The Hearts We Break (The Alphaletes Book 3), page 15
A flutter runs through me at the action, but I can’t seem to force myself to focus on it when Slater parks the car.
“I’m nervous. What will everyone think?”
“That I’m the luckiest bastard around?” he says with a simple shrug.
God, sometimes I wish I could bottle his confidence and sell it. I’d be filthy rich.
“I’m serious, Slater!”
“Baby,” he says as he turns in his seat to face me. “Who gives a shit? Even if they have something negative to say, which they won’t, will that change the way you feel about me?”
“No.”
“Good because there isn’t a thing in this world that will change the way I feel about you. You’re mine, Scar. Now get that sweet ass up your front steps before I do something stupid like fuck you in your dad’s driveway.”
Miraculously, I let out a little laugh at that as I unbuckle my seatbelt while Slater gets out his side and comes around to open my door.
“That would be the last thing you ever did,” I say as he shuts my door and grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers as we make our way inside.
“Yeah, but it would be one hell of a story to tell at my funeral.”
We step inside the house to find my brothers, Dad, and Slater’s parents all hanging out around the kitchen island laughing and talking. As soon as their eyes land on us, the room becomes instantly silent. I watch as each person looks from Slater to me, down to our intertwined hands before back up to us. I hold my breath, steadying myself for what they will say or think when Slater’s dad is the first to speak.
“It’s about damn time.”
That causes the entire room to break out into a chorus of laughter before everything resumes as normal. We greet everyone and they hug us both before asking how work for both of us has been. Really? That’s it?
Slater squeezes my hand, shooting me a wink that I know means ‘I told you so.’ If I wasn’t so relieved, I’d be irritated with him. Slowly, I walk over to Alison, who is moving around my dad’s kitchen, putting the final touches on what looks to be her homemade baked potato salad as the men head out to the backyard to start barbequing.
“Something on your mind, sweet girl?” Alison asks with a soft knowing smile.
“Is it…okay? I mean, I feel stupid for even being insecure. Slater told me no one would care but-”
“Am I concerned that my son is moving on with you when he is still married?”
I freeze at her words. I hadn’t quite thought about it like that. Can’t say I love it.
“Scarlett, if you ask me, this is long overdue. My son has loved you for as long as he knew how to. He didn’t always show it in the right way, and he made a mess of things by not facing it head on and instead getting involved with that woman. But he loves you, and I know for a fact you love him more than anyone else in this world. What mother couldn’t be happy by that?”
I wrap my arms around her and pull her in for a hug.
“Thank you, that means a lot.”
“Love you, sweet girl. Your mom would be so proud of the amazing woman you’ve grown up to be.”
I feel my eyes begin to water at the mention of my mom as I give Alison a soft nod.
“Thank you.”
“Now, enough of all that. Grab that tray for me, will you?” she asks as she gestures to her left.
I nod my head and grab what I can before we set up the backyard dining table. Dinner goes by a little odd. Odd being that everything is completely the same apart from Slater’s hand permanently on my leg under the table and the occasional cheek kiss he would give me. Everything has slipped into place so flawlessly. It’s almost like we were already in a relationship, just minus the physical aspect, until now. And we can’t forget about the physical aspect because holy hell I’ve never met a man so obsessed with me and my body. He’s insatiable and makes me feel like the most desired woman in the world.
After the guys clean up, everyone is doing their own thing when I find Slater and Ezra by the fire pit in the Santos’ yard hanging out. Ezra is having a beer while Slater sticks to water. I walk over to sit in the seat next to Slater before he reaches out and grabs my hand, yanking me down to sit in his lap. I try to get off quickly, worried I’ll hurt his legs or something when he locks me down into place and lowers his mouth to my ears.
“Keep wiggling that ass on my lap, and I’m gonna have to shove my cock in it.”
My toes curl in my tennis shoes as I turn my head to look at him. He’s giving me a dirty smirk that apparently Ezra picks up on too because he lets out a dry chuckle and takes a sip of his beer.
“You guys are disgusting,” he says with a fake sneer.
I roll my eyes at him as I settle back into Slater’s lap.
“You know I love you man, but I wouldn’t be a good big brother if I didn’t tell you that I’ll knock your front teeth out if you hurt her.”
“Oh my god, Ezra! We are way too old for this,” I sigh.
Slater chuckles underneath me before pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
“It’s all good, baby. He knows I won’t hurt you. He’s just trying to make himself feel important.”
“Ironic, huh?” Ezra laughs. “This is the fire pit that caused me to have the first big brother talk with you and now here I am again.”
“Wait, what?” I ask.
Slater and Ezra share a look before Ezra smirks. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” I ask as I turn to face Slater.
His eyes flick to Ezra almost in irritation before coming back to me.
“That night before I left for Brighton, I almost kissed you. Obviously, you knew that.”
“I started to wonder if I imagined it after a while,” I admit softly.
His grip tightens as he shakes his head.
“Definitely not. I had a huge crush on you. I was just shit scared to cross a line we couldn’t come back from, you know? That night I decided to hell with it, that it was worth the risk when this asshole interrupted us,” he says as he nods towards Ezra.
“He told me that I better not start something with you before I go away to college if I wasn’t serious about you. I was, obviously, but it got me thinking about the what-ifs. I was a chickenshit, and I can’t tell you how many times over the years I’ve thought about what an idiot I was back then.”
“I could say the same,” I say with a small smile as I nudge his shoulder.
He pinches my upper thigh as he rolls his eyes.
“Smartass.”
Turning my eyes to Ezra, I glare at him.
“So it’s you I should be blaming for all of this,” I say to my annoying brother.
“Hey,” he says as he tosses his hands up in surrender. “Not my fault you two danced around each other for fucking ever. I was just doing my brotherly duty, and I did. Have fun, kids,” he says as he stands up and pats Slater on the shoulder before heading back over to the house.
“Sooo,” Slater says with a smirk. “Wanna recreate that night?”
I chuckle at him as I shake my head and lean down to kiss him briefly before pulling away.
“Nah. Just take me home and fuck me into your mattress.”
Slater is out of the chair and standing up, my entire body tossed over his shoulder as he fireman carries me through the yard.
Slater
The weeks leading up to pre-season seem to go by faster than normal. Maybe because I feel like I have more to prove than ever on the field. Maybe because everything has changed over the last few months. I’m officially divorced since everything was pretty much black and white in the papers, Nikki got her share, I kept mine, and we split ways. I honestly expected her to fight more, for what I’m not sure, but based on the fat diamond that was on her hand during the mediation, it seems like she’s already got a new sucker on the hook.
You’d think finding out my wife, or more accurately my ex-wife, is already engaged to someone else would hurt but when I think about what I got at home, I know I’m the one that came out on top. Waking up to Scar every morning has been by far the best part of every day for the last few months, hands down. Fuck, I can’t get enough of my girl.
Coach is giving us a long drawn out speech about starting this season out right, taking it one down at a time and all the typical shit he uses. I glance around the room, taking in the newer faces. We picked up three rookies and four trades this year, all who at least in practice, seem talented and dedicated. Our team is pretty solid, hopefully it’s enough to go all the way this year.
As my eyes flick over everyone, they pause on one person in particular. Scar is standing next to Collin, listening to Coach intently like the good employee she is. She’s wearing her usual Crusaders game day gear, something I’ve seen her in dozens of times before. Now that I know exactly what is underneath that uniform, though, I can't help but bite the inside of my lip as I let my eyes rake over her.
She must feel my gaze because her eyes glance to me, sending me a warning look with a barely suppressed smile. I smirk at her before giving her a quick wink that sends color flooding her cheeks.
“What are you so fucking smiley about, Santos?” Coach snaps.
I turn to face him before I shrug and hold my hands out.
“It’s a great day to play ball, Coach. Can’t wait to beat the piss out of Carolina.”
He grunts but doesn’t say anything before he ends his little pep talk, and we start filing out into the tunnel.
Showtime.
“Blue forty two! Blue sixty seven! Blue thirteen! Hike!” Smith calls out as the ball is snapped.
I sprint to my left, doing my best to gain some distance between me and Carolina’s defenseman that has been on my ass these last two quarters. We have a minute until halftime, and we are tied up 7-7. I’m slower than I used to be, and it fucking shows. The South Carolina Wolves sure as hell seem to have picked up on it. They’ve had several guys on me all night and no matter what I do, I can’t get past them enough to get open.
Smith tosses the ball to Seb, who catches it above a few Wolves’ heads, before turning and running. He bobs and weaves around everyone in his path while our guys help pick off the linemen after him. I push against Gerald Hastings, the fucking prick that’s been up my ass, as I watch Seb pass the thirty, the twenty, the ten.
Touchdown.
“Fuck yeah!” I shout as I throw my hands up just as the second quarter ends.
“See ya in thirty, Santos,” Hastings smirks through his mouth guard.
“Fuck off,” I grumble as I shove past him and make my way over to Seb, clapping him on the back as I pat on his helmet.
“That’s my boy!” I holler.
Seb grins as he tosses the football to the ref before we all begin making our way into the tunnel for halftime. Everyone rides the high of a fresh touchdown as they holler and shout while filing into the locker room. A voice stops me in my tracks, though.
“Santos!” Coach calls out from behind me.
My celebratory smile slips as I turn to see his pissed off expression.
“Why in god’s name was it so difficult for you to get open? You left Smith high and dry out there!”
I do my best to keep my tone respectful, but he makes it hard some days.
“I was doing my best, Coach. Hastings has some wheels on him.”
“Yeah, well, so do you. Or you used to,” he says with a shake of his head as he blows past me and into the locker room.
Irritation and almost a little bit of disappointment begin to flare inside me. This isn’t me. I don’t let people down. I’ve always been one of the fastest guys on the field, one of the best.
A small hand touches my forearm from the side. I glance over to see a concerned look on Scar’s face.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
Her eyes flick down to my knee before looking back up at me.
“How’s it feeling?”
I bend my leg slightly and nod.
“Feels good.”
She nods. “Then why are you playing safe?”
Wait, what? Scar is my cheerleader. My biggest supporter. Not another fucking critic.
“What are you talking about? I’m doing my best but-”
“Bullshit,” she scoffs. “You’re playing safe. You don’t have a fire lit under you. Yeah, you’re out there and you’re present, but are you actually playing your game? No. And you know it too. Look, Slate. We did not spend months working our asses off to get you back to nearly one hundred for you to just half-ass it. Now, I love you, I will always support you, but if you don’t dig deep and find that drive in you by the time the third quarter starts, you might as well ask Aberton to bench you. Is that what you want?”
“Fuck no,” I huff.
“Good,” she smiles softly. “So dig your feet in, look for the opening, and lose Hastings for good. The guy isn’t even that good. He’s just in your head. Or you’re in your own head. Or both.”
I nod as my eyes glance around to see that we are alone in the tunnel. Cupping the back of her neck I bring her face to mine, crushing our lips together before resting my forehead against hers.
“Fucking love you, Bubbles. Thank you.”
“Always,” she breathes softly as she looks up at me.
I smile before swatting her ass and jogging into the locker room.
Popping my mouthguard in as we line up, I face off against Hastings, who has a smug as fuck smirk on his stupid face. I shake my head as I turn to see Scar standing on the sidelines watching me intently, a firm nod in my direction as if she was trying to tell me that I got this. Fuck yes, I got this.
When Smith hikes the ball, I take off. Hastings is on me just like the first half, but I dig my heels in harder and stretch my legs out farther. The next time I turn to look over my shoulder, he is a good eight feet away from me, not a lot, but it’s more than enough space between us.
The ball spirals through the air a few feet in front of me. My fingertips just graze it before I take that final step and grip it fully, yanking it to my chest as I bear down and run like fucking hell. It feels different. I ran at practice. I’ve run at home. I’ve run during PT. But none of those times have felt like this. Felt like I was practically flying above the field, doing the one thing I know I was meant to.
When I cross that line and the stadium goes wild I nearly collapse from the adrenaline. I toss the ball to the ground before throwing my arms in the air, causing the fans to lose their shit. Smiling, I look to the sidelines to see Scar excitedly bouncing and clapping as I pretend to dip a bubble wand and blow on it in an exaggerated celebration. I probably look like I’ve lost my goddamn mind, but I couldn’t give a shit because the megawatt smile I can see on Scar’s face all the way down the field tells me she knows that touchdown was for her.
Seb jogs over to me, slapping my back in celebration as we run back to keep the game going. I pass by Hastings and may or may not give him a little extra nudge as I do. Not that the little bitch says anything before slinking off with his tail between his legs.
The first half of the game is nothing like the second. The Wolves got another touchdown in the beginning of the fourth quarter, but Seb was able to run another touchdown, as well as Andrews, though I definitely didn’t celebrate too hard for that one.
We have two minutes left in the game and the score is currently 33-14. The Wolves can’t come back from a point difference like that in this amount of time and they know it too. We could play an easy game, run out the clock, and be on our merry way. Something about that doesn’t sound enticing, though. Pre-season or not, we are starting this season off with a good old fashioned ass kicking.
The O-line and D-line crush together in a sound that is closer to a car crash than bodies rushing into each other. I dart to my right, but Hastings anticipates it, sticking with me better than before. Maybe he hasn’t quite given up. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be responsible if we score one more touchdown on them. Either way, dude is shit out of luck.
I continue dodging left to right, right to left to keep Hastings on his toes, and when I glance back to Smith, his eyes lock on me as I nod. He looks hesitant with how heavy I’m being covered but tosses the ball. I take a large step to my right before turning my back and spinning to my left, covering the remaining feet between me and where the ball will land before it drops into my arms.
The catch is sloppy at best as it almost bounces right off my forearm but once I’m able to wrangle it, I pump my arms and legs as fast and as hard as I can. I feel Hastings on me, his feet are practically on the heels of my cleats, and when his hand grazes the back of my jersey, a sinking feeling fills my stomach. Fuck!
I chance a glance behind me to see him lowering himself, ready to plow me to the ground before Clifton Matthews, one of our defensive ends, comes out of nowhere and takes Hastings down. Fucking A. I owe Matthews a drink or a stripper or something. My feet cross over that white line and two seconds later the game is over. End score 39-14.
Fuck. Yes.
A bunch of guys damn near tackle me in the end zone, pumped over the win, and I’m smiling so wide swear to fuck my face is gonna split open. I love celebrating with my team, but someone is missing. I see Scar hugging Collin in celebration before turning to face the field. She lands on me instantly, or at least she better be looking at me. I jog across the field, running at Scar and not slowing down until she’s slung over my shoulder. I carry her around like she’s the fucking Heisman trophy even though we both know she’s so much fucking better.
When I set her down, I take off my helmet and smile at her.
“I liked your little touchdown celebration. It was new.”
I give her a wink as some of the coaches call my name. They all tell me that I did a good job and even Aberton looks pleased. The guy is an asshole but it’s just because he likes to win, and he does a good job of it since we are one of the best teams in the league.
Some reporters rush onto the field, instantly swarming me as they ask questions on how I’m feeling after my first game since my injury. How I feel the season will go and all the typical questions they ask. I smile and play my part, making sure to emphasize that without the team effort made in my recovery, I wouldn’t be standing here today.
