Penalty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Alpha Second Chances Book 3) (7 page)

All I can do is grin.

My feelings for a particular quiet, beautiful woman—everything I haven’t said to her yet, my need to protect her, and even residual anger at Beth for hurting her—all of it combines into potent fuel.

When it’s all over, I don’t even need to hear it—I know my likelihood for being drafted in a few months just skyrocketed.

I can’t wait to tell Maddy about the trip, and again, I am struck by the happiness I’m capable of feeling as I think about the plane back to Maddy tomorrow morning.

I run through various ways of greeting her when I return—another visit to an arboretum, a celebration dinner, an aimless drive. All ending with her legs wrapped around me as I pump her with my seed.

I go to bed early so that morning arrives faster.

* * *

A
fitful night
of sleep leads to a strange morning as I awaken with what feels like a ball of dread in my stomach.

It lasts throughout the flight and even as we return to campus, despite how excited I am to see Maddy again.

I know she’s in class right now, and I’m unpacking when I hear a knock on my door.

I don’t like the look on Cody’s face when I open it.

“Oh, boy,” I say. “What is it?”

I learn I made a terrible mistake underestimating Bethany as Cody fills me in, explaining why I thought I was getting some extremely weird looks from a few people I don’t know, as well as some I’m mildly acquainted with.

Apparently, I picked up some strange disease from Maddy—something she picked up from a hippie commune she used to be a part of.

“It’s not exactly a picture of a dead parent,” Cody says, “but there you have it. Phase Two or whatever of Beth’s revenge. If I didn’t know you, I might believe it too—even if it’s just because it sounds so damn juicy. But yeah. Apparently, the reason Maddy transferred here, and the reason you got exposed to this weird disease is because Maddy’s freak group had few men, lots of women, and lots of sharing. Oh, incest too—I forgot the best part. Maddy may or may not have had an… ungodly relationship with her brother.”

“Well, damn. That’s an ambitious story,” I say, shaking my head.

“And you’d think people would see it for what it is, but they don’t. I overheard some saying that it explains her weird hairstyles. ‘It’s always the quiet ones…’ ”

It’s one thing if it’s just me, but thinking about Maddy being hurt fills me with rage.

Poor Madison.

I can handle this shit pretty easily, but Maddy is the unpopular one, the odd girl. She’ll get the brunt of the weird looks and conclusions, and they’ll probably be impossible to shake.

Maddy never asked for any of this—she just wanted to live in peace, do what she came here to do then quietly leave and get on with, no doubt, a calm life.

Look what I’ve done to her.

I might have spared her from darkness in my own life way back then, but I’m failing her now.

* * *

I
feel
like everyone is looking at me.

It’s exactly the way several of my nightmares start, only to end with me discovering I’m walking around with no bottoms on or that I’m not me after all but some chimera or ghost.

Luckily, when I glance down, I see that I’m fully clothed and my fly is up.

I detect nothing embarrassing from what I can see, and I wipe my eyes and slyly swipe at my nose to make sure no stray boogers are hanging out.

Seriously, the last thing I want or need is everyone suddenly noticing me.

Then I realize what it is—the attention must be because I started dating Abe.

Guess I better get used to people checking me out.

When I open my dorm room door, I catch Judy looking guilty, and I realize she had just been going through some of my stuff.

“What the fuck, Judy?”

“I was just… Look, no one wants to live with a weirdo.”

That’s rich, coming from the girl with metal through her nose, the girl whose wardrobe is allergic to color. The girl who looks like she’s dating the Grim Reaper.
This
girl doesn’t want to live with a weirdo?

“It’s just… I heard some things, and I wanted to make sure. I needed to see if there was any sign what I’ve heard is true.”

Something shifts in me. I guess it’s dread forming.

“What have you heard?” I ask evenly.

“Like, that you were a part of this hippie group, and that you were way too close to your brother or something… ”

It’s so ridiculous, I’m trapped between squawking with laughter and open-mouthed shock for a moment; in fact, I might actually look like a lunatic right now, smiling emptily.

I don’t even have a brother!

“…And you wear your hair crazy long, and no one does that but hippies and cult types… ”

Laughter wins for now.

When I catch myself, I ask, “Who the hell told you this?”

“Like I said, it’s going around.”

“But who would make up… ? Oh, shit, it’s Beth, isn’t it?”

All humor completely disappears as I realize that this is probably the reason I thought I was getting a lot of stares earlier.

“Beth?”

“Bethany McGrath—Abe’s ex. She’s been sort of after me ever since Abe started showing me attention. And now that we’re officially dating, I guess she has upped the ante. ”

“Okay, so once Abe dumped Bethany for you, she’s been doing what exactly?”

“She kind of threatened me when she first suspected he liked me and told me ‘Run away, bitch,’ or something, but then after he and I started actually being together, I found this.”

I reluctantly fetch the manila envelope I hid away and look off to the side as I hand it to her so I don’t have to put the hideous image in my head again.

“Holy fuck,” Judy says as she stares at the photo. “What am I looking at?”

“My mom and me. She had hair like mine, and she died from cancer after losing her hair from unsuccessful chemo. She had all her hair at this time—this image was photoshopped to remove it and make her look like some twisted version of what she eventually became.”

“Damn, that’s cold,” she says, but part of me suspects she likes it as I watch her face. She seems to like all sorts of weird art, and now that I think of it, an image like this is probably right up her alley.

I take it out of her hands gently.

“I figured it couldn’t get much worse than that,” I say, “but apparently, Bethany was nowhere near done with me if she’s the one behind these rumors.”

I tuck the photo back in the envelope, hiding it away again.

“None of them true, by the way, and I can’t believe I have to actually confirm this. I know I’m quiet and I don’t talk about my past, but you and I are like ships passing in the night. Anyway, my life has been nowhere near as exciting as Bethany is making it sound, but it’s no one’s business either, you know? I like my privacy. I like things to be… peaceful.”

“Well, you definitely swatted the wrong nest; the hornets are after you. I’m sorry, Madison. I don’t know how you’re gonna deal with this. I suspect things will only get worse.”

I don’t know how I’ll deal with this either.

I’m briefly tempted to start uploading more stuff to my Facebook profile and friending people so they can see how wrong they are, how normal I am.

I have photos of things I ate and places I’ve been, too!

I can prove I was in another college before this, and before that, in high school, just like everyone else.

Damn, I thought keeping a low profile would spare me from this kind of drama, but now it’s working against me. Quiet people are easy to make things up about since no one has information that counteracts it. No one knows anything about me, so they’d believe anything about me.

And I’m an easy target now that I’m with the highly visible, most coveted hunk of our school.

That was my biggest mistake.

How do I fix this? I can’t just transfer to another school again.

I didn’t even really want to go through with college, but I always made excellent grades and got a free ride, so I figured, why not? Having a degree is always a good idea.

But these college years are turning out to be the longest of my life.

I remember wanting to grow up so badly, anxiously awaiting the day I reached legal age and could pretty much do whatever I wanted.

The teen years seemed to stretch on and on, teasing me that I couldn’t really have my own say yet, each painstaking year toward eighteen.

I got an unexpected boost to adulthood when my mom dead, and since then, it seems time has started going slower; I’m still not free somehow.

“If there’s a silver lining or good news or whatever, I don’t think everyone buys the weird disease part,” Judy says.

“Excuse me?”

“The disease you picked up and gave to Abe. You know—since you guys were all big lovin’ and whatnot, and the few guys slept with all the women in the group, but didn’t really ‘keep it in the family,’ so to speak. Well, besides the one… ”

I groan out loud, dropping my head into my hands as I plop my butt onto my bed.

“Until Abe, I was a virgin!” I say, unintentionally revealing more than I usually would. But considering what’s going around about me, being a virgin isn’t exactly the worst thing someone could have learned.

God, so I’m a
diseased
incestuous weirdo?

I might have to move again after all.

Something drops inside me at the thought.

Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass to pick up everything and go somewhere new to start all over, but can I really stick around here now?

I don’t think I can handle it.

The last thing I want is attention, and now I have the worst kind.

How could I possibly concentrate on my studies when I’m wondering who’s talking about me at the moment?

What are they saying? Are they posting it in online forums? Will my name be attached to all these ridiculous rumors so that, in future job searches, employers google me and find all this crazy stuff?

Even if it sounds crazy to them, they probably wouldn’t want to take a chance.

Bethany is not only messing with my college life and potentially my academic performance, she’s messing with my future opportunities.

She can’t get away with this!

I guess I can always just use another name on my résumé and hope by the time background checks are done, the employer is committed to giving me a shot. Hopefully, I’ll have the chance to say, “Haha! Yeah, I pissed off a mean girl queen bee and she decided to have a little fun with my reputation. None of it’s true, of course,” and give them a dazzling smile.

Ugh! It might be too late already.

But I might still have a chance to minimize potential longterm damage by taking off now.

At this point, I’m pretty much used to picking up and leaving to start all over again elsewhere, but I just got here!

And then, of course, there’s Abe.

Maybe we can have a long distance relationship?

I don’t exactly know where I’d go just yet so I’m definitely putting the cart before the horse, but the thought of not being close to Abe squeezes my heart. I don’t want to leave him.

I can probably tough this out; maybe there’s something we can do to stop Bethany—make her take it all back somehow.

Even though I fear the damage has been done.

When people are confronted with the truth and you’ve been cleared of horrible accusation, some damage is irreparable. Even in the face of exoneration, reputation is one of the hardest things to repair.

I remember hearing about this guy whose daughter accused him of molestation.

He lost friends, his job, his wife—his whole life went to shit because of the accusations.

Eventually, it came out that she lied—she just wanted to punish him for being so strict with her.

But do you think everyone was all open-armed and apologetic after that?

On the surface, sure—I bet people were all, “How horrible! So sorry you went through that. Unimaginable what your daughter did. How dare she? She must be disowned.”

But did things go back to normal? Was he invited to the bar? A barbecue? Given his job back? Did his wife return to him?

No.

The stench remains.

Despite being vindicated, basic trust in him was eroded, and no one in their right mind would trust him around their daughters.

* * *

A
lmost as soon as
my class is done, my phone rings.

I answer quickly, knowing it’s Abe.

“Are you all right?” he says, his voice full of concern.

“As ‘all right’ as someone can be when horrible rumors are being passed around about them.”

“I’m so sorry, Maddy… ”

“Hey, it’s not you doing the spreading.”

“No, but I didn’t exactly handle this whole thing well. I could have been more sensitive to Bethany.”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure that would have made a difference.”

“It might have.”

“Sure. But sometimes, a woman scorned is a woman scorned, no matter how nice you are about rejecting her.”