“I only care about scaring the dudes.” I yawned and shoved past him toward the bathroom. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Cool.” He walked off, and my front door slammed. Had I left it open? Did the psycho have a key or something?
I shook my head and quickly took a shower and got ready. The smell of bacon was already filling the hall by the time I knocked on Sanchez’s door and let myself in.
Jax and Kinsey were both drinking orange juice while Sanchez opened a bottle of champagne.
“Mimosas?” Em scrunched up her nose.
“Don’t worry. I’m giving you more champagne than juice. Less sugar.” He eyed Kinsey. “It’s in the manual.”
“Stop memorizing our shit.” Kinsey rolled her eyes.
“That’s what you do when you sleep with all the cheerleaders,” Thomas said out loud, like the dumbass he was, clearly not thinking Oh hey, Emerson’s a cheerleader, and she’s been with Sanchez for a few weeks now.
“Apologize.” Sanchez slammed his glass onto the granite, sending orange juice flying all over the pristine wood floor.
Thomas’s eyes flashed briefly before he shrugged at Em, nothing about his body language said apology. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking, Emerson. I know it’s not like that with you guys. I mean if it is that’s cool—What I mean is that . . . he’s like that with other cheerleaders and—”
Jax smacked him on the back of the head. “Stop talking already.”
Thomas shut up but didn’t stop glaring at Sanchez, or Em for that matter.
“It’s fine.” Emerson’s smile was fake. “Should we all eat?”
“Food!” Jax shouted a little too energetically while Kinsey started grabbing plates.
Nobody noticed Emerson sneak off down the hall.
Except me and Sanchez.
I nodded to him.
Only to have Jax grab him by the arm. “I was thinking about that trick play and . . .”
“I got this,” I mouthed.
His relief was tangible as I quickly headed down a hall that mirrored my own and found her in his bedroom. And a part of me wondered if he actually trusted me alone with her—or just wanted her to be comforted no matter who did the comforting.
I expected to feel rage.
Jealousy beyond belief.
Instead, all I could conjure up was a hell of a lot of sadness at where we both were in our friendship, and disappointment that I didn’t know how to get it back. Because, before I kissed her six years ago, she’d been everything to me. My rock. My best friend. And I would kill to have that feeling back, that solidarity we used to share. Yes, I’d always been attracted to her. I’d always wanted her, loved her, but not as much as I needed her by my side. That would always win out, and I figured it was time I stopped moping and actually acted on that shit. She deserved at least that much—and more.
“Hey.” I knocked on the open door. “Sanchez was headed in, but Jax stopped him about some play, so today you get second string.”
“You’ve never been second string a day in your life.” She snorted.
“Until now,” I answered honestly. “Gotta say it’s not one of my favorite things, Em.”
She wiped her cheeks and flashed me a smile. “Second string is still important, you know.”
“Hah.” Damn it. Her tears were killing me. “Are you giving me a pep talk? Isn’t that why I came in here?”
“Say your quarterback gets hurt, the backup better be just as good, or the team’s chances of hitting the playoffs are slim to none.”
“True, true.” I nodded. “And the quarterback has to have balls of steel but still be able to calm the storm.”
“Right.” She folded her hands in her lap. “And I mean your position—the tight end—you need to be big, tall, fearless. You have the opportunity to score, but you also have to protect the quarterback. You can’t just be the best tight end in the league one day and a sucky one the next. Some may even argue that third string is important—they pay them like they are. Look at the Pilots. They’re on one of their third-string wide receivers right now!”
She was animated as she threw her hands in the air and huffed.
“You love football.” I grinned, sitting on the bed.
“I love football,” she agreed. “So, what do you think? About second string?”
I glanced around the room, the room that smelled like them, the room that she was currently staying in, if the clothes on the bed were any indication.
“I’d say it sucks balls, but I’m willing to take even that.”
“Why are you talking about sucking my balls, Miller?” Sanchez was leaning against the door, his bulky arms crossed.
I flipped him off.
“Ouch, and to think I thought we were going to be best friends.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
I was completely out of my comfort zone, unsure if hugging her was wrong, if touching her hand in comfort was off-limits, so I scooted away.
Sanchez shook his head. “I’m not saying this because I’ve ever stunk so bad that I’ve been put on second string . . .” He took a seat on the other side of Emerson. “But I guess it’s all in how you look at it.”
“Yeah?” I stared straight ahead, voice cracking, showing my weakness. “And how’s that?”
“Well, at least you’re still in the game.”
I sucked in a breath.
And looked at him, like really looked at him.
And damn if that wasn’t a man I could respect.
“Isn’t that the most important thing?” he asked.
“Yeah.” My voice cleared. “It is.”
“Guys?” Emerson looked between us. “Are we still talking about a game or about what Thomas said?”
“Thomas is a jackass,” Sanchez growled. “I’m surprised he’s still on the team after all the shit he’s pulled in the past.”
I wasn’t sure how much Em knew about Thomas and Sanchez’s past, but it wasn’t my place to say anything. I was just as shocked that he was still playing for the Bucks, especially since they were known for their stance on drama between players. Guys had been kicked off the team for less, but Thomas was damn good at what he did. Part of me wondered if Sanchez’s reaction was the only reason Thomas was able to stay on the team. And again, my respect for the man grew especially since there was so much bad blood between them.
“An immature piece of shit that I’m going to forget to protect during practice tomorrow,” I added, as I gave a serious nod. Sanchez gave me a high five over Emerson’s head.
“You guys are like your own version of the mafia.”
“Football mafia.” I grinned. “Kind of has a ring to it.”
“I need you to do me a favor,” Sanchez said in perfect Godfather voice with his jaw jutting out.
“This? This is what we’re waiting on? You guys playing Godfather in the bedroom while poor Em has to wonder if she’s going to get forced to play the horse?” Kinsey appeared in the doorway.
“You are disrespecting the family,” I joined in, pointing at Kinsey.
“Yeah, I’m out.” Emerson laughed and then turned around. “Thanks guys. Both of you.”
They left us alone.
It was awkward as hell for a few minutes, and then it wasn’t.
“Regardless of what happened in the past or whose fault it was . . .” Sanchez stood. “You left.”
I licked my lips and swore. “Yeah. I know.”
“The difference between you and me.” His eyes flashed. “I never would.”
I hesitated, searching his eyes for any sort of bullshitting and found nothing but honesty, so with a shake of my head, I muttered out in disbelief, “The hardest part of all of this? I actually believe you.”
“Guys!” Kinsey yelled. “FOOD!”
“Better go before she burns your apartment down,” I muttered, walking past him, feeling like maybe the past was defining our future—just in a way neither of us could have imagined.
Or planned for.
> Or prepared for.
Chapter Thirty
EMERSON
My body was still buzzing from last night. I felt good, so good, until I locked eyes with Miller, and the guilt was back. Normally, other feelings accompanied it, feelings that made me feel guilty about everything going on with Sanchez, feelings that told my body that maybe I wasn’t over Miller, but the butterflies weren’t back full force and I wasn’t looking at him with longing anymore.
Instead, I was feeling guilty more than anything.
“Hey.” Sanchez grabbed me from behind, then twirled me in his arms and kissed the side of my neck. “Did you drink all your mimosa like a good girl?”
“Every last drop.” I grinned like a lunatic. “Thanks.”
He pressed another kiss to my neck and tugged me against his body. I loved the way he felt. The world faded away. All of it. It was like the more time I spent with him, the more my past disconnected, leaving me no choice but to cling to my future—to cling to him.
So while the past strings were cut . . .
The future strings were attached.
To him.
“So, today’s a free day.” Sanchez pulled away. “I thought we could all do something fun?”
“I’m out.” Thomas yawned. “Coach has to talk to me about some stupid shit that most likely has to do with why I’ve been playing even shittier than normal.”
Sanchez’s expression was tense. “Sorry, man. Hope it’s not bad news.” The look he gave was anything but sorry, but I didn’t say anything.
Thomas shrugged and grabbed his keys. “See ya.” He nodded to the guys and reached for Kinsey. She put her hands in the air and took a giant step back.
“What, no hug?”
“Not if you want the quarterback to throw to you.”
“One night. May change your life, Kins.”
“Eh, I’ve heard of your life-changing seconds. I think I’ll pass.”
His expression hardened. “Suit yourself.”
“Uh-huh.” She started putting the food away, completely ignoring him as he stomped out of the apartment.
“What was that?” Miller asked the room.
Yeah, I was wondering the same thing.
Kinsey answered before Sanchez could. “He’s been playing like shit. Jax can’t create a miracle, and Thomas . . . well, at this point he needs a miracle. He was undrafted last year, and Coach wanted to take a chance on him.” She put the lid on a dish and shoved it into the fridge, her long dark hair swaying down her back with the movement. “But here’s the thing, you have to want the dream, and at first, he did, he really did. You could see the excitement in his eyes. The awe. And then, the fame came, right along with Jacki and look how that turned out? Not everyone can handle it. Thomas is apparently one of those people.”
The kitchen fell silent.
She kept talking.
“I mean he’s on the freaking defensive line! All he has to do is blitz and stop crazy shit from happening. Instead, he’s focused on getting an interception. Dude, you aren’t a corner, you know?”
My eyebrows shot up.
Miller’s mouth opened, closed, and then, “Another cheerleader who likes football?”
She stared down at the counter. “I wanted to play when I was little, but they didn’t let girls on the team, so I cheered instead. It’s no big deal. Hey, anyone gonna finish this champagne?” She didn’t wait for anyone to answer, just grabbed the bottle and tossed back the last few inches.
“You wanted to play?” I smiled. “I’d be terrified of you. You seem—”
“Ballsy,” Miller finished. “And a bit scrappy. Yeah, I think I’d be scared too.”
“Says the guy who’s nearly six foot six.” She grinned. “But thanks. Anyway, what are we doing today?”
With the subject officially changed, I looked up at Sanchez, but he was busy looking between Miller and Kinsey.
I elbowed him.
His face slowly molded into a knowing grin. “I say we go to the stadium and play a little . . . football.”
“Football,” we all said in unison.
“The hell, man?” Miller glared. “Isn’t this our day off?”
“Can’t be the best if you don’t practice every damn day.” Sanchez rubbed his hands together. “Plus, I really want to chase Emerson. Tell you guys what, we’ll let the girls be quarterbacks, and we’ll recruit some of the practice squad, who you know are already there working, to help us. Whatever team wins has to cook tonight. Deal?”
“Deal,” Kins and I said at the same time.
“But . . .” I shoved away from Sanchez. “Kinsey and I are on the same team. Boys against girls.”
“Aw . . .” Sanchez put a hand across his heart. “Aren’t you adorable. Miller, my girl thinks she has a chance.”
“I’m really good at kicking ass,” I snapped back.
Miller took a step toward Sanchez. “Dude, I don’t know if you want to do this. She made a guy ugly cry in high school. He literally ran off the field and called his mom.”
“Please.” Sanchez snorted. “What could she possibly do?”
Miller gulped.
He had a right to be a bit fearful, because yeah, maybe what I’d done that day on the field had been a bit illegal. After all, it was flag football not tackle. But how had it been my fault that Jack tripped over my body?
“This is going to be fun.” I rubbed my hands together. “Get ready to lose, boys.”
“She does realize we’re two of the highest paid players in the league, right?” Sanchez asked Miller. “Or is she just that delusional?”
Miller shuddered. “I was her powder puff coach.”
Sanchez lost his smile. “Well shit.”
“Taught her everything I know.”
“You think that information wouldn’t have been freaking helpful about four minutes ago?” Sanchez playfully shoved him.
“Whatever.” Miller shook it off. “We’re giants compared to them. We’ll be totally fine.”
I gave Kinsey a knowing look.
We may not be as big.
But we played dirty.
“Game on.” I crossed my arms.
“Clean that O-line up now!” Sanchez roared. “Jones, you get your ass back for extra coverage!”
Jones limped over to his spot on the field.
“Bunch of pussies!” Miller yelled. “You’re professional athletes. Act like it!”
Kinsey and I nodded to each other as we adjusted our flags. We’d been playing for the past forty minutes and had already scored two touchdowns.
We were tied.
Fourteen to fourteen.
The other team, Iron Men, had a constant fear of hurting us, because you know, we were girls. So, each time they approached us, they were worried about either getting their asses kicked for touching boob or butt, or they were worried about hurting us. Meaning, it really wasn’t fair.
The worst was that everyone always gave Kinsey a wide berth.
Meaning, our first touchdown had basically been given to us.
I highly doubted the guys took that into consideration.
The minute she’d texted Jax to let him know about our pickup game, he’d come down to the practice stadium and stared daggers at everyone, and nobody wanted to piss off the quarterback. He’d left breakfast early and I hadn’t seen him since.
“Let’s go!” Sanchez roared. He hated losing. And I loved that every time I had the ball he attacked me like I was his equal. I truly didn’t think he would even blink an eye if he had to run me over to win. He’d just say, Hey, you wanted to play.
I loved that about him.
I wasn’t weak to him.
I was just . . . Emerson.
Miller, on the other hand, looked ready to murder his own team right along with Sanchez.
They were both covered in sweat and dirt. So much for a day off, right?
“One, two, hike!” Sanchez dropped back and looked for an open receiver.
I wa
s covering Jones on the side and saw Sanchez look to Miller. This was my chance. I charged through the opening and blitzed the hell out of Sanchez, knocking him completely on his ass and scratching for the football.
“Seriously?” He heaved, looking up at me. “Who are you?”
“Why . . .” I batted my eyelashes. “I’m a professional athlete. And you?”
He smirked and smacked me on the ass. “Way too turned on to be around people right now.”
I helped him to his feet, only to have him whisper in my ear. “Please tell me you’ll do that to me in bed sometime. I love a good . . . tackle.”
He swatted my ass again and walked off with the ball, ready to set up.
And I was frozen in place, my breathing erratic, my heart wild.
“Focus!” Kinsey screamed at me.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, getting into position as they went for the third down.
Sanchez threw a spiral to Miller, who caught the ball then ran straight into Kinsey, knocking her tiny body to the ground.
“Oh shit!” Miller yelled.
Jax yelled for her.
I ran over.
She was on her back with tears of laughter pouring down her face. “See, this is why I need an ass, guys! I need something to land on.” She blinked up at Miller. “Did I stop you?”
A stunned expression crossed his features before he shook his head and helped her up. “I was too busy not killing you to notice.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Shoot, a yard short. That’s okay. Maybe next time, champ.” She slapped him on the back and walked off.
Leaving him standing there with a familiar expression on his face.
I crossed my arms and smirked.
“Don’t.” Miller pointed the ball at me. “I know that look. Don’t even go there.”
I shrugged.
“Stop that!” His frown turned into a smile. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” His eyes heated, and then he burst out laughing. “God, I missed you.”
“You too, big guy.” I winked as he put an arm around me and shoved me back toward my team.
When I glanced up at Sanchez, he was smiling at me. A real smile, not a jealous, I’m-going-to-kick-his-ass smile, but something that told me he knew who I was going home to.
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