Line of Scrimmage: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Pass To Win Book 2) (23 page)

I
don’t know
what to do or who to call. I am even more alone in the world than I already was. The worst part is that it happened nine days ago and I didn’t even know. I can’t bear to imagine my mom trapped in the burning trailer, unable to escape the flames. The only consolation I can give myself is that she was probably passed out and died from smoke inhalation before the fire reached their bedroom.

The thick stack of legal papers is mocking me from the coffee table. I can’t remember the last time I sat down to read something. It’s not that I am stupid or don’t understand things; it’s just that reading has never come easy to me. In school, I was always far better at math and numbers than I was reading.

It was my struggle with school and no one to turn to for help that caused me to drop out before graduating. Some of my teachers offered to tutor me after school; one even wanted to have me tested for a possible learning disability, but at the time I was way more worried about my friends teasing me than I was about making things better. I felt like a lost cause, and as a result, I never managed to sort out
why
I have so much trouble reading.

I pace back and forth across the whole of my living room. The heavy motorcycle boots I had on for dance practice make loud clunks with each step. Despair is coursing through me. My parents are gone and I can’t even read the paperwork I need to fill out to have their bodies laid to rest. I want to punch something or someone, but most of all I want this feeling of futility to go away.

I could go to the law office and ask for help on what the papers say. But there is no way I’m doing this. I have too much pride to walk in to those offices and let those snobby suits find out I can barely read. I would end up arguing with them if they tried to walk me through papers like I’m some kind of helpless child. On top of it, I don’t know if I can trust them. Everyone knows lawyers are greedy and out for themselves.

Just when I’m about ready to lose it, a solution dawns on me. Aria! Aria can help me. She went to college and it was a good school. I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can trust her. That girl doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body and she’s smart. She may be completely clueless as far as street smarts go, but I have plenty enough of that for the both of us should it ever be necessary.

I’ve been to Theresa’s plenty of times, so I decide not to call before heading over. I wrap a rubber band around the stack of papers and throw them into my gym bag. I do a quick change into a nice button down and a pair of dark wash jeans. I need Aria to take me seriously. I don’t want to show up on her doorstep looking like a bum or a player trying to score.

I take the subway instead of a cab or Uber, because for all I know, these papers could be informing me that I have to pay off my parents’ debt and owe thousands of dollars I don’t have. At the very least, I will have to pay to have them buried.

My parents were both as alone in the world as I am. They were only children and all of my grandparents are deceased. Three of them were gone before I was born. My Grandma Trent was a great person and the only adult I trusted as a kid. But she succumbed to lung cancer a few years ago after a lifetime of smoking.

It’s not something I would ever admit to Mickey or the other guys but knowing you are alone in the world does help to put things in perspective.

Meeting Aria, having such an intense physical reaction to her, and then actually enjoying talking to her, has also helped to put me in a different mindset. I have come to realize that there can be more to my interactions with women than one-night stands and multiple orgasms. There might be something behind this whole relationship thing, if it’s with the right person.

I knock on Theresa’s door like I’m a cop showing up with a warrant.
Way to start off on the right foot buddy
, I tell myself.

Theresa flings open the door and scowls at me.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Theresa. How are you on this beautiful morning?”

“I’m as good as I ever am.” She folds her arms across her chest and bars my entrance.

“Hey, I know things have been weird over the last couple of days and I’m probably not your favorite person right now but I need to speak with Aria.”

“She’s not here,” Theresa barks at me.

“Ryan,” Aria calls, coming up behind Theresa. “How are you? Is everything okay?”

Theresa throws me a death stare but she moves to the far end of the apartment.

“Everything is fine,” I say.

This isn’t true and I can see from her expression that Aria knows it. Nothing is fine, least of all me.

“Aria, I’m here because I need to ask you for a favor. Something happened to my parents.” I choke out and I don’t know how to continue.

“Ryan, what happened?” She glances over her alabaster shoulder at Theresa.

Theresa is watching us, and she is wearing a scowl that would put a Catholic nun to shame.

“Why don’t we go to the diner we ate at last night? You can tell me what’s going on.”

I knew Aria was the person to go to for help. I knew it even though I only met her a few days ago. There is something special about her, and it’s more than her long legs and crystal blue eyes. She is the person you call when your world implodes and you are at a loss as to what to do. She is the kind of steadfast person I haven’t had in my life since Grandma Trent died.

After a quiet walk to the diner, we take a booth in the rear of the restaurant and I ask her to look over the papers without telling her why. She gives me a quizzical look, but doesn’t question why I am asking for her help.

She spends about twenty minutes flipping through the pages. Her eyes are red and teary when she looks up at me.

“Your parents. I’m so sorry, Ryan.”

I want to thank her but I’m afraid that if I try to speak, I will choke up. Asking for her to look over the papers is as vulnerable as I’m willing to be in front of her.

“Have you done anything about their remains? Do you want me to go with you?”

“Come with me? That’s not necessary. What does it say about their estate? Is there anything I need to do or can I just let the lawyers take care of the details?”

“That’s a decision you have to make, Ryan. What do you think after reading this?”

How in the world am I supposed to answer? I haven’t read any of it, besides my name and address. One thing I learned in school is that if you pretend you know what you’re talking about, people will stop asking questions.

“I would like to use what is available in the estate to pay for a funeral and I will cover the difference.”

“Really? Just how expensive of a funeral are you planning on having for your parents?”

What in the world is she talking about? The only people that I know who will show up are myself, Theresa, her brother Max, and some of the neighbors.

I realize now that there is more to my parents’ estate than I thought. This would, of course, explain the lawyers and a sheath of papers thicker than my forearm. Could my parents have money I never knew about?

I now know that this is a bigger issue than I probably want to fake my way through. If I don’t tell Aria the truth, those lawyers may bilk me out of money I don’t even know is mine.

“Some of the language the lawyers use, it’s difficult for me to work out exactly where I stand in regards to my parents’ estate.”

“Of course,” Aria says. “If you read this section here,” she points to a paragraph. “What do you want to do about this?”

I try to make out what the words say but they mean nothing to me. I motion to the waitress and request more coffee in order to stall for a few more minutes. It is pointless trying to pretend. I just need to tell her that I can’t read what it says.

“Aria,” I say, the pain and embarrassment wrecking me.

She stops me before I can go on. “It’s okay, Ryan. I can help you understand this and teach you to understand it for yourself. I think, from what I have seen, you have dyslexia. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You can help me?” I ask

“Yes, I would be honored to help you,” she says and takes my hand across the table.

I
t should be awkward working
this closely with Ryan, but I’m the opposite of uncomfortable. He has opened up to me in a way that, before this morning, I would have said he was incapable of. Given the way he treated me that second night, and after what Theresa has said about him, I would have described him as a jerk and a womanizer. Today, instead of his usual devil-may-care ease and “I am a gift to all women” attitude that he usually displays, Ryan is being attentive and gracious. It turns out that Ryan Temptation is human after all.

I wish it were under better circumstances that we are finally connecting. That it took the death of his parents and an undiagnosed learning disability for me to discover this side of him is a shame. I am chagrined that a small part of me is grateful that we have been brought together, no matter what the reason. My grief for his loss and sympathy for his challenges don’t change how bonded I feel to him right now. It is wonderful to be this close to Ryan and to be able to help him as a friend and a teacher.

The waitress brings us tea and coffee respectively, and I suggest we order some food, as this may take some time and effort to sort through. I catch Ryan rolling his eyes, but I need to find out exactly what he wants.

Does he want me to simply put into words that he can understand exactly what the papers say or does he really want me to help him to understand what they mean and what the lawyers want from him.

“What are you hoping for? That is, what are you looking for as far as I am concerned?”

“I came to you because you’re the smartest person I know,” he pauses for a moment. “I also came to you because I trust you. I know we have only known each other for a few days, but it’s different with you than it is with all the other women I have known.”

He holds up his hand to stop my objection before I can voice it. He is correct on this account. We have only been acquainted for a few days but we already seem to know each other like the best of friends, or better yet, the best of lovers.
Stop it Aria,
I tell myself,
he came to you for help, not to fulfill your fantasies.

“I know what you’re going to say and you don’t have to. The other women mean nothing. You’re the first person, man or woman, that I have spoken with about my difficulty reading.”

“I’m honored. It means a lot to me that you feel you can come to me for help and that you trust me.”

Things are getting too serious too quickly. As good as it feels to be emotionally intimate with Ryan, I don’t want to be hurt by him or anyone else, after everything that has happened.

I silently berate myself for seeing more in Ryan coming to me for help than there is. I need to focus on fixing my own life before I can even begin to think of being involved with Ryan as anything other than his confidant and legal adviser. I am probably one of the only people he knows that can help him with the lawyers and definitely one of the only women he knows that he hasn’t had sex with.

“I need you to help me understand what all this means,” he says.

His voice is husky with emotion. This is my cue to back off and stop pushing him.

“Absolutely,” I say. “I’m here for you.”

The first part is relatively straightforward; he needs to claim the remains and have his parents buried or interred. He needs to plan a funeral if he wants to, but judging by what he has told me about his parents, it is unlikely that he will do this.

The rest of the papers are a little more complicated. I have to read a few paragraphs several times to grasp the full weight of what it all means.

“It looks like there is a potential lawsuit here. It’s why your parents contacted the lawyers to begin with. They were going to sue the trailer park owners. The wiring was bad and needed to be replaced. According to the report, the fire was caused by the wiring.”

“You think I can get money out of this?”

“I don’t think the lawyers would have taken the trouble to track you down if there wasn’t a chance to get money.”

At this point, we are done picking at our lunch and sitting in the diner. Ryan suggests we go for a walk. He puts out his hand to help me from the booth and a jolt of electricity courses from my hand to my core when his strong fingers wrap around my own. We lock eyes and I get lost in the magnetic emerald of his. I make myself break the moment and pretend I have to check my phone. But when I do, I noticed a missed call from my father. Wouldn’t it be a miracle if he called to say he’s had a change of heart and loves me no matter what and that there is nothing I could do to make him and my mother cut me out of their lives?

I will listen to the voicemail later. In the meantime, I will keep repeating the mantra
I can take care of myself and I like being independent.
It’s not too difficult for me to believe because I really do like being and want to remain self-sufficient.

“I think better when I’m moving,” Ryan tells me.

“Not me. I like to camp out at a desk in a quiet room. I think the campus librarian was going to start charging me rent considering how much time I spent at my favorite table.”

He smiles at me and I am completely disarmed. He takes my hand in his and gives it a quick squeeze.

“I can see you surrounded by all those books and completely oblivious to all the guys that are sitting around, just waiting for you to look up and see them.”

The compliment in conjunction with the hand-holding has me, much to my own annoyance, beaming with pleasure.

We walk in comfortable silence for a few blocks and head into Central Park.

“I’m thinking about what you said, and you’re right. Those lawyers don’t give a shit about my parents. It’s because there is money out there that they tracked me down.”

“Most likely. You might even be able to settle quickly out of court. It will save you fees and time.”

“I think,” he says deliberately. “I think if there is money that comes out of what happened to them, I want to use it for something less superficial than what I have been doing.”

I tighten my hand around his in reassurance. I know it must be hard for him to share this with me.

He stops me and places both of his strong hands on my shoulders. The sun is bright and I notice for the first time that he has hints of gold in his dark hair. We are so close I can smell his soap and the scent that is singularly his. For a moment, I think he is going to kiss me. I try not to look at his smooth lips but when I turn my focus to his broad muscled shoulders, it just makes the anticipation worse.

“I want you to help me to read.”

His words jar me out of my reverie.

“Read?” I stammer.

“Yes, you said you can help me. Will you do that?”

“Of course I can. I mean, I would like to help. I’ve done some training and some volunteer work with kids that have learning disabilities.”

I worry that he will take offense at my using the word “disability” but he seems almost relieved. I can’t imagine how it must feel for him to know that with some tools and practice, he’ll be able to read as well as most people.

We make a plan to meet in the morning so we can get started right away. I need to do some studying myself on how best to go about helping him. I have only worked with kids, so this will be a change for me.

Ryan’s piercing eyes hold mine when we go to part ways and he takes both my hands in his.

“I knew you were someone special when we met.” He leans in and kisses me softly on the forehead.

Then he is gone around the corner before I can say anything. I want to yell after him that I knew the same about him, but I stay silent.

I get back to Theresa’s and all I want to do is sit on the couch and process everything that happened. She is there waiting for me though.

“Well, what did he want? I hope you didn’t let him sweet talk you into bed.”

“It wasn’t anything like that,” I told her. I don’t tell her about the dyslexia but I do tell her about his parents. I had forgotten that she knew them and she is upset by the news.

“Was the fire only in their trailer or were other homes in the park burned as well?”

I was so caught up with Ryan and his problems that I didn’t think about Theresa’s mom. Just because she hasn’t spoken to her in years doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be concerned and saddened if anything happened to her.

“From what I can tell, it was just Ryan’s parents and their home.”

“Wow, this is awful … poor Ryan. Now I feel bad for being so hard on him when he came by this morning.”

“I’m sure he understands,” I reassure her. “He apologized for how he behaved the other night at the club.”

“Good. He needed to apologize. But promise me you’ll be careful around him. I don’t want you to get hurt and all he knows how to do is use women for sex.”

I don’t want to argue with her about Ryan right now. Especially because a part of me knows she is probably right.

“I’ll be careful,” I promise.

My phone rings and the caller ID shows that it’s my father again. I take the call both because I don’t want to talk about Ryan with Theresa anymore and because there is no point in putting off talking to my father.

“Aria, your mother is too upset to talk but she wants to know if you’re safe.”

“I’m fine. I’ve made some new friends, have a safe place to stay since you kicked me out of my home, and a job.”

I don’t tell him that I’m living in a studio apartment in a questionable neighborhood and that I’m tending bar in a strip club.

I can hear him pass this on to my mother and then he pushes forward with the real reason he called. They need my answer now so that they can cancel the wedding before guests start flying in for the occasion. The rational part of me knows this is the right thing to do. But the hurt daughter in me wants to scream and yell at them for being such harsh and judgmental parents.

I think about my promise to Ryan and of how when I’m with him, I know I can do anything I want. I also think about the way he held my hand and the glimpse of what might be between us in his intense gaze. We will be spending every morning together and I am just as excited about that as I am about being able to help him change his life.

“I’m not coming home,” I finally tell him. “You can go ahead and cancel everything. And just remember; all I did was decide not to marry a man I don’t love and to stay in the city and start a career. You are the ones that are cutting me out your lives.”

My father doesn’t bother to reply but simply disconnects the call as his answer.

For better or for worse, New York and the club and Theresa and Ryan are my life now. I head to the library to use the computers and start a lesson plan for tomorrow morning so I’m prepared for my first tutoring session with Ryan.