Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
KEELEY
Sal hangs up from his call and paces the floor in front of his wall of windows, his usually perfect hair messed up from how often he’s been running his hand through it.
Before I left to collect our dinner from downstairs, he was laughing, and now, he looks like someone killed his cat.
“Fuck, it just gets better and better, doesn’t it?” He spins to face me, his expression pleading for me to make it all work out. And I’m trying.
“What happened?”
“Apparently Gregory didn’t just mention our poor culture. He was specific in what he said.”
“What?” I grab my phone, searching through my alerts, but nothing comes up other than the information I already knew. “I don’t have anything here.”
“The book hasn’t been released yet. This is coming from a friend of mine that got early access. She’s a sports critic.”
“She?” Jesus, what does that matter? “I mean, who?”
“Bronte Welles. Do you know her?”
“I don’t, but I know who she is. Was that her? What did she say?”
“She was giving me a heads-up. Gregory mentions substance abuse and bullying. He said he only agreed to the TV show if they promised to keep that information out of the narrative. He claims he wanted to get ahead of the issue and promote the team in a positive light before someone found out. Apparently, he was helping.”
I stare at Sal, my eyes wide as his words sink in. Then I laugh so hard that I snort.
“Please tell me you don’t believe that garbage? While I’m certain no team is untouched by substance abuse—even us—our starters, the guys on the roster? Hell, no. Some would say they need a little corruption in their lives. Except maybe Zane.”
Sal frowns, and the little crease between his brows is so prominent that I want to rub it away. “Of course I don’t believe it. The problem is…I don’t think I’m the one he’s trying to convince.”
He drops his head into his hands and I regret laughing.
It’s so hard to picture these guys as the team he’s portraying them to be.
The closest they’ve ever come to bullying is Easton and the guys hating on Zane for sleeping with Easton’s girlfriend at the time.
And that was warranted in my opinion. At least it was until I got to know Zane. Turns out, he was misunderstood.
“I didn’t mean?—”
“No, you’re right. I should be laughing about how preposterous this all is. But instead, I want to rip that fucker to shreds.”
His eyes blaze with a fierce protectiveness, and my heart jolts. Ignoring it, I cross my arms over my chest, as though that’ll help calm my reaction. I cannot allow myself to process this new side of Sal because I like it a little too much.
Sal shakes his head as his entire body stiffens.
“Your shoulders are tensing again,” I muse, smiling in sympathy.
He drops them and stands tall, towering over me without my heels on. “We have to get ahead of this.”
“We will. I promise. You need to relax.”
“Relax?” His eyes bulge as though I’ve offended him, and I almost tell him to suck it up until he smiles, his fingers massaging his neck.
My hands itch to touch him, to relieve some of his tension, and before I can run through all the reasons why I shouldn’t, I’m moving toward him, acting without processing the consequence.
“Let me.” I remove his hands, replacing them with mine, immediately brushing my thumbs against his neck.
“You don’t have to do that.” Sal tries to step out of my grasp, but I move with him.
“Give me five minutes and we’ll get back to it. I can’t let you stand there in pain.”
“I’m fine.”
I dig my thumbs into a knot where his neck meets his shoulder, and he jolts forward, cursing under his breath. “You were saying?”
“Okay. You win. Do what you will.”
“Thank you.” Though it’s best I don’t take that literally because the things I want to do…
Last month—hell, even last week—I’d moved on from our kiss and placed Sal firmly in the friend zone.
That was until he looked at me like he wanted to worship the ground I walk on while getting me off. It’s been so long since I’ve had sex that my brain can’t stop replaying that image.
I cherish our relationship. Other than Callum, Sal’s the closest man in the world to me.
But…I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him again.
And more. He’s a friend that I want to sleep with.
The two ideas aren’t mutually exclusive.
I can want to have my cake and eat it too. Right?
Either way, this moment isn’t helping.
Lifting to my toes, I tilt Sal’s head to the side and work the tight muscle at the base of his skull. He subtly groans, clearing his throat to cover it. “You’re a woman of many talents,” he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I am.” A giggle escapes me. “Some you haven’t even discovered yet.”
My head falls back as I laugh to myself, further cementing my need to get laid. Maybe if I do, I might have the chance of forgetting about this. Might. Maybe. Probably not.
Sal doesn’t respond to what I said. Instead, he sucks in a breath before falling silent.
With each passing moment, the tension builds, engulfing me like a warm hug, tightening my chest as a spark runs through me.
I close my eyes, letting the rest of my senses take over—the smell of his rich cologne, a blend of rum and leather, the feel of his warm skin beneath my fingers, the sound of his breaths picking up speed.
My mouth waters, desperate to get in on the action, and I bite down on my lip, terrified that if I don’t, I’ll whimper.
This isn’t just a friendly neck massage anymore, and while I could be the only one that feels it, Sal’s soft sigh suggests that I’m not.
I pause when I’m done, my fingers still lightly pressed against his skin.
“Is that better?” I lean in as I whisper, careful not to ruin Sal’s rare moment of peace.
He doesn’t get to stop very often. In fact, I’m not even sure he slows down.
He deserves a break. He deserves this moment. “I’ll give you a?—”
Sal spins to face me, his dark, dazzling eyes bouncing between mine, his expression pained.
And I panic. “Shit. Did I make it worse?"
I’ve barely gotten the words out when he grabs my face in his hands, his thumb brushing my lip before he leans in and replaces it with his mouth, kissing me with a force I’m not prepared for.
I gasp at the welcome attack and reach out, curling my fingers around his tie, pulling him closer as I meet his fervor.
We stumble back toward the wall, and I brace for impact until Sal releases one of his hands and slows us down, his palm hitting the drywall before we do.
When we’re still, Sal glides his hand down my back, his touch burning a path through the silk of my shirt.
He pauses at the waistband of my pants, as though the little bunching of material is a warning sign, and I make a mental note to start wearing more dresses, imagining what could have happened if he didn’t have that barrier.
My legs clench, and the smallest of moans escapes my lips, giving Sal access to swipe his tongue through my mouth and…
Oh. My. God. A fire runs through me, arousal pooling at my center.
My fingers clench against the soft material of his shirt as I lift to my toes, deepening the kiss, needing more but also unable to remember a time I ever felt this satisfied from a kiss alone.
You’d think I’d never been kissed before with the way my body responds to everything he does.
Sal groans as our tongues clash, and my heart skips, expecting him to pull away.
Only he doesn’t.
We kiss for God knows how long until we’re both breathless, gasping for air as we simultaneously split apart.
Neither of us speaks for a few seconds, our eyes locked, lips raw from practically mauling each other, and I almost laugh.
Almost. Instead, I smile, the first of us to break the trance. “I’m ready for more.”
“For what?”
I raise an eyebrow, and he curses under his breath before huffing out an incredulous chuckle. “Fuck, Keeley. What are you doing to me?”
“Do you regret it?”
“No.” He glances away, his pained expression returning. “How the fuck could I regret that? You’re beautiful and… It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter?”
“No, because we shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have done it. I was caught up in the moment and I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“My reasons haven’t changed.” He shakes as though the idea of that kills him, and I decide to push the issue.
“I get it. Believe me. I do. But you want it. You want me. And I want you too. We’re adults. It’s not like you’re proposing marriage. You don’t need permission to fuck me.”
“Keeley.” His pained expression intensifies, and I snap out of whatever messed-up spell I was under.
“I hate to keep bringing this up, but I’m fifty-two.
And your brother’s future father-in-law.
The dad of one of your best friends. Say for argument’s sake that I threw you onto the couch and fucked you, as you say—” He winces at his choice of words, and I almost smile at how decent he is.
“What happens after that? Do we go back to this? Can we still face each other at work? At family functions? You’re not wrong.
I want you. But one of us has to be practical here. ”
His words burn despite the fact that he’s right. Still, I open my mouth to argue.
“I think we’re beyond?—”
Sal’s phone rings and while he ignores it, I can’t help glancing at the screen. It’s late. After nine. The only late calls I get are important. So are his.
“It’s Wes.”
“Shit.” Sal blows out a breath, running a hand down his face. “I better…”
“Yep.”
He picks up his phone, turning away as he answers. “Wes, tell me you have news.”
I can’t hear Wes’s half of the conversation, but Sal visibly relaxes the longer he listens.
“That’s perfect. You think he’ll say yes?”
Sal’s eyes meet mine, and the relief in his expression elicits my own. They’ve found a solution. One problem solved. One to go.
When Sal hangs up, his smile warms my chest, and the “us” conversation drifts from my mind. “He found someone?”
“He did. Another free agent player that wants to leave his current team. He found out through an ex-teammate, meaning it’s not common knowledge, but he seems to think we have a shot at securing him.”
“That’s amazing. Am I allowed to know who?”
“Vance McMillan.” His smile widens like the cat that got the cream, while my stomach sinks and memories of the past flood my mind.
He’s a vile, pathetic excuse of a man, and he’s not right for this team. Especially considering the accusations Gregory is about to put out into the world.
The knot in my stomach turns to nausea, but I smile as Sal tells me how perfect Vance is.
And he’s not wrong. He’s a great player, who, for the most part, has avoided controversy.
In the public forum. The rumor mill, however, is rife with talk of his inappropriate behavior, only it’s just that—talk.
Because no one will speak out. Including me.
So, how do I tell Sal he needs to forget about Vance as an option without admitting what happened between us?
The one thing I keep close to my chest.
It’s hard enough being a female in a male-dominated world, but if I were to publicly accuse a football player of assault, I’d never work again. Even Sal would have trouble keeping me on the team. The board would vote against him. It would be my college experience repeating itself again.
Controversy with players needs to be handled delicately. We need to be seen as supporting our men. When it comes to staff behind the scenes, particularly women, it’s easier to cut ties and move on.
I learned that lesson the hard way. During my junior year at college, I interned with our college athletics department, working across a few different sports, including football.
Vance was a senior and the star quarterback for the team.
I didn’t have to meet him to know who he was. Everyone knew him.
From his freshman year, he was praised for his talent, touted by everyone like he was going to singlehandedly secure our D1 college the championship each year.
And he did. Once.
I couldn’t imagine the kind of pressure that comes with that tag, and I admired him for how well he held himself considering all that attention.
It didn’t take long after I started with the football team to befriend a few of the players, and through them, I officially met Vance. He was so focused on football that I was intrigued by him, and when he asked me out, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
Our date was fine but we didn’t click. It was apparent early on that we didn’t have much in common. I thought it was obvious we’d part ways as friends.
Vance didn’t feel the same.
He got angry and stormed off, calling me all the names under the sun before coming back and apologizing, insisting on driving me home.
I thought that was it. Names I could handle. And he apologized.
But I was wrong.
I reported Vance to my boss a few days after he assaulted me, needing some time to process what had happened, and within a few hours, I was being politely asked to leave.
It’s likely I only have a job now because they promised to give me a glowing reference if I let them deal with the fallout privately.
Being a na?ve twenty-year-old, I signed my rights away.
But never again. That moment changed something in me.
And I don’t plan on ever becoming that version of myself again.
“That’s great, Sal.” I widen my smile, praying my words sound sincere. It is great that they’ve found a solution to a problem we did not need right now, but not great that it’s Vance.
Sal nods a few times, running a hand through his hair, further messing it up. “Thank God, right?”
“Thank God.” I force another grin, nodding a few times in return before grabbing my phone and bag. “I’m going to head home. I’ll work on Gregory and his bullshit tonight. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know. And if you come up with any brilliant ideas, feel free to send them my way.
I turn to leave but Sal rushes forward, grabbing my wrist. “Keeley, wait. We haven’t even eaten. About what happened… I’m?—”
“Don’t apologize, Sal. You’re entitled to feel how you want to feel. I promise to keep things purely professional from now on. The pizza’s all yours. The special tastes just as good reheated for breakfast.” I wink but it lacks the spark it usually has.
“Keels?” He pleads for me to say more, misconstruing my mood as something to do with us. But it’s not.
I wish it was that.
“I’m okay. We’re okay. I promise. Good night.”
Relief hits me when he lets me walk away, but it’s short-lived and I almost crumble on the way to my car. I’m going to have to find some way to tell him or Wes. Either way, I have to face it all again.