Play Me (14 page)

I rub my head. “God—he’s so frustrating. I just wish that were the worst of my problems.”
Eric slips a fry into her mouth. “Oh yeah, the bad news. Give it to me quick, like a Band-Aid.”

“Ryan showed up this morning at my house when Weston dropped me of. He went crazy and Weston had to restrain him.”

Erica’s eyes widen. “No shit? Wow. So, you were right. Ryan is here.” She frowns. “Why two years later?”

I shrug, take a chicken nugget and tear it in half before shoving one piece into my mouth. “I don’t know? He’s probably in trouble again. He asked about Maddox.”
She snorts. “Like he gave a damn before.”

I nod. “I know.”

Erica leans over and puts her head on my shoulder. “Well, maybe Weston can help you get your mind off of it.” She wiggles her brows at me.

Leaning against the bookshelf behind me, I look up at the skylight above us. “That’s another thing I’m really worried about. I believe everything he told me last night.”

“Um…I’m no genius but isn’t that a good thing?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Because I know I’m not supposed to believe him. This is what he’s good at. Luring girls into his bed. Rocking their world and then disappearing. I can’t let that happen to me again. I—like—Weston,” I whisper. “And I’m scared of getting hurt again.”

Erica scoots towards me and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Don’t be. He went through hell to get you, Roxanne. Weston doesn’t go out of his way for anybody. Ever. And if you’re really scared don’t let yourself get too close. Keep him at arm’s reach until you know for sure. Cover you own ass.”

If only it were that simple. I smile. “Yeah, you’re right.

“But,” she holds up her finger. “Don’t miss what he’s offering because you’re too scared to take that leap. Give him a shot. He may surprise you.”

He already has …

***

I know I shouldn’t be nervous. And yet, I’m still stalling in the locker room before I go to rehab with Weston. He’s getting better and I know rehab will be over soon. We’re pushing three weeks.

One of the trainers taps his fingers on the door and gestures toward the clock. I frown at him and shut my locker door. There is no reason to be nervous. It’s not like we’re strangers. It’s just like any other day but now we’ve had sex
. Great
sex. And I spent the night.
Jesus Christ! I can’t do this.

“You know,” I hear from the door and I swing around. “It’s not nice to keep your client waiting while you hide in the break room.”

Weston leans against the doorjamb and crosses his legs at the ankle. My mouth is dry. He was on me last night. In me.
That
body was in me last night. “It’s not nice to spy on your trainer from the doorway either.” I tie my hair back as he takes a few normal steps toward me. His limp is almost gone.

He takes his thumb and index finger to gently rub my earlobe. “Why are you hidin’ in here, Roxy? What’s the matter?”

“I’m not—,”

“Yes, baby. You are. Why? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Yes, if the feeling of falling over the edge only to be brought back up to fly is hurting me.
I shake my head. “No, I’m just worried.”

He touches my bottom lip with his thumb. “About what? Did someone say something to you?”

“No. About Ryan.”

He slightly nods his head; a strip of dirty blonde hair falls over his forehead. “And that’s understandable but nothing is going to happen.” He dips lower, sweeping his fingers over my cheek. “Promise.”

I nod. “Okay.” I lead Weston into the training room and shut the door. “You’re getting much better,” I say while I wash my hands.

He nods, slips off his shirt and climbs onto the table. I watch as he gets comfortable. “Yea, the game is this Friday.” He raises his eyes to meet mine. “Scouts are going to be there.”

“And you won’t be ready,” I say, simply finishing the sentence he isn’t wired to say.

He growls, and rests his head on the pillow behind him. Grabbing his hair he raises his hips in frustration. When he looks back at me there is a fire in his eyes. A determination that I envy. “I just need to get better. I have to make my second game.”

I want to tell him that he will but only time will tell. “Well,” I say walking over to his side. “We’ll work extra hard to get you better.”

He nods slowly as his eyes trail a deep searing path down my neck to my breasts. My lower stomach clenches and a heavy sensation begins to build. The tip of his finger twitches and I know he’s contemplating touching me. The truth is that I want it all over me. Before he can move I take a step backwards. “We need to stretch.”

A slight growl of irritation comes from his throat but it’s not because we have to stretch. We both stare at each other for a good while before I lift my hands over my head. “Up.” He mimics me as I reach forward and stretch to touch my toes.

“To the right. Bend your knee,” I point to his good leg. Those dark brown eyes follow me as I bend and stand. First landing on my breasts and then waist. I’m heating all over and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“You have a freckle on your right hip,” he whispers, his voice deep and raw.

My cheeks heat but I force myself to meet his heated gaze. I don’t answer. My thoughts are too scrambled. How can he look at me? I feel like I’m going to combust from heat.

He stops following my motion and takes two steps forward. The inch that’s keeping his mouth from my own is dangerous territory because if he touches me I know I will not want him to stop. “The sound you make when you come makes my dick hard,” he whispers against my jaw. My fingers wrap around the corner of the cabinet behind me. “That tight—goddamn tight—pussy makes me want to do things I’ve never wanted to do. Go insane to get it,” he whispers, pressing his thumb into my jawbone and pushing my chin upward. “Where did you get this scar?”

No.
The high I’m consuming in is taking me somewhere I have no intention of dwelling on. “Tell me,” he whispers again. That thumb lowers to the edge of my khaki pants I’m wearing.

“It’s because of him,” I whisper.

He nods. “Tell me.”

A slideshow of images swarm me. I fight the pull to drown in the sadness.

***

Maddox stirred in his sleep. One hand hanging limply from our old brown couch. A small SpongeBob blanket covered his tiny two-year-old body. Matted black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead from the heat.

Ryan hadn’t paid the electric bill … again. And that meant no air-conditioning … again. I slide the back of my hand across my cheek in a vain attempt to wipe the sweat away. It didn’t help. My clothes were drenched with sweat, even in these small shorts and tank-top.

Getting up, I straightened up the kitchen, and fixed me a glass of tap water. One of the only things that was in our house at the time. I paced back and forth in front of the front door for an hour. Ryan should have already been back from his shift at the diner but I hadn’t heard anything from him.

Thump. I froze, my eyes locked on the doorknob that was slowly turning. I backed up against the couch and grabbed Maddox, resting him in my arms asleep.

Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart jackhammered in my chest, as the doorknob began to jerk violently. The air in my lungs began to seep from my mouth, like a balloon with a hole. I watched carefully as the first lock unlocked. Oh, God.

I bit my lip and turned to call the police but stopped. I had no cellphone and we hadn’t had a landline in months. We couldn’t afford it.

Silently I walked into our bedroom where Maddox also slept. I placed him on the bed and quickly shoved blankets onto the closet floor before putting him inside. The deadbolt clicked. Someone was inside with us. The bathroom was on the other side of the hallway and my only shot was the closet or under the bed. I didn’t want them to find Maddox and I seriously doubted being able to fit underneath our small, cheap bed. Tears scorched down my face as I grabbed the bat. But when I turned around it was too late.

A large man stood in my doorway. A deep black salt and pepper beard was hanging from his face. A leather vest pulled as far as it would go over his large beer belly. “You Roxanne?” he asked in a deep growl.

I didn’t answer. Because he knew who I was. I saw it on his face.

“Where is Ryan?” he asked, taking a step forward. I automatically took a step backwards, my ass hitting the nightstand beside our bed.

“I –I don’t know. He hasn’t come home tonight. Please don’t hurt me,” I begged, feeling so small to have to beg for my life.

He smiled, showing a row of rotten teeth. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m not going to kill you … I need my money first.”

Money? What money? I frantically search his face looking for a smile. Or laugh. This had to be a joke, right? We had no money. Ryan only made a scarce amount at the diner and my part-time job at the library wasn’t cutting it.

“I don’t know what money you’re talking about.”

The grizzly of a man furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “The hell you don’t! I. Need. My. Money!”

A tear fell down my face as I shook my head. “I have no money. Ryan takes it all … he … what does he owe you for?”

The man clenched his fist and punched the mirror on my mother’s dresser, cracking it down the middle. Shards of glass fell to the floor. My eyes flicked to the closet. Maddox would wake up any moment scared to death.

When I glanced back, the man was holding a piece of the glass, blood dripping onto the carpet below. “He owes me for the drugs he bought from me.”

Drugs. Ryan didn’t do drugs. He was way too smart for that. “Are you sure you have the right house?”

Before I knew what was happening, the man leapt forward, grabbed me and pressed his chest against my back. The shard of glass was pressed firmly underneath my jaw. I felt the blood dripping down and soaking my blouse. “Tell him it will be worse next time.” Then he slid it underneath my chin and threw me to the ground.

The last thing I remembered seeing was the man bolting out of the room and slamming the door on his way out.

***

Weston’s grip on my shoulders is tight. I wince and he immediately drops his hands. “I’m so—God—I’m so fucking sorry, Roxanne. He—,” Weston grabs his hair and pulls. “Could you not go back to your parents?”

I slowly shake my head. “They kicked me out when I got pregnant.”

Weston’s face is pure horror. “Come here,” he whispers, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into his chest.

I can’t remember the last time I received comfort from a man. Erica is the only comfort I get. Ever. His fingers run up the back of my shirt and rest on the small of my back. He doesn’t say anything because there isn’t anything he can say. And I like it. No words just touch. Just his big body wrapping me into him.

When he finally pulls back he goes to sit on the training room table. I follow him and begin to rub his upper thigh. The tightness has gone down a lot and the knot is almost gone. Weston closes his eyes and leans back while I rub.

Both of his hands are interlocked behind his neck. The curve of his biceps is smooth and large. “What did you do about Blake?”

What? “What do you mean?”

His eyes pop open. “Last night. What did you do to leave?”

I shrug. “I just text him and told him I was feeling sick. Why?”

Blake sits straight up and stares at me. “What do you mean? You were supposed to tell him you are with me.”

A look of confusion is written bluntly on Weston’s face. A laugh bubbles up my throat and I try my best to swallow it. “I mean—what was I going to say, Wes? Hey Blake. Sorry, but I’m going home with another guy from our date? What the fuck?”

Weston lifts an eyebrow, grabs my waist and drags me between his spread legs. “Actually, yes. I don’t want Blake thinking he still has a chance because there isn’t a chance in hell of that happening.”

Something stirs inside of me and I look downward. “What is it?” Weston whispers.

“Nothing.”

Grabbing my chin he lifts my face. “Tell me, Rox.”

I frown. How do you tell a guy that you’re scared to get too close because you’ve been burned too many times? “You’re scared.” There is no question in his voice. Suffocation begins to build in my throat. I’m scared out of my mind. “It’s okay,” he whispers against my lips, dragging his mouth and nibbling along my skin as he goes. “I’ll just have to show you how much I want—fucking need—you.” Teeth trail against my neck and his fingers grip the bottom of my ass.

All the worry evaporates. A hunger low and raw is nagging at me, pushing against my insides. “Don’t think because we’ve fucked that you get to molest me during training,” I whisper helplessly but we both know it’s a bluff.

He grunts and pulls me onto his lap until I’m straddling him. “And don’t think I believe that for one fucking second.”

Weston palms my ass and grinds upward against me. “The first thing I noticed about you was your tits,” he whispers. “But now I wonder how I didn’t see those sexy as fuck eyes. So green. So fuckin’ beautiful—“

The door hits the wall and I turn around. “Jesus Christ, Weston,” Coach Turner whispers, “can’t you keep it in your goddamn pants?” He shuts the door quickly.

A snort erupts from my mouth and I press my hand against it. Weston smirks and then rests his head against my shoulder. “Way to bring down my boner, Coach,” he chuckles.

I pat his shoulder and climb off as he franticly reaches for me. I curl two fingers toward myself and smile. “It’s time to go,” I say. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Weston curls his hand around my elbow and stops me. “About tomorrow. It’ll be Thursday,” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s nervous and avoiding eye contact.

“What about it?”

He sighs. “You want to go to the park with me? Maddox can come too.”

A date?
Weston Garrison doesn’t
date
. Does he? Or is this what he wants? Fright is tearing at me. Maddox can come too. What if he gets the wrong impression? What if he expects Weston to become his Daddy? I can’t take that heartbreak again.