Blindsided: A Sports Romance (15 page)

“Come on, Thorne,” Denny yells. “What’s taking you so long?”

“Yeah.” Dale elbows me. “I thought you’d be dying to get back to fucking that sexy-ass fiancée of yours.”

He pauses. It’s like he’s waiting for me to lash out at him for talking about my girlfriend. The thought of acting a part with my buddies again makes me want to curl up into a ball and never get up.

Rose was right. One hundred percent. Lies are fucked—they just grow and grow.

I hadn’t thought about the consequences. But having to lie to my boys every day? It’s horrible.

I grab him in a half-hearted headlock. “Don’t disrespect my girl,” I say. I could be reading off the back of a cereal packet there’s that little feeling in my words.

Denny watches me closely. “Everything okay in paradise, Thorne?”

I nod. “Yeah. I just don’t want you guys talking about her like that.”

He seems to think about it and accept this. I wish he wouldn’t. This is driving me crazy—I’d love to talk it out with somebody, even though I know that’s not an option.

“Hey, I’m gonna coach at Kidspace later. You in?”

I nod. It’s something a lot of the guys on the team support. The kids love it. Each week, a different school gets to come along and play with pro players.

“Sure, man.” Plus it’ll get me out of the guesthouse. Those might be the most elegant walls I’ve ever lived in, but that doesn’t make them any less like a prison to me. “Who are you coaching tonight?”

“Poynter Elementary,” he says. “Or something.”

My ears prick up. I’ve heard that name before, several times. That’s where Sam goes. “Oh, I’m not so sure. I think Darla has something planned this evening.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Since when? Since I asked you if you wanted to help out with some kids?”

I think about it. I’ve been told to stay away from her, not the kid. And I’m pretty sure Coach isn’t going to have his spies hanging around at Kidspace. No, he reserves that for club nights and probably Rose’s home too. Too bad he didn’t splurge on sending somebody to Vegas—he might have saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life.

The kid mightn’t even be there anyway.

“Yeah sure, man. Count me in.”

***

There may have been hundreds of kids, but that didn’t stop Sam from spotting me immediately and rushing through the crowd to my side. For a little guy, he sure has the balls to push those bigger kids out of his way.

“Jake!” he yells, grinning up at me with eyes that are painfully familiar.

“Hey, little dude.” I smile. It’s genuine. I like this kid and I’ve missed him. That’s a surprise. “How’ve you been?”

He holds out his hand and does the secret handshake we worked out when I lived with him and his mom.

“I miss you, Jake. My game is suffering.”

I resist the urge to laugh—I know what it’s like to be a kid of that age and think you’re all grown up. But it’s hard—the things he says are funny as fuck.

“Sorry, man. I’m sure your mom explained.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, looking around to make sure no one is listening. “I get it. There were developments and the agreement had to change.”

I can’t believe this guy. Rose was right. He might only be eight but he’s got the tact and maturity of a kid twice his age. Hell, even I’m not that smart.

“Yeah,” I nod. “Something like that. How is your mom?”

He rolls his eyes. “She’s okay. She’s always sick these days.”

“Oh?” My heart races. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and grins up at me goofily. “It’s nothing serious, Jake. She just keeps barfing. A lot.” He makes a face. “She tries to pretend she’s not, but I know.”

“You sure she’s okay, kid?”

He nods. “Yeah. She’s not worried or anything.”

I stare at him. He’s a good kid. There’s so much I want to ask him, but I don’t want to complicate his life. I had a childhood. It was football football football in the backyard of our suburban home. This little guy? He hasn’t had it so easy. And I don’t want to confuse him by asking him questions about his mom. Especially because I know the consequences of that. All the same, I don’t like to hear she isn’t feeling well.

“You look after her, okay?”

He nods gravely. “I always have.”

“You tell her…” I stop. Tell her what? Even if I could think of the words I wanted to say to her, they wouldn’t be suitable to tell her through her eight-year-old boy. “Tell her you’ve got a good throw.”

He grins. “I will.”

I watch him run away to join the others where Denny is lining them up for the first drill. Hell, even his run reminds me of the way she moves.

I’ve got it bad, I know.

***

“You getting broody, Jake?” Dale asks as we change before practice.

I roll my eyes at the suggestion. “Hell no. Denny asked me to help out last night. Why aren’t you whooping his ass about being broody, huh? He’s the one who organized it.”

Dale glances at our quarterback and raises his eyebrow. “Why’d you think?”

“I can beat your ass just as good as Denny over there.”

“Relax, Thorne. You’re getting married. He’s playing the field. That’s the only reason I’m yanking your chain. What’s got into you?”

I tense. Practice is the only thing that takes my mind off my hellish living situation and now Dale goes and brings it up. Even if I could get Rose out of my mind, there’s no way on earth I’m having a kid with Darla. I don’t want my kids to have her scheming manipulative blood. But I can’t tell that to the guys.

“I’m too young.”

“No, you’re not. You’re twenty-six.”

“Yeah,” Stevie chimes in. “I was barely in my twenties when we had our first boy.”

“See.” Dale slaps a huge arm around my back. “It’s about time you got moving.”

“What? Dude, I don’t see
you
with a brood.”

“I’m not getting married,” Dale shrugs. “You are.”

“So?”

“You’ll see. Marriage. Kids. It’s what happens.” Stevie buries his head in his hands. “What am I talking about? I should be telling you
not
to do it.”

“Why’s that?”

He groans. “Crystal is pregnant again. I don’t think I can handle three more months.”

We all roll our eyes. It’s impossible not to see how much Stevie adores Crystal and his boys.

He shakes his head. “I’m serious, y’all. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Yeah sure. You love it. Admit it, man. You’re whipped.”

He sighs. “It’s different this time. Crystal is convinced we’re having a girl. Man, she’s been like the antichrist. When she’s not throwing up every hour of the day, she’s demanding I rub her feet or make her sugar sandwiches.”

“You did knock her up, man,” I say, slapping him on the back.

He glares at me. “Just you wait, Thorne. Just you wait. When Darla gets pregnant, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

I shake my head. “That’s not going to happen.”

Trust me—it’s not. Unless she’s invented some kind of device capable of busting through solid walls, then she’s not getting pregnant. It’s not like she hasn’t broached the topic—she suggested it last week as I was rushing through the house to the guesthouse. She’s taken to greeting me at the door and throwing her arms around me. It’s all for the tabloids’ benefit. And she knows I can’t do a thing about it thanks to the little band of photographers camped outside our house twenty-four seven.

She just whispered it in my ear. “We should have a baby. It’d drive them wild.” As if a kid is just some accessory to parade in front of the media.

“Yep, definitely not,” I add, shaking my head.

“What, trouble in paradise?” Denny asks, looking concerned.

I open my mouth to tell him the truth and stop at the last minute. It’s not worth fucking up my career over. “Nah. It’s all good.”

“Just wait,” Stevie mouths.

I just nod. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind, but that ain’t one of them. “Give our love to Crystal. Hope she feels better soon, man.”

“So do I,” he sighs. “So do I.”

“Hey kiddo,” I say from my position on the couch.

He takes one look at me and shudders. I don’t blame him. I’ve never been particularly glamorous, but these past few weeks take the cake.

I’m lying on the couch with a hot water bottle on my belly and a bucket beside me because I don’t have the energy to dash to the bathroom anymore. Take that, Victoria’s Secret Angels—there’s a new angel in town.

Or something. I’m officially delirious from lack of adult company and conversation. I can’t keep anything down. This is ten times worse than when I was pregnant with Sam.

It’s two weeks since the doctor confirmed my suspicions. I am, in fact, pregnant again. I have no idea how it happened. We always used protection. Remind me never to see 99% effective as bulletproof again. I debated contacting Kenny and seeing if this changes things, but I bottled out.

First off, I’ve met the guy several times now. I’m not an idiot. He didn’t get where he is today because of his cozy caring nature. He’d probably just think I was looking for a payoff. There’s no way he’s gonna change his mind and let me see Jake. Not when he and his fiancée are all over the papers.

Seriously. It’s driving me crazy with jealousy. And it’s all my fault. Me and my stupid goddamn principles. I was the one who insisted that Jake go to the team and come clean. Oh boy, I’ve been regretting that one since I got the call from Kenny saying the deal had changed and we needed to talk immediately.

And I just can’t risk pissing off management and walking away with nothing. Kenny made it clear that he’ll do anything to protect his team. If I rock up and tell Jake the truth, then I’ll be broke and Jake will lose his spot in the team.

So it looks like I’m going it alone for the time being.

Sam is rummaging in the refrigerator—I know because I hear multiple things go crashing to the ground at once.

“What you looking for there, kid? I’ll get up and make dinner for you in a sec. Okay?”

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m gonna go practice my throws.”

“It’s late,” I say frowning. “Plus you’ve been practicing all evening.”

“I
know
that, Mom,” he explains with the exaggerated patience kids use to explain things to their dumb mothers. “But I met Jake today. He told me I had a great throw. I can’t miss my chance to play in the big leagues. I need to practice.”

My heart accelerates. “You did?” I say, as casually as I can. “Where did you see him?”

“At Kidspace,” he says, slamming the refrigerator closed.

I don’t chide him for that like I usually would. “What was he doing there?”

“Uh, coaching?” Like it’s the stupidest question in the world.

What was I expecting? That Jake had just shown up at my kid’s after-school football camp several weeks after I walked out of his life. To what? Declare his undying love for me? I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. That may be the stupid fantasy that keeps me awake at night, but it’s not what I want. I’m not going to trade anything for my kid’s wellbeing. My
kids’
wellbeing.

Oh hell I wish Van was back from her business trip. I know I’m not supposed to tell anybody for the first three months, but this is different. I feel like I’m gonna burst. I need to talk to somebody.

All I can think of is Jake. The memories of him playing in the garden with Sam are burned into my mind. I play them back over and over, except now I’m picturing him with a tiny girl who’s like a little mirror image of him. I rub my belly.

Like I say, it’s a stupid fantasy. I know what would happen if I went to visit Jake and told him the truth. The team would find out. I don’t doubt that. And everything would be ruined for the both of us.

I glance over at the pile of trashy magazines on the table. It’s not like I have a chance with him anymore. I missed it. He looks genuinely happy with his wife. They’re pretending they just got engaged. I guess spending all that time together made him fall for her, in the same way as he seemed to fall for me.

I take a deep breath.

It hurts like hell seeing him shopping in LuxHome with her, his huge hand resting in the small of her back. I should probably stop buying the damn magazines, but I can’t help it. I have this compulsive need to check up on what they’re doing. And they’ve been doing a lot. It’s like they’re out together every night. She’s gone with him to every preseason game, clasping her obscenely expensive engagement ring to her mouth whenever there’s a camera lurking anywhere near her.

I’ve got my money. I know I should be grateful. I
am
grateful.

“Mom, is everything okay?” Sam looks at me suspiciously from the other side of the room.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding furiously. “Of course. It’s just this… tummy bug is all.”

“You seem… weird?”

I need to stop this. It’s selfish of me to freak Sam out unnecessarily like this. “Come here, son.” I hold my arms out and he walks over slowly and huffily, suddenly too cool to hug his mom.

“I need to go practice.”

“I know,” I say, squeezing him to me and frowning at the feel of hard hair gel against my cheek. When did that start? “I just wanted you to know that I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. Okay? We are A-OK.”

“Yup,” he says, pushing away. “I know. Can I go now?”

“Yeah, go on,” I whisper. His life is going to change a hell of a lot in the next six months so why not let him enjoy the calm before the storm?

I edge gingerly off the couch as soon as the door closes and grab the pile of glossy paper. I throw them in the trash before I can think any more about it. About
him
. I’m not some starry-eyed teenager. I have responsibilities. No more stupid fantasies.