Playing For Keeps (28 page)

Jacey, what’s wrong with you? You ditched
Mike for what? A life that hasn’t made you happy in a long
time.

I didn’t ditch Mike.

Well, you’re both acting like you did.
He’s a rejected man if I ever saw one…

“So you’re just giving up.” Millie’s comment
brought her back to the present.

“What am I supposed to do? Stalk him?”

“Maybe. A few meager phone calls sound like a
half-hearted attempt to me. He probably thinks so, too.”

Confused, Jacelyn just shook her head.

“Gage says he’s miserable.”

She tossed down the folder. “He can’t be too
miserable. For this week’s game, Kyle went down a day early to
babysit Ty Saturday night. Mike had a date. A pretty brunette, Kyle
said.”

Millie waved off the remark. “You could go to
the games with all of us. You’ve missed three.”

“No. I’m not groveling.” She looked at the
package by her purse.
At least not yet.

“You know, I’d accept that if you weren’t
looking like something out of the latest zombie movie these days.
Think you can tolerate being in my wedding?”

“Of course.” Her smile this time was genuine.
“I’m happy for you.” She glanced at the folders. “We needed good
news after finalizing all this. It breaks my heart to see our
program cut to shreds.”

Thank goodness, Millie let Jacelyn change the
subject; her friend shook her head at the stacks before them. One
pile was almost a foot high. The other had five folders in it. “I
feel bad, too. We gave money to four times as many kids last
year.”

“But there’ll be internships for the
jocks.”

“Does it still hurt so much that Kyle’s one
of them?”

About to tell Millie that everything hurt
these days, she was distracted by a knock on the door. Lew
Cavanaugh stood in the open archway. His usually reserved face was
bright with animation. “Hello, ladies.” He held up a FedEx letter.
“I have something for you.”

Dropping down in her seat, Jacelyn felt the
familiar exhaustion overcome her. “Good news, Lew?” She didn’t know
how many more negative things she could handle right now.

“The best.” He crossed the room and gave her
the letter. “Read what’s inside.”

Jacelyn slipped out a sheet of paper and a
white envelope fell into her lap. The stationary told her the note
was from the Buckland Bulls. It was addressed to Lew.

“Read it out loud to Millie.” Again the
strange animation in the president’s voice.

“‘Dear President Cavanaugh. It is with great
pleasure that I inform you of the Bulls’ campaign for contributions
to your Outreach Scholarship Fund. Enclosed is a check made up of
donations from players, staff and owners. Given the success of this
drive, we plan to continue it throughout the year, and in years to
come, as a token of our investment in the educational program at
Beckett College.’“ Jacelyn felt her heart turn over in her chest.
She closed her eyes and tried to quell the emotion this news
brought out in her.

“It’s signed by the owner of the Bulls,” Lew
told them. “Look at the amount.”

Her hands shaking, she opened the envelope.
“Oh, my God.”

Over her shoulder Millie said, “Wow. We’ll be
able to do even better than last year.” She snatched the letter
from Jacelyn’s hands and reread it. “Um, Jacey, look who he copied
in.”

“Who?”

“The fund-drive coordinator.”

She shook her head, knowing what Millie was
going to say. “Don’t tell me.”

“It’s our friend Mike Kingston.” This from
Lew. He frowned. “I thought you’d be happy about this,
Jacelyn.”

Get it together, girl.
“I am.”

“Why do you look like you’re going to
cry?”

“Long story, Lew.” When his scowl deepened,
she said, “Well,
I’m
really pleased.”

Pointedly, he looked at the folders. “We’ll
be able to reverse those stacks there.”

Millie grinned. “Uh-huh. But the best thing
is that it’s ongoing. It’s not just a Band-Aid for this year.”

Jacelyn couldn’t speak past the lump in her
throat.

“I’ll leave you to spend all that money.” He
eyed Jacelyn. “This should take some of the edge off having the
Bulls here and in the Sports Studies program, Jacelyn.”

“Yes, of course it does.”

Lew finally left. Millie retrieved her cell
phone from her purse, then sat down beside Jacelyn. She held out
her hand. “Here, try again. You have to thank him.”

Jacelyn gave her a watery smile. By rote, she
punched in Mike’s cell. It rang one, twice, and on the third ring,
he answered. “Yeah, Kingston here.” His voice was rough,
impatient.

“Mike, it’s Jacey.”

“Jacelyn?” A pause. “I didn’t recognize the
number when it came up.”

Obviously that was why he had answered.

“I’m using Millie’s cell phone.”

“I see.”

“We got the money and letter today from the
Bulls. About what you did for the Outreach Program.”

“Mmm.”

“Thank you so much. This means a lot to
me.”

“I’m glad you’re happy. Look, I gotta—”

“Please, talk to me. You haven’t returned any
of my calls.”

A long pause. “I just don’t think there’s
much more to say.”

She glanced at her purse. “Maybe there
is.”

“What?”

“I...” She sighed. Now that she had him, she
was tongue-tied. “I’m sorry about everything.”

“All right. I believe that.”

“I want another chance. With you. For
us.”

“No can do. I’m not settin’ myself up for
that kind of grief again.”

“Mike, please.”

“While I got you on the phone, you should
know I turned down the offer to teach at Beckett in the spring,
too.”

“No. Mike.”

“I gotta go. Apology accepted. We’ll end on
good terms. Goodbye, Jacelyn.”

“Mike—” But the line went dead.

Millie took the cell from her and clicked
off. “It didn’t go so well?”

Jacelyn stared at the phone. “I guess the
King doesn’t believe in those second chances you were talking about
earlier.”

o0o

His wide receivers lined up before him, every
single face stony. Mike addressed them. “We’re gonna run today.
Then catch some passes. Then run some more.”

They exchanged looks. Marcus shook his
head.

“You got a problem with that,
Stormweather?”

Marcus glared at him. “No, sir. Can’t see why
we shouldn’t be runnin’ eight miles a day, particularly since we’re
in such bad shape.”

Mike arched a brow at the sarcastic tone.
“Add a hundred push-ups before the run.”

“Aw, Coach,” another player whined.

“And after,” Mike put in. “Don’t be such
babies. I’ll do them with you.”

There was more grumbling as the guys left the
locker room. Mike followed them out, led them around the track, did
the push-ups and called them for a huddle.

They practiced a half hour longer than
anybody else, and finally broke for the day. Furious with himself,
he did another twenty laps around the field. Maybe if he tired
himself out enough, he’d be able to sleep tonight. Her call this
morning had set him back big-time. He’d just started
not
to think about her every damn minute. Just begun to forget the
sweet rhythm of her voice and the sounds she made when he was
inside her. Then he had to go and take her call. Hell and
damnation. He knew talking to her would throw him into another
tailspin, so he’d erased all her messages without listening to
them, and wouldn’t have answered this morning if he’d known it was
her.

After a scalding shower, he stomped into the
office and found Marc sitting behind his desk, feet up, arms
crossed over his chest. “Making yourself at home, Stormweather?”
Mike asked, slipping on shorts and a T-shirt.

“Nope. I drew the short straw.”

“For what?”

“To come talk to our Coach who turned into a
maniac three weeks ago.”

Mike gave him the sternest look the King
could muster. “I could fine you for insulting a coach.”

“Go ahead. It’s better than having every
wideout on the team quit. Think of it this way, you better listen
to me or you might be bringin’ Johnny Turk back up from the
practice squad.”

“Say what you gotta say, then.”

“You’ve been working us too hard. We won
every game, only made a couple of fumbles or missed passes between
the five of us, and we’re in top condition. So what the hell’s
going on with you?”

He had to get it together. He was letting his
anger at her interfere with everything. Exhausted from yet another
fitful night’s sleep, he sank into a chair. “It’s personal.”

“I figured that. I haven’t seen Dr. Ross at
any games.”

“No.”

“You through?”

“Yeah.”

“She dump you?”

Please talk to me.
“Nope. My
choice.”

Marcus’s brows arched in surprise. “No shit?
We were takin’ bets she dumped you six ways to Sunday.”

“Now that makes me feel a whole lot
better.”

Marc just stared at him.

“It’s complicated. Look, I appreciate your
honesty. I’ll let up on the team. Tell the guys.”

“Okay.” Marc stood and crossed to the door.
When he reached it, he turned back. “Anything I can do, Mike?” The
use of his first name told Mike that his player was addressing him
as a friend.

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

Marc just shook his head.

Mike stayed where he was, staring at the
empty office. Damn it, how the hell did he get here? He never had
women trouble. Usually, he could cut them out of his life without a
backward glance. So long, it’s been nice, have a good life.

But not with Dr. Jacelyn Ross. She’d gotten
under his skin, bad. Which was why it had hurt like a son of a
bitch to hear she’d even
considered
Neil Worthington’s
ultimatum to keep Mike away from Kyle. How dare she even
listen
to the accusation that he was a bad influence on
her son?

Ironically, he and Kyle were closer than
ever. The kid had driven down with Eric for the Bulls’ second home
game, then they’d both come to Cincinnati for the away one. And
Kyle was coming Friday night to spend the weekend with Ty. He’d
even babysat the night of Mike’s date.

What a fiasco that had been. Damn, he’d
thought if he got interested in somebody else, things would be
better. The woman, a friend of Tim Mason’s wife, was nice enough,
pretty enough, but she just wasn’t Jacey. He’d been rotten company
and was embarrassed by it.

Then Eric had cornered him after the last
game...

“She’s miserable.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Then do something about it, man. This is my
sister we’re talking about here.” He’d softened his tone. “Cut her
some slack, Mike. She had it rough after the public humiliation of
what Neil did to her then raising a son all by herself. Is it any
wonder she doesn’t change easily? “

Hell. He stalked to the desk. The phone was
right there. He could call her.

And do what? Change the fact that he’d never
be sure she loved him for who he was? Never be sure she wasn’t just
a little embarrassed to be seen with him? Never be sure she didn’t
see him as an inferior species next to Worthington and Harrington
and all the other academic types? No, he didn’t want that kind of
life. It’d kill him to love her like he did and have her be ashamed
of who he was.

So to keep himself from picking up the phone,
he kicked the wastebasket across the floor.

o0o

In the privacy of the bathroom of her own
home, Jacelyn dipped the stick into the urine sample and checked
her watch. The directions said to wait two minutes. Two minutes to
see if her life would be altered forever.

Exhausted, she dropped down on the toilet
seat to wait. Her period was a whole week late; she was never late.
And she remembered, as if it had happened yesterday, that night
after the Bulls’ farewell party. She had gone to Mike’s, and he’d
taken her upstairs and made tender, exquisite love to her. But,
with all those heightened emotions, they hadn’t used protection.
Oh, God, what had she been thinking? She wasn’t eighteen. She was a
grown woman.

What would she do if the little wand turned
blue? There were alternatives to having a child, but none of those
would be right for her. Besides, she couldn’t quell the tiny bud of
hope, flowering inside her. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to
be pregnant with Mike’s child. Then they’d have no choice but to
work through the rift between them.

Well, time to face the music. Straightening,
she rose and picked up the wand.

It wasn’t blue.

She wasn’t pregnant.

Tears came then. She sat back down and sobbed
into her hands. After she quieted, she swore aloud, “Damn it,”
picked up the package and the wand and flung them into the trash.
Son of a bitch. This was for the best. She was just tired. And
frustrated.

Blindly, she made her way out of the bathroom
and down the hall to her bedroom. It was four in the afternoon;
lying on the bed, she tried to take pleasure in the warm September
air coming in through the window, and the sounds of kids playing
outside, but she couldn’t. She tried thinking about Kyle. He’d be
home at six for dinner. She was cooking for him. Hmm, she’d make
something he’d like. She drifted off...

“Mom?” She heard the voice but turned away
from it. “Mom?” Jacelyn felt a hand on her arm. “Mom, wake up.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes. She could tell
from the angle of the sun that she’d slept a long time. Flipping to
her back, she saw Kyle standing over the bed.

“Hi, honey.” The clock read six-thirty. “I’m
sorry, I must have fallen asleep. I’ll get up and cook now.”

In the shadows of her room, he watched her.
“Mom, what’s going on?”

Oh, God, not now. She didn’t want to talk
about not going to the games, not seeing Mike, hedging about
letting Tyler visit again. That’s all Kyle wanted to discuss these
days.