Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (24 page)

W
hiskey is quick
.

Whiskey is the shroud that buries the demons and smooths over the cracks in my soul.

I knock back God-knows what number of drinks of the night before I slam the empty glass down on the bar. I’m staggering; wasted and half out of my mind.

Except it’s not helping like I want it to.

I’m going to be a father.

Holy fuck.

Me - a dad. Me, the hard-drinking, panty-dropping party animal. Me, the professional man-child who never even
knew
his own dad.

It’s a fucking terrifying thought, and I know damn well London’s thinking the same thing.

And hell, I might be furious right now at her just shoving me away like the, but I can’t even really blame her. I mean,
look at me
. I’m a train-wreck of an adult with more money than sense, an alcohol problem I refuse to acknowledge, and so many notches on my bedpost that I’ve lost fucking count.

What fucking sane woman
would
want me to have anything to do with a baby?

The thought is bitter as I swallow it back, chasing it with more whiskey.

I mean, shit, how the fuck else was this going to end? There was no happy ever after for whatever it was between London and I, and I think we both damn well knew that.

A kid doesn’t change that. Hell, you’ve gotta be an idiot to think it will.

This whole thing started as a fling - forbidden and illicit, which is what I think we both liked about it. It was all surface, and it was something we could bolt from when we had to.

Except this ain’t the time for bolting. Holy fuck, I mean we’re going to have a
kid
. I know the classic professional athlete thing to do here
would
be to bolt - to cut her a fucking check, take the hit, and move right on with my life.

Shit, I’d hardly be the first guy in pro-football to knock a girl up and leave.

But the thought sears inside of me like a hot match, burning me and making me furious. Because even though I know that
should
be me, it isn’t. And it’s not just some sort of bullshit abandonment issues from my own dad bailing before I was even born.

It’s her.

It’s that the thought of leaving
her
like that and walking away from whatever we had slices through me like a knife.

But I had no business with a girl like that. Shit, why would I
want
to be with a girl like that? Someone who gets up in my game and questions me? Someone who gives my shit right back to me?

Someone more than just the “yes” girls I’ve been with for as long as I can remember?

Why on
Earth
would I ever have found that appealing?

The “yes” girls are easy; simple. The groupies and the club sluts and the star-fuckers are
predictable
; there’s no “game” involved. Smile, charm them, watch the panties drop and have my damn way with them before I’m out the door and onto the next.

That’s it.

And for a guy like me, that’s all I’ve ever needed, and certainly all I’ve ever wanted. Which makes my involvement with a girl like London make no sense at all.

Stuck up; all numbers, all brain and all stats.

No heart.

I grit my teeth as I slug back the next whiskey the bartender slides my way.

That’s bullshit, and you know it.

And of course I know it, but it’s what I’ve been telling myself all night as I keep drinking, trying to drown her out of my head.

I’m getting drunk faster than I was before, and I realize it’s at least partially because I just wasn’t drinking much around her - like there just wasn’t that voice in my head pushing me to dull out the world a little more.

Guess
she
was what I needed.

Guess
she
was everything I needed.

Her and our unborn child.

I drown that thought with another shot of whiskey, followed by another.

Being with her and thinking those thoughts were a fantasy.

Fucking pretend.

This
is who I am, I think to myself as I turn to lean against the bar, letting the roar of the bar crowd and the blasting music wash over me. I glance towards the group of my new teammates I’ve opted to go out with tonight, all of us wearing team jerseys because it’s some sort of pre-season thing the Bulls do on the last night out before training really gets going.

Some of the cuties surrounding my new team turn my way, smiling eagerly and hungrily at me as they break away to head my way.

“So, Jason says you’ve got a great new condo we should take this party to,” one says, her hands sliding over my arm.

Yeah,
this
is who I am, letting the alcohol and the noise and the hungry, needy eyes of the girls wash over me.

Wild, reckless; a man on the edge.

Hard drinker.

Hard lover.

Fucking, football, and avoiding responsibility.
That’s
me, and it’s what I shoulda just stuck with.

I’m no father material, that’s fucking obvious.

This is me
, I tell myself again, the words sounding even more empty the more times I say it as I allow myself to be dragged into the madness of the crowd.

* * *

L
ater
, I’m spinning. I’m out of control; wild and free and in my total element.

And I hate it.

I’m seeing double as someone I don’t even know passes me another drink, telling me how awesome I am.

Fuck that, I’m not awesome.

Awesome would’ve been holding onto the girl - the only one that mattered. Awesome would’ve been
being
the man she’d need to be a father to his own child.

No, I’m not awesome.

But I am
me
, and it looks like that’s gonna have to do.

There’s a girl whispering shit into my ear, her hands on my thigh, her lips against my neck.

I don’t want this.

I just want to get the fuck out of here. But here isn’t even just this club.

I want to get out of my own world - out of my mind and out of the slicing feeling in my heart.

At some point, I’m saying yes when one of the guys mentions again that we should take the party back to my place.

Fuck it, why not.

It’s a blur as I realize I’m leaving the bar with two girls on my arms.

Who the fuck
are
you, I want to say to myself.

The car keys are heavy in my hand.

So fucking heavy.

The whole world is spinning as I stand there next to my SUV, the girls laughing and telling me to hurry so we can go back to my place.

But I’m just staring at those keys.

I look up into the reflection in the truck window and instead of myself, I see him.

I see Brandon.

He’s shaking his head slowly, telling me no.

Don’t do this.

Don’t go this way.

Don’t you dare fucking follow me.

I have to
, I want to say.

I’ve tried the other way. I’ve tried going good, and finding the girl who eased the pain and made me feel whole again.

It didn’t take, because that’s not me. That was never going to
be
me.

This
is me.

The bad boy.

The party animal.

The give-no-fucks, devil-may-care
me.

I’m Holden fucking Cade.

I make my own rules.

I’m putting the keys into the door in a daze when there’s a clap on my shoulder.

“Hey man, our ride’s over here.”

It’s one of my teammates, looking about as drunk as I am. He jerks his head towards a couple of cabs sitting by the door to the bar.

“We’re cabbing it, bro!” He gives me a strange look. “Were you seriously about to
drive,
you crazy fuck?”

I blink.

Yes.

I say something stupid; a nonchalant shrug and a “of course not” before I force a grin to my face.

But that cold shroud, that moment of
giving up
is still there as we all head out. And it’s still there back at my place - the empty, cold, dead feeling inside. There’s music pounding from my stereo, drinks being poured, and half naked girls dancing around the living room.

But I’m not even here. I’m barely seeing any of it.

I feel numb.

There’s more hooting and hollering from the crowd as the whole thing starts to just spin out of control. Girls are stripping down to panties and nothing else, and even some of the guys are yanking off jerseys as the entire dance party starts to move quickly in the direction of “orgy.”

And I should be king of this court. I should
love
this - the wildness of it, the debauchery of it.

I don’t. Not at all.

Because I’d trade this whole “kingdom” for her and the life us plus one more could be, and I know that now.

Two topless girls - a blonde and a gorgeous Asian girl - shriek as they jump onto the couch where I’m sitting, yanking me from my thoughts.

“You wanna show us your room, Holden?” the blonde says, biting her lip coyly, her pert young tits pressing into my jersey.

Old Holden would be all over this. Old Holden would be telling them to grab a friend first before heading back to my room and losing myself in the sweet emptiness of it all.

The new me - the one that just got told he’s going to be a fucking
dad
not five hours before just stares at them, blinking.

You’re someone’s CHILD,
I want to tell her.

“Maybe later,” I growl.

“Awww, c’mon, baby,” the other one says with a pout.

Baby.

Fuck, I can’t do this.

I need to get out of here.

I
need
to find London, and tell her I can change, and that there’s more to me than all this bullshit.

I stand, and immediately almost fall over.

Fuck, I’m wasted.

I steady myself as the two girls giggle on the couch behind me.

“Ooo, easy there, baby.”

That
fucking
word again.

They’re both laughing as they paw at me, dragging me back down to the couch.

“Stop it,” I mumble, blinking through my hazy mind as the Asian girl starts to pull my jersey up my torso.

“Aww, someone’s grouchy,” blondie says, trying to kiss my neck.

“Jesus fucking Christ, get off me,” I hiss, lurching to my feet again.

The doorbell rings.

“I need to get that.”

“You
need
to take us back to your room and show us what the legendary Holden Cade can do,” blondie says teasingly.

The doorbell buzzes again.

“C’mon, Holden!” Her friend pouts, standing and pulling at my shirt again.

All around me, the party is just melting into hedonism. A couple of guys are cheering as two of the topless girls start to make out as they sway to the music, and off in the corner, one of my new linebackers has his hand down the front of some girl’s panties as she rocks her hips into him. Jason, my half-back, is over in a chair by one of my floor-length windows with a hot little brunette bouncing up and down on his lap and I see a handful of other teammates and girls heading for bedrooms.

I need to get out of here.

The two girls are still pulling at my goddamn shirt when the fucking doorbell goes off again.

“Fuck,
take it
,” I growl, slipping my jersey over my head and tossing it at them. They laugh like I’m hilarious, but I just scowl as I storm across my condo for the front door.

“Yeah, what-”

Oh.

It’s London.

London with her lip caught between her teeth and her big blue eyes looking up at me. She frowns slightly at the sound of music and laughter coming from behind me before she seems to notice I’m not wearing a shirt and her frown deepens.

“Um, is this a bad time?”

“No!” I say quickly. The alcohol is buzzing through me, making my skin hot as I step out into the hallway and pull the door shut behind me. “No, seriously no.”

She raises a brow at my shirtless chest.

I cringe and clear my throat, swaying slightly as the booze rushes through my veins.

“It’s this…thing.” I shake my head. “It’s stupid. It’s like a team tradition I guess. Or something.”

Jesus I sound like an idiot.

London shakes her head.

“Look, I just - I wanted to apologize for earlier.”

“Don’t,” I say stepping closer to her. “Look, I’ve been thinking so much about it all and-”

“Hang on, let me finish,” she says quietly, her eyes darting across mine as she takes a step back from me.

“There’s a
lot
going on right now, and a lot of choices I have to make, and…” She sighs as she trails off, looking at the floor. “Look, I’m not asking you to be a part of this or anything. I mean I don’t even know what I’m
doing
with this-”

“London.”

Her eyes drag back up to mine. And I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her how I feel, and tell her that I’m ready to be an adult. I want to tell her I’m just as freaked the fuck out as her, but that I’m
here
for her - whatever it fucking takes.

And I want to tell her words I’ve never spoken before, and I’m ready to take the leap I know the man in me needs to take-