Blindsided (33 page)

Of course Corey just threw an interception. I mean, he is Corey Jackson, after all. Interception is his middle name.

“If they’d run it instead of passing, they’d be back on first down!” I thump my hand against the wall separating us and the sideline. We’re sitting behind the Vipers, unsurprisingly, and we have a perfect view of the action.

“Run, run, run!” Cole yells along with thousands of other people.

I look to the sky as Reid makes the first down. “Fucking hell. It’s a clusterfuck.”

“They got the down,” he shrugs. “Look—it’s first and goal. Not even Corey can fuck this up.”

I watch as the ball is fumbled. “You were saying?”

There are only a few more plays until the end of the game. I think it as Cole says it, and I nod in agreement. I know. I also know that this game doesn’t actually mean anything, but I really, really hate losing.

Especially because I can look at Corey and I know that his head isn’t in the game. It’s probably somewhere with those fucktard photographers outside.

“He looks like shit!” Cole shouts into my ear as we finally score the touchdown.

“I know.” My eyes follow Corey’s number-eight jersey as he walks back toward the team. “He was bugged by the media before the game.”

Cole shakes his head. “Shit, Lee. He has that all the time, even if it is kind of fucking crazy right now for you two.”

So, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Yes, it’s crazy. Yes, it’s always on my mind, And yes, it is taking its toll on me. I thought that, today, they’d lay off a little since they’d gotten the information they’d wanted. But they haven’t. It’s just as bad—if not worse.

Mom’s agent is even managing the situation for me because, well, I haven’t needed a manager until now. She’s fielding all the calls and telling them to fuck the hell off in a far more polite way than I ever could.

I grab Cole’s arm. “Do me a favor, okay?”

“What?” he looks at me.

“On the count of three, yell, ‘Get your shit together, Jackson.’ Okay?”

“Is this some kind of freaky foreplay you do?”

“Cole! I’m serious.”

“He won’t hear you.”

I watch as Corey stands. “We have to try. Please?”

“All right, all right. Now?”

“One, two...”

We yell it in unison, and he’s right—it’s completely drowned out by the crowd. But Corey’s step falters, just barely, and his head turns toward us.

“He heard, he heard!” I excitedly tug on Cole’s sleeve.

“Sorry. What was that? You deafened me.” He rubs his ear.

I laugh and let go, bouncing on the balls on my feet. This time, when the ball is snapped and Corey throws, Reid runs it twenty-five yards before he’s tackled.

The rest of the game goes like this. Over and over, they throw, they get first down, they score. Our defense shuts down the offense, and our offense destroys their defense.

And in minutes, it’s all over, and with one preseason game left, the Vipers are undefeated.

“Uh. Shit.” Cole scrolls on his phone.

“What?” I lean over and see that the screen is full of text from an article.

He puts the device in front of me and taps the screen. I blink to adjust my eyes to the text, read, and freeze.

“Shit.” My eyes rise to meet Cole’s. Then they move toward Corey as he’s leaving the field. “We need to go. Now.”

I hug my knees to my chest on the hood of his car. It all makes so much sense now. The hacker released a second batch of photos, and there are two or three of Corey. I have no idea what they look like or what kind of context they were taken in, but it doesn’t matter.

I just need to know that he’s okay because, dammit, that’s what matters. My heart physically dropped when I read those words, because despite everything, I’ve come to care about this guy more than I really ever thought possible.

A door slams and male voices drift across the parking lot. I look up and see Corey and a few of his teammates walking toward the cars.

“There’s a chick on your car,” someone says, and Corey lifts his head.

His eyes meet mine in the afternoon light, but that’s the only light there is. His eyes, normally so full of life, are dull and shadowed. His brows are furrowed, the expression only adding to the darkness of his gaze, and the downturn of his lips makes me want to tease them with my fingers until they curl up again.

I want to see the cocky glint in his eyes and the smug smirk he loves so much. That I love so much. That’s him. This isn’t my Corey at all.

He stops in front of the car and takes a deep breath. “Leah, I don’t… I…”

I slide down and slam into his body before he can carry on. My arms wrap around his waist tightly and I bury my face in the side of his neck.
I feel his pain.
He doesn’t even need to drop his bag and curl his arms around me the way he is. I feel it so acutely.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper. “I don’t care.”

“I didn’t even know they existed,” he starts.

I shake my head and look up at him. Then I slide my hand up to his face and cup his cheek. “Not here, okay?”

Corey looks around as if he’s forgotten where we are. “All right. I have to go to my parents’ place.” He releases me and throws his bag in the trunk. He stops and looks at me. Slowly, he raises his hand and runs it through his hair. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Dumbass,” I say softly, stepping toward him again. I reach up and press my lips against his firmly. More firmly than I ever have—answering the unasked question that’s on his lips.

I’m not leaving now. I’m not leaving in a few days when I have the option.

I want to stay.

“Got it,” he replies quietly, leaning in for one more kiss. “I can take you home if you want.”

I stare at him for a second, blinking. He’s so cute. Grabbing the car door, I open it and then climb in. It slams behind me as I reach for my seatbelt.

“Got it,” he repeats, getting in next to me and jamming his key into the ignition. The Range Rover roars to life and he tears out of the parking lot without a word to his teammates.

I want to know how he knows about the pictures, because if he knew when he texted me, he’d have told me, surely. I want to know what pictures they are and why he took them and why he never mentioned it when the first images were leaked only days ago.

But he doesn’t want to talk at all. Not if the harsh set of his jaw and whiteness of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel are anything to go by.

Instead of asking, I sit back, set my hands in my lap, and stare out of the windshield as we drive toward his parents’ house in Calabasas.

After what seems like ages, we arrive at the majestic house and I follow him out of the car. Corey walks ahead of me, his shoulders visibly tense, and pushes the front door open.

“Hello?”

“Corey?” his mom calls. Her voice is followed by footsteps, and in seconds, she appears in the large hallway. “Oh!” She runs forward and wraps her arms around him. She’s only five foot something, and against his six-foot-plus, muscular frame, she looks positively tiny. But she still embraces him with the force of a mother’s love.

“All right, Mom. I’m okay,” he lies, trying to extract himself from her. “Did Dad speak to Neil?”

“Don’t you lie to me, Corey Jackson. I can see that you’re not okay,” she admonishes him. “And yes. You don’t have to do a thing. Your father is figuring it all out.” She turns to me, and I smile weakly. “Leah, honey. I wish we were meeting again under different circumstances.” She hugs me as tight as she just did Corey.

“Me, too,” I reply, meeting Corey’s eyes over her shoulder.

His mom straightens and sighs. “It’s a shame the first girl he brings home has to be under a shitstorm.”

I raise an eyebrow at Corey. He shrugs, indifferent, and somehow, I don’t think it would be a much difference response if this visit weren’t shrouded in darkness.

“Come and sit down,” his mom says, guiding us both away. “Your dad’s in his man-cave, as he calls it.”

“Man-cave?” I question.

“Games consoles, dartboard, pool table, bar—that sort of thing.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I ignore it, mostly.”

I step closer to Corey and brush my fingers along the back of his. He snatches my hand and squeezes my fingers, the tightness telling me everything I need to know about his mood.

He releases me and greets his dad, who hands him a beer and tells him to sit on a large leather couch. After kissing my cheek, Justin sits me next to Corey with a light shoulder shove.

“Laura, hon, can you get you and Leah a glass of wine?”

“Oh, I’m okay,” I insist.

Laura smiles but hands me one anyway. “My son would have me believe that about him.”

I smile slightly. Maybe she can see on my face the worry I’m trying to keep inside. Because I am worried. For Corey. I’m mad, too. Hell, I’m real fucking mad, because whoever this hacker prick is, they’ve targeted two of the most important people in my life.

But Corey seems far more affected than Cole ever did.

“Well? Where’d they come from?” Corey asks. “Because I’ve sure as fuck never stood in front of a mirror and snapped a picture naked.”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Jason says, sitting forward and twirling his beer bottle between his fingers. “My friend who called me did some digging during the game, and according to him, there are three of you lying in bed. The angle suggests that you weren’t the person to take the photos…”

“So you believe me?” Corey asks, looking between his mom and dad.

“The fact that you’re sleeping in them with your hands empty is another indicator.” Jason cracks a small smile, but it drops quickly. “The question is who did it. Any ideas?”

I slide my hand beneath Corey’s and my fingers between his.

He shakes his head. “No fuckin’ idea. Probably someone I met and took home…”

His mom coughs, and Corey looks at her.

“If you don’t wanna hear it…”

When she doesn’t say anything else, he goes on.

“Shit, Dad, I never had a chick there the next morning. It could have been anyone leaving in the night.”

“But weren’t only celebrities hacked?” I look between them all. “How many of those did you take home?”

He shrugs. “This is L.A. I don’t know who the hell is a celebrity or who isn’t, much less names. They could have been on my phone, uploaded, then deleted for all I know.”

Jason rubs his fingertips over his forehead. “I see. Well, I have Neil pulling a case together now with many of his other clients, so all I can say to you two is to be careful.” He meets our eyes, one after the other. “Because of who you are, son, you’re going to be their new plaything. And, Leah? If the media can dish up dirt on you, they will.”

I swallow, unable to meet Corey’s eyes. “I know. They love a scandal,” I say softly, ignoring the light squeeze of my hand.