Chapter 28 Ian
TWENTY-EIGHT
IAN
September
In the weeks after we returned from my parents’ anniversary party, I have lived and breathed football. Football season has begun, and I am fully engaged and determined since I want to be with Lilly.
Coach praises me, saying, “Keep up the good work.”
I gnash my teeth hard enough my jaw might break not to blurt out that I am not only in love with his daughter, but I want to spend the rest of my life with her. That I would love his approval and blessing, but at this point, I truly don’t care. I can’t find it in me any longer.
I’ve tried, I’ve been patient, but the delay must end, or I will lose my damn sanity.
It will happen. Just not when her best friend gets married. I’ve seen Lilly so few times this past week that I miss her with a force that sucker punches the air from my lungs.
On the bus that drives us back to the stadium after an away game, I stare at Coach’s neck.
Roman elbows me, leaning into me. “What’s with the deep stare?”
I sigh, shoving a hand through my hair. “I’m thinking of how to tell him I love his daughter.”
He lets out a slow whistle.
“Was nice knowing you, man,” he says in a playful note, but I am not in the mood for jokes.
Sensing my vibe, he instantly turns serious. “I get it. You should go for it. You look like you don’t even care about the consequences.”
I truly don’t. I didn’t set out to fall for his daughter. Perhaps it will help knowing that we had already met long before he became my coach.
“When will you talk to him?”
“Soon.”
After Kat and Theo’s wedding during the bye week.
This is the second event we’re going to as “just friends.” It infuriates me like I never thought possible, knowing she’s my woman, but I can’t make her mine in public. I refuse to do that shit any longer. I miss kissing her, feeling that physical and emotional connection as our bodies join.
My phone pings with a message, and I smile at the picture of her and her best friend in a club, for Kat’s bachelorette party.
She’s so damn beautiful my heart races, wanting to flee my chest and sprint to her.
Having fun, I see.
We doo.
I am sure that last one is due to her having a drink too many. My girl can’t hold her liquor.
I misss you.
Miss you too. See you soon.
Just two more hours until I can have her next to me.
When the bus parks at the stadium, I get in my car and drive toward the club.
I call Lilly and she picks right up, but it’s so damn loud I can barely make out her words. A few moments later, the deafening sounds muffle, and she says, “I’m in the bathroom.”
“I’ll be there in five to pick you up.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you out front.”
I sit in my car parked next to the sidewalk, watching for her.
Some people outside the club wait in line to enter, chatting animatedly. Lilly comes out, waving at me, and I notice a guy following behind her. He pulls her by the elbow, causing her to stumble.
So much for my plan to stay in the car and avoid gathering attention.
His eyes are glassy, and he appears unsteady on his feet, but I don’t fucking care that he’s obviously drunk. No one is touching my girl without permission, but what enrages me is his next words.
“Come on, I’ll give you the best night of your life.”
She huffs, yanking her arm away. “I said no already.”
So this fucker has been bothering her. The knowledge pours gasoline on my anger that might fucking take off any moment now. I curl and uncurl my hands at my sides, ready to punch this fucking prick for disturbing her.
“I know the game. But no need to play. I’m interested, all right.”
She turns around and crashes right into my chest. With my hand wrapping around her back, I support her. She’s safe. I have her. Nothing will happen to her. I repeat that like a mantra but it’s not enough to ease me, still pumped to knock the fucker out.
She giggles as she looks up at me with her bright green eyes. I want them to only ever see me.
I cup her cheek, and as she leans into my touch, she closes her eyes for a moment, smiling brighter than any star.
“Hi, reckless boy.”
“Hi, flower girl.”
“Hey, dude,” the bastard says, interrupting our moment. “We’re having a conversation here. Find yourself another one.”
My chest heaves with ragged breathing. With my attention set on her, I forgot about him. This asshole is testing my restraint right now.
“Are you deaf, dude?”
I pin him with a death glare. I guess the alcohol flowing through his veins is giving him beer muscles.
And then he does something even stupider, making ignoring him impossible. He grabs her ass and says, “This’s mine to tap tonight.”
I don’t think, I react. Shoving him back, I am about to punch him when Lilly curls her hand around my arm, eyeing me intently.
“He’s not worth it. Let’s go.”
She’s right. I am about to do that when he says, “Slut.”
I thrust my palms out, pushing him with all my strength. The asshole trips, dropping on his ass.
“Stay down or I swear you won’t get up a second time. And now fucking apologize,” I grit out, channeling some calmness that has eluded me since the asshole insulted her.
My blood boils to beat him to a pulp, but an audience has gathered, some phones already out and recording.
Lilly takes my hand, intertwining our fingers, and whispers, “Baby, it’s fine.”
My heart pounds stronger at the endearment, each booming beat a vow to cherish and protect her.
My jaw sets in a firm line. “Drunk or not, no one gets away with calling you that. Never.”
Caressing along my hand with her thumb, she soothes my anger like nothing else.
“He doesn’t matter.”
I hear the snap of photos being taken, but I can’t focus on that because her touch feels so good.
Some guy helps him up, whisper shouting something at him. The asshole sways on his feet and says, “Sorry. My bad.”
Lilly offers a strained nod. I place my hand on her back, guiding her to the car, but it’s more to anchor me and not turn and fucking kill that prick.
Reaching my car, I open the passenger door for her. This will be all over the news tomorrow. I couldn’t fucking care less. When it comes to her, I’d cross any limit—legal or moral.
“Are you okay?” I ask, feeling a bit calmer now, but the residual anger simmers low under my skin. Fucking asshole.
She places her palm on my hand, which is gripping the wheel so tightly that my knuckles whiten.
“I am,” she says softly and waves her hand in the air as if erasing the incident. “He was drunk.”
“That’s not an excuse,” I say through gritted teeth.
Worry flickers in her eyes. “You would have punched him for me. That’s what I am afraid of, you know.”
No, fuck this all to hell.
I take her face between my palms and look her deep in the eyes.
“You’re mine. And no fucking man will hurt or disrespect you.
If anyone has a problem with that, they should come to me.
I have reined myself in and I will continue to do that to an extent.
But you’re what matters the most to me. The worst they can do is suspend me. ”
She gulps. “You’re being careless for something—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. We both know it would be utter bullshit.”
She keeps her mouth pursed, thankfully.
I am angry, exhausted, and this longing makes every heartbeat heavier.
“Fine. Stubborn,” she huffs, drawing a smile from me.
I drive us home and by the time I park, she’s snoring lightly.
Rounding the car, I slip my arms under her back and knees. Lifting her up, I carry her inside. When the elevator doors open, I am torn between just bringing her to my place, but I don’t.
I should fucking win a Super Bowl for my self-control. But it gets tested to the brink of mania. I am only human after all.
I place her weight on my other arm, keeping her up with a knee as I open the door to her apartment.
Carrying her to bed, she mumbles, “Undress me.”
I help her out of her bridesmaid T-shirt and fluffy tutu skirt, then I snatch a T-shirt from the chair. It has my name on it, making the constant weight on my chest more bearable.
I place a kiss on her forehead, inhaling her before I bring her a glass of water and some Advil. Stealing one more glance, I go home.
I am about to change when my phone blows up. I knew it would get out, but fuck, not this fast.
Some of my teammates have sent me links to various online gossip channels that are covering the story.
They make it sound as if I indeed punched that asshole.
What unsettles me the most is that they found out who Lilly is.
Fuck. She values her privacy and now she’s plastered all over the news—because of me.
Roman calls me, saying, “Are you okay, man? What happened?”
A new wave of anger hits me, and I blow out a heavy breath. “That asshole put his hands on her and disrespected her.”
“It doesn’t look good. You remember what Coach said at the beginning of the season about staying out of the limelight.”
I let out a string of fucks.
“Just explain to him why you reacted like that,” he suggests.
“I have to talk with him, regardless,” I sigh, the sound ringing with acceptance.
“Some witnesses said he started it and said things about her. They even praise you for what you did.”
“Yes, whatever. I don’t regret it.”
The next morning, my teammates chat me up in the locker room. It ends when Coach steps inside, carrying his gloomy mood. I expect a dark fog to envelop us. His heated look could incinerate me into ash. Fuck, I am in trouble.
His eyes do a crazy thing, zipping from right to left, but then he inhales deeply to calm down. Pursing his lips, he says, “Let’s head to practice.”
I go through every grueling drill he has in store for us. I have the best team possible because they take it, even though they are all aware he’s punishing me.
By the end of practice, we’re all on our backs on the field, the echo of groans and grunts heavy in the air.
“I can’t fucking move,” Deacon says.
“Hey, man. If you don’t marry that girl, I’ll make you regret it,” Banks says.
I chuckle. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate you.”