Sidelined (32 page)

F
uck, I want to kiss her.

Right here in the middle of my mother’s kitchen.

I want to close the fucking stupid distance between our lips and kiss her in the way that makes her cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle. I want to curl my fingers around the back of her neck, make the tips of them tickle her hairline, and kiss her in a way that proves to my family that she’s more than just a fuck buddy to me.

That she’s fucking somebody to me.

Because…shit. No matter how hard I try to keep our relationship sexual or remind myself that her asshole ex is on the scene, I can’t help but want her.

I can’t help but want to tuck Macey Kelly against my body every single night. I can’t help but want to wake her up with kisses trailing down her spine and know she’ll be there in the evening for me to do the same thing all over again. I can’t help but fucking want her to be
mine.

I drag my eyes from her mouth and hand Mom her glass. She thanks me absentmindedly, stirring her pot, then holds up her finger.

“I made cupcakes,” she announces.

“Chocolate?” Scott and I ask.

“You can split them.”

“Yes!”

Mom’s cupcakes are the fucking best.

Macey raises an eyebrow. “Now I know you’re a kid at heart.”

“I have a weakness for Mom’s cupcakes.” I shrug. “Her ability to bake cakes is about the only thing me and Scott agree on, right?”

“It’s true,” Scott confirms. “Everything else we fight over.”

“You can’t fight over everything,” Macey says dubiously.

“Not everyone has a brother for their best friend, M.” I gently tug on her hair and sit at the seat next to her. “Some of us fight like little kids.”

“Then you should be ashamed of yourselves,” she answers with a small sniff. “If I didn’t have Cal, I’d be totally lost. And since he’s a cop, I know every day that not having him is a very real possibility. Maybe you both need to stop thinking about what your life is like when you’re both in it and think about the possibility that, one day, you might not be.”

Aw, fuck.

I meet Scott’s eyes and sigh. “I guess my life would be easier.”

“Mine would be a lot quieter,” Scott retorts.

“Can’t teach stupid,” Macey mutters, grabbing her glass.

She’s gonna fucking pay for that. Tonight. When we’re alone. In my bed.

Maybe that isn’t as much of a punishment as I’d like. Hell, I can’t even spank her. I’ve tried it and she damn well likes it, the fucking sex goddess.

Ah, well.

“Too true, hon,” Mom says, setting a huge pan of saucy pasta in the middle of the table with a huge spoon. “Jack.”

I stand and grab Macey’s plate. I put three spoonfuls of pasta on her plate and show her it. She says a quiet, “Thank you,” and I set it in front of her. I do the same to Mom’s plate, and finally mine. Except I give myself five spoonfuls because I fucking love Mom’s pasta.

“Jesus,” Scott mutters, taking the spoon after me.

“Training,” I say around a mouthful. “Diet is carb and protein heavy.”

“Yeah. I remember,” he snaps.

Macey cuts her eyes to me but doesn’t say a word. Mom, however, does.

“Scott, snap out of it. It’s been years since you played. You made the choice not to reenter the draft when Jack did a year later.”

Macey looks down at her plate.

“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” Scott mutters. “Mr. Heisman here had all the glory.”

“Hey!” I point my fork at him. “I worked fucking hard for that. I busted my ass every spare hour I had, and I still do. If I’d gotten dropped from the Vipers, I would have done whatever it would have taken to get picked by another team, and that’s the difference between me and you, brother. You gave up at the first hint of failure. I’ll never fucking give up.”

“Language,” Mom scolds.

“That right?” Scott tilts his head to the side. “Didn’t know bustin’ your ass for football included fuckin’ a girl in your room.”

“
Language,
” Mom repeats more harshly.

“Jealous because you don’t have either?”

“I’d rather have the game than the girl. But we’re not all fucking perfect like you, Jack.”

“Jesus!” Macey snaps, dropping her fork. “Is this how you all treat your mom?” Her eyes flit between us. “Bickering like a couple of schoolgirls? Really? That’s how you thank her for cooking you dinner?”

I open my mouth to argue, but she smacks her hand over it.

“You guys have a problem, then take your disrespectful asses outside and sort it out in the backyard. And if you won’t do that, shut up and at least pretend you’re grateful to your mom and don’t damn well talk to each other, because hell, I’m sick of hearing it and it’s been, like, three minutes.”

Silence reigns supreme after her words. Shame snakes through my body—goddammit, she’s right.

“I like her,” Mom announces, breaking the tense moment. She flicks her eyes to me. “She clearly has the confidence to put you in your place, never mind taking your brother down with you.”

“Believe me. I have several places and she’s put me in every single damn one of them,” I reply.

“Good. You need it.” Mom looks to Scott. “So do you, my boy. What do you think your father would say if he saw you now? Football is just a game, my sons, and I couldn’t care less which of you makes the most money or is more successful. I care about you both equally, and I love you the same. For the love of all things holy, stop the fucking bitching.”

“Didn’t you just tell us to watch our language?” I ask.

She hits me with a steely gaze. “Jack Philip Carr, I’m your mother. If I want to say fuck, then I’m going to say fuck. I’m old enough to be written off as a crazy old lady. You and your brother, however, are young enough to be lumped in with disrespectful little shits.”

Macey hides her smile behind her wine glass.

“Dunno what you’re laughin’ at,” I grunt. “You have the mouth of a sailor.”

“I take offense at that,” she replies, her glass hovering in front of her face. “I’d put a sailor to shame, thank you very much, but I embrace it, so I can get away with it. Plus, I have the boobs and eyelash-batting thing on my side. You have nothing.”

“I like a girl who embraces a dirty mouth.” Scott smirks.

“Scott, stop hitting on your brother’s girlfriend,” Mom snaps.

Both Macey and I open our mouths, but Scott beats us to it. “Oh, she’s not his girlfriend, Mom. She’s his
friend.
”

Mom sniffs and looks at me. “Then you’re a damn fool, son.”

Macey blushes and looks down at her lap. I slip my hand under the table and squeeze her thigh, but she doesn’t respond.

“Mom, it ain’t for a lack of tryin’, but it’s complicated.” I brush Macey’s hand with my fingers.

Mom snorts and stands, her plate in her grip. In less than a minute, she’s expertly cleared the table and has the dishwasher open, ready to load it. Macey slowly breathes out next to me, but when I reach for her, she jerks her hand away.

“Excuse me,” she says quietly, pushing the chair back. “Can I use your bathroom, Julia?”

“Course you can, honey. Down the hall and to the right, you’ll find a small bathroom there,” Mom replies.

“Thank you.” Macey disappears down the hall.

I bury my head in my hands. Sweet fucking shit, I can’t say anythin’ right where she’s concerned.

“Scott, why don’t you put the television on in the other room?” Mom prompts. “Go on now. There’s a good boy.”

“I’m twenty-seven, not seven,” he gripes.

“Then act like it,” she replies completely calmly.

My chair creaks as I push it back.

“Sit.”

I sit.

“Now,” Mom says slowly, pushing the dishwasher shut and pressing the button. “Let me tell you something.”

“Mom—”

“No, Jack. Get me another glass and we’ll talk. Now, boy. I’m thirsty.”

I take the bottle from the fridge and pour her another glass.

“Good. Right. Sit down.” Mom sips then leans forward. “Son,” she says quietly, wrapping her fingers around mine. “There isn’t a single thing complicated about love. You love someone, then you love them, warts and skeletons and ghosts.”

“Never said I love her, Mom.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“Mom, I’m not in love with her.”

Her lips curve up. “Then maybe you need to remind yourself that you’re out of love with Lucy before you can allow yourself to believe that you’re in love with Macey.”

With those words, she gets up, grabs her and Macey’s glasses, and strolls into the front room, catching Macey along the way.

Fuck—what if she’s right? What if, like Macey, I’m so blinded by the past that I can’t see what’s right in front of me? What if I’m so fucking hung up on what Lucy did that I haven’t thought about anything at all?

I know I want Macey. Shit, I want her with every fiber of my being. My body screams out for my dark-haired, gypsy-esque beauty. There isn’t a single fucking part of me that doesn’t desire her in every possible way.

Or do I?

Have I been so fucking focused on making her believe that I’m a million times better for her than Mitch that I haven’t thought about what I’ll do if she decides I’m the guy for her?

Yeah, I have.

Fuck.

I’ve been on her ass about her figuring out her shit, but I never stopped to think about my own. I never stopped to think about my own demons.

I mean, shit. Fuck me. I loved Lucy with every bit of me. She was my whole fucking world, and she shattered that the second I saw her in bed with that damn freshman. Now, I see. Now, I see that she was too chicken to tell me that it was over. She knew what time I’d be done with the draft. She knew exactly when I’d find out the news, and she did it anyway.

And I fucking hate her for turning one of the best days of my life into one of the worst.

I fucking hate her for destroying what should have been the day my dream was fulfilled.

I can still feel the burn of the tiny, square box against my leg. I can still feel the searing sensation of her betrayal as it hit me.

I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t have those memories. I wish I could destroy them as easily as I can rip up my next piece of junk mail. I’m so fucking sick of that situation dictating my life and my relationships. I’m so goddamn fucking sick of the hold her sorry ass still has over me after four years.

She won’t hold me back any longer. Of this I’m sure. When we play the Broncos this weekend, I’m dragging my ass to my sister’s apartment and I’m going to talk to Lucy. I’m going to get my closure and say goodbye to the past.

Because that’s when I can look at Macey with the respect she fucking deserves.

Maybe.

Maybe, if she tells Mitch where to drag
his
sorry ass to, then I’ll be able to.

But hell. She’s at my fucking mom’s house. Not his. She was curled around me last night, not him. She was crying my motherfucking name into my motherfucking shoulder last night. Not his into his.

Jesus fucking Christ. Mom can sit and say to me that love is simple all she wants, but it isn’t. Love is a maze fucking full of indecipherable and nonsensical turns, and even when you’ve made them all, there’s no guarantee you won’t hit a dead end.

“Jack?” Macey says softly from the doorway.

I turn my face toward her. “C’mere.”

Slowly, she walks toward me. I open my legs and she steps between them, her hands falling lightly on my shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good, baby,” I reply quietly, my arms tight around her waist.

“No, you’re not.” She pushes at me. “I’m not stupid, Jack.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m going to fly to Denver a day earlier,” I confess, my eyes on hers. “So I can see Lucy.”

Macey takes a deep breath. “All right.”

“All right? That it?”

“What can I say? My ex practically cornered me into a make-out session only days ago. I don’t have a right to tell you not to see yours.”