’m not either. But no one will ever love me like Leo does. No one else will ever see all of my imperfections as beauty. No one else speaks my language the way Leo does. He’s mine, and I’m his. And it’s always going to be that way, no matter else happens.”

  To my horror, I’d felt tears welling up in my eyes. What Quinn had said . . . that was how I felt about Eli. He was my only someone. He was who I needed. I just wished I knew how to be the woman he needed.

  Back on the ground in Philly, I sat still until the seatbelt sign blinked off and then moved out of the way, snickering as my seat mate pushed his way out ahead of me. Poor dude was eager to get clear of the crazy lady.

  I took my time coming out into terminal, sighing a little with wistfulness as I watched couples, families and friends greeting each other with hugs and squeals. I didn’t have anyone meeting me. No one really even knew that I’d made this trip. These days, I was alone most of the time, if I wasn’t at work. I tried to see Gia, but she’d been unusually busy lately, evading my suggestions of dinner or movie plans. I made a mental note to call her soon—and this time, I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  I retrieved my bags and my car and drove the short distance to my apartment in Center City. I’d just walked in the door when my cell began to ring. Seeing Gia’s name on the caller ID, I grinned.

  “I was just thinking about you. Must be kismet.”

  I heard something that sounded like a sob on the other end of the line. “Can I come over tonight? Actually . . . could I come stay with you for a little while? I need—I need someone, and I need to not be here at my place for now.”

  It only took me a moment to answer her. “Of course. Do you want me to come and get you? I can be in front of your building in ten minutes.” I dropped my purse on a chair.

  “No, thanks, I’ll take the train. I need to toss a few things in a suitcase.” She paused. “Are you sure about this, Zelda? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  “Shut the fuck up, G.” I rubbed my forehead and headed for the kitchen as I talked. “I just walked in the door from the airport. I was out in San Francisco seeing Quinn. I was planning to call you anyway, to see when we could catch up. Get your fine ass over here. I’ve only been trying to talk you into coming to live with me for, what, six months? Pack a bag, grab a cab—my treat—and I’ll have Jack and two shot glasses lined up waiting for you.”

  She sighed. “I’ll take you up on that cab. Oh, and Zelda?” Gia sniffed. “Make sure that bottle of Jack is full, okay? I need it all tonight.”

  Uh oh. “You got it. See you in a few.”

  The first night Gia stayed with me was a revelation. I found out she’d been dating someone seriously sin
ce February—Tate Donovan, a guy who’d played football with Leo and Matt down at Carolina, although he was originally from a small town in South Jersey, near where Gia and Quinn had grown up. He was a pro now, playing for Philadelphia.

  Gia had opened up to Tate about Matt, her twisted, gnarled history there. But when he’d wanted more from her, when he’d declared his love, Gia had run.

  Listening to her was kind of like looking in a mirror. And I didn’t like what I saw.

  It was all too easy to give Gia advice, knowing that I’d ignored the same inner nudges when it came to my own life. I thought about what Quinn had said, what she’d learned during her time away from Leo, and I listened to the words coming out of my own mouth as I counseled Gia.

  Over the days that followed Gia’s arrival, I came to two important realizations.

  One, I missed Eli Tucker like crazy. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on breathing when it felt like he’d taken all of the sweet oxygen from my life.

  And two . . . I loved him. I was make-us-both-crazy, spin-the-earth-of-its-axis in love with that man. And that wasn’t going to ever change. Eli was my always.

  But still . . . I didn’t do anything about it. Not yet. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for, but there was something, some signal or sign.

  I invited Gia to move in with me permanently about three weeks after she’d come to stay. It just made more sense, and I wasn’t sure she was healthy enough to stay on her own yet. She was still hiding, still burrowing, still mourning. Whether she was still grieving Matt, or her loss of Tate, or some odd combination of the two, I didn’t know.

  About a month after she’d officially moved in, Gia knocked on my bedroom door before poking her head inside. “Hey. I just got a text from Leo. He’s in California to surprise Quinn, and he doesn’t have her address there. Can you send it to him?”

  I scowled. When it came to Leo, although I liked him a lot, I still didn’t trust that he was worthy of my friend. “I’ll send it to him, but he better not be out there to upset her.” I texted Leo the info, adding a friendly warning, reminding him that the threat I’d made years ago about cutting off his dick if he hurt Quinn still stood firm. When I read his response to that, I smirked and tossed down my phone.

  “Well, he says he has good intentions. I hope he’s telling the truth. I reminded him of the consequences if he hurts her again.”

  “Hmm.” Gia mused. “Technically, Leo hasn’t done anything to hurt Quinn since high school, since it was Quinn who broke up with him last time, back that summer in Carolina.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Details. Don’t bother me with them.”

  “Ooookay.” Gia laughed. “You know, Zel, it’s too bad Tate doesn’t have a friend like you on his side. Someone who might’ve warned him away from me before it was too late.”

  I considered what she said and nodded. “You’re right about that. If I’d known Tate, I would’ve told him to run, not walk, in the opposite direction before getting mixed up with you.”

  Gia looked first surprised and then outraged. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Hey, you said it, gorgeous.” I shrugged. “I’m just agreeing. If Tate is half the guy you tell me he is, he deserves someone who will love him the way he loves her. Someone who will see him for the rare prize he is and want to build a life with him.”

  “And that’s not me? That couldn’t ever be me?” Gia crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.

  “Gia,” I began. “You’re clinging to your need to hurt the same way a drowning man clings to a piece of driftwood. As long as you do that, you won’t be good for anyone. What’s the sense in starting something that doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of survival?”

  Gia’s eyes went dark with anger. “Fuck you, Zelda. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

  “Hey, G.” I held up both hands. “You can get mad and you can curse at me, but I’m probably the one person who does get it. I’ve been there, honey. Hell, baby, I’m still there.” I twisted a strand of her hair around one finger, suddenly anxious about what I knew I had to say. It was time to share a couple of hard truths with Gia, even if it was painful for both of us.

  I took a deep breath. “I’ve been in love with Eli since our freshman year in college.” I paused. “Yup. That long. And most of that time, I’ve spent pulling him closer just to push him away again. I’ve hurt that boy seven ways to Sunday, mostly because of something that happened a long time ago.” I gave my head a small shake. “This isn’t about Eli and me. I’m not going to bore you with that epic saga. Let’s just say that I do know some of what you’re going through. I know what it’s like when the only things you can believe in and trust are the pain and the anger.”

  “I’m not angry,” Gia snapped.

  I laughed. “Aren’t you, though? If you’re not, then you should be. You should still be fucking furious at Matt for the way he treated you and then for offing himself so he didn’t have to deal with the consequences of hurting you over and over—and so that you never got a chance to heal. He took himself out of the equation by committing suicide. Because how the hell are you going to be mad at a dead man? That’s not fair, is it?”

  “You’re saying I should be pissed at Matt for killing himself?” Gia began to cry. “That’s awful. He had a mental illness. It wasn’t his fault.”

  “Oh, wasn’t it?” I stalked across my room to stand in front of her. “How many times did Leo try to get Matt to seek help? How many times did you? How many chances did you give him? That summer when he lived with us at Birch—that was his big opportunity to make a change, remember?” I stopped to catch my breath. “Yeah, some change. He fucked around the campus, he was high or wasted or both almost all the time, and he put you through hell.” I paused, hoping I had the strength to say what came next.

  “I never wanted to tell you this, Gia, because . . . holy shit, I don’t know why I didn’t. At first, I thought you wouldn’t believe me, which was stupid, because you’ve never been anything but a loyal friend. And then later—well, there wasn’t any reason to say anything. But if you’re looking back at Matt and seeing him through the suicide-colored glasses, you should know the whole truth. That summer he lived with us, Matt attacked me. He tried to rape me.”

  Gia went pale, reaching for a chair to steady herself. “Oh, my God, Zelda. But you never said . . . Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “He was drunk, and he was buzzed on something else, too. He was wired. You were out, and I was in the apartment alone. Matt decided that my reputation meant I’d be more than happy to spread my legs for him, too.” I remembered that horrible afternoon with wicked clarity. “I’m strong and I’m tough, G. I protect myself. Even in my wildest days, I didn’t go into a hook-up without an escape plan and a bottle of pepper spray. But this time, I was in my own bedroom, and I was utterly unprepared. He was crazy strong, and if Eli hadn’t come along . . . I don’t know what would’ve happened. But he did. All Matt was able to do was push me onto the bed and spout off a lot of shit. I was okay in the end—just freaked out.”

  Gia hunched over as though I’d punched her in the stomach. “Zelda, God. If I’d known, I’d have . . .” She trailed off.

  “Hey.” I rubbed her back. “I’m not telling you this so that you’ll feel guilty. I want you to see Matt for who he was. You need to realize that it’s okay to be mad at him for what he did before he killed himself. You’re right that you can’t blame him for the suicide. I wonder if Matt didn’t end up confronting his own monsters that last night of his life and finding out that they all wore his face. He was weak, G. You don’t have to hate him for that, but you don’t have to live the rest of your life in penance, either.”

  She nodded. “But what if that’s the only way I know how to live anymore?”

  I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her, tight. “I think I know someone who can help you with that, if you’re really serious about getting better.” />
  I’d first met Darla Frank when I went to work at The Food Jungle. She volunteered her counseling services there, and I knew she specialized in post-traumatic stress. For a long time, I’d thought that she could help Gia, but the time had to be right. Now it was.

  Gia nodded, but I could tell she was shaky. I squeezed her hand. “I’m going to text you Darla’s number, and I want you to promise me that you’ll call her this week. But for now . . .” I paused. “I need to make a quick trip back to Lancaster, just overnight. Will you be okay if I leave you here?”

  “Yeah. I could use a little alone time, I think.” She glanced up at me through eyelashes that were still tear-coated. “Thank you, Zelda. Thank for telling me this today. I needed to hear it.”

  I let out a long breath. “I needed to say it. I think—maybe holding onto that secret wasn’t good for me, either. But now I feel lighter.” I smiled. “What is that they say? The truth shall set you free. Maybe today it set two people free.”

  Gia’s mouth curved into a half-smile. “Freedom can be scary.”

  I laughed softly. “You’re telling me. But we’re strong women. We scoff in the face of fear.”

  “Keep reminding me that.” She hugged me again. “Be safe, Z. Love you.”

  A lump rose in my throat. “Love you, too, Gia. See you in a couple of days.”

  My visits back to Lancaster had been few and far between since my sophomore year of college—when Eli and I had gotten more serious. My grandparents knew about him—I mentioned him now and then—but I’d never brought him home for a visit. There were probably some subconscious reasons for that, I thought as I drove up the long driveway that led to the farmhouse.

  Home. This place had memories that had made me who I was, and hurts that still defined me, no matter how much I ran from them. But as I’d told Gia, it was time to face the hurts and the truth . . . and to see if there was a way to move on.