Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (34 page)

“But you
are
going to help, aren’t you?”

“Against my better judgment. I always was a sucker for your bullshit.”

He smiles. “You were. Remember that time you told Mrs. Moser her cat had escaped so we could steal that apple pie off her back window?”

“I can’t believe she bought it.”

“That pie was fucking incredible.”

“Worth the beating Pops gave us later.”

“Every painful minute of it.”

The conversation stops. We were inseparable back in Rosie. We were shits, the worst kind of teenagers, but we had a good time. I don’t know how either of our parents handled us. The thought of having my own kid one day scares me to death. If they turn out to be even half the handful I was, I’m in for serious fucking trouble.

Josh gets real quiet before he speaks again. “There’s something else, Jen.”

I can’t possibly imagine what could be worse.

“Do I need to know?”

“Yes.”

He remains quiet. It’s scaring the shit out of me. I shake him again. “Josh, what the fuck is it?”

“Scarlet.”

My heart stops. “What about her?”

My grip tightens on his shoulders. “What the fuck did you do? If you touched—”

He holds my arms. “No, but I did something horrible and you should know.”

I shake him harder. “What the fuck did you do?!”

He shrugs me off, standing and moving up a step. “I set up something at your apartment, something to break you guys apart.”

My patience is slipping, fingers tightening into a ball by my side. “Tell me!”

He puts his head down, taking another step higher away from me. “I sent a text from your phone.”

“How’d you get hold of my fucking phone?”

“I took it from your bag at training.”

“Why?”

He puts his hands out in surrender. “There’s more.”

I stop, a second away from knocking his block off.

“I sent a text telling Scarlet to meet you at your apartment.”

The fucking cheek of this is unbelievable. “
My
apartment?”

“I’ve still got your spare keys. I had Carolina slip inside, make Scarlet think you were cheating on her.”

I rush up the stairs and grab him by the collar. “What do you mean? How?”

“I told her to use her imagination.”

I can’t stop the rage now. It bubbles up from the darkest place inside me, boils on the brink of eruption. “Let me get this straight: You basically hacked my phone and then smuggled your whore into my fucking apartment so she could fuck with Scarlet’s head and push her away from me?”

He nods, sullen. “Yes.”

I picture Scarlet walking in to that and my restraint leaves. Holding Josh’s collar, I whip my arm up and punch him hard in the face, holding him there and belting him a second time, the flood of blood that follows from his mouth and nose splattering against my shirt and face.

His head lolls in front of me, his body limp in my grip. My fist hovers still ringing from the punches. I’m shaking. I could fucking finish him, but I let my grip go, let him fall to the steps and roll to the bottom holding his face.

I jump down beside him, cheek pressed into the pavement and the coppery scent of blood heavy in the air. “You fucking speak to me again and I’ll break it again, break your fucking face until there’s nothing left.”

I kick him hard in the ribs, actually consider stomping on him, but I somehow manage to walk away with knuckles bleeding and my eyes literally bulging from my head with fury.

The realization sinks in and it’s cold, arctic.

Whatever Josh and I had is over.

I no longer have a brother.

SCARLET

It’s dark against the curb. I’m caught in a pocket of shadow between two street lights, the odd car rushing by feet away but unable to see me.

One of my hands is up on the pavement, fragments of glass caught between my fingers. For the longest time I don’t dare move, given the pain in my side and back. I lift my fingers, the window of Jensen’s apartment so close but impossible to reach.

I’m drifting somewhere in the midpoint between consciousness and utter black. My head doesn’t even feel attached to my body, a hot line of blood forcing one eye closed.

The driver didn’t even stop. They powered away as soon as I rolled off their hood.

The sickening crunch of my head hitting the windscreen, the world spinning, and my limbs flung out wide—I squeeze my eyes tight to block it out, but each time I think back to the impact hot and cold flushes through my system, the shock still present.

I shake, my cheek against the surface of the road, a rat darting out from a drain.

“Help,” I manage to get out, but even this is a struggle, my voice mousey and small, barely audible. Not a single person has passed. How long has it been? Minutes? Hours?

I try to move and the pain strikes hard, forcing me back to prone supplication.

I drift further away, the apartment buildings becoming fuzzy boxes, the edge of the curb losing its sharpness and clarity.
Concussion,
I think.

Time leaves too, becomes abstract.

I’m sure there is someone standing there, a hand on the side of my neck, but I’m too distant to care.

Faintly, I hear the wail of sirens. Crimson light surrounds me, forces me to squint and retreat internally.

There are more voices, clearer now, strong hands lifting me from the ground, and then I’m floating, a cloud under my back as the light becomes far too great to bear.

*

The paced
beep, beep
of a machine, the smell of bleach and sheets washed one too many times—these are the things I notice first.

It’s takes effort to open my eyes, but I manage it, everything suddenly becoming clear.

“Polly?” I whisper. My throat’s so dry I can only just get it out.

She lifts a glass with straw to my lips, tells me to drink. I do, the water acid.

She looks more serious than usual.

Jensen is sitting next to her towards the end of the bed. He shares the same look of concern, and for a moment I have absolutely no idea why until recent events come hurtling back.

I look away from him, remembering Carolina.

Polly places the glass down and takes my hand. “You were in an accident, hon. Do you remember?”

I look down at my arms. They’re not in casts or strung up—a good sign. “Yes,” I breathe. I sound like I’ve got a mouthful of marbles.

Polly squeezes my hand. “The fucker who hit you didn’t stop, but the cops have a good description of the car from the street cam. They’ll get him.”

I don’t really care at the moment. I shift, a string of pain lighting up my side. “How… bad?”

Jensen remains the quiet observer.

Polly scoots forward a little closer. “Considering you were hit by a car, you’re lucky. Nothing’s broken. You’ve got a nasty cut on your head there, little bit of concussion, couple of bruised ribs, but nothing that’s going to keep you out of action for too long. You’re a tough little thing.”

I want to smile, but I’m too weak to make the corners of my mouth lift.

Jensen’s mere presence is pissing me off. Maybe it’s irrational, but I want him gone.

Why
her
? It was bad enough seeing her at Josh’s place that night. Now she wants to take Jensen, too? The way she smiled when she said she’d been seeing him for months, the nerve to ask me to stay, that we’re alike.

It’s all his fault.

I lift an arm, a little shocked by the pulse oximeter attached to my finger. I aim right at him. “Go,” I say.

Polly stops and looks to Jensen before looking back to me. She seems confused. “You want Jensen to go?”

“Go!” I try to shout, my voice coming through a strainer, painful.

He stays there silent, watching on.

I take a rattling breath and sit up, something attached to my chest unclipping and the monitor sent into an alarmed panic.

“Go!” I’m screaming, dry tears forming in the corner of my eyes, Polly letting the grip ease on my hand.

I swing at the air. “Leave!”

Jensen stands. “I can explain, Scar. Let me.”

I collapse back, too tired to argue.

Polly stands, speaking to him quietly. “I don’t think she wants to see you right now.”

He leans out around her head. “Scarlet, please.”

I turn my head away, watch the curtains as the alarm continues to ring out.

A nurse rushes in, sees Polly trying to push Jensen out the door. She looks disapprovingly at him. “You need to go.”

In the window I see Jensen shaking his head. “It’s not what you think,” he says into the room, raising his voice to be heard of the manic
dah, dah, dah
of the alarm.

Polly herds him out of the door, turning. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

They leave, the nurse mumbling “never trusted that one” as she goes about reattaching the sensor to my chest. “Take it from me,” she says, leaning over the bed, “boys like your friend there are fun for a while, but they’re never good for you in the long run.”

I close my eyes, only wanting to sleep as she tucks the sheets tight around my chest.

*

Polly shoves another spoonful of Jello into my mouth. “I really don’t know why you love this stuff so much. You could build a house with it.”

I swallow it down, my throat still a little sore but in general much better. I’m sitting up by myself, the pain easing in my ribs.

Polly scoops up another spoonful. I stop her before she gets it to mouth. “Does Mom know?”

“Jensen called her.”

“He did?”

“Called your mom, your work, even your super. He had to go down to the station for a while, leave a statement, but he’s been here ever since.”

“He’s still here?”

Polly puts the spoon down, the Jello twerking on top. “Yep, slept in the waiting room a floor down last night after the Colonel kicked him out of this wing.

“The Colonel?”

“That nurse. You know, the one that looks like she’d be better off as a prison warden or guest-starring on
Supernanny
.”

I sink back into the pillow. “Right.”

“Jensen’s the one who found you.”

“I figured.”

“For someone who saved your life, you didn’t exactly seem appreciative.”

I swallow, try to gather moisture in my mouth before reeling out the full story. “Do you remember me telling you about the girl I found at Josh’s place, the soccer groupie?”

“Latino, weird piercing, mega-boobs, something-something.”

“That’s the one. She was there last night at Jensen’s apartment.”

“What, hanging out?”

“Naked, in his bed, legs spread wider than the Hudson.”

Polly looks down at the Jello. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’.”

“Was he there?”

“No.”

“You were just dropping in on him?”

“He called me over for dinner.”

“Wait,” says Polly, trying to piece it together in her head. “Jensen called you over for dinner and made sure he wasn’t there so you’d find this groupie girl instead? Why would he do that?”

I shrug. “Maybe he wanted me to.”

“You sure? Doesn’t sound right.”

“How did she get in then?”

“Good point,” Polly concedes, “but have you talked to him about it?”

“I was a little busy napping by the curb. Since when do you defend him?”

Polly twirls her hand in the air. “If he cheated on you, I’m not defending him. I’ll snip his dick off and make you a nice little cock necklace, but maybe there’s more to this. Sounds strange.”

“You
are
defending him.”

“I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt just like I would anyone.”

I look at her suspiciously. “Is this the same Polly who took a baseball bat to a former boyfriend’s brand new Corvette because she thought he was screwing around when really he was visiting his sick mother?”

She smiles. “Wow, you’re going there? Okay, so maybe I’m not always completely rational, but I just do not see Jensen cheating on you like this. He’s like really, really into you, Scar. I’m talking Romeo and Juliet give-me-the-vial kind of love.”

“A little dark, don’t you think?”

“I’m on a Leo binge.”

“
The Beach
is what you want.”

Polly licks her lips. “Take me to Thighland, Mr. DiCaprio.”

“Back to the subject,” I continue. “What do
you
think I should do?”

“Let me talk to him. Put Dr. Polly on the case.”

“Fine, but if he’s lying…”

She gives me a salute. “I won’t let you down, Your Highness.”

*

“It was all Josh’s doing,” Polly starts. I’ve already heard her protests about being the messenger, but I don’t want to see Jensen yet. Seeing Carolina hurt, hurt a hell of a lot more than what happened outside. I can’t see any way he could possibly explain it. The way I figure it, she had a key, thought she’d surprise him and, boom, I showed up instead. She didn’t even mind.

I hate being surprised. I was an anxious kid, loathed birthday parties where people jumped out from behind the sofa as soon as you came through the door. Seeing her? The worst possible surprise. I’d rather see a head in a box.

“What does Josh have to do with this?” I question.

“He had a spare key to Jensen’s place. He gave it to Carolina to let herself in.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He wants to break you guys up, Scar. Maybe he wants you back, maybe he can’t stand you being with his brother. I don’t know what goes on inside the eternal mystery that is the mind of a man, read: their womb brooms, but it kind of makes sense.”

“I don’t know. Sounds convenient.”

“The text from Jensen?” Polly continues.

“It came from his phone.”

“Yes, because Josh stole it out of his bag at training.”

“Jensen said that?”

“He did.”

“And you believe him?”

“Weird to say it, but I do.”

I consider it, but then I remember how Carolina spoke to me. She knew things.

Over the last hour the pain has really ramped up in my ribs and back. Even my leg’s in on the action, my whole body an aching hell. I roll a painkiller across my lap. “Look, I’m really tired. They’re letting me out tomorrow, and I want to get a little rest before I face the world. You should go home too, get some shuteye.”

As if on cue, Polly yawns. “Have to admit, I kind of want to.”

“Go,” I tell her, far more gently than I did Jensen two days ago. I can’t believe he’s still out there. Must be driving the staff insane.

“Alright,” Polly relents, “but think about it, okay? Keep an open mind.”

I nod. “I will.”

With Polly gone, I try to rest, but the pain’s bad. I toss and turn all night, awakened on and off by nurses going about their rounds. I’m restless, annoyed, my patience slipping. By morning my eyes are heavy and swollen. I just want to leave.

It feels funny to stand again, to be wearing clothes that don’t feature a hole in the back. I sign a bunch of forms, nod distantly as the doctor runs me through my meds. All I can think about is getting home to bed.

I have a taxi called and head to the elevators.

The doors open and I step out, but it’s the wrong floor.

I see Jensen sprawled out over two seats. He spots me and springs up, rushing for the doors. I can’t deal with him now.

I hit the button to close the doors, but he manages to slip a hand in, stepping inside and hitting the emergency stop.

I try to reach around him, but he stands in the way. “Did Polly talk to you?”

Another stab of pain right below my shoulders. “Yes.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. I’m tired. I want to get home.”

“Let me take you.” He’s speaking fast, the desperation clear.

“I’m fine.” I reach for the button again, but he dodges right.

“Do you honestly think I would do that to you?”

I’m mad. I
want
to lash out. “She was very convincing, Jensen. How do you think it made me feel coming into your apartment and seeing her like that, hear her talking about what you guys get up to when I’m not around?”