The Playbook (a Secret Baby Sports Romance) (13 page)

“I love you!” The words came out on their own accord. But I knew they were true the moment they touched the air. With a hopeful look I waited for her to say something, to turn back and hop into my arms, maybe. But instead more tears flowed and she turned away.

“Screw you, Jacob,” she shouted as she exited the house, slamming the door behind her. I stopped in the foyer, unsure of what to do. What more could I say to convince her? The entire morning was supposed to be much better than this, but in the span of a few moments, I had just lost everything once more. And she had the book.

“Shit!” I yelled, screaming the word out into the empty house.

I
rushed
to the car and climbed in, closed the door behind me and locked it before feeling foolish for doing just that. It wasn’t like Jacob was going to pull the door off the hinges to stop me from leaving. I knew him well enough that he wasn’t
that
type of guy…

Wait. Did he really say that he loved me?
It didn’t matter; he had hurt me again. The evidence of that was in the damp streaks on my face. In one last desperate attempt to see if he cared, truly cared, I glanced back at the front door. But he wasn’t tearing down the steps following me. The door remained closed. He really didn’t care about me. I was just a conquest, the “unfuckable” woman in the book whom he could use as evidence to prove himself to his teammates.

Starting the engine, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and drove away, wishing to God and everyone else that I had listened to my dad all those years ago and stuck to my rule. Then I wouldn’t be in so much pain right now.

I remembered the conversation he and I had had when I was sixteen and was starting to gain attention and looks from the players.
“Don’t ever date any of these guys,”
he had said with firm authority one day as we watched the team practice from his owner’s suite.
“I mean it, Lucia. You probably think I’m overacting, trying to project my baby girl—and I know, I know, you aren’t a baby anymore; you’re turning into a young lady. But Lucia, they are not the type to settle down and raise a family. They will break your heart, and they won’t even look back. You will wish that you’d never laid eyes on any of them. So, please, for me honey, stay away from them, okay?”

I’d agreed, wanting to make him happy, wanting to erase that worry line from his face.
“Okay, Daddy.”
At that he’d put his arm around me and pulled me into a sideways hug.

He’d been so right. I felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest and stomped on.

My phone rang and I picked it up, seeing Jacob’s number come across the screen. I ignored it and threw it down on the seat, letting it ring until my voicemail picked it up. I was not going to talk to him anymore. There was nothing that he could say to make this any better. I had the proof in the back pocket of my jeans. I could get them all fired if I showed it to my dad, but I knew going down that road would be going too far—doing something like that wasn’t me. I couldn’t be responsible for all those players losing their jobs. No, instead I would destroy it somehow, ’cause no woman in it deserved to be subjected to something that crude and distasteful.

The words they’d used to describe me played over and over in my head as I drove aimlessly around. I wasn’t untouchable or frigid, I was just careful with who I gave my heart to. I didn’t mind a bit of flirting, and until Jacob, I had considered all those guys off limits. Mainly because of my promise to my father and my professional ethics. But obviously I’d been too cold, too distant, too “stuck up”, and no one had even been brave enough to even approach me. Except Jacob.

I pulled up at a red light as my phone started ringing again. Grabbing it out of the seat, I pressed ignore and let it go to voicemail again. I wanted to chuck it out the window, but all of my contacts were in there, and I didn’t want to lose them. Instead I scrolled until I found Jacob’s contact information and deleted him from the list, feeling a small amount of satisfaction at doing so. I would start afresh and stay far away from players from now on.

* * *

“
T
hat asshole
! To do that, eugh! That was low. And here I was pushing you into it—encouraging you to go to him,” Cara said as she banged her fist upon the table.

I polished off the last bite of my waffle with a sigh and pushed the plate away. Instead of the breakfast-brunch I thought I was going to have with Jacob that morning, I ended up going home, making mulch out of the flowers that had stared at me from the coffee table, then crawling into bed and crying my eyes out until I had felt like I had gotten it all out of my system. Then Cara had called, demanded that I got out of bed, and decided that she was going to take me out instead. Though it was late afternoon, she’d found an all-day breakfast café that served waffles and bacon and had picked me up from the house.

As bravely as I could and without too many tears, I explained what had happened last night and this morning, even showing her the offending book that had ruined what had started out as a good day. She flipped through it and then threw it on the table, disgusted with what she had seen. “What are you going to do now? Maybe we should burn it. Or, even better, maybe you should give it to your father. That’ll teach those sons of bitches!” she said with scorn.

“I don’t know, but I won’t do that,” I said honestly, fiddling with a napkin to keep myself occupied.

“Yeah, you’re probably right… karma would turn around and bite you on the ass instead.”

“Eugh, but how can I show my face around work now considering all the players are not coming to my appointments? And now that I know about that
thing
, I don’t want them to, either. They must all laugh at me behind my back. I’m so screwed.”

“Have you given any thought to my offer?” she asked as the waitress brought our checks. “I found this perfect space near the coast that’s relatively inexpensive, and it’s in a great location. There are three offices, so if in the future we wanted to add another partner, we could. Plus there’s an apartment above it that I was thinking of taking, too. And, that’s not all… if you ever want to move out of that guest house, there’s a spare room with your name on it.”

I bit my lip, thinking of what I would have to do in order for that to happen. I would have to go to my father and talk about what wasn’t working, admit that I was a failure even after he’d gone through all the trouble of creating the position for me. But at least the players and the coaches would be ecstatic to see me leave. “I don’t know,” I said slowly, looking at her.

“Come on, Lucia, this is the perfect time for a new start.”

“But I would feel like a complete failure if I just walked away.”

“You’re not a failure, you’re just re-evaluating your goals. You’re not a failure unless you give up, and this won’t be giving up. You’ll be taking a new direction instead,” Cara announced, reaching across the table to touch my arm. “Please, don’t let one guy dictate the rest of your life. That goes for your father, too. If you want to stay at the stadium, then I will support you one hundred percent, but I worry that if you do, you’ll be stuck in a toxic environment with nothing but failure in sight.”

“Me too,” I sighed, looking at the little black book as my stomach twisted nervously, nausea rising in my throat. I forced it down and took a sip of my water.

“Well, just think about it, but I think you are doing the right thing cutting this guy out of your life,” Cara decided. “He’s not worth your time or your effort. And I am so sorry that I even gave you any advice on him to start with.”

I wanted to tell her that Jacob wasn’t such a bad guy, but the words would not form on my tongue. Maybe I was deluding myself. I had hoped that he was one of the good ones, the gem amongst the rocks, but I had been dead wrong. The nausea came back and I excused myself, rushing to the bathroom just in time to upchuck every morsel I had just eaten. Great. Now I was getting sick on top of everything else.

When I got back to the table, Cara was looking at me suspiciously. “Are you okay?” she asked. I nodded and grabbed my check, wanting to just go home and rest before the weekend was over. I was literally drained from everything that had happened. “Yeah I’m fine, just tired. Think I’m coming down with a bug, though.”

“Okay, maybe we should get you some soup and fluids before I take you back home? Knowing you, you probably haven’t shopped for weeks,” Cara replied as she grabbed her check as well. We exited the booth and walked up to the register to pay. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, are you using a new moisturizer or bronzer? It looks really good—you’ve got a nice glow.”

I gave her a wan smile, my heart pounding in my ears. I wasn’t using anything new. A fleeting thought crossed my mind, and I dismissed it immediately. No, that couldn’t be the case; me coming down with the flu and being sick combined with a facial glow didn’t warrant
that
train of thought. Besides, I was on the pill, and we’d used protection… hadn’t we?

“
M
addox
. Coach wants you in his office pronto.”

I threw the shirt over my head and nodded at the assistant coach, fear welling up inside. It had been days since the fight with my father and the blow-up with Lucia. She wasn’t returning any of my calls, and I’d already filled up her voicemail to the point where it wouldn’t take any more. Every time I walked by her office, trying to act casual, the door was shut. I’d been too worried that she had a patient in there and hadn’t knocked. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen her, though. She had been on the sidelines during one of the practices with her father, talking and laughing like all was good in her world while I was in what seemed to be a state of limbo. Would she tell her father? She had evidence that could get me fired, and I wouldn’t hold her against her if she went to him with the playbook and got us all thrown off the team.

And now the coach wanted to see me in his office. That was not a good sign.

I walked as slowly as I possibly could, almost dragging my feet as I went. I entered the large space that housed all the coaches’ offices and passed a collection of desks, a bullpen of sorts with stacks of binders—no doubt filled with tactics and plays—piled up on every surface. I finally stood before the head coach’s private office. I knocked on the glass panel of the closed door, and two men raised their heads. I felt like the floor was about to cave in underneath me as I saw David Cortes, the owner and Lucia’s dad, seated at the desk beside Coach. Both their expressions were unreadable, blank as my paycheck would be after the meeting, I was sure of it.

I braced myself and entered the room as Coach gestured me in. What had Lucia told her father? Had she turned in the playbook? Were my dreams of becoming a starting quarterback again going to end right here? Damn Terrence and the rest of the guys.

“Jacob, sit down,” the coach said, pointing to the other chair in the room. I swallowed hard as I sat. Tiny beads of sweat prickled to the surface of my brow. I was about to lose everything—my career and the only woman that had truly given a damn about me.

“I’m sorry,” I started, trying to head them off. Maybe if I could tell my side of things, they would reconsider firing my ass. “I can explain everything, I swear.”

The coach looked at Mr. Cortes and then back at me. “What the hell are you talking about, son? Did you do something to Danny?”

“Danny?” I repeated, surprised. I had just seen Danny, our starting QB, only yesterday and his throws were as hot as ever. “What’s wrong with Danny?”

“It’s his shoulder. He tweaked his rotator cuff last night while lifting,” Coach explained.

“Left or right?” I asked, the seriousness of the situation dawning on me.

“Right.”

Fuck, that’s his throwing arm.

“We’re looking at four to six weeks recovery time if we’re lucky,” Coach continued. “He’s getting checked out right now, and they don’t think he’s torn anything, but if he did, well, who knows? It could be eight weeks or more before he’s tip-top again. And you’re probably guessing why you’re here now. We need you to step up to the plate, Jacob.”

Suddenly, the room got extremely small as I realized this was my big break, a chance to regain some of my former glory. This was what I had been hoping to have happen, not that I wanted Danny to get hurt, that is. He was a cool guy with three kids at home, so he needed to work. But a minimum of four weeks on the field would give me enough time to show them what I had.

“This is very serious, Jacob,” Mr. Cortes interjected. His features were hard to read, but his tone was stern—no nonsense. “I will not tolerate anything but stellar performances from my starters. One wrong move and you will be gone, you hear me? I don’t care how much I spent on you.”

“Y-yes, sir,” I replied, wondering if he was actually referring to football, or something or someone else. “I will give you the best I got, that I can promise.”

“See, Cortes, I told you he was ready.” Coach grinned, giving me a nod. “I’ll get Thomas to switch to Jacob, and I will work with him personally, too, get him up to speed. He’ll catch on quick.” Thomas was the quarterback coach, and we’d gotten along well since my arrival, but his time had always been primarily focused on Danny—as it should be, of course—but it was going to be good to get some proper attention from him.

“I won’t let either of you down,” I added as the owner rose from his chair.

“I need you focused, Jacob,” Coach continued as Mr. Cortes stood by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “You seem a little preoccupied lately. Can you shake that off? Anything we can help with?”

“No, there’s no problem. Consider my head in the game,” I answered. My now practically non-existent relationship with Lucia would need to take a back burner, even though I knew deep down I hadn’t given up. It would just have to wait. Maybe it would be for the best anyway—give us both some time to cool off. After all, this was my career, my livelihood, and if I screwed this opportunity up, there certainly wouldn’t be another one any time soon.

“One more thing,” Coach said. “There’s some guy calling the stadium, the offices, every number he can get a hold of, it seems, claiming he’s your father and wanting his family ticket discount. I looked up his name and he’s not on your list.”

My jaw clenched. He was starting this shit again? I could see it now. It would be another repeat performance of his insane actions up in Minnesota. Fuck, it would just be like when I was a kid on my high school football team… I was going to kill the man. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone and get on with his own life?

“Marshall Maddox is nothing to me,” I replied evenly. “Don’t give him anything.”

“All right, I’ll make a note of it,” Coach said. Mr. Cortes eyed me carefully. He seemed to be attempting to read my mind; another moment passed without him saying anything.

“So, shall I go—”

“Jacob, if we need to get you some extra security for you, we can make that happen,” Mr. Cortes interrupted. “Just let me, Greg here, or one of the security staff know, and we’ll get it all set up. You shouldn’t have to worry about these things.”

I nodded, thinking it was pretty cool of him to offer. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if it comes to that.”

“Before I forget, this conversation is between us right now, Jacob,” Coach added as I stood to go. “We’ll make a formal announcement to the press about Danny’s injury and you taking the number one spot before the game, but I don’t want the press catching wind that you are the starter before then, okay?”

“Again, not a problem. My lips are sealed until you give the word,” I replied, anxious and ready to prove myself. My day had just taken a turn for the better, and though the problems with Lucia were still heavy on my mind, this was good. I think she would be proud to know that I was going to get my chance.

“Good. See you on the field,” he said, turning back to his paperwork. I walked past Lucia’s father and out into the corridor, my mind already reeling through all the things I needed to work on and to prepare to fully take advantage of the opportunity.

“Jacob, a moment.”

I turned and saw Mr. Cortes striding toward me, his stone-cold expression giving me pause. He sidled up to me and took my arm in a firm grip. “Stay the hell away from my daughter,” he said, his voice low. It felt like a bucket of ice had been dropped on me.

“She told you?” I stammered. Why on earth would she do such a thing? Surely it would be bad for her, too?

His eyes blazed with a look of triumph and fury. “Does it really matter who told me?”

“No, I guess not. Oh, fuck,” I muttered under my breath, but Mr. Cortes still heard it.

“Yeah, boy, you fucked up. I don’t know what you did to her, but if I catch you near her again I will can you without question. You’ll never play football again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I replied, swallowing hard. Why on earth did she have to go tell him? No one else except Terrence knew, and he wasn’t about to snitch on us; it was in his own best interest not to.

My arm throbbed as he released me. There would be some pretty hefty indentations from where his grip had been, I thought. He nodded, satisfied that he’d put the fear of God into me and resumed walking down the corridor to the field, leaving me standing there with my thumb up my ass.