#Heart (Hashtag #6) (15 page)

“And with Robert Bettinger running around yelling murder, my career might be over before it begins.”

Fuck! I remembered thinking the exact same thing when I broke my arm. That it was over before it began.

That was all Zach’s fault, too.

Okay, to be fair, Braeden’s situation wasn’t all Zach’s fault.

Only like 99.5% of it.

“That’s not going to happen,” I vowed. Which reminded me… “Get you’re shit. We gotta go to my dad’s office.”

He needed to be made aware of this situation before rumors started flying.

Braeden began tossing his stuff in the bag.

“You’re beating yourself up over this.” I nudged his shoulder.

“It’s my career. You of all people know the stakes.”

“You know I’m not talking about football right now.”

His shoulders slumped enough that I noticed.

“Ivy’s worried, man. I am, too.”

“She came to you?” His voice was somber.

“To talk, but she never said anything to me about that night. About Zach.”

I could hear the bewilderment in his words when he said, “I didn’t know she’d seen that night. She was so in and out. I honestly didn’t think she knew.”

“Have you talked to her at all?”

“We talked… after the bruises…”

“Today?” I pressed. “After Robert was at the house?”

He shook his head once. “No. She ran out of the house so fast this morning I barely had time to tell her good-bye.”

“You’re scared to talk to her.” I observed.

He scoffed.

“All this time you’ve been feeling shitty for the choice you made that night. You’ve been haunted by Zach and by seeing Ivy so broken.”

He looked up at me like he was surprised I knew.

“I’ve been there with Rim. Seeing them hurt at Zach’s hands. It’s the worst fucking thing in the world.”

“That’s the thing, Rome. I don’t feel bad for the choice I made. In all honesty, I’d make the same choice again. That’s what haunts me the most. I don’t feel guilty.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “I let him die, and I don’t even feel bad. What the fuck does that say about me?”

I stood there silent, digesting his words.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Coach was right. I am a fuck-up.”

“You were a fuck-up long before Zach died,” I mused and gazed off down the field at the goal post.

The
. Goal. Post.

The one I found Rimmel dangling from. The one I was yanked off and broke my arm. I hadn’t been back to this stadium since that night.

“This doesn’t make you like him.”

Braeden had a deep-rooted fear that on some level, he was just like his abusive father.

“I know.”

I must have looked shocked, because he smiled. “I let the hold he had on me go.”

“Princess is good for you.”

“Dude, why the fuck do you keep calling my girl princess?”

“Drives her nuts.” I laughed.

His teeth flashed, bright white against the dark stubble lining his jaws. “Then by all means, carry on.”

“Talk to her. I’d bet my forty mil that Ivy will stand by you. And shit, maybe if you talk to her, she won’t wake up with bruises anymore.”

“I put another bruise on that girl—even by accident—and I want you to kick my ass. Like a serious ass whooping,” he intoned.

“With pleasure.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and turned toward the exit. I knew damn well Braeden hadn’t meant to leave those bruises on Ivy. I also knew he’d sleep with toothpicks holding his lids open before he ever did it again.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said as we left the stadium.

“B?” I called across the roof of the Hellcat before he got in.

“Yeah?”

“It’s gonna be the bomb having you with the Knights.”

It wasn’t a done deal, Braeden and me on the same team, but it would be. I knew it just the same as I knew Rim and I belonged together.

I just hoped to God my brother didn’t walk into the middle of a turf war when he finally made it to the team.

Braeden

She was late.

I’d barely heard from her all day.

She was late.

My foot bounced against the floor as I tried not to panic.

The last time I couldn’t get ahold of her, she’d been kidnapped.

I started to get up but then sat back down.

Ivy wasn’t missing or kidnapped. I knew this. She texted, said she had to stop in at the boutique after classes. I knew where she was.

It didn’t matter. I would worry until she walked in the door.

Damn, being paranoid sucked donkey balls.

Seconds but what felt like hours later, she walked in.

I leapt up over the back of the couch and went into the entryway.

“Hey,” she said, smiling.

I caught her around the waist and pulled her close. She hugged me back and didn’t try to pull away. When I finally let her go, she stripped off her coat, and I hung it on a nearby hook.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, bending down to pick up Prada and snuggle her.

I shrugged. “Busy.”

“We’re alone?”

Now why did that sound like something she didn’t seem thrilled about?

“Just me and you.”

“I’m starving,” she announced as the dog licked her face and she giggled.

“You miss lunch again?” I frowned.

She shook her head. “No, but I haven’t eaten dinner. You eat yet?”

I felt like an ass for saying yes. I probably should have asked her if she wanted to go out tonight, since everyone else was busy. Would have given us a chance to get out for a while.

My mom always said you should never stop dating your girl, even after technically you were past the dating stage.

I used to roll my eyes and wonder why the hell she thought I cared, but now as I remembered the advice, I knew she was trying to teach me how to treat a woman right.

“C’mon,” I said and reached for her coat again. “I’ll take you out to dinner. You pick.”

“Didn’t you just tell me you already ate?” She gave me a funny look.

“A man can’t eat twice?” I retorted. Technically, I couldn’t. I was on a strict plan until after my fate for the NFL was sealed. Twice daily workouts and a serious diet of protein, more protein, and healthy fats was pretty much my entire life.

But fuck that.

If my girl was hungry, I was gonna feed her.

“I kinda wanna stay in. I’m exhausted.” Her face turned sheepish.

She looked worn out, slightly pale with faint rings beneath her eyes.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure.” She smiled.

I took her hand and led her toward the kitchen. “What’re you in the mood for?”

“Grilled cheese.”

What the…?
I glanced over my shoulder and gave her a look. The response was immediate, like she hadn’t even needed to think about it. Ivy never ate grilled cheese. Too many carbs and fat she’d say.

Made me wonder if she had a really bad day and what the hell happened.

She must have noticed my surprise, because she shrugged. “I like grilled cheese.”

“You’re in luck.” I guided her to the barstool and motioned for her to sit down. “Grilled cheese is my specialty.”

“You’re going to make it?”

“Hells yeah.”

She settled in like she was getting ready for some show, and I was offended. “I can cook.” I scoffed.

“You do make a mean protein shake, and ordering pizza is a real skill.” She nodded sagely.

I grabbed the bread and slammed it on the counter. “Blondie, this is gonna be the best damn grilled cheese you ever had.”

She grinned real toothy-like and put her chin in her hands.

I chuckled and got to work.

A few minutes later, I presented her a gooey, perfectly toasted, and melty sandwich on a paper plate.

I might cook, but I sure as hell didn’t do dishes.

“Behold the work of a genius,” I proclaimed.

She lifted one dark-blond brow I knew was perfectly arched (she told me all about how to get the right brow shape…
Yes,
that was a
long
conversation I hoped to never repeat) and said nothing as she picked up half the sandwich.

Orange-colored cheese stretched between the center, and she took a bite.

A groan rumbled from her throat as she chewed, and it was fucking hot. Damn, sounded like she was having an orgasm in her mouth. It turned me the hell on.

Ivy said nothing as she took another bite.

And another.

I watched her totally bemused as she basically destroyed the first half of my artwork.

When there was literally one bite left to the piece in her hand, she noticed my silence and looked up. Her eyes widened like she forgot I was even there, and she winced. “What?” the vulnerability in her voice amused me.

“My sandwich just blew up your world.” I grinned, then leaned across the counter, pushing my face close to hers. “Boom.” I motioned with my hands like a bomb just went off.

She rolled her eyes but shoved the rest into her mouth.

I chuckled and turned away to pull a glass out of cabinet and fill it with some orange juice. She was reaching for the second half of the sandwich when I set it at her elbow.

She groaned again. “How’d you know?” Completely abandoning the food, she went for the glass.

“Grilled cheese and OJ is like the perfect pair.” I teased. “If you’re a fa-reak.”

I really thought she’d sling a comeback at me with perfect precision. She always did. It was one of the things I loved most about her. Ivy never held back. She gave as good as she got.

But she didn’t. Instead, she pulled the glass away from her lips and averted her gaze, like she was suddenly embarrassed… or apprehensive.

What the shit was this?

I pushed off the island and went around to where she was sitting and slid onto the stool beside her. With one easy movement, I slid her off her seat and into my lap. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her ankles hooked around my back. I spun so she could lean her back against the counter edge and got a sudden flashback of the night we’d sat in the kitchen and she fed me ice cream.

I’d needed her that night.

She needed me right now.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” I asked.

She shook her head, the high ponytail she wore swinging with the movement.

I snagged the plate and held the corner of the sandwich up to her lips. “Eat your dinner, baby.”

“It really is the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

“The secret is to use extra cheese,” I told her and winked.

We sat there in the silence until the rest of the food was eaten, and when it was, I leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her lips. “This morning upset you.”

Her eyes shot up to mine. “How’d you know?”

“Because it isn’t every day someone accuses you of murder.”

“Oh, right.”

Why did it seem like that wasn’t what she thought I was talking about?

“He reminded me of Zach,” she whispered, eradicating my train of thought.

“I’m sorry he came here. I wish you didn’t ever have to think about that guy ever again.”

“It was hard at first, you know? When I saw him, it was like a punch in the gut. Memories came flooding back. But then as he went on, the panic did, too. Sure, it was upsetting to see him and to hear the awful accusations. But Robert isn’t Zach, and what happened to me… I’m handling it.”

I rubbed a hand down her arm. She was so strong, and I was so incredibly proud of her.

“I don’t want you to worry about Robert. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever be able to convince anyone that you had any part in Zach’s death. You were his victim.”

Her eyes widened, the ocean-blue darkening. “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about what he’s going to try to do to you.”

My heart turned over with those words. She worried about me above herself.

“Ivy,” I said, stern. “What I heard this morning pissed me off.”

She opened her mouth, but I shook my head. “I’m not talking about being accused of murder. You said you ran the car off the road because Zach was going to shoot
me
.”

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

Damn.

I knew this conversation wasn’t going to be a good one, but I really didn’t expect her to cry.

“He said he was going to shoot me and push my body out of the car, and when you stopped to try and help me, he was going to come back and shoot you. He was going to kill you, Braeden.”

“And running the car off the road was the only way you knew how to stop him.” I surmised. My heart was thumping unevenly and hard beneath my ribs.

Nightmares. I had nightmares almost every time I went to sleep, reliving the way the car turned over and skidded through the field. The horror of possibly finding her dead would likely torment me forever.

It was the same for her.

The thought of anyone possibly killing me was enough to make her risk her own life to protect me.

“I thought you knew that’s why I did what I did,” she added when I was unable to speak.

I shook my head. “I just thought you were struggling over the gun.”

“I’d never let him hurt you,” she whispered.

Emotion took me over, and I surged forward, taking her face in my hands and crushing my mouth to hers. I couldn’t speak. But I could fucking kiss the shit out of her.

I kept the pressure light even though I wanted to grind my mouth into hers. She tasted like cheese and butter.

And my life.

I didn’t know until that moment my life could have a flavor, but now I knew it did.

And God, it was like a drug.

Ivy clutched at the shirt stretching across my chest and bunched the fabric in her hands. Her tongue delved deep, and I opened up farther, letting her explore as deep as she wanted.

The little mewling sounds she made had my stomach muscles contracting and need hammering through my veins.

When my lungs felt like they might burst, I yanked my mouth free and sucked in a great gulp of air. Her eyes were far away and unfocused. Her cheeks were pink and her lips swollen.

“I fucking love that you did that for me. But dammit, Ivy, don’t ever do that again. Don’t ever risk your own life for mine
ever again
.”

“You’d do it for me.” Her voice was raspy.

“In a heartbeat.”

She acted like that statement somehow settled an argument.

I was about to inform little Miss Know-it-all that she was wrong, but she spoke first. “Do you feel better now that everyone knows what happened that night?”

Another revelation from this morning that knocked me on my ass.

“You knew I left him there.”

“I heard him yelling for you. I knew he was alive and wasn’t able to get out.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand. If you knew I walked away from him, how could you—”

“Still love you?” She finished.

I was going to say trust me, but it was basically the same thing.

“Are you sure you would have been able to get him out in time?”

I hedged.

A knowing look came to her eyes.

“It’s definitely possible.”

“But it’s also possible that whatever was jamming his seatbelt or keeping him in that car would have taken a few tries to undo. You said the car was already on fire; the gas was already everywhere. You could have died trying to get him out.”

I couldn’t disagree with her. Not really. She was right.

Still didn’t make what I did any less harsh.

“The way I see it, you had to make a choice that night. Him or me. You chose me. I could never fault you for that.”

“But you were already out, safe,” I argued.