Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance (30 page)

“I can't – I don't know –” Tabitha pulled at her chin, exhaling deeply. “We argue all the time, but this time, I screwed up bad –”

“This is just me, but I say, go for it. If you've known Brooklyn for as long as you have, you should know it's gonna take way more to break off whatever you 2 have.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tabitha mumbled, loosening her shoulders. “You're right.”

“And listen. Everything I said to you that night on the bridge? I meant every word of it. And what you said at the club – it means a lot to have someone as great as you feel that way about me. Any guy would be lucky to have you. I'm just not that guy.”

“I understand. Thanks, Ace. I really needed to hear that.” Tabitha sucked in her lips, smiling. She grabbed her purse and started edging out of her seat. “Anyway, I've gotta go run a quick errand, but thanks again for this.”

“Okay. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

“I'll keep that in mind. See you around.”

Chapter Eleven:
Tabitha

2002

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day! Tab-itha wants to play, rain, rain go away!”

“Hold still, Tabitha.” Mommy pulled my hair, but she was very gentle. “Just one more little twist there, and voila! All done.”

I jumped off the chair so I could see myself in the mirror. When I saw my princess braid, a big, big smile came to my face. I touched the pink bow on the bottom of my braid happily.

“Thank you, Mommy!” I pointed to her hair. “Now, I can look like a princess, just like you!”

“That's sweet, baby, but Mommy's not a princess.” Mommy touched my cheeks. She looked sad. “Now, since you've been behaving extra well today, I'm going to let you have one extra cookie. But remember, just one!”

“I want chocolate chip, I want chocolate chip!”

“Shh, keep it down.” Mom looked behind her and back at me again. Her eyes were wide open. “You don't want Daddy to hear you being so loud when he gets home, do you?”

But I was so excited, I just kept jumping up and down like a bunny rabbit.

“I want chocolate chip, I want chocolate chip!”

“Tabitha, I said –”

The front door slammed. When I heard Daddy kicking off his shoes, I stopped jumping at once. Daddy's footsteps sounded like an angry giant.

“What the fuck's going in there?”

I grabbed Mommy's dress. I got real scared. Daddy said the “F” word again. He only said those bad words when he was real angry. I didn't like it when he was angry. He shouted real loud and banged everything around the house. But Daddy was always angry, and I didn't know why.

“There's crap all over the fucking floors – did you even bother sweeping up –”

“Spencer, please!” Mommy cried. “Tabitha's here –”

Daddy walked into the kitchen. His face looked funny and his eyes were very red, like he was really sleepy and angry at the same time. And when he came closer to us, I could smell his stinky clothes again.

“Hi, Daddy.” I hid behind Mommy's dress, but I waved at him.

“I need to talk to your Mom,” said Dad. He sounded like an angry dog. “Scram.”

“But Mommy said I could have a cookie –”

All of a sudden, Daddy took a big angry step towards me. Mommy and I got scared. It made me so scared, I started to cry.

“Are you talking back to me?” Daddy was spitting all over my face.

“Sorry, Daddy, I won't –”

“Get over here.”

Daddy picked me up with one arm and threw me inside the closet. I fell down to the floor. I tried to get back up, but Daddy banged the door in my face. Why did Daddy sound so strange? It was like he had marbles in his mouth!

I didn't like it here. It's very dark, and the closet is really smelly. I wanted to come out now, but I didn't want Daddy to be mad at me.

“
Spencer, please, don't do this –
”

Mommy screamed really loud.

“Mommy!” I cried out to her. I scratched my face. I was getting even more scared now. “What's happening?”

“
It's okay, baby – I'm alright – just don't come out, okay? You stay right in there – augh! Spencer, please!”

I couldn't see anything, but I could hear the plates breaking outside the door. Mommy was still screaming, but Daddy was laughing. But it wasn't a happy kind of laugh.

“
What, are you scared of me, honey?
” There was another loud crash. “
Where's Roger now? You think he's coming over here to –
”

“
Please, Spencer, I said I was sorry, if I could take it back, I – Spencer, what are you doing with that thing? Put it down.
”

Mommy wasn't yelling anymore. She was crying. I reached for the doorknob and jiggled it as hard as I could, but it was locked. Mommy needed my help! I needed to –

“
Spencer, please. Don't – don't do this, we can fix this –
”

“
I know. That's exactly what I'm doing right now. I'm fixing this. And just so you know, you don't have to worry about Roger anymore. I took care of it.
”

“
What? Jesus Christ, what did you do? Oh my god, it's okay, it's okay, just – just put that down, and we can talk –
”

“Mommy!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I yelled as loud as I could, but I don't think she heard me through the bangs. It was so loud, I put my hands over my ears, but I could still hear them. I pushed my ear to the door, but I couldn't hear Mommy crying anymore. It was Daddy's turn to cry.

BANG!

My eyes flew open. I threw out my arms and grabbed my sheets. The shadows on my ceiling cast by my night light stared back at me. I rolled over to my side, my damp pillows sticking to my wet cheek.

When I finally stopped wheezing, I reached for the phone on my nightstand and hit “Redial.”

20 minutes later, a pebble whacked upon my window. I climbed out of bed and pulled up the window. About another minute later, Brooklyn stumbled into my room, yawning. She looked like she'd literally just rolled out of bed and snuck out of her house after my call. The back of her hair was still sticking out, and her mouth was all puffy with her night guard.

“Thanks – I didn't want to wake Aunt Tracy. And I'm sorry. I know it's 2 in the morning – I didn't know what else to do. I had that dream again –”

But I didn't even need to explain myself. Brooklyn pulled down my window and staggered towards my bed like a zombie. She crawled under the sheets next to me and slipped a hand over my shoulder. As I leaned my head against her shoulder, she rubbed my back absentmindedly, her head knocking against mine.

It was hard to explain, but feeling my best friend's warm body next to mine, holding me with no judgment – it just made me feel safe again. No matter what I did, no matter what was to come, I knew I wasn't alone. People will always tells you they're going to be there for you, and it was all bullshit, but Brooklyn meant it.

It didn't take long before I was snoring next to her.

Chapter Twelve:
Ace

2016

“When Coach told us there was gonna be a luncheon, I thought for sure this shit was gonna blow.” Hardwick spoke with his mouth full. He gave us a full view of the pink roast beef debris in his mouth. “But I can't even hate – this roast beef is the bomb.”

“Those kebabs ain't half bad, either,” Baldwin joined in from across the table. “They got this place done up real nice, too – they got out all the fancy china and everything. You guys know what all this fuss is about?”

Baldwin was right. The long communal tables in the club lounge had been replaced with round tables. Dubois had gone all out. Every table was dressed with white tablecloth and topped with flower vases and candles. The buffet station was full of delicious entrees from around the world. There was even a stage and a podium set up in front of the room.

“Nah.” I stuffed my face with crab cakes, laughing. “Coach seem like the type to discuss his party plans to me?”

“Whatever it is,” said Morgan, our Running Back. “I hope they get things rolling soon, 'cause these pants are riding up my ass crack so hard I can almost taste it –”

“Gentlemen – good afternoon.”

When Dubois took the stage, the whole room went quiet. He looked a little better than the last time I saw him in his office, but the man looked like he was barely holding it together. His dark gray suit was pressed and his hair combed back, but the bags under his eyes were darker and had puffed up twice its size. Coach strode up to the stage, but he lingered in the back.

“You're probably wondering why you're all here today.” Dubois leaned away from the screeching feedback, adjusting the microphone. “Not only is this a celebration of what looks to be our unstoppable winning streak, this is my way of thanking you for staying strong as a team.”

Dubois looked down, pinching his lips.

“In the wake of all the devastation our team has experienced in the last couple of months, you've managed to emerge from all of this as a family, and for that, I am deeply humbled.”

“You the man, Dubois!” someone yelled out from the back of the room.

“I thank you for that.” Dubois cracked a smile. “Now, that aside, there is another reason Coach Myers and I have brought you all here today. Every one of you has made me immensely proud, but one of you has exceeded our expectations, one we never saw coming.”

I could see Hardwick wiggling his eyebrows at me from the corner of my eye.

“To show our appreciation, Coach Myers and I would like to start an annual tradition in our Jets family, from this day onward. Regardless of whether or not we make the playoffs, this is in an award we are presenting to the player with the most improved performance.”

Coach walked up to Dubois, handing him a small glass trophy.

“And so, I present our Jets' Family Comeback Player of the Year award to Number 15, Ace Warner.” Dubois narrowed his eyes, looking around the room. “Ace, if you'd like to join me on stage.”

As the room broke out in applause, I got up and made my way to the stage. I accepted the trophy and shook Dubois' hand. I turned away from the podium.

“Ace, would you like to come up here and say a few words?”

I hesitated, but as my team's applause got louder, urging me on, I stepped up to the podium.

“Uh, thanks, Mr. Dubois, Coach.”

I wanted to soak up this moment, but as I looked back at the dozens of eager faces around me, I felt this twinge of guilt. This was exactly what I'd wanted, but there was no glory in this moment. It wasn't so much a comeback as it was me getting my shit together and doing what I was supposed to be doing in the first place.

I looked down at the heavy trophy in my hands, and back at the crowd.

“Right. Thank you.” I coughed into my hand, glancing down at my feet. “I'm gonna be honest here – I don't really know what to say, so I'm just gonna go ahead and roll with what I've got on my mind.”

The whole room was silent, hanging on to my every word.

“As much as I appreciate the recognition – and believe me, I do – I'd like to apologize to the team for how much I've let you down over the last couple of months. Thanks for sticking by me and giving me another chance.” I looked down at the trophy again. “But as I look back at all of you, there's one face I don't see, and that's the one dude who deserves more recognition than I'll ever deserve.”

The air in the room went thick.

“I'd like to dedicate this award to our fallen brother, Jonathan Whitaker.” I raised the glass trophy and bowed my head, closing my eyes. Around me, I could hear shuffling as the rest of the room did the same. “Alright, uh, thanks.”

As I slunk down the stage, Dubois returned to the podium. Hands slapped my back and squeezed my shoulders encouragingly as I waded my way back to my seat. But before I could sit down, my eyes landed on the figure by the doorway.

Dad stood there, wearing his usual tan bomber jacket, in all his 6'5” glory. He turned away from me, his fists stuffed in his pockets. It was quick, but we looked at each other. The man wasn't smiling, but he nodded at me, and that was all I needed. Then, he was gone.

I knew I'd finally done it – I'd made the old man proud.

Chapter Thirteen:
Brooklyn

2016

Every red velvet seat in the theater was filled, whispering among themselves as the judges deliberated. The contestants were spaced out across the stage, some playing with their fingers, and others doing their best to appear unruffled. On the right side of the stage stood Aiden. He stood at ease with his chest pushed out and his arms behind his back, blinking out at the shadowed faces of the audience. Though he wasn't moving a muscle, his face was 2 shades paler than his fidgety rivals.