Shameless Game (Shameless Sport #1)

Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“We’re on our way to an NFL orgy.”

BLAIR

RUBY

Limo is waiting outside

Jet is fueled and waiting

And I’m up for anything except…

RUBY

???

Catching you mumbling in the moss with my twin

RUBY

Girl, you got a one-track beaver

No, I got a proud beaver with boundaries and hearing you make mouth music with my twin is one

RUBY

I’m NOT dining at the Y with your sister, bish

But you’re having a moresome with her

Don’t lie

RUBY

See you at The Mercier lobby bar. 8 ish

Ifeel buzzed. I feel like I rolled the perfect life in a piece of paper and smoked it.

I’m high on happiness and horniness, bouncing in my heels, waiting in the wide corridor outside the locker room for my winning men to emerge. For them to hurry the hell up so we can celebrate.

Our bags are packed. They’re waiting in a stretch limo parked outside. I met our driver. I asked him to order pizza. It’s waiting in the limo, too.

Pizza is Colt’s celebration meal, while Beau likes to celebrate with Glenlivet whisky.

Me? My lips are shining with oral pleasure lip gloss in Strawberry Wine flavor.

Don’t use the cherry stuff. He’ll think his dick is on fire.

But my men love the little tingle and lots of drool I create when I wrap my pleasing glossy strawberry lips around their winning cocks, pressed together, congratulating them with a dual, creamy knob job.

That should take up our time in the limo.

Now, for our one-hour flight to Charleston? Is that long enough to join the mile-high club?

There’s only one way to find out.

Players wave at me as they leave. Their wives and girlfriends do, too. Reporters try getting my comment, but all I’ll say is, “I’m so proud of the team.”

But a particularly snarky reporter corners me as I wait, asking, “Are you eloping with Bronson tonight?”

I want to smile and answer, “No, we’re on our way to an NFL orgy.” But answering, “We’re celebrating the win with friends,” feels equally evasive and erotic.

Am I feeling cute, wearing a demure knee-length shell pink dress that Colt bought me from Christian Dior? Yes. Am I wearing the gold, non-piercing labia ring that Beau gave me, too? With little bells on it. Is it hidden by my surprise panties that say “Place Beard Here”? You can bet your I’m-the-bottom dollar tonight.

I can’t stop smiling. My cheeks hurt from it until Malik Goodwin steps out of the locker room. He sees me waiting and pulls me aside, whispering, “Something’s wrong with our boy.”

My face falls. My heart drops. “What do you mean?”

I like Malik. He and his wife, Brianna, come over a lot for steaks and beers. They’re fun.

“I mean, Bronson’s not talking,” Malik answers. “Not to us. Not to reporters. It’s not like him. I mean, we just won, but he looks like he lost. Like he lost everything.”

“Is he okay? Did he get hurt?”

“Don’t think so. He ain’t talking to Hawke either, which is weird. Something’s off. He loves you. I’m sure you’ll make it better, but heads up.”

I give Malik a quick hug before gluing my eyes to the doors of the locker room. It’s guarded. I can’t go in. It makes me sick with worry. I want to help Beau.

What’s wrong?

Usually, the guys don’t make me wait this long. It’s like every player, and most of the staff leave until finally Beau appears, pushing the doors open.

He’s showered and dressed. He looks sexy and powerful in his light grey, tailored dress pants and a loose white V-neck T-shirt. Usually, he comes out smiling and looking for me.

“Hey,” but I rush to him, reading his face. It’s like he’s seen a ghost. “What’s wrong?”

He snarls, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where’s Colt?”

“Fuck Colt.”

I pull back, reading his face. He’s not kidding. “Beau, what happened?”

“Not now, Blair. Not here.”

I look over his shoulder, and Colt appears in the doorway, his eyes aimed at us. He’s in his usual style—cream joggers and a matching sleeveless shirt. With his hair knot and dark ink, it’s a deadly look.

So is the expression on his face.

It makes a chill drop through my veins. Even when we were in Belize, these two never looked like this. Like if the other were drowning, they’d walk away.

But I won’t.

Not now. Not ever.

I plaster a smile on my face. We’re still under watching eyes. “Come on. The limo’s waiting,” I tell them. “We got a party to attend.”

“Just us,” Beau mutters, grabbing my hand.

“No,” I softly answer, squeezing it.

Beau looks surprised, but I turn my head, my eyes and voice pleading, “Colt? Please. Come with us. Our friends are waiting.”

Colt wavers, like he doesn’t know what to do, his eyes glaring at Beau while Beau glares back.

They won’t budge.

So I drop my voice to where only they can hear. “I swear to God, if you two don’t smile and get in that damn limo together, I’ll go back to dating my plastic boyfriends in Charleston.”

Silently, we walk toward the exit. Beau holds my hand, but I glance back and let Colt read my eyes. “Are you okay?”

The chauffeur holds the door open. We slide inside, and once it’s safe, I ask, “What the hell happened?”

Beau doesn’t speak. Neither does Colt.

They just snarl at each other like it’s about to be a shank fight.

“Fine then.” I reach, popping open the champagne chilling in the silver bucket. I pour myself a glass and toast, “Here’s to a great win against Philadelphia. And here’s to my amazing men. The first one who tells me what’s going on gets a blowjob.”

Beau snarls, “It’s not fucking funny, Blair.”

“So then get serious and tell me what’s going on.”

“I just saw Reese,” Beau sneers, “holding Colt’s son.”

Have you ever had lightning crack overhead? Like it’s so loud that it shakes your skull? Your brain vibrates, exploding all your logic away?

“What?”

That’s this moment.

That’s this shock.

“Reese was at our game,” Beau explains, his stare burning holes in Colt. “And she had a little boy in her arms. What is he now? About eight, maybe nine years old, Colt? Is that how old your son is?”

“Fuck you,” Colt mutters, turning his stare toward the window, at the city blurring by.

“No, it was you who did the fucking,” Beau’s furious, “of my college girlfriend and now you have a kid together.”

“Wait.” I grab Beau’s hand. “Stop.”

This can’t be true.

Colt would never betray Beau. He’d die for him. And yeah, Colt might’ve been a sexy man-whore in the past, but he’d never lie, he’d never do someone wrong.

“Colt.” I reach across for his hand, too. “What’s going on? Was Reese at your game today?”

I haven’t seen her in almost a decade. Maybe Beau’s mistaken. Maybe it was another gorgeous blonde, the typical Bama prototype. It’s easy to confuse them. They all look alike.

“Yes,” Colt answers, his eyes glued to the glass.

I feel the punch, the same shock as Beau. “Does she have a son?” I can barely ask.

“Yes,” Colt confesses, not looking at us. He’s tugging at his beard, chewing on his lip, like he’s lost in painful thought.

Something’s wrong.

I can read it in the pain marring Colt’s handsome face. It hurts me too to ask, “Is he yours?”

A tear falls down Colt’s cheek. He closes his eyes. Another tear falls, but he won’t answer.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Beau mutters. “All this time. All these years. You lied to me. You cheated on me.”

“But,” I argue for Colt, “y’all weren’t together back then. You were with Reese.”

“He knows what I mean,” Beau growls. “He betrayed my trust. It was the one thing we could have. We couldn’t be together, but I always believed in him. Him and you. You were the only people I trusted.”

Cynically, Colt rumbles, “Then why did you date Reese if you knew you couldn’t trust her?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Beau lurches forward. “You knew why I dated her.”

Colt snaps, “You didn’t love her.”

“So what?” Beau asks. “You did?”

“No, I loved you.”

“You have a fucked up way of showing it.”

“Of course, you’d say that.” Colt flares his nostrils. “Of course, you’d see it that way. Who’s the one who doesn’t trust?”

“Doesn’t trust?” Beau shouts. “That’s all I’ve ever done with you. That’s all we’ve ever had—trust. It was me and you against the world. We’ve always trusted, we’ve always loved each other, and now?” His voice cracks. “Now, it’s a fucking lie.”

“Wait. Wait.” I kneel on the floorboard between them, one hand on Colt’s knee, the other on Beau’s. It’s crazy. I know. But something’s off. I can’t shake the feeling. “Colt, you love Beau. You’d never hurt him. You’re not telling us something, so what is it? What happened with Reese?”

He mutters, “Just drop it. It doesn’t matter. He hates me now.”

I look at Beau.

Yes, he’s so angry and hurt that it looks like hate, but it’s not. It’s so much love breaking across his rugged face.

These two? They’re so deep in love and pain. They’re in that dangerous spot where they want to keep hurting each other instead of healing.

Colt won’t speak.

Beau looks away, too.

So, I won’t leave my spot with my hands on their knees. Like out of sheer will, I can hold them together.

I keep us connected until the limo clears the private airport’s gates. It parks alongside a gleaming white Gulfstream jet.

In minutes, we’re buckled into our ivory leather recliners. Beau sits diagonal from Colt, as far away as he can. So, I sit in front of Colt and across the tiny aisle from Beau.

The flight attendant serves us a round of Glenlivet, per Ruby’s instructions, I’m sure. This flight is for us, so that means we’re secure. Whoever can hear us has signed NDAs.

Good. Because I’m feeling NDA, too—No Dumbassery Allowed.

I can’t stand it when they fight, when they don’t talk.

Adolescents fight. Adults talk.

“Alright, now,” I warn as we taxi, “I’ll tell this pilot to fly us to hell and back. I don’t care. However long it takes for us to talk this out.”

Though, secretly, my pulse starts racing. My pits start sweating.

I hate flying.

“There’s nothing to say.” Beau stares at his tumbler, swirling it. “The only man I ever loved betrayed me. What more do I need to know?”

Colt huffs, shaking his head like Beau has no clue.

“You need to know what happened,” I answer their cynicism. “You need to let him tell us.”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Colt answers. “It ain’t gonna change anything.”

“Yes, it will,” I say, tears suddenly welling in my eyes. “If you two don’t talk, it’ll change everything between us.”

The G-force of the little jet taking off slams me back in my seat. Any minute, we’ll crash into a frozen mountainside, and Colt and Beau will have to eat my carcass to stay alive, so they need to get along.

Okay. Different decade. Different sport and team. Different continent.

But still, it’s a true story.

So, this bitch ain’t dying without knowing her men will be okay without her.

“I won’t lose us,” I insist, the nose of the plane aiming toward heaven. That’s our next stop. “I won’t lose our love. I won’t pick one of you over the other.” The plane jumps. Apparently, there are potholes to heaven. “And I sure as shit—before I die in this goddamn tin can in the sky—won’t let you two kill your love, too.” Nope, this isn’t heaven. It’s a non-stop flight to hell. “So, talk before we’re engulfed in a falling fireball.”

A hint of a smile lifts Colt’s lips. “You’ll be okay, Raven,” he says. “I got you. God’s fingertip, remember?”

“I’m about to give y’all my middle fingertip if you don’t talk.”

We hit a bump.

And another.

Apparently, you God or you Devil. One of you fuckers has allergies! Because you’re sneezing like a bitch when we need a ride on a steady fingertip to heaven or hell or Charleston.

I don’t give a shit, just get us there. Right. Now.

Beau reaches to hold my hand, white-knuckling my armrests.

“Please!” I pray, staring at the woodgrain and ivory glowing ceiling of my flying coffin. “Please, someone talk because now I know why they call it ‘going to hell in a handbasket’ because this is hell, and I’m in your hands. Your big, sexy hands that I love so much. I love you guys so much, so say something.” The plane bumps. “Hurry! Before it’s too late. Before we die! The Devil is calling my slutty ass home!”

“Is he mine?” Beau’s voice ends my rant; he ends my panic. “Or is he yours?”

“I don’t know,” Colt mumbles.

“When was it?” Beau presses. “That night we played beer pong? Or did you cheat on me more?”

Colt shakes his head, staring at the sunset outside the oval window.

“Look at me! Answer me!” Beau sounds hurt. “Just tell me the fucking truth. How many times?”

“Once!” Colt whips his glare at him. “Once!”

“Okay, y’all,” I ease. “I said talk, not yell and summon a federal air marshal.”

Beau drops his tone to a controlled fury level. “So I got drunk and passed out, and you what? You flirted with her? You came on to her? You kissed Reese and fucked her? Right under my goddamn nose?”

Something, not guilt, twists Colt’s face. It bends his eyes. He’s hurting. He’s holding back. He won’t answer.

“Colt.” I reach for his hand. “Colt, what’s wrong? I can tell something’s wrong.”

He barely answers, “I didn’t want to.”

Beau growls, “And yet, you did. You hurt me and had a son with her when I dreamt it would be me and you one day.” He yells at Colt, “I dreamt we would have a child together.”

“I thought it was you!” Colt shouts, pain welling in his eyes. “I was drunk and on your sofa, and I thought it was you touching me and making me hard. I was half fucking asleep and so goddamn happy to be near you again. My heart wanted to believe it was you. That we were in love. That we were finally together. It was like a dream, but then I woke up to the nightmare of her, of your girlfriend on me, and it was too late. She was?—”

I yank my seatbelt off. “Colt.” I leap into his arms, wrapping my hands around his neck, and he squeezes me back. So tight. He doesn’t need to finish.

I understand.

“Wait. What?” Beau’s still processing. “You mean Reese?—”

“Yes,” Colt mutters into my neck. “She did.”

“But.. but.. why didn’t you tell me?” Agony cracks Beau’s voice. I hear the click of his seatbelt before he kneels beside me, reaching for Colt, too. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Colt answers, lifting from my embrace to tell him, “I couldn’t believe it myself. I was in a daze. Then, weeks later, she told me she was pregnant and begged me not to tell you. She said she was sorry. She had so many issues and addictions, so she went into rehab and got her life together, and she met her husband there. He thinks the boy is his.”

I cup Colt’s cheek. “But are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Colt sighs while I sit on his lap, searching his sincere face. “Yeah, I forgave Reese a long time ago. Once I held that baby in my arms, I couldn’t hold any hatred in my heart.”

“So, is he yours?” I ask Colt. “I mean, he could be. He could be either of yours.” I ask Beau, “Right? You were with Reese around the same time, too?”

“Rarely,” Beau answers. “But yeah, it’s possible.”

“Has she ever found out for sure?” I ask Colt.

“No,” he answers. “Reese wants her husband to believe her son is his. And he’s a good guy. Jake’s been there. Like you said, he’s his real dad, even though she doesn’t know who his father is.”

“Colt, baby.” Beau cups his cheek, too. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry I got mad. I didn’t know. I just wish you would’ve told me so you wouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“I didn’t think I could tell you.”

It twists Beau’s face. “Why?”

“Because I had just gotten you back. I didn’t want to lose you again, but that didn’t last because we got into another fight. All I’ve ever felt like since we were eighteen is that life wouldn’t let us work. That our love was doomed,” he squeezes me, “until now.”

“Yes.” I nuzzle my forehead to his. “We work. Our love works, so we’ll figure this out.”

Beau reaches, pulling Colt’s cheek to meet his lips, then Colt turns, tenderly kissing him back.

“I’m so sorry,” Beau murmurs over their lips. “I’m so sorry, baby. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Colt answers. “Really, I am. I had my mom. She knew about you, about the baby. We talked for years about it, and I got my shit together. I found a way to forgive Reese because you should see him. He’s the sweetest little boy.”

“What’s his name?” Beau asks.

“Forrest.”

Beau flinches. “Forrest? After Forrest Gump? Does that mean he’s?—”

“I don’t know,” Colt repeats. “Dude, I really don’t. Sometimes he looks like me. Sometimes he looks like you. I don’t know what’s real except that I love him. And I love you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. From the beginning, I feel like I never had control in this.”

“Because you didn’t.” I kiss his cheek. “But now you do.”

Colt looks at me. “How do you figure?”

“Because I’m calling my old friend, Reese Langley,” I answer. “We’ll talk, woman-to-woman, and I’ll show her who has control. I’ll make this right.”