by Alexa Martin
I glance around my empty bedroom. “Well . . . no . . .”
“Poppy.” TK’s voice has an edge to it and I give up trying to predict where his moods are taking him. “You know how many women I’ve wanted to explore a relationship with since I got drafted?”
I try to think back to our earlier conversations, but I can’t remember the exact number. “Not many?” I figure it’s a good guess because there’s no way he’s stupid enough to bring this up if it wasn’t the case.
“None,” he corrects me.
Jaw to the freaking floor.
None?
Why? How is that even possible?
“It’s possible,” he says, reading my mind in the same freakish way he was able to when we were younger. It creeped me out when we were kids, and it still creeps me out.
“There had to be at least one.”
“Not. Fucking. One.” He stresses each word. “I don’t know if you know this or not, but people consider me a catch.”
“You are?” Obviously, I know this is true. He’s funny, hot, and rich. But he also has a ginormous ego and I’m not adding to it.
“Yeah, I am.” He knows I know. “You might not want to hear this, but I’m gonna tell you anyways. I came into this league at twenty-two. I was single with seven figures in my bank account. I was looking for fun only. I didn’t even hook up with most of the women who took me back to their place.”
“Okay. I call BS on that.” I glance at my closed door, straining my ears to make sure I don’t hear Ace’s impatient footsteps coming to get me.
“We have enough real shit that’s happened between us to deal with. I’m not going to add to it by lying to you about something stupid.”
I know this too.
“I know,” I whisper, feeling bad for even joking about it.
“I know,” he whispers back, and if I close my eyes tight enough, I’m convinced I’d feel his arms wrapping around me. “Remember when I told you that I made sure nobody trapped me?”
“Yeah.” As much as I wish I was able to forget every word he spewed the night I told him about Ace, the opposite happened. It’s like everything that came out of his mouth was etched onto my brain.
“I kept my distance. I never got close enough for anyone to catch feelings or want it to go further than a good time,” he says. “I’m the fun guy. The player they can brag to their friends about. I’ve never given anyone expectations of more.”
I scrunch my nose, thankful he can’t see my face. I try my hardest not to work out the math of his confession.
“I’m not sure I understand why you’re telling me this.”
“Because.” He sighs, his giant hands no doubt working their way through his long locks. “I need you to get where I’m coming from. I don’t take women home. I don’t save their numbers in my phone. And I don’t say lines.
“I know we’re different people who’ve lived different lives, but you can’t question everything I say to you. Yes, I’m here for Ace, I already love that kid. He’s the shit and I don’t want to miss out on another minute with him.” He stops and I blink away the tears that pop up hearing him talk about Ace. Then more words come. “But he’s not the reason I want to explore things with you. If anything, he’s the reason we should stick to just trying to be friends. But even when I was mad because I thought you were lying about him, I was still dreaming about you. Spending the day with you guys was the happiest I have been in years. Being with you makes me feel like myself again. And you’re so fucking beautiful that even though it’s only the first day of camp, I’m already getting yelled at in meetings because I can’t focus when all I think about is when I get to be with you again. When I’ll be able to touch you . . . kiss you again.”
Holy crap.
I mean . . .
I was not expecting that.
At all.
Thank God I’m standing in front of my bed, because after all of that? My legs lose the ability to keep supporting me.
I don’t know how long I lie on my bed not saying anything. Ten seconds? A century?
TK calls my name, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to clear the lusty haze clouding my vision.
“Sparks?” he repeats himself.
I sit up, smoothing my shirt and clearing my throat. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“You good?”
“Yeah.” I glance down at my shaky hands. “I’m good.”
“So you understand where I’m coming from?” he asks, laughter—and cockiness—evident in his voice.
Pull yourself together, Poppy!
“Yeah.” I pinch myself on the arm. “I understand.”
“Good,” he says, sounding all happy-go-lucky, not moody, or tired, or like a Sex God, and I wonder if maybe he developed some extra personalities to go along with all the muscles he’s amassed over the years. “So are you and Ace coming to practice on Friday? Tell Ace we’re wearing full pads. It’s gonna be a good one.”
“We’ll be there.” I try to sound normal, but instead I sound like an overexcited cartoon character from a show Ace stopped watching years ago. “Like Ace would ever let me off the hook. You don’t need incentives, seeing you is enough. Even though . . .” I smile up to my ceiling. “He was talking about Maxwell Lewis a lot last night.”
“Well, shit,” he mumbles into the phone and I can almost hear his grin. “Now I have to embarrass poor Maxwell at practice tonight.”
“If that’s possible. I don’t even watch football and I know how good he is.”
“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.” He laughs into the phone. “I’ll see you guys soon, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling shy all of a sudden.
“Good. Later, Sparks.”
“Bye, TK.” I hang up before he can say anything else.
I throw my phone on the bed next to me and grab a pillow, bringing it to my chest and squeezing my arms around it as hard as I can.
TK unravels me in ways I thought impossible. I’ve lived such a guarded half-life for so many years, he’s a shock to my system. TK is a double espresso after years of no caffeine. He’s a bloodcurdling scream after years of silence.
He’s sunshine after living in darkness.
I heard everything he said to me, panty-baring proof withstanding, I felt every word as it passed through my receiver. And I want to fall into his arms with abandon. I want to dive into one of my favorite books and believe I’m as deserving of a happily-ever-after as the badass heroine fighting for love.
And I’m trying.
As much as I want to let go of all my fears, they keep popping up unwelcome in my mind. I don’t know if I was an asshole in a past life or something, but I know not to stay excited for something for long. Besides Ace, nothing good in my life lasts.
So as excited as I am to explore things with TK, I can’t help but sit and wait for the other shoe to drop.
I bring the pillow up to my face and let out a frustrated scream, full of anger and self-loathing for making even the simplest decision in my life a problem.
TK cares about me.
I care about TK.
We both care about Ace.
Simple.
But, man, am I making this complicated.
Seventeen
“Hurry up, mom!” Ace shouts through the house. I don’t even need to look to know he’s standing in front of the door with every piece of Mustangs gear he owns on. Which, thanks to TK, is quite a lot.
Ace is buzzing with excitement. All he’s been able to talk about for the last few days is training camp. And not just to me. I am pretty sure anyone who has encountered him since TK came over has heard not only about his other newly discovered DNA contributor but about his impending trip to the Mecca for Mustangs fans, the Mustangs training facility in Dove Valley.
I close my eyes and count
to ten before answering, hoping I’ll be able to disguise some of the dread in my voice. “Hold on, I’m coming!”
Nope, didn’t work.
Even though TK has been in camp for only a couple of days, I’ve enjoyed the closed-to-the-public aspect of it. TK has made sure to call Ace every night and tell him about how practice is going and which rookies to watch out for. They’d chat for a while, Ace would go to bed happy, and I didn’t have to stand around in the summer sun with women I don’t know and probably won’t like.
I wish we could do that today. But apparently opening day is the biggest deal ever to Ace so we’re trekking to the freaking suburbs to stand outside with maniacs who took the day off work to watch grown men tackle each other into an early grave.
What is that, you ask?
Do I have a piss-poor attitude about this?
Why, yes. Yes, I do. But I’m allowed to be jaded.
I give myself a once-over in the bathroom mirror one last time and it pisses me off that I do. I don’t know why I care. TK and I are “exploring” things. I’m not his girlfriend yet. But even so, I might have spent longer than necessary making sure my curl definition was on point and my bronzer was just enough. I don’t have any Mustangs gear, but Ace demanded I at least wear my orange razorback tank. Orange is my color. And my brown skin does look phenomenal against my white denim shorts.
“Mooooommmmm!” Ace calls again. Thankfully, he can’t see me roll my eyes and stick out my tongue before I round the corner.
I was right. Ace is like a walking billboard for the Mustangs. Jersey, hat, basketball shorts, and socks, all Mustangs. He looks ridiculous but I don’t say anything. The gleam in his eyes is breathtaking, and even though I’d rather spoon my eyeballs out of my head than go to training camp, his joy makes this worth it . . . I guess.
“Here, I’m ready.” I grab my purse off the hook next to the door and slip on my flip-flops. “Did you get sunscreen on?”
“Yes, Mom.”
Unlucky for him, I do see him roll his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry,” he corrects himself. “I just really don’t want to miss anything. I mean, this is opening day! Noah tried to go last year and they couldn’t even get in, that’s how crowded it was.”
I try to think of any other reason to stall, but I come up empty-handed. “All right then, let’s get a move on.”
I don’t even finish before he swings the back door open and sprints to the garage.
I guess we’re doing this.
* * *
• • •
ACE IS A child, and because of that, I will not give him the satisfaction of being right.
We should’ve left at least thirty minutes earlier.
Parking is a nightmare and the volunteers in orange vests who are supposed to be able to tell me where I can park are zero help. Obnoxious people who might already be drunk are crossing the streets without looking and definitely not at crosswalks. And I’m pretty sure Ace has learned some new, creative blending of curse words.
I’m about two seconds from taking our asses home when I see police officers who look as miserable as I feel monitoring the front gate of the Mustangs facility. They are Ace’s last chance at watching practice today. If they can’t tell me where the hell I can park, I’m leaving.
I roll down my window and yell out to them, ignoring the cars waiting behind me because, well, screw them. “Excuse me, sir? Can you tell me where I can park?”
“There’s paid parking all around, but it’s probably full by now. Maybe if you head that way, you can find something.” He takes his time walking up to my window, probably doing what I’m doing and trying not to yell at me for his misfortune of getting stuck here today.
“Yeah, I’ve seen all of that. But I have this parking pass.” I wave the stupid parking pass that doesn’t have directions to the lot where the freaking parking pass is valid. “Do you have any clue where it’s for?”
His eyes go wide and the once-over he gives me makes me super uncomfortable but also glad I took the ten—fine, thirty—extra minutes to get ready. “That’s for the player and family lot. Turn right into here and we’ll open the gate for you.”
“Oh my god. Thank you so much,” I say before he can retreat. “Finding this lot was about to make me go crazy. I swear, I might kiss you.”
“Ew, Mom!” Ace groans from the back seat. It’s the first thing he’s uttered since I accidentally snapped when he told me to watch my language.
Not even out of the car and I’m already embarrassing him. Today’s gonna go well.
“No problem, ma’am.” The officer is clearly uncomfortable and color rises in his cheeks as he turns to walk back to the other officer manning the gate to parking freedom.
I turn right and they wave me through without having to say another word. Which, whatever. He called me “ma’am.” I think saying I want to kiss you is much kinder than making someone feel a hundred years old.
As soon as we pass the gates, it’s like we’ve entered another world. Gone are the Hondas and Toyotas of the world. I’m surrounded by blacked-out Mercedes, BMWs, and Range Rovers. I’ve always taken pride in our Volvo. It’s a solid car. One I’d never be driving if it weren’t for Maya, but holy hell, it looks like a freaking hoopty compared to the other cars. I glance in my rearview mirror and see Ace with his face plastered against the window. Where I’m wearing an expression of horror, Ace is in awe. So I push through my urge to flip a U-turn and bust back through the gate and instead just park as far away from the other cars as possible.
“All right, dude. You ready?” I hand Ace his lanyard with the laminated family pass hanging from it.
“Yes!” He snatches it from my hand, throws it over his head, and is out of my car before I can even pull the key from the ignition.
I open the door and follow Ace across the parking lot faster than I wanted. The heat radiating up from the pavement and through my flip-flops is like the Devil’s way of encouragement. Any hint of morning breeze must have faded while we were driving in circles, searching for parking.
When we reach the sidewalk, there’s a woman with a bright smile and a headset on to greet us.
“Hi there. I’m Jane, what’s your name?” She reaches a hand out to Ace, whose smile shows he’s the only one of us excited to be here.
“I’m Ace,” he answers, and for the first time all day, I can hear the nerves in his voice.
“Hi, Ace.” She shakes his hand, her smile never dimming, before she moves it to me. “And I’m gonna guess you’re Mom?”
“I am.” I shake her hand. “Poppy Patterson.”
“Poppy,” she repeats. “I love that name.”
Most people repeat both names and say something like “Well, that’s a mouthful” or something just as annoying. And that’s before they find out my middle name is Penelope. Jane’s genuine and kind reaction to my name warms me to her instantly.
“Like I told Ace here, I’m Jane and I’m the manager of the family program for the Mustangs. Since we haven’t met before, I’m going to go ahead and assume this is your first time at training camp?”
“It is.”
“Well, great! Is your Mustang player one of the rookies?”
“My dad’s TK Moore,” Ace answers loud and proud.
I never could’ve imagined how fast Ace and TK would take to each other. There was no awkward waiting period. TK has no problem calling Ace his son, and Ace clearly has no problem telling the entire world TK’s his dad.
Me, on the other hand, I’m still adjusting to everything. And by the way Jane’s jaw damn near hits her shoe, it’s an adjustment for her too.
“Oh wow!” She shakes her head as if jarring her brain back into place. “I should’ve known that, you look just like him.”
I’m glad I have my sunglasses on because Ace beams so bright at her w
ords, it would’ve blinded me without them. “Thanks!”
Ugh. Like looking like me wouldn’t be even better? Brat.
I clear my throat and pull her shell-shocked face back to mine. “Where are we supposed to go?”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Her painted smile is back on her face. “Just follow this sidewalk and you’ll come to a set of stairs. Once you go down the stairs, you can go two ways. Right will take you toward the field. We have tents set up behind the fields for you to watch your players at camp. There’s food and drinks available and fans so you don’t die from heat exhaustion. If you go left, that will take you to a gate so you can join the rest of the spectators. There are games and bounce houses for the kids. Just make sure you don’t lose your family credentials. Without them, you won’t be able to come back in. After practice is over, the players will have an hour or two of free time in which they’ll be able to see you before heading back to the hotel for team meetings.”
I take in the bucket of information she just dumped on me and pray I can retain it all. “Left, spectators. Right, family. Got it.” God. Is there an option three for isolation?
“And if you need anything else, I’ll be right around here, so just holler at me.”
“Will do.” I try to smile, but the knots in my stomach make it impossible. I wasn’t even this nervous my first shift at the Emerald Cabaret. Why does this seem so intimidating? “Thanks, Jane.”
“Yeah, thanks, Ms. Jane,” Ace says like they’re old friends.
This time, as we start moving, Ace doesn’t sprint forward and we walk together.
I guess this is it. No more procrastinating.
Time to see what this NFL crazy world is really like.
Eighteen
It doesn’t take long before two perfectly maintained fields appear in front of us. The steady hum of noise grows into a roar, and we’re specks in the middle of a sea of blue and orange. Navy blue helmets with an orange stripe down the center bob around in groups spread across the fields. Wearing full pads and uniforms, the players are ready to put on a show for the thousands of fans who braved the traffic and heat to catch a glimpse of their favorite athletes.