The Hearts We Break (The Alphaletes Book 3), page 2
“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Slater! I went to college just like you.”
Before you dropped out.
I don’t say that part out loud. All it would do is cause a bigger fight than the one we’ve suddenly found ourselves in.
Truth is, I wanted her to drop out more than anything back in the day. I was getting drafted, and I wanted to keep her with me. I was head over heels and wanted her by my side as much as possible. So when she said she was dropping out to travel with me more, I was all for it. I just didn’t know the shine would wear off so quickly for her.
Going to the games became less about seeing me play and more about hanging out with the other wives. Then, she just stopped coming altogether, choosing girls’ trips instead of stadiums on Sundays and self-care retreats over having dinner on a Wednesday night with me and my family.
The thing is, we haven’t been us in a damn long time. We’ve both changed since we first met seven years ago, so I can’t totally fault her, I guess. People change, it’s the way of life. Couples usually grow together, not apart, though. Or maybe they do, and I was just hopefully naïve at the time.
A small part of me was hoping that while I was down, Nik and I could get back to being us, in some capacity. I was hoping that me not traveling so much would help. Guess I was expecting too much with that because we’ve been at each other’s throats more than ever since I was discharged from the hospital.
“You’ve been in a shit mood ever since the injury. You haven’t even looked at me twice,” she pouts as she crosses her arms over her chest in a way that pushes her tits up.
I cock an eyebrow at her. “You horny, Nik?”
“Duh, we haven’t fucked in literally weeks.”
I run a hand over my face as I settle back into the couch. Trust me, I know how long it’s been. But me not being able to walk without a couple of sticks kind of hinders the ability to fuck, at least the way I want to. When I take my hand away from my face, I look up at my wife. God she’s a stunner. She hasn’t aged a day since we met, of course that’s probably with the help of her good friends down at the Botox clinic. Still, while the foundation of Nikki and my marriage has begun to crumble, one thing has remained solid, and that is our sex life.
“Alright, you gotta do all the work, though,” I say as I pull down my sweats enough to get my cock free, wincing at the movement before I grip the base and begin stroking up and down.
Excitement comes to life in Nik’s blue eyes before she quickly slips her dress off, undoing her bra and tossing her panties to me. I grab them with one hand, inhaling her scent deeply as she carefully maneuvers herself on top of me.
The moment she slides down my cock we both let out groans of pleasure. Fuck, this is what we were missing. This is what we needed to connect. Nikki smiles down at me, a genuine sweet smile that I haven’t seen in a long fucking time. She lifts herself up before slowly moving herself down, I dig my tattooed fingers into her bare ass to help control her movements as she repeats the motion.
Her pace quickens, and a subtle twinge runs through my leg at the bounce. I grit my teeth as I focus on the pleasure I’m getting from my wife riding my cock and do my best to push the pain away.
“Slater, yes,” she moans as she grinds her clit against me.
I lift my hips slightly, not being able to resist the urge to thrust as her speed picks up again.
Fuck.
The subtle twinge has now become a sharp pain. Breathing through it, I cup one of Nik’s breasts before flicking my thumb against her nipple. She lets out a breathy moan as she begins bouncing harder.
“God, yes. Fuck me, Slater! Fuck me hard!” she demands.
I begin thrusting, not giving a damn about the throbbing pain in my leg as Nikki continues bouncing on my cock like the fucking Energizer Bunny.
“Cum on my cock,” I say through clenched teeth, wishing like fuck that I would have just opted to eat her pussy instead of fuck. The pain is literally making a cold sweat break out across my body.
Her movements become jerky, and the gentle care she was taking in the beginning is lost as she tries to chase down her orgasm. Unfortunately for both of us, one of her thrusts comes down too hard and too far back, causing my left leg to bounce up and an excruciating pain to rip through my knee.
“Fuck!” I shout as I release my hold on her and practically shove her to the side of the couch.
My hands cradle my knee as my face tightens. I take deep measured breaths, doing my best to get past the throbbing but it won’t stop.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nikki snaps.
I ignore her bitchy tone as I focus on not moving a muscle. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“First, you can’t play football, now, you can’t even fuck your wife. What a man you are, Slate,” she sneers as she slips on her dress before storming towards the front door, grabbing her purse as she slams the door so hard the walls shake.
I do my best to not let her words get to me, to not let them sink in, but they are ugly and cut deep. I know the pain will subside eventually, I’ll walk without crutches one day, and I’ll be able to fuck as hard and fast as Nik demands…. but football. I don’t know if I’ll ever play that again, and even I’m not dumb enough to deny, it was a huge reason Nik and I got together in the first place. She wasn’t a cleat chaser, but she liked dating the star of the football team, she likes being a football player’s wife. It sounds stupid, but I can’t lie, a small part of me is terrified that one day Nik will wake up next to me and realize that without football, I’m nothing.
Slater
Nik didn’t end up coming home until around midnight. Not that it’s out of the norm for her. She’s still in her party girl era and has plans nearly every day. I tried to wake her up around eleven this morning to see if she would, for once, come to my family’s house for our weekly dinner, but she barely grumbled about being hungover before rolling over.
Whatever.
Since weekends for a large part of the year are impossible for me to see my family, we get together on Wednesdays almost every week. Nik used to come with me, especially when we first got married. Not really sure when that stopped, it just kinda did.
I shut the door to my car before pushing out the crutches in front of me as I swing my body forward. My mom is the first to greet me before I can even get to the front porch.
“Hey, Mom,” I say as she comes to the bottom of the stairs to meet me.
“My sweet boy. How are you?” she asks as she pulls me in for a hug.
Her eyes dart behind me, as if she is looking for someone else. I give her a short shake of my head before she purses her lips disapprovingly. She follows behind me closely as I slowly get up the stairs before making my way into the house.
As soon as I step through the door, the familiar smell of my grandma’s paella instantly surrounds me. It’s my favorite and even though my mom is an amazing cook, she’s never been able to come up with a better version than Grandma’s. Mom always said Grandma Santos handing over that recipe was the one good thing she ever did. That and having my dad. As you can imagine their relationship is hostile at best.
My dad is sitting on the couch with their neighbor, who is also Scar’s dad, Ross. They both look over to me before getting out of their seats to greet me.
“How you doing?” my dad asks as he wraps me up in a quick hug.
“Doing good, Pop. You?”
“Good. Business is staying steady, despite being winter.”
“How are you feeling, Slate?” Ross asks as he glances down at the crutches.
I do my best to give him my perfected carefree smile, but I can feel that it falls short.
“I’m hanging in there. One day at a time.”
Ross nods sympathetically as Aaron and Ezra walk into the room. Aaron slaps me on the back as Ezra comes in for a bro hug.
“Slate, man! I didn’t know you were coming tonight!” Ezra says.
“I’ve missed too many Wednesdays. Mom has been on my ass.”
“I heard that,” she calls from the kitchen.
All of us laugh at that before Dad says that we can head into the dining room. Ezra is telling us about what happened on the jobsite today, while Aaron rolls his eyes like the big brother he is. Ross owns a general contracting company that Aaron and Ezra help him run. My dad has his own electrical company, and he works on most of the jobs with them. If football didn’t work out for me, I always planned to join my dad. It used to be something I wasn’t opposed to…can’t say I feel the same contentment with that idea now, though.
The door opens behind me as everyone begins filing down the hall. I turn to see Scarlett tuck back a piece of her chocolate brown hair that has fallen from her ponytail as she drops her purse onto the kitchen counter. She leans over and kisses my mom’s cheek before helping her grab plates.
“Sorry I’m late. I had to stay a little longer and-”
“Keep us all waiting,” I say dryly.
Her hazel eyes shoot up to mine, a wide smile spreading across her face as she hurries around the kitchen island over to me.
“Hey! You didn’t tell me you were coming tonight,” she says as she wraps her arms around me for a quick hug.
When she pulls away though, her eyebrows dip as her gaze falls to my crutches.
“You’re still using those things? Doctor Rosenburg told you they weren’t necessary anymore.”
My happiness at seeing Scar dissipates slowly as I spin on my crutches and make my way into the dining room.
“The pain in my knee says otherwise.”
She follows behind me because Scar has to be one of the most persistent, and at times annoying, women that I’ve ever met.
“I get that, but you aren’t going to get any better if you continue staying off it. C’mon, Slate, you’re an athlete. You know how the body works. You have to move it, stretch it, push yourself-”
“Drop it,” I say as I look over my shoulder at her, softening my tone as I glance at my feet. “Please.”
Her mouth opens like she is about to say something before she closes it and nods. I dip my head in thanks before I hobble my way over to the dining room table. I sit back and enjoy the banter between Aaron and Ezra, while my dad fills me in on his latest projects. My mom and Scar come in a few minutes later with several large serving dishes piled high with food.
During season, I never allow myself to pig out. Some of the guys do here and there, but I’ve always kept myself on a strict diet, trained and prepared my body to be in top physical shape at all times. All of that work only for it to fail me when I need it most. Ironic, huh? I take an extra helping of bread and rice because fucking why not, right?
I feel Scar’s judgmental gaze from across the table. I don’t have to look to know that it’s there. Scar and I have been attached at the hip since I moved in next door when I was eight years old. We know what the other is thinking with just a single look, and right now, I don’t want to know what she is thinking about me, so I keep my eyes firmly on my plate while I squeeze some lemon on top of my food and avoid eye contact with everyone. I already have countless people disappointed in me. Don’t know how I would handle seeing that same look on my best friend’s face.
Once everyone has finished eating, the guys all grab the dishes and walk them to the kitchen where they begin cleaning up, a tradition in our household. Mom does all the cooking because we would all starve without her, but she never touches a dirty dish. My dad always preached that marriage, like life, is all about balance. You have to give as much as you take. I always admired my parents’ marriage. They were the perfect example. A couple of young kids that fell in love before they even knew what it really meant. I thought I had known how much my dad loved Mom, but when she got sick, I had never seen someone so devoted yet absolutely terrified at the same time.
The beginning of my junior year of college I got a call. My mom had collapsed at work and rushed to the hospital. They rushed her to the hospital, not sure what was wrong. Turned out Mom had breast cancer. Stage two. The entire drive from Brighton, California to Seattle I could hardly breathe. My mom was the heart of our family. We couldn’t go a day without her, and thankfully, after a hard fought battle, she has now been cancer free for four years.
I ended up transferring to Seattle U my junior year from Brighton University. It took some convincing, but I was able to get the coach to match the full ride scholarship I was on back in Brighton and a starting spot on the team, because honestly, their team was not in a great way when I came around.
I’m not saying I made a difference because honestly, I didn’t. It’s a miracle I got drafted with how many losses we had. There was something special about our team back in Brighton. When me and my buddies, Mikey, Sebastian, and Trevor, were on the field it was something else.
Seb plays for the Crusaders with me. Mikey played for the Knoxville Bucks for most of his career before being traded to the Crusaders last year. He ended up retiring at the end of the season though and moved him and his little family back home to Tennessee. Trevor has been playing for the San Antonio Cobras ever since he got picked up six years ago.
It’s been a while since we all got together. With wives, kids, and our competing schedules it’s hard to make time. All of the guys have at least called since my injury, though. Seb and his wife, Erica, came to the hospital before I was discharged and brought by my favorite girls, their twins, Rosie and Daphne. The girls are almost six now and made me the cutest damn cards that I put up on the fridge at home.
A hand on my shoulder grabs my attention, bringing me out of my thoughts to see that everyone has made their way into either the kitchen or the living room except for Scar and me.
“How you doing?” she asks as she takes a seat next to me.
“I’m good.”
She gives me a look before raising an eyebrow. “Uh huh, and how are you actually doing?”
I stare at her for a moment before I blow out a breath and shake my head, running my hand through my hair as I do.
“Fuck, Scar. I don’t know. What the fuck am I supposed to say? I’m doing great? I’m happy. No. I’m not. I’m doing my best to keep this shit show of a life together but what is there to do really? My career is over. The one thing I was put on this earth to do has been ripped away from me.”
Scar rolls her eyes at me. “You were put on this earth for a lot more than football, Slater, but that aside, your career isn’t over. Not yet at least.”
“Don’t be naïve, Bubbles. 70%, at best,” I remind her.
“That’s just an estimate.”
“No, it’s my reality,” I bite out before putting my head into my hands.
Scar is quiet for a moment before she speaks.
“Wow. I’ve never known you to give up so easily.”
I shoot her a daggered look that I hope hurts, but instead of showing any amount of effect from it, she continues.
“Look, Slater, is it going to be hard? Yes. Are you going to hate me, your body, and maybe even yourself at times? Probably. But is it worth it?”
“Is what worth it?” I ask.
“Your career. The ‘one thing you were put on this earth to do.’ Is it worth the blood, sweat, and tears you’re going to have to put in to make it out the other side? At the end of the day your doctor, Collin, or even I can’t answer that for you. Only you can, and if your answer isn’t a resounding yes, then I agree. You should retire. Go out on top and look back at your longer than average career with fondness.”
I mull over her words for a few moments before I whisper more to myself than to her.
“I’m not ready to be done. I have more in me.”
“I know you do. You just need to want it bad enough.”
I nod before letting out a hollow laugh.
“How do you always know what to say?” I say with a melancholy smile.
Scar shrugs as she does her best to bite down her smile.
“I don’t. I just know you. I know what you’re capable of, and I know for a fact it’s a hell of a lot more than this. So,” she says as she stands up and reaches for my crutches.
“We are gonna start your PT with these. I’m letting you keep one to help support you, but I want you off it completely in the next three days, got it?”
“Scar, I need them-”
“Bullshit. They are a crutch, actually, literally. You’ve already set yourself back at least a week with your little woe is me attitude. We have a little under six months before training camp, so you better buckle down.”
I laugh dryly as I go to stand, making sure to keep as much weight as I can off my left leg while I do. God, who’d have thought the sweet little girl who spent practically her whole childhood blowing bubbles would turn into such a hard ass?
“Why do I get the feeling I’m gonna regret hooking you up with the job on the team?”
Scar shrugs. “Maybe, but I’m the best thing for you and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Bubbles,” I say as I grab her and pull her in for a tight hug.
“Always,” she murmurs against me.
I spent another hour or so hanging out with everyone before I decided to head home. I stopped by Starbucks and picked up Nik’s favorite coffee as a sort of peace offering since we didn’t really talk things out from yesterday yet.
Using only one crutch like my pain in the ass friend demanded, I make my way up my driveway before pushing open the front door. I only make it two steps though before I freeze. To my left are six very familiar Louis Vuitton luggage pieces stacked against the door, while Nik and two of her friends carry more down the stairs. The moment they see me, they all share nervous looks. Except for Nikki. She has on a mask of indifference as she sets the bags next to the others. Now that I think about it, I did see a couple extra cars in the driveway.
The girls glance to Nikki before grabbing as many bags as they can and slip past me out the door. I limp forward a few steps until I’m in front of Nikki.
