I closed the distance between her and wrapped my arm around her.
“I think he’s lying to me,” she rushed out. “He wouldn’t return my calls, but then he did.” She looked up at me. “His first words were that my attack was all his fault.”
I frowned. That was an odd thing to say.
A voice in my head whispered, Your mother was right. “Give me the bill, Rim. I’ll take care of it.”
She wrenched out of my arms. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not your responsibility.”
“How are you gonna pay that?” I demanded.
“I’ll get a job.”
The idea of her getting a job pissed me off. “Because you don’t have enough on your plate already?” I shot out. “Just give me the damn bill,” I growled.
“No,” she growled back.
“If your father isn’t going to take care of you, someone has to!” I yelled.
My outburst shocked her and she drew away from me. Behind her glasses, her eyes went wide.
“Rim—” I began. That was a fucked-up thing to say.
Braeden barged in the door. “I heard yelling.”
“It’s fine,” I rumbled.
He didn’t leave.
Rimmel faced me, having recovered from the initial sting of my words. “Is that what you think? That I can’t take care of myself?”
I started to say something, but she advanced on me. “Maybe you agree with your mother. Maybe you think I’m just with you because of your money?”
“That’s fucking ridiculous,” I snapped.
She didn’t back down. “It is fucking ridiculous,” she intoned. “And I can take care of myself. This conversation is over.”
She dropped the bag of her stuff at my feet like she was going to leave it behind and walked out of the room.
A string of curses filled the air around me. I bent and picked up the bag.
Braeden was staring at me when I walked to the door.
“Women,” he muttered. “Too much damn drama.”
“Amen.” I agreed with him because it was true. Women were full of drama. But Rimmel usually wasn’t. And I knew she had a right to be angry. I shouldn’t have said what I said, but I was just trying to help her.
Too late I realized it wasn’t my help she needed, just my support.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rimmel
What was supposed to be a relaxed breakfast with me and my boyfriend turned into what I’d like to refer to as the pancake grudge match.
I glared at Romeo.
Ivy glared at Braeden.
And poor Missy glared at the food on everyone’s plate like it was trying to make her vomit.
The small pancake house we went to wasn’t far from campus, and it was busy despite the non-breakfast hour. It was filled with college students, and more than half of them looked hung-over.
All I could think about was the hospital bill and how stupid it was that I’d gotten so angry.
But he made it sound like I was a child that needed a babysitter.
I didn’t.
And I wasn’t going to let him treat me like that.
Romeo was a charming devil with eyes that could make any woman forget to be mad, but I was never going to forget to have standards.
And being treated as an equal was one of them.
“Everyone at this table is giving me indigestion,” Braeden declared.
“I’m pretty sure that was the Smurf Balls,” Missy said.
Everyone laughed and the tension hanging over the table broke.
“Was it just me or did that guy sitting next to Rimmel have the rankest beer breath ever?” Ivy grinned.
I laughed. “Yes! Even drunk I couldn’t stand it.”
Romeo’s hand slipped under the table, found mine, and squeezed. I returned the pressure, and some of the anger I felt toward him lifted. I knew he was only trying to love me the way he knew how, and I couldn’t fault him for that. But that still didn’t make it okay.
“You gonna eat that?” Braeden said to Missy, who hadn’t touched her food at all. She groaned.
He shrugged and stabbed his fork into one of her pancakes and slid it onto his plate.
I hadn’t really touched much of my food because I’d been too busy stewing over the argument with Romeo, but watching Braeden eat with such gusto made me hungry.
Okay, and maybe it was because Romeo was holding my hand and things between us didn’t seem so drastic.
The conversation turned light and fun, and the five of us relaxed at the table and started acting like a real group of friends. I couldn’t help but look around and smile. I’d never had this many friends before. Not real ones.
We were all so different yet still the same.
It was like we had the same basic common threads that would tie us together.
“We should make this a tradition,” I announced.
“Glaring at each other over breakfast?” Ivy wondered.
“Watching Missy get drunk on Smurf Balls?” Braeden added.
“Never again,” Missy vowed.
“Pancakes,” I said like it should have been obvious. “Every weekend. The five of us meet here. For pancakes.”
“I like to eat,” Braeden said as he stole another pancake off Missy’s plate.
“You want me to eat with him on a regular basis?” Ivy raised her eyebrows at me.
“It’s what friends do,” I said. “They do friend stuff.”
Everyone looked at me. I felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Was I the only one who thought all of us were friends?
I glanced up at Romeo. “Right?”
He smiled. “For sure.”
“I’ll go home and braid us all friendship bracelets,” Braeden said in a girly voice.
“I’m in,” Missy said. She looked at me and smiled.
“Me too.” Ivy agreed.
Romeo nodded, and we all looked at Braeden.
“Let’s do this.”
I grinned and dove into the rest of my food.
Romeo’s phone went off, and he released my hand to reach into his pocket to pull it out.
“I don’t know the number,” he said before answering it. “This is Roman.”
He listened intently for a few minutes and then made a face like he was annoyed. “Look, like I told your reporter the other night—”
His words cut off, and all his attention seemed to sharpen toward the voice on the other end of the line. I glanced at Braeden, who was also watching Romeo.
“He was at my house. He gave me a card.”
A few beats of silence.
“James… something,” he said.
“I’m sure… Yes.”
An angry look crossed his face.
“Is this some elaborate scheme to get an interview?”
Was he talking to a reporter? I wished I could hear the other end of the call!
“Okay, fine… Maybe. When and where?”
A few beats of silence, then Romeo sighed.
“See you then.” His voice was clipped, and then he hung up the phone.
“Romeo?” I asked. He was busy staring off into space but made a sound acknowledging me.
“Who was that?”
“A reporter for the Maryland Tribune.”
“That’s like the biggest newspaper in the entire state,” Ivy said.
“Isn’t that who the reporter from the other night said he was from?” Braeden asked.
“What reporter?” I asked, confused.
Romeo focused his sapphire eyes on me. “He was at the house the other night when I got home from training. He wanted to interview me.” Romeo frowned and looked at Braeden. “The guy on the phone said they don’t have any reporters named James.”
Braeden’s eyes narrowed, and an uncomfortable feeling wormed into the pit of my stomach.
“Do you have the card with you?” I asked.
Romeo shook his head. “It’s at home
.”
“Maybe you got the name of the paper that James guy was with wrong. It’s probably a misunderstanding,” I reasoned.
Romeo draped his arm across my shoulders. “Yeah, that’s probably what happened.”
But I could tell by the sound of his voice that he didn’t believe that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Romeo
I met with the “reporter” who called me at breakfast a few days later. He suggested a coffee shop close to campus, and I decided to go.
I wanted answers.
I didn’t like being approached by someone posing as a reporter outside my home, only to be told later that he wasn’t a reporter at all.
It was early morning, so most of the tables were empty, but the line was long as students grabbed their morning latte and headed off for a full day of classes.
My first class didn’t start for another hour, and I planned to be long gone from this meeting before then. I knew who he was the second he walked in. He seemed a little out of place in a college hot spot, wearing a pair of dress pants and a professional-looking wool coat.
He was probably in his forties with sandy-colored hair and a briefcase in his hand. When he glanced in my direction, I waved, and his eyes lit up like he recognized me and hurried my way.
I stood up and shook his hand when he approached. “Roman Anderson.”
“Frank Gurney, Maryland Tribune.” He had a solid handshake. I liked that.
“Did you want to get a coffee?” I gestured toward the counter. “I’ll wait.”
He looked at the line and shook his head. “No, that’s okay.”
I sat back down, and he took the chair across from me. As he was shrugging out of his coat, he glanced down at the half-empty cup in front of me. “Were you waiting long?”
“Nah, I got here early.”
He raised his brows. “I wasn’t sure you’d show. You didn’t seem very interested when we spoke on the phone.”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t. ‘Til you told me the man who approached me outside my house wasn’t an employee of your paper.”
An uncomfortable look crossed his face. “Did you bring the card you mentioned on the phone?”
I pulled it out and handed it to him. He picked it up and looked over it, frowning as he did.
One of the baristas working behind the counter approached the table. She had a small round tray in her hand. “Romeo?” she asked, a little timid.
“That’s me,” I said and turned up my smile.
She giggled a little and stepped closer. “I thought you might like a fresh latte?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.” I smiled at her and pushed away my cooled, half-empty cup.
She slid the new drink in front of me. “It’s the same thing you ordered when you got here.” Her cheeks flushed. “I remembered your order.”
“You’re epic.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out some cash. “How much do I owe ya?”
She waved away my offer. “It’s on the house.”
Mr. Gurney cleared his throat, and the waitress seemed to remember he was there. “Oh! I thought you might like one too. The line’s pretty long and you two looked busy.” She set the second mug from her tray in front of the reporter.
He looked surprised. “Thank you.”
She glanced back at me. “I come to all your games.”
I grinned. “That means a lot. The team appreciates your support.”
She smiled and shuffled on her feet. “Well, enjoy your coffee.”
“If you made it, I’m sure we will.” I winked at her before I could stop myself.
Sometimes the charm had a mind of its own.
She giggled and rushed away.
I picked up the new coffee and took a drink. It was exactly what I ordered when I came in earlier.
“Perks of being the local celebrity?” Frank asked with a smile.
I shrugged. “People like football.”
He studied me for a long moment. “Maybe. But something tells me the other members of the team could walk in and they wouldn’t get personalized free coffee delivery.”
I grinned. “Maybe not.”
He took a sip of the brew and nodded. “Good taste.”
“So?” I gestured to the card lying in front of him. “You know him?”
Frank picked up the card again and read it. Again.
I was getting impatient.
He handed it back to me. “He’s not an employee of the Maryland Tribune.”
“You’re sure?” I pressed. “I imagine it’s a big paper. Lots of staff.”
“The biggest in the state, and yes, the staff is sizeable. But he isn’t one of them. I ran a search for all employees named James through our database at work. We do have two men names James on staff, one of them writes obituaries and his last name is Blankenship and the other works in the marketing department and does mostly print ad work.”
“This guy said he was a writer.”
Frank shook his head as he drank more coffee. “Any idea why someone would pose as a reporter to talk to you?”
“I was gonna ask you if your paper allowed people to go around impersonating their employees.”
“I can assure you the Maryland Tribune has nothing to do with this.”
I measured him with a long stare. He didn’t flinch or crack under pressure. I exhaled. Fuck. I believed him.
“Look, you’re a hot topic lately. Your huge win at the championship, being named MVP of the game. Your stats alone from last season were making records, and all the interest from the NFL makes you a good story.”
“Not to mention the fact that I broke my arm in an unrelated sports injury and the NFL is gonna drop me before I even sign.”
Frank’s eyes widened with surprise. It was too real looking to not be genuine. “The NFL is dropping you?”
The reporter the other night already knew this… said it was public knowledge. So why didn’t Frank?
“It’s not official yet,” I hedged.
He glanced at my arm, which was on display in its sling. “You and your girlfriend were attacked. Is that how you were injured?”
“That’s right.” I agreed. It didn’t surprise me that he knew that. The police had been called and Zach had been taken into custody. That was definitely a matter of record. The details, though, those remained confidential as far as I knew.
“I gotta tell you. You have a hell of a story. Human interest but also sports related. I’d love to interview you, write up a feature article for the paper.”
“You mean this conversation hasn’t been on the record?” I arched an eyebrow.
He shook his head. “No. I admit I called because I want to write the story. But this meeting was because I was curious about the card you were given and because I wanted to set the record straight that we were not involved.”
“So everything we said was off the record?”
“Yes.”
That was good. I didn’t want anyone knowing that someone who was lying was sniffing around me and Rim.
But in the meantime…
I checked my watch. “I’ve got like thirty minutes before class. Is that enough time for an interview?”
“You’ll do it?”
I grinned. “Sure, why the hell not?”
Maybe it would satisfy anyone else who was more curious than they should be about me.
In no time, he produced a notepad, pen, and a small recording device. “You mind?” he gestured toward the recorder.
“Not at all.”
He started firing questions at me like I fired the football down the field. But I was a professional; I could take a pass just as well as I could throw one.
I dialed up the charm and settled back into my seat. I put on my easygoing smile and enjoyed the ride.
But beneath it all, I wasn’t all cool and calm.
Beneath the confident player who was determined to bounce back from an injury was a man with one constant question hammering at the edge of my m
ind.
If James Darling wasn’t a reporter, then who the hell was he?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rimmel
I stood outside the courtroom with trepidation in my limbs.
I knew this day was coming, I’d even prepared for it.
But how did a person prepare for facing someone who taunted and attacked you for months only to have it escalate with being tied up, strung up, and sprayed down with a water hose?
It didn’t matter we’d gotten an extra week before the hearing. It didn’t matter that Zach was going to be punished for everything he did.
The damage was done.
The bruises on my body were almost healed, the rope burns faded, but the deepest marks were inside, where the judge wouldn’t be able to see.
I still dreamed about it sometimes. Of hanging there above the ground, bound and helpless. I still felt the twinge in my heart when I first turned on the shower or when the water rushed too fast in my face.
And sometimes when I’m sitting in class or at the library studying, I remember what Romeo looked like when he was plummeting to the ground. I was haunted by that first bleak look in his eyes when he admitted his arm was broken.
I didn’t know how to look at Zach and not feel all the intense fear and emotion I did on that night. The best I could hope for was this would give me some kind of closure, some kind of peace.
Romeo broke away from the quiet conversation he was having a short distance away with Tony. Valerie was here too, standing by the wide courtroom doors, looking stunning in a dove-gray pantsuit and a light-pink shell beneath.
“Hey, baby,” Romeo said, wrapping his hand around my back and pulling me in so he could kiss my forehead.
I grabbed onto the lapel of his suit jacket and swallowed.
“I don’t want to see him.”
“I wish you didn’t have to.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned down to whisper. “But on the bright side, his jaw is wired shut so he won’t be able to say a word.”
“That is good news.” I smiled.
“Dad says this will be over fast. After this, Zach will be out of our lives completely.”
I nodded and changed the subject. “Any word from the NFL?”
#Player Page 13