Chapter 20
Two Weeks Later . . .
Due to the late game, we aren’t returning to Ohio until tomorrow, and the thought of not snuggling with Kyelle has me out of sorts.
All I want to do is get to my hotel so I can call Kyelle and talk her into phone sex or some shit.
My adrenaline is still running high from narrowly winning today’s away game.
Unlike most of my teammates, the last thing I feel like doing is heading to one of the popular clubs in Downtown Minneapolis.
With my duffel hanging on my shoulder, I attempt to push through the thick crowd gathering in the exit tunnel.
Cameras are flashing, and reporters are desperately trying to grab the attention of any and every player they make eye contact with.
My eyes are laser-focused on the door that will lead me to the team bus so I can get my ass on without incident.
My feet nearly trip over themselves when a familiar face breaks through the onlookers, strutting toward me with a lazy smile.
Meshay fucking Weaver. One thing I can’t deny about my baby mama is how fucking beautiful she is, even as she walks confidently toward me like everything between us is cool.
Meshay’s beauty isn’t capable of replacing the tears I recall on Mica’s face from her walking out the door, throwing away her maternal rights.
My eyes burn with daggers, and my hands ball into fists as my jaw clenches when Meshay stops inches in front of me.
“Well, if it ain’t the uber talented fine ass nigga whose heart I once owned,” Meshay says, smirking.
This bitch.
My anger becomes a scalding fury while staring at the woman who not only dismissed our relationship but also the child she carried for nearly eight months.
“It’s good to know that you haven’t lost your touch. Just like in the old days, you played your ass off tonight.”
Sidestepping Meshay without uttering a word due to the inferno raging within me, I still in place when Meshay grabs my forearm, causing my blood to boil instantly.
“If you don’t get your fucking hands off me. How the fuck are you acting like you ain’t walk out on me and Cu—”
“Aw, don’t be like that, baby daddy. I just want a little reminder of what I’ve been missing out on. That’s it, that’s all,” Meshay says flirtatiously, and my eyes pinch as heat explodes like lava in my veins.
Yet, before I can tell Meshay to suck a herpes covered dick, she envelops me quickly and then plants a kiss on my cheek that’s dangerously close to my lips.
My eyes blink hard, and it takes me a second to realize it’s because of the camera flashing nearby.
Several camera shutter clicks snap me out of Meshay’s arms from being caught off guard twice in minutes.
“What the fuck? Did you just set me up?”
Smiling sinisterly, Meshay quickly moves toward the crowd, causing me to lose sight of her within seconds. Frozen in place, I scan the area only to see multiple paparazzi cameras and phones directed toward me.
Fuck!
Adjusting the strap of my bag, I make quick work to get the hell out of dodge as my stomach flips and sours from the fallout I already know is coming.
Pulling my phone from my bag, I quickly power it on and damn near fracture my fingers going to social media.
The Undercover Room headline sealing my fate has me sighing heavily, because shit is about to get ugly fast.
“How the fuck did they get these pictures and write this bullshit headline so quick?” I grumble because it’s like Undercover Room had a van or person hiding out to make this post.
#UCRSports: Looks like Bobcats’ Cornerback, Kaeden Evans, Wanted to Spin the Block After Tonight’s Win. What Happened to Your Peace, Kaeden?
“Fuck!” I shout, punching the seat in front of me as the team begins trickling on the bus.
The reactions, comments, and reshares on this post have a sinking feeling in my stomach because the odds of Kyelle not getting wind of what happened are slim to fucking none.
Exiting social media, I pull up Kyelle’s contact info and call her.
I need to see her face and let her see mine when I try to explain my way out of this shitstorm.
The call rings four times before rolling over to Kyelle’s voicemail, and I turn my head side to side, attempting to work out the tightness developing in the back of my neck.
You’ve reached Kyelle Banks. I’m sorry I’m unable to take your call, but if you leave a message after the beep, I’ll get back to you at my earliest convenience.
Hanging up, I call right back, regularly thinking that Kyelle might not want to see my face. But I get the same results, forcing me to leave a message.
“Kyelle, I swear to God this shit ain’t what it looks like. Sh-she appeared out of nowhere. She kis—man, I ain’t want that bullshit. She caught me off guard. Please call me back, my baby.”
Sighing, I hang up as Rickey sits beside me with an inquisitive look, and I shake my head before giving him a quick rundown of what happened.
“Where the fuck did ho ass Meshay come from? Why the fuck didn’t you trip her ass?
Then your goofy ass just stood there letting her put her dick beaters on you before those soup coolers she uses on random dicks touched your face.
You'd better hope you don’t end up with bumps on your shit,” Ricky rants with his face contorting and his nose twisting.
“Fuck her. How the fuck am I gonna get Kyelle to believe I was set up? I had to—”
“Don’t even tell me. If you let her have you face down, ass up, our friendship is done. You’re too—”
“Man, shut the fuck up. Now ain’t the time for jokes and shit. My life is in crisis and you’re playing.”
“Who said anything about playing? I’m serious. Please tell me you don’t enjoy having your rim—”
“Find another seat or I’m beating your ass,” I say on a growl as Rickey laughs like something is funny.
“Alright, I’ll chill with your sensitive ass. Do you want me to call your woman so you can beg and plead from a different line? I’m sure you’re as good as blocked.”
The Next Afternoon . . .
Between the multiple headlines, missed calls, and texts from my inner circle, I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.
My agent and publicist are unhappy about the negative press, which is adding to my fucked-up mood.
The numerous times I called Kyelle and got her voicemail nearly had me smashing my phone against the hotel wall.
But the one person I want to hear from has been dodging my ass like the plague.
It’s like Kyelle has dropped off the face of the Earth because she has yet to respond to my voicemails or the texts I’ve sent.
What’s worse is Coach Sumlin’s need to have a team meeting once we return to the stadium.
My head is so scattered that I don’t have a clue what he talked about and will have to get the Cliff Notes from Rickey.
My phone vibrates again when I reach my vehicle, tightening my chest at what’s been said or sent to me now. Unlocking my doors, I get in and open my device, biting my bottom lip hard enough to break the skin.
Ky.EchoesSoftly: Guess it’s back to me. Chemistry doesn’t lie. *two finger emoji*
“Man. I don’t know what kind of time you're on, Ms. Ky, but you’re gonna fucking talk to me.” Tossing my phone in the passenger seat, I insert my key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as my mind swirls from the cryptic message Kyelle posted on her social media.
Why the fuck didn’t I slap the taste out of Meshay’s mouth for daring to kiss me?
Why the fuck did I stand there like a fool afterward?
Why didn’t I fucking walk away before she even reached me?
Damn. How the fuck am I gonna get Kyelle to hear me out?
Those pictures are so convincing that I almost believe them, and I know what happened.
Thanks to the fog in my mind, it took no time for me to reach Echoes of Kyelle because I’m sure this is where she is based on my last pull-up during her hiding period.
Parking in the first spot I come to, I exit my vehicle and briskly walk toward the front entrance.
My tunnel vision doesn’t give me the presence of mind to check the parking lot for Kyelle’s car.
Walking through the door, my eyes zero in on the front counter noting Tracy instead of Kyelle.
Stalking like a cheetah toward its prey, I’m standing before Tracy within seconds.
“Where is she?” The hardness in my tone leaves zero room for anything but the information I’m seeking.
For a second, Tracy simply stares at me with a resting bitch face and a curl of her lip, letting me know that she’s fully aware of what’s going on.
“You fucked—”
“Where is she?” I don’t have the bandwidth to have this conversation with Tracy’s ass, nor do I care to hear the judgment in her stare becoming verbal.
“Home. She couldn’t come i—” Needing no other details about the magnitude of my actions on Kyelle, I turn and head toward the exit.
My chest is ripping, and an ache is making my steps difficult, but my determination to speak with Kyelle keeps me moving.
A flashback of the hurt in Kyelle’s eyes after the first media headline quickens my steps as the urge to hold her surges through my body.
Five minutes later, I’m on the road eating up the drive to Kyelle’s house like a fire engine en route to an emergency call.
Gritting my teeth, I repeatedly pound on Kyelle’s door, knowing that she’s inside and ignoring me. I’m sure that her best friend alerted her of my pop-up at the bookstore the second I walked out the door. Contrary to what Kyelle believes, her avoidance will not result in my leaving her porch.
“I’m not leaving, so you might as well open the door, Kyelle,” I say in an elevated voice, uncaring about her neighbors or anyone hearing me.
Using a closed fist, I pound some more while staring at the object blocking me from the woman I love. Not even the tingle of pain in my palm from the impact of my hits on the wood stops me from continuing my assault.
“Kyelle! Kyelle! Open the door, please, baby. I just want to talk. That shit ain’t what it was. Please, . . . just talk to me.” The plea in my tone matches the pressure in my chest the more time passes without a response from Kyelle.
Vibrating from my pocket has me halting mid-knock to retrieve my phone as a glimmer of hope enters my body upon seeing Kyelle’s name on my screen.
Ms. Ky:
Go home, Kaeden. You’re wasting your breath. I saw all I needed to.
A grimace forms when my eyes read over the text from Kyelle before I reply.
Me:
Man. Open the door so we can talk like fucking adults. We’re too old for this bullshit. Talk to me face-to-face, Ms. Ky.
Ms. Ky:
No
“I’m not fucking leaving until you open this door!” My assault on the door resumes as my energy surges into a fiery furnace I’m unable to contain.
I’m unsure how long I’m banging before the sounds of the locks disengaging force me to stop hitting the door and step back.
My anger drops to my feet when Kyelle’s face comes into view, allowing me to see the impact of the mistake I wasn’t responsible for causing.
Kyelle’s face is swollen, and her red eyes are puffy and dark with pain that nearly shatters me as I take a cautious step toward her.
“Don’t.” The single word and raising of her hand halt my forward progress as I immediately start talking.
“I swear to God—”
“Humph. Don’t you fucking dare bring God into your mess.
You lied to me, and I’m struggling with what you lied about hurts the most, which pisses me off: my belief in you not hurting me or myself for loving a man who used me as a filler until he got that old thang back.
Either way, I’m done. This is a wrap. I chose me, so you don’t have to attempt to form another lie. ”
“Man. You ain’t even gonna hear me out and let me explain. You already have your mind made up and—”
“I’m cool. It’s hard to believe that you didn’t want the contact when there were no signs of you moving. Pictures don—”
“She caught me off fucking guard, so how the fuck was I supposed to move?”
Shrugging, Kyelle wipes the lone tear that slips from the corner of her left eye, making me want to pull her into my arms and beg her to forgive and believe me.
“It’s over, Kaeden. Enjoy your ex.” With that, Kyelle backs away from the door, slamming it in my face as my heart splinters in my chest from the finality in her words.