Penalty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Alpha Second Chances Book 3) (5 page)

She kisses my shoulder sweetly, and all of this—there isn’t a better feeling in the entire world.

“I hope we get to do this again soon,” I say as my hands start to rove her soft skin.

“You bet your sweet ass we will,” she says in a firmer voice than I expected, making me chuckle a bit, and before I can miss the slender arm she suddenly removes from me, the smack of her palm on my ass cheek distracts me, and I laugh wholeheartedly.

“You little minx,” I say before bringing my lips to hers, my heart full.

T
here’s
no question how Abe got his nickname.

His chiseled face is incredibly handsome, his green eyes are mesmerizing, his smile, panty-melting.

To top it off, his body is broad and strong, packed with muscles.

He’s an amazing specimen with all his clothes on, but with clothes off, it’s another level.

I realize I never really had a chance against him, and not just for shallow reasons.

Sure, he’s a gorgeous guy, but the way he looks at me somehow reaches everything I try to hide. He stares right into my soul.

There was no escaping him, and on this second time around, I am just as unable to control the way I feel about him, the way I’m drawn to him.

I want to be with him, walk beside him. I want to be in his life from now on.

My fingers and palms travel his sculpted form.

Eventually, the fog of ecstasy lifts enough that more details of his hard, muscular body become clear.

Abe is practically physical perfection, but I notice a few scars I can’t immediately come up with an explanation for.

I know he’s an athlete in a rough sport, but some of the scars don’t make sense.

Perhaps he fell out of a treehouse or something and got scraped on the way down? Or maybe he got in a few fights.

“What’s this from?” I ask gently, tracing one of them.

Without blinking, he says, “Gift from my dad. My mom forgot to slice his sandwich vertically instead of diagonally one day, and he threw it back at her along with the plate it was in. I stepped up to protest—all sixty or so pounds of eight-year-old me—and he grabbed the nearest object—which happened to be a coffee mug. Luckily, it didn’t actually hit me, but it did hit the wall and shatter, and when my dad shoved me, I fell onto one of the pieces.”

As horrified as I am, I can’t stop myself from asking about a few other small scars, and in a flat tone, he tells me about each one. Cigarette burn at six. Backhanded with a ring that sliced his cheek at nine.

When we’re done, we lie in silence for a few moments.

My mind is filled with various concerns, and I’m unsure which to broach first.

Luckily, he breaks the silence.

“I wish you could have seen me play; I’d love to have you come to one of my games.”

I’m afraid he’s going to invite me to an upcoming one, so I brace myself, trying to control my immediate reaction—the horror, the fear.

It sounds like a nightmare—being surrounded by a bunch of people I don’t know, loudly cheering and jeering about things I don’t understand.

Me, alone in the stands, the only person I know on the field being cheered and lusted after, perhaps even battered.

Sounds like a bit too much at once.

I wouldn’t exactly say I have agoraphobia or anything—I love the outdoors; I love open spaces.

It’s just being around crowds of people. That has never sounded like fun.

Some form of enochlophobia.

But if Abe is asking, I’ll have to consider it.

Crap, if I ever become his official girlfriend, it would probably be expected that I go.

“But that might be a while,” he continues. “I declared for the draft so no more official school games, but who knows? ”

He shrugs and looks so pleased, I find myself smiling back, despite not really understanding half of what he just said.

“So I won’t get to watch you play this semester… ” I say tentatively.

“Correct. But the next game, I definitely want you there. If everything works out, it’ll be a big one. Huge. I can even pick out a spot for you, look for you there. Maybe you can even wear your hair down.”

I groan inwardly, except the sound makes it out of my mouth.

My hair down means a shit-ton of unwanted attention.

But he’s right—it’s just the one day. A few hours.

And this is all just talk anyway. Some hypothetical about the future.

“Okay, you don’t have to wear it down. I get it—asking you to invite all sorts of weirdos to reach out and touch it might be a bit much.”

He smiles and I briefly wonder if I’ll be able to refuse him anything ever again; he makes my heart flutter.

His eyes are begging me so adorably, I just might give in and show up at this hypothetical big game of his in the near or distant future with my hair down.

But maybe I won’t have to—maybe he’ll have changed his mind about me by then.

A sharp pain dashes through my chest—like I actually got stabbed.

Damn, I hope not.

If I have to endure noise, lunatic fans, and excessive violence to be with Abe like this, so be it.

“Okay, it’s a while until then so we’ll talk more about it closer to the time. In the meantime, how long do I have to wait to see you again after this?” I say. “Outside of our class, I mean.”

He gives me a slow, wicked smile. “A-dick-ted already, huh?”

I punch him lightly.

“I’m serious,” I say. My roommate and I have a deal not to bring boys back there, and I don’t want to limit seeing you in class or the short walk after it to my next class.”

“We don’t have to come to a place like this—I’m happy to see you on any break anywhere. You can even help me study. We can meet up in the library, my room… Anywhere, really. We can go for a drive, park somewhere… ”

“Is that all you’re thinking about?”

“I’m just answering your real question. We’ll have plenty of opportunities, don’t you worry. Oh, and we can even go and see a movie if you’d like to. Go out on a real date. I can even let you take me out to dinner.”

I punch him lightly again.

* * *

I
’m amazed
by this floaty feeling again—cloud nine sliding me from here to there.

Abe and I showered together, and I got to see what he looked like with droplets on his firm skin.

The man should have statues made of him—a specimen like him has to be commemorated in some way. Future generations of humans need to know such physical perfection existed.

Once we got dressed, my shyness had completely disappeared.

It felt like our bond had deepened, and there was no shame in being at my man’s side, sharing my body with him.

Who cares who knows?

He drops me off at campus, letting me know he has to make a store run, and I figure now is as good a time as any to check my campus mail.

I don’t really expect anything since I have no relatives to send me anything, but sometimes there are school notices, so I try to make it to my mailbox every few days.

I discover I actually have a few pieces of mail this time: a notice about an upcoming guest speaker, something about the cafeteria, and a manila envelope that makes my blood run cold.

The return address just says ‘Mom.’

Once I can get my body moving again, I hurry to my dorm room, thankful my roommate is still away so I can freak out in solitude.

I toss the other two pieces of mail aside and rip open the manila envelope.

If my blood had run cold before, it’s pure ice now.

The envelope holds nothing but a photo—a photo I recognize, despite the damage done to it.

There I am, smiling with my mom against a generic background sky.

In the original photo, my mom is smiling too, her dirty blond hair long and free, spilling over both of us while mine is tucked away out of sight.

Her blue-green eyes reflect a slight bit of pain, but it’s just one of those moments she’s smiling through it.

In this altered photo, someone photoshopped her bald, removing all traces of her long locks, and there are black ‘X’s where her eyes should be.

An ugly smaller x is over her mouth, hiding just some of her smile.

I cover my mouth with my hands as my eyes immediately fill with tears—a welcome temporary block against the hideous image.

“What the hell got into you?” Cody says as we cross paths in the hall. He’s just leaving his room as I’m about to reach mine.

I almost say something lewd in response, but respect for Maddy halts my naughty retort.

I briefly wonder how much to tell him, but ultimately, I can’t keep it to myself; I’m just too fucking happy to contain it.

“Maddy,” I say, ignoring his impatient look.

His face relaxes, and he studies me quietly for a few moments.

“Wow,” he says, at last, then he studies me some more. “I’ve never seen you like this,” he finally says. “It’s almost like you’re… ” He laughs a little, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ve never felt like this. Maddy makes me feel like… happy. Like, no matter what, everything will be fine—as long as I’ve got her.”

Cody whistles.

I can tell he’s about to say something but my phone buzzes.

I see it’s Maddy so I pick up right away, signaling Cody to shut the hell up while I’m on the phone.

“Okay, wait—slow down. Beth did what?”

She says something about a photo of her and her mom defaced.

“I don’t know who else it could be!” she wails. “Who else would do this? And why? She’s the only one with something against me… ”

She sounds so distressed, I scramble to find a way to calm her down and assure her everything will be okay. But I don’t want to minimize her distress—it had to be traumatizing to see a trashed image of a dead loved one.

I know I need to see her immediately, even though I was looking forward to hitting up a hot tub; I can comfort her better in person.

I hang up and turn on my heel, reversing direction.

“Whoa, what was that?” Cody says as he falls into step with me.

“I’ve got to go. It seems Beth might have sent Maddy an upsetting image—a trashed photo of her dead mom. I really don’t want to think Beth would do something like that, but she’s the only person who makes sense, considering… ”

“Considering you just dumped her and hopped into bed with some other chick pretty much immediately?”

“Yeah. And considering she pretty much threatened me when I dumped her. Look, I get it—Beth’s hurt, and she’s lashing out. But this still seems a bit extreme. Maybe it’s some other student—some sick prankster who preys on transfers or something… ”

Cody gives me the most admonishing skeptical look and I know what I’m saying sounds ridiculous because Beth is the only logical answer, but I don’t want to believe she’d be that cruel.

“Listen, I know you don’t want to think the girl you’ve been banging the past few years is a monster, but like I told you before, I’ve heard some things. I don’t know if there’s any truth to any of them, but there are reasons people tend to avoid crossing her.”

“You got my attention.”

“I figured it was just talk. Most people are full of it,” he begins quietly, then he fills me in on what he’s heard. “So brace yourself,” he finishes. “Something tells me this is just the beginning. If I were you, I’d do everything I could to nip this thing in the bud. By any means necessary.”

“Well, right now, I need to comfort Maddy; she’s a wreck.”

Cody lets out a dry chuckle.

“You’re definitely in deep,” he says, and I’m not sure if he’s referring to Maddy or Bethany.

In any case, I don’t bother answering or acknowledging what he said—I don’t even bother sparing him a parting glance in my dash to get out of there and talk to Maddy.

I’ll deal with Beth later.

* * *

M
addy wants
to get her mind off of the horrible package, so dealing with Beth has to be delayed even longer since we’re on an aimless drive for who knows how long.

Maddy says it calms her, and she likes not having to worry about doing the navigation herself.

“You know, I still own it,” she suddenly says.

I wait for her to clarify.

“That old house in the neighborhood where we met—well, sort of met. It’s paid for, so I didn’t inherit a mortgage or anything. It’s mine.”

I let her continue, waiting patiently for her invitation to join the conversation.

“I could have lived there, but after she was gone, I didn’t want to see it anymore. I don’t think I want to go there ever again—too many ghosts. So it’s just sitting there, because I can’t get rid of it, either; I can’t bring myself to sell it.”

I still don’t know what to say so I just stay silent, but I reach out and place a hand on her thigh, just to let her know I’m here; I’m listening.