Blindsided: A Sports Romance (16 page)

“Oh. Holy. Shit.”

I bolt straight up and stare into the darkness. I’d been lying in bed, half asleep and thinking of nothing in particular. Well, daydreaming about Rose if I’m honest. They may have given me no choice but to live with Darla, but they can’t tell me who to think about right before I go to sleep.

It started off as it usually does, picturing her in that sun dress that magnifies every curve of her body. On anyone else it would look ordinary as fuck. Innocent even. Not on Rose.

But then I kept remembering Stevie’s words. And picturing Sam. I usually fall asleep easily, but tonight it was different. I couldn’t stop thinking, but I didn’t know what it was about. All I knew was I was getting a tension headache.

It’s all clear now.

At least it seems that way at two in the morning.

She’s sick all the time, her kid said. So is Stevie’s pregnant wife.

Why wouldn’t she have told me?

I lie back against the pillows and grind my teeth. So much for figuring out what was bothering me and going back to sleep. That’s not happening anytime soon.

I run my fingers through my hair and try to think this through. Am I imagining it? Couldn’t she just have eaten something?

But I know that’s not it. I’ve had food poisoning. It doesn’t last for several weeks.

Was the kid exaggerating? It doesn’t sound like Sam. He’s chill as anything—he wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t serious.

I stare up at the dark ceiling and try to figure out what to do. Coach Fox seem to know everything I do before I even do it—is it so crazy to think he’s got somebody watching me? Normally I’d throw caution to the wind and ignore that possibility, but I can’t afford to do that now. I need some way to get to her; to talk to her without Coach getting wind of it and ruining her. Ruining both of us.

***

Denny started giving me crap this morning about how tired I looked, but as soon as he saw my reaction he stopped. I rush forward when I see him leaving the field even though I know I should stretch some more before I cool down. There’s nothing unusual about me wanting to talk to him—he’s my best friend. We talk all the time.

“Hey, man.”

“Hey. Gotten over your period yet?”

I laugh despite the ball of worry in my stomach. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“That’s all good. So long as you pull out all the stops on game day.”

“Course I will. Don’t I always?”

He slaps me on the back. “Not so sure about that, Thorne.”

We fall into pace. I glance around as subtly as I can. Everything seems normal. Coach is nowhere to be seen, probably in the office watching back the video footage of the session.

“Hey, Denny?”

“What is it?”

I sigh. This is risky, but I’ve been thinking about it all night. I need to get a message to her. I need to. If I’m right, then she’s probably going through hell right now. She told me what happened with Sam’s dad—I won’t let her go through it alone a second time, no matter how complicated this is.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Just so long as it’s nothing kinky.”

I shudder. “Come on, man. It’s nothing like that. When are you coaching those kids again?”

“Next week.”

“Same school?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, we rotate. Which you’d know if you came along regularly. What’s the favor?”

I slow to a stop and stare at him. “It’s complicated. But I need to get a message to one of the kids from the school we coached at Kidspace.”

“Just go see him. Honestly, man, those kids idolize us. It’d make their week if you showed up again.”

“No,” I say, wondering how much I can tell him. It’s not that I don’t trust him—I wouldn’t be bringing it up at all if I didn’t. I just don’t want to draw him into this shitstorm. “It’s not that simple. It’s…”

“Everything’s complicated with you, Jake. I know that. Just tell me.”

I look around. Everybody else has left the field. And just like that, I find myself telling the whole sorry tale to Denny. The guy is my best friend—it’s not like Coach will find it strange that we’re talking to each other. Just to make sure, I throw in a laugh every now and then, just so anyone watching will think we’ve having a normal conversation about Denny’s hookup from last night.

When I finish, Denny doesn’t even look all that surprised. “Yeah, I can get a message to the kid. Why don’t you just call her up, though? Why go through the kid?”

I shake my head. “You promise you won’t tell this to anyone?”

He nods. I already made him promise before I told him anything, but it’s worth repeating.

“Okay. Well. I don’t trust Coach Fox not to have somebody listening in.” I stop and wait, scrutinizing his face for his reaction. “I don’t know where she lives now and if I start asking questions Coach is gonna know. The only way I can think of getting a message to her is through her kid.”

This is basically blasphemy. You don’t talk shit about your teammates and you don’t talk shit about the head coach. It’s frowned upon. Nobody does it, not even the most motor-mouthed rookies after their first couple of weeks on the team.

This is different. It’s not like he’s bawling me out for my performance on the field. His meddling with my personal life just became unacceptable.

“Okay.” Denny sighs and leans closer to me. “And just say she writes you back. Tells you that she wants to get back together. What you gonna do then, huh?”

I shake my head. The truth is, I haven’t figured that out yet. This is like Game of Thrones level tactics and I’m just a dumb football player. I can’t go up against Coach in a battle of wits because I’m bound to lose. And the stakes are too high.

“I just want to find out if it’s true. Then I’ll work from there.”

Even if it’s just supporting them financially until I can wriggle free from my sham relationship with Darla, then I’ll do it. I’ll do anything I can short of blatantly flying in the face of Coach Fox’s orders.

***

He’s waiting for us as we push open the door to the facility. Denny casts a wary glance back to me that sets my teeth on edge—he looks deeply guilty, even though we’ve chatted on the sidelines thousands of times before.

“Mr. Thorne,” Coach says.

Denny heads along the corridor, turning to mouth something at me as he goes. It’s about as unsubtle as you can possibly get and I wonder if I’ve just fucked up both my career and Rose’s life by getting this whole mess off my chest.

“Hi Coach,” I say neutrally even though I want to grab him by the throat and force him back against the wall behind us.

Things just ramped up a notch. This is primal. If I’m right and she’s carrying my child, this guy is the only person standing between us. I know I need to chill out and hide my feelings, but it’s a struggle.

He smiles. It’s strikingly false, not traveling all the way to his eyes. “I hope you remember our arrangement, Mr. Thorne. Don’t you?”

I nod. “Of course, Coach. We went to Rio’s last night. Loads of cameras there. And the wedding plans are coming along quickly.”

I resist the urge to shudder. The wedding plans. I’ve got three planners and Darla calling me every single hour of the day to check my opinion on flowers and cakes. Honestly, I didn’t think the guy was supposed to have any hand in that bullshit. Every time, I have to resist the temptation to slam down the phone and tell them I don’t give a fuck about finger food.

He stares into my eyes. There isn’t a trace of warmth in his face. It’s like he’s a different man from the tough-but-fair head coach I met on my first week here.

“That’s just one part of our arrangement.” He leans closer. “All this planning is useless if it comes out that you’ve been seeing other women behind her back. Just remember that. I’m watching you. I’m watching you both.”

I stand my ground and watch him walk away, but inside I’m nowhere near as unaffected as I look. It’s like he knew exactly what me and Denny were talking about, even though I made sure we were faced away from the facility. I was that paranoid, I thought he might try to read our lips. Turns out that paranoia wasn’t so misguided after all.

I rush after Denny to tell him to forget it. The kid will be a whole lot better off without a father than she’ll be living in a dumpster with two bankrupt parents.

There’s a knock at the door and I’m on my feet in seconds, nausea completely forgotten.

It’s Van!

She’s back!

Finally, somebody I can talk to!

I throw open the door and I’m about to fling myself at her. I stop myself just in time.

Van’s not over six feet tall and she hasn’t been featuring in my daydreams for several weeks now.

The person standing in front of me most certainly is all of those things.

“Hi,” I say, my mind racing. I’ve dreamed of this moment so many times but I’ve never actually thought it could happen.

He smiles at me awkwardly. “I needed to speak to you.”

“How did you find me? We just moved here. I—” I freeze. “You didn’t ask Kenny for my address?”

He shrugs. “Not in so many words, no,” he says breezily.

“Jake,” I say, beginning to panic. “My note said. I… We can’t see each other. They’ll pursue me for every last cent I have if they know we’re talking. I can’t.” My eyes well with tears as I move to close the door in his face. This isn’t how the fantasy played out, but it’s the only way this can work out in real life.

He’s too fast for me, though. He sticks a huge foot in the doorway, stopping me from closing it.

“Leave all that to me,” he says fiercely. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

“What is it?” I ask breathlessly, my hand automatically reaching for my belly even though the only roundness there is due to too much candy and not our baby, who is still the size of a peanut according to my ob-gyn.

His eyes follow my hand. When he looks back up to my face, I notice they’re glistening. My heart contracts. “Jake, we can’t do this. We—”

“No, Rose,” Jake says, pushing forward until we’re both inside the apartment and then closing the door behind us. “Enough. I need to know. Are you…” his voice trails off and his eyes fall to my belly again.

I take a deep breath. I know what he’s asking, even if I have no idea how he found out. I haven’t told anybody yet. Not even Van—I didn’t want to tell her over the phone.

He deserves to know the truth. I know that. But not if he’s going to be held down by it. He can’t be a part of our lives. Not yet. Not when I’ve got that ironclad contract hanging over me.

But his eyes. There’s an excitement in them that I haven’t seen before. He looks like a big kid on Christmas morning and my heart feels like it’s going to shatter. I can’t lie to him about this. It’s his child. His first child.

“I’m pregnant,” I whisper, letting myself fall into the abyss.

“Wow,” he says, blinking. His hand hovers uncertainly between us. “Can I…?”

I shrug. “If you want. But there’s nothing there yet. I’m only about six weeks. There’s still another—”

“Thirty three. I know.”

I snort with disbelief. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a biology nerd.”

He shakes his head. There’s a small, sad smile on his lips and it makes me want to cry. I know now that I’m not the only one who realizes this can’t happen.

“I’ve been reading up online.”

I suck in a breath. “What? I mean, what if Kenny finds out you’re here? If he’s watching your internet activity…”

I stop. I know how paranoid it sounds, yet I believe every word. There are things Kenny has mentioned to me that he couldn’t possibly have known if he didn’t have access to my emails or browsing history.

Jake nods gravely. “Yeah. I know. It’s fucked.”

I lead him to the couch. The apartment feels smaller with his huge presence in here, sort of like a surreal dream. “So now you know. It doesn’t change anything, Jake.”

He bristles. “What do you mean, it doesn’t change anything. You’re carrying my child, Rose.”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “And we both know the consequences if word gets out.”

He falls silent for a long time and I start to believe that he’s seen sense. Then I look at his face. It’s screwed up in the fierce look he gets when he’s on the field. My heart sinks.

“Jake,” I whisper, reaching for his hand and trying to ignore the burst of emotion that sets off in me. “We can’t. They’ve got us by the balls.”

He clenches his fists. “No, Rose. I can’t. I thought I could. I thought I’d sneak in here and find out the truth. But I can’t… How can I just walk away?” He shakes his head. “All this time, I’ve been doing everything the team ordered me to. You know why?”

I shake my head. I’d assumed they were holding something over him too. “Money?”

“I don’t give a fuck about money,” he snarls. “No, I’ve been.” His voice falls to a whisper. “I wanted to make my father proud. He used to tell everyone in the neighborhood that his boy was gonna win a championship ring. I mean
everybody
. From pastor to police chief to mayor. I wanted to make him proud, Rose. The ring became the only thing that I could do for him. But you know what? That’s bullshit. If he knew I’d gotten you pregnant and not been there for you, no championship ring would stop him from being ashamed of me.”

I open my mouth to answer him but I can’t speak. It’s taking every bit of energy I have not to cry. At least the nausea has stayed at bay so far. Although that would be one way to convince Jake that he should stay away from me.

“Please, Jake,” I manage. “Please just forget this.”

I hate myself for the way his face falls, but there’s no way to do this without one of us being hurt. And I don’t care if that’s me, but I won’t let Sam suffer anymore because of my crappy decisions. Life isn’t a fairytale, no matter how much Jake wants to believe it is. I know what Kenny Fox is capable of.

“How can you be sure he doesn’t know you’re here?”

He attempts a smile but it falters. I look away. This will be easier if I don’t see the emotion on his face.

“I was careful. Denny called a detective friend of his. And Dale called in a plumber. We paid him triple his usual day rate to come here and park up in the parking garage downstairs. If anyone was watching Dale’s home or yours, all they’ll have seen is a plumbing van entering and exiting the building.”

“And the guy won’t talk?”

“Nah. Denny’s known him since grade school. He’s a diehard Grizzlies fan. Wouldn’t do anything that might cause negative press for the team.”

“Okay.” I nod, sucking in a breath and telling my heart to shut the hell up and do what’s right. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Rose,” he says, reaching over and stroking my arm.

“No,” I say, pulling away from him. I don’t look at his face, but I can imagine the look of pain that’s etched there. “You might not care about the consequences of this, but I do. I’m a single mother with no qualifications and no—”

“I’ll take care of you,” he pleads. “You and Sam and the baby. You’ll never have to worry about a thing.”

I close my eyes. It’s a nice picture, truly it is. But I’ve lived long enough to know it’s a mirage in the desert. It’s not that I don’t want to believe him. He’s all I’ve been able to think about for months. But how can I risk our futures? I’ve been let down by one baby daddy. It’s about time I stood on my own two feet.

“No, Jake. Please. If you care about me at all you’ll get up and walk out of here. And you’ll never look back.”

***

I’m still lying in the same position on the couch several hours later when Van arrives back from her trip. I don’t know how long it’s been since Jake left, but it’s dark outside now. She takes one look at my face and pushes me in the door with none of the gentleness that Jake showed. The thought makes fresh tears prick my eyes.

“Careful, Van. I’m pregnant.”

There seems little point in holding back now. I’ve been dying to tell her for weeks.

She slams the door closed and stares at me wide-eyed. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I know.”

Talk about a one-in-a-million shot. I’ve thought about it over and over, wondering how in the hell it happened. It’s not like we didn’t use protection. But I guess we weren’t as careful as we thought.

“Whose is it?”

“The Cookie Monster’s. Who’d you think?”

“Shit, girl. We need wine. Hold tight.” She stops halfway to the kitchen and reconsiders. “Make that grape juice.”

I flop back down on the couch, grateful that she’s here.

“Where’s that godson of mine?”

“At Kevin’s. Having a sleepover.”

“Tell me everything,” she demands, setting a glass of juice in front of me.