Booty and the Beast, page 28
“Absolutely, Coach.”
He slapped my shoulder. “Good. Finish up here, then go get changed. We need to do a walk-through before the last exhibition game tomorrow.”
I followed Piper from the room, unsure of what to say. I wasn’t the sort of man who spent his afternoons inside offices, pouring over paperwork, discussing contract clauses, guarantees, and bonuses. Besides. Her three percent commission said more than I ever could.
“Congratulations, Nick.” She tagged along as I stalked toward the locker room. “I think this is cause for celebration. I’m sure the Rivets would love to take you out for a drink tonight.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Let me rephrase that.” She wagged a finger. “I would love to get a babysitter, go out with my husband, and use your contract signing as a guise for some dinner and dancing tonight.”
I couldn’t imagine Cole Hawthorne dancing.
I wasn’t keen on watching it either.
“You heard the coach,” I said. “I have a lot to focus on.”
Piper struck me as a woman who said everything that was on her mind, regardless if anybody asked for her opinion or not.
“Oh, I get it. You plan on celebrating with Charisma Cassidy.”
Just her name was a punch to the gut. “No.”
“So, you’re going to tell me all those rumors I’ve been hearing aren’t true?”
My voice hardened. “They’re not.”
“…Oh.”
“There’s only one thing I have on my mind tonight, and that’s preparing for our last exhibition game. Jack and I have a lot to work on before the season opens. Besides, I gotta work hard to ensure my agent gets a bigger cut from next season’s contract.”
Piper laughed. “I’m flattered, but I’m thinking your time would be better spent with the pretty girl who can’t take her eyes off of you during practice.”
Absolutely not. Charisma was the last and worst thing on my mind.
“Thanks for your help.” I ended the conversation abruptly, but I had nothing more to say on the subject. “Call me if anything changes?”
Piper quieted. She might’ve been bossy and stubborn, but she was nothing if not professional.
“Absolutely,” she said. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
Christ, I hoped so.
I returned to the locker room, but the rest of the team had already suited up for practice. That was fine by me. It gave me time to think. To process just how unbelievably fast my life had changed.
How long would it take to convince myself that it had changed for the better?
I should’ve been elated. But as I slipped into my jersey, dread pummeled what the pads should’ve protected.
I had only one dream in my life—making a professional football team. Didn’t matter which team, I didn’t care how I got there, and it never once mattered how many people I needed to hurt to achieve it.
But, as I signed that contract, I realized it wasn’t only my name on that piece of paper.
I’d always taken to the field to prove myself.
For the first time, I prepared to play for somebody else.
Every down I played, every ball I caught, and every touchdown I scored would no longer be for me.
I did it for Charisma.
Because without this opportunity, without the team, what else could I offer her?
It wasn’t about wanting the woman.
I wanted to do right by her.
My obsession had shifted. Football once colored my vision, but everywhere I looked, everything I touched and tasted and felt was now made more beautiful because of Charisma.
I’d fallen for her. Worse, I’d crushed so hard into rock-bottom that I didn’t know how to climb my ass back out.
I’d earned my money. Secured my position. I prepared myself for a future of intense, body-breaking competition. It wouldn’t be easy or kind or fair. But it was the only way I’d ever make enough cash to pay off my debts and give her the life she deserved.
Which meant that no matter what I felt for the woman, and for as desperately as I craved her touch, voice, and body, I had to focus on only one thing.
The game.
Relationships would only distract me. Love would complicate too much. And heartache would absolutely destroy me.
I would suffer, broken and alone, putting myself on the line every play. And if I needed to cut Charisma out of my life to ensure that success, I’d do it.
Because one day, after I’d established myself, once I’d earned the money and security, I would have enough means to win her back.
I lost her once before.
Maybe the next time I chased her, she’d give me the greatest gift of all.
Forgiveness.
23
Charisma
Acting broken-hearted during a family picnic in beautiful weather with excellent food was difficult, but at least I didn’t need to fake it.
Any family event was made better with the presence of wine. I sipped from my glass as I supervised the hamburgers grilling in the pit behind Mom and Dad’s house. The pickup game of kickball in the side yard had broken a window—an automatic win for the opposing team, a rule that had been in place since the time a baseball crashed through Grandma’s window and took out her china cabinet.
The police were already out to warn about the loud music and to steal a hotdog. The sun was shining. The family was happy.
And for the first time in five years, I’d brought a date to the annual picnic.
I had somebody to hide me during the family photo. Someone to keep the bees out of my cup while I went to the bathroom. Someone to help me escape when my cousin Dierdre began the karaoke.
Such a beautiful day…
And it was about to be the worst of my life.
I tossed my plate away. Mom’s barbecue chicken tasted suspiciously like it had been catered from a local barbecue truck I’d seen cruising around Ironfield. If only I could’ve enjoyed it.
Mom shooed the male members of the family, looking to score tickets and merchandise from the newest member of the Ironfield Rivets. She approached Nick with a brand-new beer from one of the inside coolers. The good stuff.
Apparently, Nick Hart was royalty now.
“I bet you can sneak one of these without the Rivets knowing,” Mom offered.
Nick never drank, but he eyed the cold condensation kissing the neck of the beer bottle with an envious glance.
“If I hadn’t just signed the contract, I might’ve cracked one of those open.” He shook his head. “Thank you though.”
He should’ve taken the drink. It might’ve helped prepare him for what was about to happen.
“Are you sure?” Mom asked. “Well, what about some champagne then? I thought, with the entire family here, it might be a good time to toast your engagement...”
My stomach roiled. The truth bubbled up from inside of me, festering. I couldn’t contain it anymore. Couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t fight it.
We had two ways of resolving the problems suffocating us.
I chose the one that seemed easiest.
“I think we should break up,” I said.
Mom dropped her wine. It splattered onto her brand-new, white sandals. She didn’t even notice.
Nick stared at me, confused. The admission came two weeks too early. We had agreed to stage our breakup amiably at my cousins wedding. Not here.
Nick didn’t understand. He frowned. “You want to break up? Now?”
I didn’t expect the tears to accompany my words. “More than ever.”
We had practiced everything and ran through a dozen different scenarios. We’d agreed that I shouldn’t be the one to initiate it. It had to come from him.
But this wasn’t pretend anymore.
I didn’t need to fake my reaction. No teary-eyed gaze. No hushed gasp or slow, accepting nod.
This was real. And it hurt.
Nick’s expression darkened, but even he seemed to understand. He knew what I wanted.
But that didn’t make this any easier, and it wouldn’t make the words any less hurtful.
“It’s done,” I whispered. “It’s over.”
Mom seized my wrist and squeezed until I was certain she stopped circulation to my hand.
“Charisma, darling.” She spoke between clenched teeth. “What are you saying?”
I didn’t look at her. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep lying.”
Nick interrupted me. “I never once lied to you.”
No, but we lied to everybody else. We lied to ourselves.
I closed my eyes, wishing I still didn’t feel his hands over me. Even this morning, we had moved together. Woken before dawn with a kiss. I had rolled over him, taking him in me.
I’d known it would be the last time.
Somehow, I think he did too.
We had fucked in utter silence. Just like always. No words. No promises. And absolutely nothing we could offer to the other except the truth we refused to admit.
“I just can’t,” I said. “I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t lie to myself and say that every minute of every day is okay. I need more.”
Nick had always towered over me, a bastion of strength and muscle. But this was the first time I saw vulnerability in his eyes. A shocking, unrelenting pain.
This was a man who never had anything denied to him. He’d never given up, never stopped, never accepted that what he wanted was the impossible.
He had survived training camps and coaches, naysayers and the media, his own teammates, and my former hatred.
Only this time, he had a choice. An easy, life-changing choice.
I couldn’t say the words for him, and I couldn’t keep pretending without knowing the truth.
He unraveled Mom from my arm and led me away from the party. The noise of the picnic faded away—the splashing in the pool, the music rattling the windows, the laughter and conversations. I didn’t make it far. My feet sunk into the earth itself. The instant I tried to take a step, I’d crumble to my knees.
“I need you to say it,” I said. “I want to hear it.”
And still, Nick refused. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I only know that you won’t do it.”
“And I told you why.”
“And I’m telling you that I don’t believe it.”
Nick tried to hide us from the whispers and stares, but I didn’t care anymore. I had wanted it when we’d started this ridiculous charade. I had demanded an audience.
This was the reason I could keep on being alone.
When I’d thought being alone was all I needed.
Why had I ever allowed this man to get close?
“This isn’t about you and me,” Nick said.
“Bullshit. It’s always been about you and me.”
“This time, it has to be different.”
My throat closed. “But why? Why won’t you let me in?”
“Because there’s no room for you in this,” he said. “And Christ Almighty, Charisma, I wish there was. I wish it could be different, but it’s not. I’m fighting every day to keep my spot. The team is looking for my weaknesses.”
“And you’re looking for an excuse so you don’t have to face your feelings.”
His jaw set. “My feelings don’t matter.”
“You would ignore them like you ignore me?”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because the game is too hard.” He brushed a hand against his beard. Frustrated. “Because one mistake will land me back out onto the street. I’d have nothing. No home. No money. No prospects.”
“But you would have me.”
“And what good would that do?”
I pretended like that didn’t hurt.
“You don’t know what you need, do you?” I asked. “You’re still waiting for a magical moment when you wake up one morning and realize that you’ve made it. That, all of a sudden, the pressure will ease, and you’ll finally know where you belong in this world. But that’s not how it works, Nick. Life isn’t about achieving a damned thing. It’s about relying on somebody else when you’ve done everything that you can, then trusting that they’ll stay by your side for better or for worse.”
Nick scowled. “You know I never rely on anybody else.”
“And that’s why you’re alone. That’s why I’m alone. Because we're both too scared to admit we need each other.”
“Don’t you get it?” He hissed. “I’m doing this so neither of us ever need anything again. As long as I can stay in the league, I will always have a roof over our heads and food on our plates.”
“How can you be so stupid? This is brain-dead, fuck-me stupid. I’m not chasing you, Nick Hart. And I’m not asking you to chase me. I just want to be a part of it.”
“A part of what?”
If I had to explain, I’d already lost him.
And a crushing pain of that realization should’ve ended it right there.
“I want to be a part of your everything,” I said. “Of the game. Of your life. I want to be there when you wake up. I want to kiss you before you go to practice. I want to give you your first hug when you come home after a loss. I want to share your excitement when you win a championship. I want to go to bed with you every night, in your arms, because there’s no other place for me in this world. I know it. You know it.”
His voice nearly broke. “And I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Why can’t you let me help you?”
“Because you’re not helping me. You’re hurting me and my chances for the future.”
Of all the selfish, terrible words I’d ever heard my life, these were the worst only because they’d been whispered by the man who’d broken my heart.
I’d offered him everything.
All he needed to do was say yes. Yes to a future. Yes to a life together.
If only he’d kiss me, take me, and spare me this pain.
Had our last few weeks together meant nothing to him?
We were two lonely, self-exiling, self-destructive people, and the only hope we’d ever find would be in each other’s arms. Only then could two broken people be made whole.
I haven’t asked for anything that wasn’t already there. We couldn’t deny the truth in front of us, and yet we had fought so hard against it. We did everything in our power to deny the most beautiful, wonderful blessing that had ever happened either of us.
The cold sting of rejection, that bottomless, crumbling pit, cracked under my feet and threatened to sink me. It was a familiar, inescapable humiliation made worse because it came once more by his hand.
How many more times would I risk my heart for this man?
How many more times would I allow him to dictate who I was, what I wanted to be, and what I needed most?
How many more times would I let him break me?
“Don’t you get it?” His voice edged hard. “Don’t you realize that I’m in love with you?”
And what should have been a grand, amazing admission of what we both knew was true was spat like a vulgar profanity.
His frustration cracked my mind and tarnished everything inside of me. Pure resentment kept me on my feet.
I gritted my teeth. “Don’t you dare use those words as an excuse.”
“I’m in love with you,” he said again. “And that’s the problem.”
“No. It’s the solution.”
“It’s a disaster.”
I couldn’t listen any longer. I turned away, dropping my wine. He grabbed my hand before I escaped.
“Charisma, when I’m with you, the obsession becomes you. I can’t think. I can’t work. When I’m on the field, I search the sidelines for you. I wonder if you saw my last catch. I fear that a hard hit might frighten you. When I’m away from you, it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to hunt you down, take you in my arms, kiss you. When I’m with you, it’s like…”
I answered for him, biting back tears. “It’s like you found a missing part of yourself?”
“Exactly.”
“Then why fight this?”
“Because if I don’t, these feelings will ruin everything.”
He couldn’t blame this on our hearts. They were the only honest parts of us. Everything else, our fears and our doubts, destroyed what might have been.
It was like we damned ourselves to a life of heartrending isolation.
“I can make your life better.” I promised.
He shook his head. “This is the only way.”
“Because you think it’s easier.”
“I’m doing this for you,” he said.
“You’re breaking my heart because of me?”
Nick ran his hands through his hair. His gaze searched the crowd of family, pressing close.
“I’m sorry for falling in love with you,” he said.
He’d never insulted me so much.
“And you’re going to blame me for that, I suppose,” I said.
“Nothing in this life is certain, Charisma.” Nick took my hand. “Except this. Except how I feel. But this world has done nothing but try to break me and keep me down. I have fought for every scrap of success that I’ve managed in my miserable life. And you know what I’ve learned?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“The only thing that has ever come easy to me in this life is loving you,” he said. “And now walking away as the hardest thing I have to do.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have to. I’m doing this for you. I don’t deserve you, Charisma. I can’t provide for you. I’m not the sort of man who wakes up with you, has breakfast, reads the paper, plays with the kids. I’m not capable of that—not yet.” He lowered his voice. “But one day, I’m going to have the money and the confidence and the ability to focus on it all.”
“But you won’t have me.”
“Not now.” His eyes studied me, memorizing every part of me. My face. My pain. The struggle. “But one day, I’m going to win you back. I promise you, Charisma. I did it before, and I can do it again.”
That dedication never wavered. His unrelenting focus, drive, and absolute insanity made Nick Hart the man he was.
