by H. J. Bellus
I stand up, my angered body gently shoving the brunette next to me away. For one tiny second, I contemplate on guzzling my drink down. “Fuck it.” There isn’t enough alcohol to numb me right now.
In six long, powerful strides I’m on the dance floor next to them, and when the pencil dick asshole slides his hand down to her ass, I lose all sense of reasoning. I am pissed.
“Justice,” I growl and watch the man turn five shades of white from either whatever she said to him or from seeing me with my fists ready to knock him the fuck out.
Cascades of blonde locks tumble over her shoulder as she whips her head in my direction. She was in the middle of ripping the man a new asshole, I’m sure of it. She halted once she heard her name.
She lifts a perfectly sculpted brow, her anger directed toward me. Yeah, this feisty little princess and me need to have words.
I don’t say another word before grabbing her upper arm and leading her out of Whiskey Jacks. I don’t give two shits she may have left her purse behind either. I don’t stop until we are out on the sidewalk. The chaotic storm inside of me that just hit an all-time high doesn’t give a shit about anything right now except telling her off.
“What in the fuck?” I growl, nearing my face to hers.
“Liam.”
“Goddamn right, it’s Liam. Quite the little stunt out there on the dance floor.” I dig my fingers into her hips as I tug her to me.
She seethes between clenched teeth. “You are drawing a crowd. I suggest that if you want to talk, we go somewhere else besides Main Street.”
I can hear the people gathering around us, can’t find a single fuck to give them. This shit isn’t anyone’s business, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let go of what I just saw.
“I don’t care; you should, though.”
“Yes, you do. The owner and quarterback in a damn fight out in public isn’t going to happen,” she quips, ignoring my subtle threat about her caring. Determination and strength are evident in each word she speaks.
It takes everything inside of me to let go of her and step back. I should walk away and chalk this all up as a lesson to never repeat. But I don’t. Never have when it comes to this sexy, strong-willed, feisty woman who branded herself on my heart. Fuck, I need to calm down, or we will blow this town apart.
“Here, don’t forget this, boss.” Ah, that’s right. The woman shoving Justice’s purse in her hand is her secretary.
Before the woman is back inside, I gently place my hand on the small of Justice’s back and walk toward my Range Rover that’s parked behind the bar. Damn, her skin feels smooth and warm. It ignites my flames.
I glance around seeing everyone lost interest in us and we are now in a deserted alley. That’s when I ignore my body’s reaction to her and lose my shit.
I spin her around, backing her up against the red brick wall. The dim lighting in the alley is a disservice right now because I want to see all of her. I tower over her, lowering my face to hers, and grind my erection into her leather-clad front.
“What the fuck was that in there? Who is he?” I growl, biting down on my lower lip to keep myself from ravaging her.
“None of your business, Liam, and how dare you try and tell me I don’t care. You don’t know a fucking thing,” she spits.
She cares, alright. Cares about fucking me as much as I want to fuck her. I don’t miss the way her hips roll right into mine.
“You made it my business the moment you decided to bring me back into your life.”
“Liam, what is your problem? You bring a thunderstorm into my office and kiss me, tell me you’re only here for football, and ignore me for weeks, and now you suddenly jerk me around, press your hard-on into me, and ask me about my date? Not sure who you think you are, but you are not allowed to mess with me like this.”
“I’m not allowed to mess with you? Did those words really come out of your mouth? Jesus, woman, you don’t get it, do you? You are my problem. My complete fucking problem. And I’ve always gotten hard when I’m around you. Especially when you piss me off, and right now I’m livid.”
Her lower lip trembles briefly. Shit, the last thing I want to do is make her cry, but she has me tangled up. I should have been the man I am and talked to her reasonably about this, except I’m so bitter over not being able to sweep her out of my system the way she did me that the only time I can think clearly is when I’m on the football field. And the past couple of practices I’ve had to pull my head out of my ass to make it through them.
“I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I’ve been sorry since the day I left. I’m sorry, for Christ sakes.”
“Didn’t look too sorry in there. That chump good enough for your family?”
Her breath catches. Good, I hope it burns when she gulps it back in.
“I never said you weren’t good enough for my family. I told you why we had to break up. You wouldn’t listen. So, don’t you dare put words in my mouth. You won’t like the ones I’ll spit back out. You need to stop, please. God, this isn’t how I wanted this to go between us.” Her words contradict her actions as she wraps her arms around the back of my neck. A bold move when my dick is as hard as this brick wall.
I raise an eyebrow. “Keep talking.”
“I messed up. I was young and doing what I thought was best at the time. I’ve regretted it many times, Liam. You can’t begin to understand. No one can.”
She’s wrong about that. I understand more than she thinks. I’ve lived with mixed emotions for years.
She shocks me when she presses her lips softly to mine. “I’m not going to be treated like trash from you, Liam. I won’t play your game. It’s called forgive and forget. The ball is in your court.”
I shake my head. She isn’t getting off as easily as she thinks. “Wrong sport, sweetheart, and from where I’ve been standing for years, you’re the one who’s playing a game. One that’s been in timeout for too long, don’t you agree? Let’s leave the ball in your hands until you are woman enough to tell me the real reason why you sought me out. It sure as shit isn’t all because I can throw a ball. You have no idea what you did to me. Absolutely none.”
Her face is full of remorse and pain. There’s something else, too. Something she’s kept hidden inside of her. Whatever it is has exhausted her to the point she looks like she wants to give up. Fuck.
“Well, you have no idea what I’ve been through, Liam. How hard it was for me to admit—” She stops talking. I stagger back a step. My head taking me in all kinds of directions. There could be many meanings to her words. I’m not sure where to start or what to think.
“Was it my skin color that was the deal breaker? Me being half African American. Were you afraid your family wouldn’t approve of me? Because I recall telling you I didn’t care who your family was.”
“What? How dare you ask me something like that?”
“What do you expect when you won’t give me an answer?”
This time, she shoves me away from her. Her face reddening and fists balled at her sides. “My family would never judge someone by the color of their skin. You’re an asshole. Do me a favor and pull that almighty stick out of your ass. If you truly think that little of me and my judgment, then you can go to hell for all I care. Show up on the football field and do your job just like you promised you would, and stay away from me. And one more thing. I suggest the next time you want to talk, we do it in private.”
The two words ‘I’m sorry’ dance on my lips. It would be wrong of me not to accept her apology. I can’t get the words to come out, though. Not until she gives me the real reason why she left and why she wanted me here. I doubt she knows this, but Alex and I have become close. The man never betrayed her, and I didn’t ask him to, but I know they are still as good of friends as they always were, and I could tell there were times when he wanted to speak on her behalf.
“I’m not ready to forgive or forget. You can't fool me, Justice. I can see the way you are suffering. You nee
d to be honest with yourself before anything else.” The hurt covering her face keeps all the angry words I want to say to her locked inside of me.
I’ve been warned by my parents and close friends this would happen. They all told me she would buckle up on me if I approached her with anger. Seeing her with another man all over her tightened my buckle.
Maybe she’s right. I should back off, focus on football. I can only hope that she takes the strength she has to pull this team together and use it on herself to finally come clean with me.
She’s holding in pain and heartache over us. The difference between her and me is, she knew why. And up until this very moment, I didn’t.
Fuck me, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize. It is never a good idea to hold what she’s been hiding in, and I bet my career I just figured it out.
Justice spins on her high heels, not missing the chance to stomp away from me. I follow silently behind, not wanting her to walk by herself in a dark alley.
The parking lot is lit up with the street lights, but still it’s no place for a gorgeous woman. She peers over her shoulder when she’s almost to the curb. Her blonde hair is shining underneath the streetlight. Gorgeous.
We stare at each other for a long time without saying a word. Both of our chests heaving and hearts drumming against our sternums. I run my hand through my unruly dark hair, not wanting to let her go. My mind is all kinds of fucked up. I have everything and nothing to say.
“Just let it go, Liam. And let’s focus on football.”
Not going to happen. She and I both know it. It’s the invisible tug we’ve been battling since I stepped into her stadium.
“Is that what you really want?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I really don’t know. I know I don’t want to fight with you anymore. We can’t find common ground even to hold a damn conversation.”
Yeah, she’s right about that. I jerk my chin, react without thinking when I lean down until we are face-to-face again. I rein it in instead of dragging this out. There is so much more to be said.
“I’ll show you exactly why we can’t hold a conversation, and that’s because our story isn’t over. You chose to stop writing it.”
Our lips connect. She freezes. I don’t. I pour everything into the kiss. The years I missed her contagious laugh, the moments we lost, and the love I still have buried for her deep down in my soul. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips until she parts them for me. I take full advantage of it, soaking up her taste with each delicate swipe of my tongue.
Soon, our mouths and tongues are dancing in unison as they did all those years ago, and I know I’m fucked beyond a shadow of a doubt.
How does a man with the eyes of the nation studying him to see if he’s going to make a great comeback or fall flat on his face let go of the anger of loss and tumble into the love of his life while trying to bring his career back full circle at the same time? That’s my reality, and I have no idea what in the hell I’m going to do about it.
5
Justice
The air is thick in my office. Combine it with the dreaded lump in my chest, and it may as well suffocate me. My lungs are working overtime, expanding just for the next gulp of air.
Rolling back and forth in my chair is all I can do, since I’ve already paced the floor until my feet hurt.
I’ve re-read the front page of the local paper until my eyes crossed. If my family didn’t trust me to do my job, they would be on their way out here to fire me. But no, I’m waiting here patiently for them to walk through the door of my office because they are worried, or so they say. The trepidation in my mother’s voice could be felt from across the nation, and I’m not sure what I’ll do or say when they get here.
I should be worried about this sudden uproar in the media and what all of it says about me as the team owner. Except I don’t really care about any of that; even Liam’s jab didn’t affect me as much as I thought it would.
What I care about is finding the words to finally unlock the chains of guilt I’ve circled so tightly around my heart that it’s left me barely able to breathe anymore.
And then there’s Liam. The little stunt we let get out of hand is going to cause all kinds of chaos. Our past is going to be exposed to every sports channel in the nation by the time this fiasco is over. It was always a possible threat in the back of my mind, but once he stepped off that elevator, all my thoughts except seeing him in person extinguished. Before long, everyone will know I’m the girl who dumped the man the world idolizes on the field and covets as the sexiest man alive. Unless I get my head on straight, I’ll be the villain, no questions asked.
We’ve already dealt with all the mumbles and hushed whispers through the media about the mafia. I’ve heard it all. Been called names I wouldn’t even say, and now this. I’ve brought it all on myself. And today I sit here feeling so lonely, so vulnerable and nervous that I’m on the fringe of letting my walls tumble down.
How could I have been so careless with everything? So silly to think I could walk around with this invisible shield protecting me and keep this all inside?
“Justice.” I glance up from staring at the same blurry spot in the newspaper to see my parents. The sound of my loving mother’s voice tightens those chains a little tighter.
Her face is flawless, except the frown turning her smile the opposite way it normally goes whenever she sees my brother or me.
My mother isn’t old by any means, but today she looks her age. God, I wish I had told them how I felt years ago.
My father leans casually against the doorframe, one hand on my mom’s back, the other shoved in his jeans, worry etched on his face.
I hate seeing them this way. I hate everything about this entire situation that I can’t seem to get past. It’s crushed me for as long as I can remember.
“I’m sorry you felt the need to fly out here. I’m fine. Like I told you on the phone, we tried to talk; we ended up arguing. Then it happened. He kissed me. I had no idea someone would take our picture, put it in the paper, and rattle off about what they heard.”
For a woman who appears to be strong, I am the weakest person I know. Strong because of these two people, weak because I love them so much I don’t want to hurt them.
The truth is, they could give a shit about the media or what anyone has to say about us. It’s me with the problem and me with the issue. Me who can’t speak the truth, and that is why they are out here. They know; I can feel it in my bones that they are standing there waiting for me to be the woman they taught me to be. Strong, independent. Most of all they want loyalty and honesty when it comes to their children, and by their somber looks, they’ve waited long enough.
My mom slips through the door. Tears cascade down my face before she reaches me. I’ve cried non-stop since Liam and I argued the other night. Boarded myself up in my house the next day. Snuck in here early yesterday morning to concentrate on the upcoming interview only to be slammed in the gut when Sage delivered the final blow. The Idaho Statesman paper containing the article and a picture of Liam and me all over each other, in color nonetheless.
I didn’t have time to call my family to tell them about this before my cell phone was blowing up. I avoided them until they started calling Sage and there was no more avoiding to be had. It’s my coping mechanism when everything becomes way too much to handle. I shut down, hole up, and avoid the world.
I should have learned years ago that bottling things up doesn’t do a bit of good for the problem at hand; all it does is escalate it more, builds it up, up, and up like a floating balloon, and when it pops you come spiraling down.
I crashed long ago and all the while stayed there lifeless and numb while pushing myself into doing anything and everything to try and forget.
I can’t do this anymore. The pretending I don’t need my parents to help me pick my heart back up off the ground after all this time needs to stop, because no matter the age, a woman needs her family, yet when it comes to the
one thing I’ve never been able to understand, I’ve shut them out.
I met Liam Blake after a party when I was nineteen years old. He wasn’t like every other sports star on campus. He didn’t think he was hot shit because he was the man everyone wanted to be. He was the center of attention. The quarterback with as much power and accurate aim with a football as Mariano Rivera had with a baseball.
The girls on campus threw themselves at him like wolves, and the men idolized him. I drank the Kool-Aid without a second thought. It was instant and natural.
I was a fresh canvas ready to be painted and admired. I was a virgin, unlike some of the other girls I hung around with. I was different, and Liam wasn't the typical arrogant, cocky jock. We matched. It happened, and I fell for that man in an instant.
I wasn’t innocent because I didn't date; I did here and there after I turned sixteen and my mother put my dad in his place by telling him he couldn’t protect me forever.
I was focused on my grades, sports, and spent time with my cousins and friends.
I kept my ears away from hearing things I shouldn’t. My mouth shut when I did, and I tried so damn hard to justify what the people I loved would do when they walked out the door.
With Liam, though, he made me forget how at times I felt dirty over my family’s dealings.
Me, the girl people grew up hating because I was the daughter, the cousin, the best friend of people they feared.
A member of the family who stole and traded guns for a living dating a man who was going somewhere in his life would not mix outside of college, and it didn’t have a thing to do with his color.
I haven’t forgiven myself for leaving him, for not spilling my guts out to my parents about everything. I’m utterly miserable.
All those cruel words he spat at me are true. I’m running inside a circle, and I can’t find my way out.
I left Liam because for the first time in my life I tried and failed to tell someone I was embarrassed by who I was. I was ashamed, and I hated myself for it. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the shame, which turned into a vicious cycle of self-loathing I hid deep in my soul.