The Wide Receiver's Baby (30 page)

Chapter One

Olivia

“Carl, don’t be such a jerk.  It’s my final year at college.  Everyone knows you're the top student in the law class. Just help me out with this one case.”

If he wasn’t such a jerk, then I would have asked him nicer.  But, I couldn’t help it.  We ended up at the same college and we’d done the one thing that we vowed to do from the day we started.

Never talk to each other.

“Well, when you ask so nicely, sis, how can I resist?”

Seriously, why did he always have to call me that whenever we DID have to speak to each other?  Which wasn’t often.

Only when we had our annual dinner at the house.  Or rather, at his family’s house.  The one that I lived in for three months after his dad and my mom got married.  At that point they decided that they no longer wanted to be married, but they’d never actually gotten a divorce.

He walked away, like he had been doing for the last two weeks since I asked for his help.  I was so close to completing my final year.  I just needed help with this one case. It wasn't like I hadn’t asked others.  They all said the same thing. 

“If you’re completely stuck, there’s only one man that can help you, Carl Wayne.”

Yes, just that they didn’t know that Carl was my stepbrother. 

Carl was a complete jerk.

“Olivia, go get some other jerk to do it.” He turned to face me.  “That is what you call me behind my back?”

I spat out as I gazed into his hazel eyes, thinking, he is the enemy, remember that! “In front of your face too.”

I expected him to turn and walk away the same way he had a few moments ago.  Instead he grabbed a couple of shots that were being offered by one of his friends and said, “Drink both of them and then we’ll talk.”

Alcohol and I don’t go down well.  No, let me rephrase that. I never drink. 

Why?

Because that was what my dad did.  He did it so much, he died of alcohol poisoning when I was only ten years old.  I hated him for doing it.  The doctors warned him.  Mom even threatened to leave him.  Yet, his desire for drink was stronger than his love for both of us.  That was probably what drove Mom to the arms of Bentley, Carl’s dad.  Carl was a younger version of his dad with his hazel eyes and dark hair. 

I whispered, “You know I don’t drink.”

He knew, it wasn’t a secret.  Christmas dinners, even when I turned twenty-one, my glass was always filled with soda or water.  Alcoholism seemed to run in my dad’s family. His dad died of the same disease, so did my grandma.  Shit, I was practically the last remaining member of that side of my family apart from my Aunt.  After she had a transplant she vowed to never touch it again.  Whether that was true or not was another question.

“Do you want help or what?”

Shit, he was a complete jerk.  I thought about it as I closed my eyes and took the two shots.  My whole body felt like it was on fire, and the burning sensation felt as if it was sticking pins down my throat and finally in my stomach.

Shit, that's why I didn’t drink.

The thing didn’t even taste good.

Tears were pouring out of my eyes.  I felt sick thinking about the one taco that I had eaten all day.  The golden rule of drinking, so I had been told, was to make sure that you ate.  Yet, I hadn’t, and my insides were twisting into a tight knot.

I hated him even more than I had before I came to this stupid party in his dorm room.

“You better be here when they’re all gone.”

I spat out, “What? Carl, I don’t feel well.”

I hoped to appeal to his sensitive side.  But as I bent down and he stroked the back of my hair, saying, “Don’t worry, the party has a long way to go. You have plenty of time to freshen up,” that’s when I remembered.  He didn’t have a sensitive side.

“Jerk!”

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About the Author

Foxy is a mother-of-three and has spent many years working in the IT industry. She has left the computers behind and taken up her passion of writing. She loves to write romance and still believes in fairy-tales.  She lives in sunny Spain, but was born in London.
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