Fumbled (The Girls of Beachmont #1) (24 page)

His lip curled, a sneer
appearing on his face, and I knew Millie was about to witness the ugly I knew
too well. Philip was a master at pretending in front of other people; it was
when he got you alone that his mean side appeared. Only this time, I’d
embarrassed him.

“So you go out with JT
Hunter a few times and you think you’re better than me? He dumped you, Dani.
You’d be lucky to have me, because no one wants his sloppy seconds.”

My hand connected with
his cheek, the snap so loud that Nick stepped into the room to see what had
happened. He looked at Millie, whose hands covered her mouth, and then to me.
But when his eyes landed on Philip, who took a step toward me, Nick lunged
forward and pushed his hands against Philip’s chest.

“Listen, buddy, you need
to go. I don’t know what’s going on here, but it doesn’t look good.”

“That bitch just slapped
me,” he said, pointing at me.

Nick looked at me and I
shrugged.

“Bitch? Really, man? All
this talk like you want to get back together and then you call her names? If
that’s what you do, I can see why she hit you.”

Millie’s hand reached
for mine, my entire body shaking at the exchange. I hadn’t planned to slap him,
but after a year of not doing anything when he’d said and done far worse, I saw
red. She squeezed my hand and pulled me toward her.

“Philip, you need to
go,” she said evenly. “And don’t come back.”

He started running his
mouth, so Nick walked him outside and closed the door behind them, leaving me
in the front entry with Millie. Her eyes welled with tears and she wrapped her
arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, Dani. I
didn’t know,” she cried.

“No one knew,” I
admitted. “Except Tabor.”

“You told him?” she
gasped. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said. “That’s
not what I mean. It’s just that you keep so much to yourself, and for you to
open up to him…I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t just
open up to anyone, Dani.”

“But he’s not just
anyone. He’s the person I love. I trust him with my life,” I said.

Millie smirked at my
admission and appeared pleased with my words. “I know you do. So what now?”

“Well, now all I have to
do is convince Tabor that I didn’t mean anything I said to him the other
night.”

Before I could
elaborate, Nick walked in and stared at the two of us, his eyes wide. “What in
the hell was that all about?”

“I’ll explain later,”
Millie said.

“Damn, girl,” he said, high-fiving
me. “Hell of a slap.”

“What?” I asked. “But
you liked Philip.”

“Hell, no! I just talked
to him because he was your boyfriend. I never liked that guy. He was full of
shit,” he added. “Not like Tabor. He’s good people.”

“You don’t have to hit
me over the head with it. I get it. And trust me, I’m on it.”

“Good,” Nick and Millie
said in unison.

“I need another glass of
wine,” she added, pulling me behind to join her.

D A N I

I couldn’t recall a time
when I had felt as nervous as I did on the night of Tabor’s first regular
season game. Was it the game? Or was it seeing him and hoping that we could get
back on track? I couldn’t be sure of either, but I was certain that I had to go
and at least try.

I’d dressed in a pair of
jeans and a shirt that had his jersey number—something Millie had let me
borrow before I left her place. She’d warned me that if she didn’t get the
shirt back, she’d hunt me down, but I laughed in her face because I had no
plans on returning it.

She owes me after what she pulled.

When my friends and
family learned that Marta had given me two tickets, they began begging and
lobbying for me to take them. My brother-in-law offered to wash my car. Grace
said she’d cook me dinner for a week. Millie went for the gut and tried to use
the best friend card. But in the end, it was my dad I planned on taking. I knew
it the moment Marta had asked me to go, and when I asked him if he wanted to
join, he practically screamed in my ear.

I had ulterior motives
in bringing Dad. I’d need his encouragement to make it through the game, and he
had the ability to calm me when needed. He offered to drive and I insisted on
getting to the stadium early on the off chance I might see Tabor during
warm-ups. I had a feeling the seats were good, because it was in Tabor’s nature
to take care of Marta and Abbi.

I saw the Tabor-Dani
reunion playing out in my head like it was a cheesy romance chick flick.

I’d be in the club
seats, hanging out with Dad, when Tabor walked onto the field. He’d look up in the
stands to see his mom and sister cheering him on, only instead, he’d see me.
His smile would grow wide and I would watch with bated breath as he used his
super-human strength to scale the stands until he was standing in front of me,
questioning what I was doing there.

He’d wait for me to
speak and I’d tell him that I loved him and I’d needed him to know right away.
And as I was apologizing for my behavior, he’d tell me to shut up and then he’d
kiss me. The stadium would erupt in thunderous applause as we made out until we
realized that people were watching—our faces plastered on the Jumbotron.

Of course he’d still
have to play, but he’d have a smile on his face the whole time he was on the
field because I was there. The Quakes would win the game in the end and we’d
celebrate by getting back together, and live happily ever after.

But then I remembered
that my life wasn’t a movie, and I was hardly the heroine people would be
cheering for. Fangurl Sports and the subsequent comments that went with her
“articles” proved that already. I was being called stupid, idiot, gold digger,
media whore, and unworthy all over that website. I’d had to stop stalking the
page because it only served to anger me.

I found myself pacing
while I waited for Dad to show up, because I had hours until the game started.
It was torturous standing around with nothing to do but let my mind drive me
insane.

“What was I thinking?” I
said aloud. The answering silence was right:
Nothing
. I wasn’t thinking at all.

Marta had agreed to keep
quiet about my presence at his game, but the longer I stood around, it felt
like nothing more than a ridiculous game. I didn’t want to play games with
Tabor. We deserved more than that; we deserved better.

My plan was to show up,
cheer him on, and then talk after the game and tell him how wrong I was to let
him go…to let him think I wanted out. But something inside me was telling me to
do it now. Don’t wait.

“I can’t wait,” I said
silently.

I needed Tabor to know I
was wrong. He needed to hear it from me, and sooner rather than later. I didn’t
want a break or a breakup or any other type of separation. The week we were
apart was too much as it was. He was in my heart and soul and I had no desire
to find a replacement for him. If our time apart had proved anything to me, it
was that there was no replacement.

I found myself picking
up my phone, dialing Tabor’s number, and waiting for him to answer. Each ring,
I held my breath, but I was disappointed that after the fourth ring I got his
voicemail.

“Hey, Tabor, it’s Dani.
I was hoping you’d answer because I really want to talk to you. You’re probably
getting ready for the game, but still, I just needed to say I…I miss you. And
you were right,” I laughed softly. “You have no idea how bitter that tastes,
but it’s true and you need to know that. I
don’t
want to hide us and I don’t want a break or a breakup. I just want you. However
I can have you, that’s what I want…I wish you’d answered, because I hate saying
all of this to your voicemail, but I love you. Please call me. I want to hear
your voice before the game…Bye.”

I hung up and hoped that
he’d seen that I’d called. Maybe my name flashed on the screen and he rejected
it. But my hope was that he would see there was a message and would at least
listen to it. I needed him to hear my words, and hoped like hell he believed
them. Because every word was true.

Before I could dwell on
the fact that he didn’t answer the call, I looked over my shoulder when I heard
the knock at the door. Dad stood on the other side, dressed in his Quakes
jersey and baseball cap. I opened the door and he was practically bouncing up
and down.

“You ready, honey?”

“Yeah, just let me get
my purse.”

I was locking the door
behind me, and when I turned to face him, he hadn’t walked to the car.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered,
clearing his throat and making his voice deeper. “I’m good. Are you?”

“I’m fine.” I nodded and
smiled. “Dad? Should I drive?”

He laughed nervously and
handed me the keys to his pickup. “I think that’d be a good idea.”

I laughed and hugged
him, because he was like a kid on Christmas morning.

The drive to Quakes
Sportsplex was painfully slow, but you wouldn’t guess by the seventy-five miles
per hour I was driving on the freeway. I swore that snails were passing me up,
but I convinced myself to stay the course. I was on a mission and the sooner I
got to the stadium, the better. And hopefully in one piece.

When I pulled into the
parking lot, the attendant took a look at my pass and pointed to a gentleman
across the way that began waving at me. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but
the closer I got, I noticed we had to have the best location—directly in
front of the entrance.

“Tabor hooks his mom
up,” Dad noticed appreciatively.

“Looks that way.”

We both hurried out of
the car, made our way to the gates, and waited in line. I took the opportunity
to check my phone, but there were no calls and my heart sank. When I looked
around, there were so many people that it felt like a cattle call. I waited for
someone to moo, or make some other obnoxious noise. Hell, I was close to making
the noise myself. I was becoming antsy because I was quickly realizing that I
was one of many at the stadium. There was little to no chance of him spotting
me among the hordes of fans. And as the time wore on, the chances of him
calling were slim, at best.

“Any idea where we go?”
Dad asked.

“Marta said we’re in the
club level, wherever that is,” I said with a shrug.

“Club, huh? Nice.”

I pulled out my phone to
look again and Dad nudged my arm with his elbow.

“Stop worrying so much.
He’s going to be happy you’re here. And if he’s not, then he’s not the guy I
thought he was.”

My nose twitched and I
had to look away. Words like that were rare from my dad, so when he said them I
felt them deep in my chest. When I was able to get past the lump that formed in
my throat, I looked at Dad and grinned.

“Thanks, Dad.”

It took at least twenty
minutes to get through the line and I wished I’d left my purse in the car.
Instead, I had to get in the longer line so they could check my bag, along with
the hundreds of other women who had made the same mistake.

We were directed to the
second level of the stadium, where an usher opened a door, granting us entrance
to an exclusive seating area. From our vantage point, we could see the entire
field and the seats that were beginning to fill in.

“Can I get you anything
to drink?” asked a woman dressed in a pressed white shirt and black pants. I
read her nametag and smiled.

“Thanks, Robyn. I’m
good. Dad?”

He was still in awe,
staring at the field and admiring the view. I looked at Robyn and smiled when
she commented that she’d return to check on us in a few.

“Dani, the Quakes are
coming out to warm up,” Dad said.

I was distracted by the
enormity of the stadium and I hadn’t noticed the players walking out. I turned
and stood on my toes, as if that would give me a better view—but it
didn’t. The players were hard to make out. We were close enough to see the
action, but my eyes couldn’t make out the jersey numbers.

“I don’t see him,” I
muttered to Dad, who walked over and stood next to me. “Do you?”

He studied the field and
quickly pointed to the far right. “See the mascot running around down there.
He’s right next to him.”

Following my dad’s
directions, I spotted him stretching and throwing a football around. My heart
fell on the ground at my feet and I wanted to scream his name, run down the
stadium steps, and jump into his arms.

***

The game started off
strong, Tabor making two sacks and blocking a free kick. Dad was impressed with
my knowledge of the game and I admitted to him that I had read up on the
terminology and the rules of the game. I was still pretty clueless, but as
least I didn’t sound like a complete idiot.

During the time Tabor
was on the field, my eyes were glued to his form. He never looked up to the box
where we watched, and I wondered if Marta had spilled the truth. Maybe he knew
I was there and was pissed, refusing to look up. Perhaps that knowledge spawned
his game aggression.

I pulled out my phone
and texted Marta. I didn’t want to be blindsided if he did know.

Me: Does he know I’m
here?

Marta: I talked to him
last night. He knows I’m not there.

Me: Does he know you
gave the tickets away?

Marta: You’re fine,
Dani. He’ll be happy when he sees you.

Me: I hope so.

I shoved my phone back
into my purse and played different scenarios about how he might react to seeing
me. It ranged from ecstatic to disgusted and I had to try hard to shove the
thoughts out altogether. Clearly I was too emotional to think straight. But all
I could think about was Tabor.

“All right, Quakes
fans,” the announced yelled over the top, “let’s make some noise!”

It was the beginning of
the third quarter and the Quakes were winning twenty-four to thirteen. The
stadium went wild and as the players jogged back onto the field, and this time
I spotted Tabor instantly. He was walking onto the field, lagging behind a few
players, when I saw him look to where Dad and I stood. My knees felt weak and
my heart began to race at the sight of him. But there was no smile, no look of
recognition. Tabor looked away and said something to his teammate before
walking over to get into position.

“Look at me,” I
muttered, telepathically willing him to hear me.

The stadium was roaring
and I could barely hear myself think. Everything was vibrating with excitement
as the defense prepared to take down the opposing team. Just as the play was
about to start, I noticed Tabor’s head turn in my direction, as if to check to
see if I was really there. I wanted him to be happy to see me, but I was hurt
to think that maybe I was the last person he wanted to see. He hadn’t called
me. He didn’t return my call. What if I’d made the wrong decision in showing
up?

I tentatively lifted my
hand in a wave, but my smile faltered when I saw him look away just as he
returned his focus to the game.

He was squatted across
from another big player, waiting for the play to start, and I was on edge. The
whole thing was hard to watch. The quarterback was looking for someone to pass
to when Tabor lunged to tackle the guy in front of him. At the same time, his
teammate moved to hit the same guy, but missed and hit Tabor instead, and he
went down.

A whistle sounded
abruptly at the end of the play and a collective gasp from the crowd confirmed
my suspicions. I turned my face into my dad’s shoulder and waited.

“Number thirty-five, JT
Hunter, is down,” the announcer said over the speakers.