Race For Love (15 page)

D
erek stared
at the appeal letter in his hands. He'd had his mail forwarded for the duration of the job and he'd been anxiously waiting for this.
Then why don't you open it?
He tapped his fingers over it, willing it to say what he wanted. He knew Kiss was at the track so he had some privacy to deal with this. But instead of getting it over with, he was staring at the envelope, willing the answer to be what he wanted. If they'd granted his appeal, then he could go back to his normal life. Back to the team, his friends, just what he wanted.
Except, it would mean leaving Kisima
.

A part of him hoped that she'd ask him to stay. Ask him not to leave. But his job was over. She was in great shape. Beyond some residual soreness, he had nothing left to do. There was no way he could make Orgasm Giver an official title.

He'd promised her he was staying until her race and he was determined to keep that promise. But he had to go. He had to get back to his life.

He fingered the letter. What if the answer wasn't what he needed? Then what? He still couldn't stay. If it was over in New Orleans, then he had to figure out what the hell to do with the rest of his life. The first thing being, getting off his ass and finding a new job. He'd even work with high school athletes if that's what was called for. And no doubt TJ would leave a favorable recommendation, but he wasn't sure what Kisima would say. Would she see his leaving as abandonment?

Fuck it. One way or another, he needed to know. He held his breath as he tapped the envelope on one of the short sides, then opened it on the other. The sound of tearing filling the silent room. Derek swallowed hard and opened the letter.

"We regret to inform you that your application for appeal has been...." With shaking hands, he let the letter flutter to the table.
Shit
. His heart thundered and his head fogged as the pressure compounded. He'd dared to hope. But now that was gone. What the fuck was he going to do now? How was this his life? He'd always done everything right. One mistake and he'd be paying for it with his dream. Now everything he'd worked for was slipping right out of his grasp and he had no idea how to deal with it.

It took several moments, but his breathing regulated and his brain kicked in. He wasn't giving up. It wasn't in him. He pulled out his cell and called his father. Maybe there was another legal avenue they could go down. Something. There was no way he was giving up just like that.

His father answered on the first ring. "Hey, D3, what's up?"

For a moment, the words caught in his throat and he couldn't speak. But finally the words broke through. "My appeal was denied."

His father's soft expletive said it all. They'd all been operating on the idea that this would blow over. That Kallie would come to her senses and cool off. They'd made a strong argument and put it all out on the table. She really couldn't fire him just because he didn't want to date her. She was trying to be vindictive. "Did they say under what grounds?"

Derek scanned the letter again. "They're using the Keshon situation as their reason to release me from my contract."

"That's bullshit though, that kid didn't disclose the level of his injury because he wanted to play."

There was no other feeling in the world than knowing your family had your back. "Well that's what they're using. Claiming I received special privileges to stamp him for play. They don't even have to prove it. They can suspend and fire me while an investigation plays out. The only piece of good news that the letter delivered is that the terms of separation will remain sealed. Who the fuck knows what that means? Or if they'll keep that to themselves."

There was a creaking of a chair on the other end of the line and Derek could practically see his father leaning back in his worn leather chair. "How do you want to proceed, D3?"

Despite the pit in his stomach, the answer was on the tip of his tongue. There was no world where he would roll over and play dead. "Fight. I want to fight it. She's not going to take my dream away from me."

"All right then." There was a note in his father's voice that said the old man was proud of him. "I'll draft another appeal and file it today. And in the meantime, I think it's time we involved your sister. Let her use her powers for good and for evil."

Delilah was a fixer and a damn good one. If anyone could make him look good and get the real dirt on Kallie, it was her. "Yeah, I'd just hoped I wouldn’t have to do that."

"Well, it seems they're willing to fight dirty. And we're Donovans, we protect our own."

It was time to pull out the big guns. He should have done this sooner instead of trying to only depend on himself. "You're right, Dad. I'll call Dee."

"Derek, we'll handle this. Keep your head up. In the meantime focus on the job you have. It's going well, right?"

"Yeah. Fantastic actually. She's back in the car. Matter of fact, today she's doing test laps."

"That's amazing."

"She's really strong. Doesn't give up on anything. I'm really proud of her. I mean, you should see the way she attacked that track her first time back."

He father was silent for a moment. "Is that a hint of more than admiration I hear in your voice?"

Shit
. "No, Dad. I think I have my hands full already, don't you think?"

"You and I both know that's a different situation. But regardless, I'm proud of the work you've done."

"Me too. It'll be a shame to leave, but she doesn't need me anymore. I'm going to have to keep looking for another position while we appeal."

"You do what you need to do. I'm on this. Call your sister."

"I will." He was getting his life back. It didn't matter what it took.

Everything hurt. But it felt good. Kiss groaned as she dragged herself through the front door. She was stronger than she had been before. Derek had done that for her. All she wanted to do was crash at home and hang out with him on the couch. Home. It was funny how she looked at the guesthouse now.

When she'd been growing up here, she was desperate to be on her own. She'd always been aware that she was just a visitor and held herself back a little. To her, the opulent lifestyle was just a temporary stop, never home. But tonight, she was looking forward to a typical night with Derek at home.
Home
. She'd never looked at it that way before. He'd helped change that. What happens when he leaves? She knew she only had a couple of weeks left with him. But she was determined to enjoy every day of it. She'd known what this was. It hadn't stopped her from falling in love with him, but she didn't regret it. Not for a minute. She would just need to figure out how to deal when he was gone.

As she hung up her keys in the foyer, she checked her phone again. She'd sent Christian a couple of texts since their fight, but he didn't respond. TJ said he was staying at a hotel somewhere near Hollywood. Tamping down the pang of guilt, she shook her head. It's not like she wanted to hurt him, but if she didn't feel it, then she didn't feel it. No amount of hoping and wishing was going to change that.

The person she did want wasn't going to stick around.
Not unless you do something about it.

"Derek? You here?" The house felt too still, too quiet. Usually if he was there, he was making noise, talking on the phone, yelling at the television if a game was on. Something. She checked the gym looking for him, but he wasn't there. Had he forgotten to tell her about some plans?

There was a faint thud sound in the distance and she frowned. What was that? No, the sound was closer than that. She grabbed her jacket and jogged out toward the sound. That's where she found him, sweaty and slick going hard in the paint for the basket. She stared agog. Holy cow, he was really good. She could see why losing his ability to play had hurt so badly. He was amazing.

She joined him on the court with a smile. "You want to show me how to do that around the back twisty thingy, because that looked awesome."

At first he didn't acknowledge her, just lined up for a three pointer, which he hit with ease. "Did you stretch?"

She frowned. Why did he sound so flat? "What's the matter?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You know you should be stretching."

He was lying. Something was clearly the matter with him. The truth was in his tense jaw, his pressed lips, and the way he didn't look at, or smile at her. Something was bugging him. "I can stretch up here. Besides, I thought there was a massage in it for me."

He sighed. "Sorry. I forgot. I'll come down, grab a quick shower and we'll get started."

She strolled up to him. Sweat dripped off his brow and his T-shirt was soaked as were his shorts. His arms dripped with perspiration, but she didn't care. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she said, "Hey, remember, the same rules apply to you. You can't hide when something is bugging you. This only works if we're a team, so why don't you tell me what's the matter. Then we can find a solution."

He stared at her for a long moment, like there was something he wanted to say. But then he sighed, and bent to kiss her briefly. She almost acquiesced...almost. He was very good. But she wasn't letting him hide just like he hadn't let her hide. "Nice try. You're very skilled, but I still know something is bugging you. You might as well tell me."

"I know you want to help, Kisima, but it's better I just deal with it on my own, okay?"

She blocked his path. "No. Not okay." She dragged in a deep breath. "How about this, I'll play you for it. I get a basket, and you start talking."

He smirked. "Are you serious right now?"

She took the ball from him. "Yeah. Why not? I can do this."

The smirk was back and she wanted to wipe it off his face by scoring a basket. "If you say so."

"I do." Except, she'd never played basketball a day in her life. But how hard could it be? Aim and shoot right?

They took their positions at center court and she frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

His faint smile was humored. "This is called bringing the D. You know, defense?"

Defense? Who said anything about defense? "So you plan on blocking me? That wasn’t our agreement."

"Sorry, sweetheart." He cocked his head. "That's how the game is played."

"Fine, have it your way. Because one way or another, you're going to talk to me."

Easier said than done though. She had a vague idea of how to dribble but it wasn't pretty. But pretty or not she submitted to the ball some. The only problem was Derek was huge compared to her. And he was in no mood to open up his heart and share with her, so he wasn't trying to lose.

If she wanted to win she'd have to use the only tool she had her arsenal. Pausing briefly, she dragged her T-shirt over her head, leaving just her sports bra on.

True to form, Derek's attention wavered. With a hip check, she was able to scoot around him enough to at least aim for a basket. And she almost hit the hoop too. She was just going to ignore that the rebound hit the backboard, ricocheting and almost hit her square in the face.

They played like this for another few minutes and finally, out of frustration, she threw her whole body into him, knocking him off balance, and lobbed the ball into the air as she went down herself. She held her breath as she watched it fly, fingers and toes crossed.
Go in
.
Go in.

She'd never been so happy to hear a swooshing noise in all her life. Derek, on the other hand, didn't look nearly as happy.

He shoved to his feet. Despite his annoyance, he was still gentle with her and picked her up, setting her back on her feet. "Fine, you want to talk, I'll talk."

"I'm not trying to force you, Derek. I care about you. If I can, I want to help. You've seen me at my worst and you've helped me so much. I'm just trying to do the same for you."

He ran his hands through his sweaty hair as he paced along the blacktop of the court. When the words finally came, they came in a stream. "I got my appeal letter today and it's been rejected. So that means my basketball career may be over all because I fucked up and slept with the wrong girl."

Her heart broke for him. "Oh, Derek, I'm so sorry. Is there something I can do? Maybe I can write to them, tell them about how you got me out of the damn chair and pain free. Maybe a press conference. Everyone can see the shape I was in before you came along. You're the sole reason I'm out of that chair. You're the only reason I'm even driving again."

He blinked rapidly as he nodded. "Thank you. It means a lot that you would do that for me. But they know what I can do. I've done it for dozens of athletes just like you. This is personal. So I'm going after Kallie Wintor with all I've got."

"Is it okay if I hate her?"

He nodded and tugged up his T-shirt to wipe his face. Kiss stared. She'd seen him naked tons of times now. But it always struck her a little dumb.

"Feel free to hate her. In the meantime, I'm fighting her with everything I have."

Kiss chewed her bottom lip. "I mean, she's clearly playing dirty. We have to fight the same way. Just like when someone taps you on the track, you have to make them regret it, or they think it's okay to do."

He grinned. "You ready to fight for me, Kiss?"

"You gave me my life back, so yeah."

His smile softened as he approached her. "It's okay, wildcat, I've got a plan."

"Does it involve knocking the bitch on her ass?"

He grinned. "That it does. You should meet my sister. Once she is done with Kallie Wintor, there will only be pieces left." He picked up the ball. "Want me to show you how to shoot properly?"

Kiss pursed her lips. "So what you're saying is that my wild throws complete with convulsions is not how it's supposed to be done?"

"Not exactly." He narrowed his gaze. "How far were you going to go?"

"Until you talked to me. I've heard tales told of my epic stubbornness."

His voice was soft. "Thank you. Normally, I sort of retreat into my shell and do my own thing. It's not good for me. I know it. But force of habit, you know? I always err on the side of dealing on my own instead of being vulnerable. It's not always the best way." He shrugged. "Besides, it helps to actually talk about it."