CHAPTER 15 Maverick Jennings
Red Means Danger
My feet slap against the treadmill as I work out a few days later.
My rib’s feeling better. I can move with only minor pain now, and I have an appointment with Dr. Baker this morning after a quick meeting with Everleigh.
I wasn’t expecting to open up to her on the way back from Ellie’s place, and maybe I didn’t. But it felt like I did.
I don’t talk about my parents to anyone. Ever.
But I told her about my mom. All I said is she’s not doing well.
I didn’t give her the bigger picture that some days she doesn’t know who I am, other days she thinks I’m a little kid, and still other days she’s totally functional.
Alzheimer’s is a bitch of a disease, that’s for sure.
Watching her deteriorate has been hell, and I live with the guilt of not being by her side as she navigates this cruel disease.
I keep her note behind a photo of the two of us taken at my wedding. It’s the only trace I have left that I was once married, and I only keep it out because it’s my mom.
I memorized the note long ago. She wrote it to me right after her diagnosis, long before we knew how bad it would get.
It’s short and sweet, much like her.
You come first. Always. Never allow my illness to take away from your own life.
She’s at the best memory care facility Ohio offers. I get back to visit a few times a year, usually in the offseason.
I suppose it’s why I was protective over my answer when Everleigh asked me where I like to travel.
But she’s starting to wear me down, I guess. I’m starting to want to confide these things in her, and I’m not sure why yet. Maybe because she refuses to give up on me.
Nobody has ever done that for me…except my mom, who had no clue who I was when I last saw her.
It’s heartbreaking. It makes it hard to go, but I do it anyway.
She didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by my asshole father. She deserved a better life than the one she got. It’s why I did everything I could to take care of her as soon as I could afford to. It’s why I pay for the best medical care now.
I can’t be there physically and listen to the words in her note at the same time, so I do what I can from a distance.
Even if she never knows it.
She made sacrifices for me my entire life, and I try to return the favor.
I told Everleigh about my dad, too. He’s a fuckin’ deadbeat.
That’s all I care to say on that matter. It’s still more than I’ve told most people.
I finish my sprint and slow to a walk for a few minutes before I power down the machine. I make a protein shake and sip it as I study the view out my window.
I take a shower, and as I brush against my cock, I think about jerking off.
But then I realize who is in my head.
The red lipstick.
The red dress.
The black heels with the red bottom.
Red means danger, like when the opposing team is nearing the red zone and we have to stop them. Thinking about her when my cock is hard and in my hand is about the most dangerous sport I can play right now.
I can’t seem to stop myself, though. I picture those red-lined lips wrapped around me as I pull short strokes, focusing on the head. Hot water beats down on me, and I lean back against the cold tile of the shower wall as I feel heat starting to pulse through me.
I grunt as I pick up the pace, and I squeeze my eyes shut when I feel the heat ignite as it tears through me.
“Fuck,” I grunt, and her face flashes through my mind just as my cum erupts out of me.
It seems to go on and on as each new pulse spills more cum, and I sag back against the wall for a beat once my release has passed through me.
I rinse my cum down the drain, holding both my fist and the head of my cock under the water to wash it away like it never happened.
But it did happen, and twenty minutes later, I’m slightly relaxed and also slightly mortified as I take a seat across from her in the conference room of our building.
She’s wearing that goddamn red lipstick again.
I blow out a breath.
“I secured our air travel for the charity event on Monday,” she begins.
“What if I’m cleared to play?”
“Shouldn’t affect our schedule. We fly in early Monday, and it’s back to Vegas Tuesday afternoon.
We’re getting some positive response to spinning the fight at the lounge over the weekend as you defending a woman, namely, me.
A teammate’s sister. A teammate who you’ve recently spoken out against. It’s actually all coming together nicely,” she says, scanning her notes as she talks.
“I’ll need you to continue to stay off socials while we work behind the scenes on your image.
With that said, Ellie has a handful of sponsorship opportunities we’d like you to take a look at. ”
Well. These women work fast, that’s for damn sure.
They have connections that I guess I didn’t realize. Having Ellie Dalton on my side is probably a bigger advantage than I first thought. Maybe having Everleigh fighting for me is, too.
I think about my parents again. I don’t give a shit about my dad, but the legacy my mother is leaving behind is, well, me, and apart from being good at football, I don’t think I’m doing justice to the legacy she would wish for me.
When Everleigh mentioned that yesterday, it was the first time I ever thought about how the way I act could reflect negatively on my mother. How what I do could affect her legacy.
For the first time, it made me want to be better. For her.
“Show me,” I say.
She pushes a contract toward me, and the first one is for a sports drink. The next is for a luxury watch brand, and then a tech startup, a meal prep company, and a line of athletic apparel.
They’re all fine. Nothing that will change the world. Nothing that will make it a better place…which leads me to wonder something. “What’s the purpose of these?”
“I mean, the main goal of sponsorships is to make money outside of your contract, right? But in terms of what we’re doing here, we’re crafting an image.
You get to choose who you want to be. Purely an athlete who’s always grinding and working hard?
Take the sports drink and apparel. Want to pull off a more polished, elite feel?
The watch. Want to seem innovative? The tech startup.
And the meal prep, this one in particular, could make you appear like you’re just a normal guy who still needs to eat when you get home from work.
It gives a just like us vibe that could connect you to your fanbase. ”
“What if I just want to sponsor products I actually like and would use?” I ask.
She lifts a shoulder. “Then that’s the image you’re portraying. If you’d start being less aggressive with me, we could possibly craft that image together and go from there.”
I clench my jaw and grit my teeth a bit at the thought. I have been an asshole toward her, but it’s nothing new. It’s how I am toward everyone.
“The first one. The athlete always grinding. Except when a teammate injures me.” I gingerly pat my ribs.
Her lips lift in the smallest smile. “Okay, that’s a good start. So yes on the drink and the apparel?”
“I’m not elite or innovative, so those are a no.” I push those papers to the side. “This one, though. The meal plan. I could be a normal guy who needs to eat when he gets home.”
“And the best part is they’re not just paying you, but they’ll send you free meals for the next year.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I eat pretty clean.”
“Then you take in the shipment and pass them over to your neighbor,” she says pointedly.
I very nearly laugh. Almost. It’s more of a grunt, as if I have to rewire my entire being in order to actually make myself laugh again, but it’s the closest I’ve been in a long time.
“Deal.”
“Maybe we can even whip them up together sometime,” she says absently.
“Are you asking me on a date?” I ask.
Her eyes widen, and her cheeks turn nearly the same shade as her lips. “No!”
Another grunt that’s nearly a chuckle.
She huffs a little as she pulls out a pen so I can sign the contracts I’ve agreed to. She practically yanks them back after I sign each one, and it’s actually quite amusing to see her a little flustered.
“Your appointment with Dr. Baker is in thirty minutes. Jack would like me to attend with you,” she says.
I nod. “Let’s meet there. I’m going to train a bit afterward, and you don’t need to stick around for that.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to. I need to get an idea of what you do, and if we’re going with the grinding athlete angle, I’ll need to take photos of you in action so we can start building a social media campaign showcasing that.”
“Fine.”
We head toward the practice facility in our own cars, a welcome separation. Sometimes being in the same room as her gets overwhelming. I guess I’m not used to spending so much time with a single person.
Even when I was married, we didn’t spend this much time together. At first, maybe. But things change. Life changes. It’s the one constant, I think.
“Everything looks good, Maverick. You’re cleared to return to light practice. I want you to sit out of the game one more week, but depending on how things go, you may be able to start as soon as next Sunday,” Dr. Baker tells me after the exam.
Even Everleigh looks excited. Maybe we both feel a bit of joy because now we’ll have even more separation.
But as soon as I have the thought, I know it’s wrong—for two reasons.
One, she’s got my schedule and a free pass to every part of my life on the field thanks to Jack.
And two…the thought of more separation from her isn’t pulsing the kind of joy inside that I was expecting it to.