The Player: Dark Enemies to Lovers Sports Romance

Chapter 18

The smell of her sweet skin surrounds me. The taste of her is still on my lips, and I want more. God, if I wasn’t such a prick, maybe I could have her. What the fuck do I care about my reputation now? Hell, I have a job interview with the local high school next week. It’s not like I’m going to be in the limelight, right?

Besides, Julie is famous for her cooking. She’s won every competition, from local fair events and food critic journals to the famous North Texas Upcoming Food Festival, for six years running. How do I know that? I’ve stalked her like a damn psycho would. Instead of confronting my fears, I hide behind stalking her social media and watching the news like a hawk. Every time she posts something new, I grab my phone like a lovesick puppy waiting for his love to give him something—anything.

Why wasn’t her child on her social media? And why does he look like me? Eight years old…

The more I think about it, the more I feel as if he’s mine. Fuck me. Did I get her pregnant that night? Nah, it couldn’t have been me. Besides, I lost touch with almost everyone when I hurt my arm and straightened my shit out.

A growl leaves me as images of another man touching my girl assault my brain. I swear to God, the man better not be in her life now.

B

You home?

Leave it to Bryson to know exactly when I need to talk to someone so I don’t go down a rabbit hole.

Me

Yeah, bro, I made it in a few hours ago.

B

Be nice to Julie.

When the fuck am I not? A few minutes ago. My brain loves to tattle on me. To mock me and make me realize what a bastard I am.

Me

She’s my best friend, of course, I’m going to be nice to her.

Lies. It’s all lies. She hasn’t been my best friend in years. Well, I’ve always thought of her as my one and only friend. But yeah, I screwed that up, didn’t I?

B

Does she know that?

Me

Of course she does. I’ve known her since she was in diapers.

B

Yeah, well, the way I remember it, you broke her heart, and you’ve not talked to her in ten-plus years.

Me

It doesn’t mean we aren’t friends.

B

Fine. Do you want to hang out tonight at the bar then?

Do I? I could blow some steam off. The idea of touching another woman after I’ve had my hands on Julie makes me sick.

Me

Who’s gonna drive?

B

Remember Dickerson?

Oh hell, the right-wing that always fumbled the ball. Is he still around? I always figured he’d be in jail.

Me

Yeah.

B

He runs the local Uber. Well, alright, he’s the only Uber driver here, but he can pick us up.

Me

How late does he run?

This has got to be the weirdest conversation I’ve had with my brother. Then again, I’ve not spoken to him in over four years. Hell, I need to spend time with him.

B

Until ten. We will be home by nine since we both have therapy tomorrow.

Me

I’m in. I’ll push the Uber button after I eat with Julie and her son. Did you know she had a son?

B

Yeah man. You’ve been out of it dude. We’ll talk when I see you.

“Hi,” Lennox says as I put my phone onto the charger.

Looking at him is like looking at myself. “What’s up?”

“Mom says it’s time to eat if you’d like to join us.” He bounces from one foot to another. I laugh and nod.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss her food for the world. She’s the best cook I know.”

“Awesome!” Lennox comes over to me, takes my hand, and pulls me into the kitchen.

My heart rapidly beats, and the tingles I get from him holding my hand aren’t the bad kind. Fuck, it feels like home.

“Is that…” I trail off when I see the heaping serving of bacon, pound cake, scrambled eggs with cheesy goodness.

Julie looks at me and smiles. “Lennox loves all this for dinner, and since you are here, I figured you’d not mind it.”

I sit down next to Lennox, who is already grabbing a plate full of food. “Not at all. Thank you, Julie.”

That blush I’ve missed is back on her cheeks. “No problem.”

The kid likes the same foods I do. I have an urgent need to know if I’m his father, but I’m not ready to expose that I am the man she slept with all those years ago. What if she ends up hating me? Or worse, won’t let me spend time with the kiddo?

* * *

When Brysonand I get to the bar, I’m shocked to see it’s still the same ole bar. Nothing has changed in this town except that new therapy center. Hell, even Dickerson looked the same. My brother dragged me out of the car to keep me from having to relive the “golden days.” Shit, I’m not old enough to relive them yet. I’m still living them, or at least that’s what I like to think.

We get into the place and sit in the back, far away from the dance floor. I’m not in the mood to dance. “Saw you and Angelica broke up.” At the mention of my ex-girlfriend’s name, I flinch. The woman was a goddamn psycho. Of course, Bryson wouldn’t come out with the simple questions. No, he has to go for the gut, like always.

“It was for media purposes. I only ever saw her three times.” I fiddle with the neck of my beer.

“Looks like she was not happy.” Bryson takes a sip of his whiskey.

“Yup, she was a goddamn psycho who wanted to get married, and I’m not the settling down type. Hell, I barely even knew her, and she was showing me pictures of rings and dresses.” Taking a swig of my beer, I look at my brother. He’s never been one to date or to get attached. He understands exactly how I am.

“Yeah, that marriage crap is not in our cards.” He sounds almost bitter.

“Did you want to marry someone?” That question sounds odd to me as it leaves my mouth. My brother…marry?

“Nope. Now, tell me why you aren’t out there playing football anymore.” Fuck, I hoped he wouldn’t ask that question. I shot my knee to shit. That’s why. How do I tell him I haven’t been following the training schedule because I’m in too much pain?

“Eh, it was a terrible tear in my knee, Bryson.” Yeah, let’s lie to him. The injury shouldn’t have ended my career. It was the cocky ass bastard of a doctor that ruined it in surgery. Despite that, I sulked and was a baby about the whole thing. Instead of working hard, I gained fifteen pounds and refused to listen to half of the physical therapists.

“I think you are sulking.”

“Damn, bro, you are supposed to be on my side.” A bit of pride slides away at the fact he’s calling me out.

“Nah, I’m not on your side when I know you should be out on the field. I might have been the soldier, but you were America’s favorite boy. Don’t you miss it?”

Do I? “Of course.” I mumble as I take another swig of my beer. The truth is, I don’t. I hated being in the limelight and couldn’t stand people watching twenty-four-seven who I was with and what I did every single fucking day.

“Are you still getting a paycheck from that scumbag doctor?” Wait, how did he know?

“You know about that?” He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“Of course, I know about it. I knew when you got hurt, the first doctor told you, one season and you’d be back out there. The surgeon is the one that fucked you over.”

Blinking, I look at my brother, and he’s smiling. “I keep tabs on you, little brother.”

Chuckling, I shake my head in disbelief, but honestly, he doesn’t know how much his words mean to me. “What do you say? We try our hands at a game of pool?”

Bryson grunts but stands up. With a cane, he hobbles over to the nearest pool table and looks at me. “Well, come on, pretty boy.”

As I rack the balls, I think about asking Bryson about Lennox, but how do you say I think I’m his father.

“What’s got you in knots?” Bry always knows when shit is bothering me.

“Lennox and Julie.”

There’s silence for a moment and I look up as I take the rack off the balls and place it on the drink table.

“Yeah, about that, he looks exactly like you, bro.” He hobbles over to the end of the table, leans over, and places his cue stick dead center.

“I know.”

We don’t talk about it. Not even a little. No, we ignore that I’m probably the dad of an eight-year-old and take turns sinking balls into the table holes.