Infraction (Players Game Book 2) Page 20

  “I could win a championship.” She teased my lips with her tongue.

  I sighed against her mouth. “Remind me to let you wear my ring.”

  “Naked?”

  “Was there really another option, friend?”

  “Ah.” She laughed. “We’re back to being friends?”

  “The kind that date, yeah.”

  “Good thing everyone already thinks we are, hmm?” She shivered against me.

  “Yeah.” I refused to think about the team, about Anderson, her brother. Shit, I was going to have to tell Jax eventually, because what was happening between us was exploding out of control, and the more time I spent with her the more I realized I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, and I didn’t want to, not anymore. “About that.”

  “One more week,” she interrupted. “And then we can let Jax know . . . he deserves to know.”

  “And I deserve to play without a broken clavicle, but we can’t all have what we want.” I swore. “Okay . . . after the first preseason game against Tampa.”

  She made a face. “Damn Tampa. Five coaches and they still can’t win a game? Don’t you feel sorry for them? Taylor’s completion was horrendous last year, and he only has one good receiver, but Van Austin would rather take selfies than actually condition hard enough to catch a damn ball!”

  “Wow.” I nodded. “I’m so turned on right now I think I may have to go for round two . . . fucking hot seeing my woman talk about football. Quick, give me my stats.”

  She rolled her eyes, then fired off all of my last-season stats like she’d been memorizing them.

  I kissed her before she got started on Jax.

  And ignored the nagging feeling of guilt because when my best friend begged me to take care of his sister so he wouldn’t be stressed, I’d had sex with her instead.

  And kept it from him.

  Good one, Miller.

  I was a dead man.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  KINSEY

  “You ready for this?” I led the rest of the team in some warm-up stretches, giving Emerson a little wink.

  I finally saw it.

  Why Miller couldn’t seem to let Em go.

  There was this magnetism about her that was addicting. Hadn’t I latched onto her after one day of practice? Her smile lit up the room and just being around her gave me confidence.

  I groaned.

  Was it wrong to hope that Miller saw similar qualities in me? That when I was by his side he felt better because of it? Maybe I was reaching. Maybe I needed to stop thinking so much.

  “Alright, ladies.” I moved to the couch stretch for quads and checked my watch. “Full makeup needs to be on before we hit the field for team announcements. Make sure you’re ready in a few minutes, and remember . . .” I glared at Lily, the only girl I really had trouble with since she thought it was her right to sleep with every guy on the team. The only problem was she was good, so Coach kept her—well, that and her family was loaded and loosely connected to the Bucks football program. “No talking to the players before the game, they need to focus.”

  Lily raised her hand. “You mean Emerson can’t talk to Sanchez?”

  Emerson rolled her eyes. “Nope.” She turned to face Lily. “Already did plenty of talking last night . . . and this morning . . . and this afternoon.”

  The girls laughed softly while Lily scowled.

  “Scatter.” I moved my hands while the girls all ran in different directions to put finishing touches on makeup and everything else they had to do. Nervous pee, lip gloss. It was cheerleading, and we had to play our part.

  I’d actually gotten ready in record time. So had Emerson, and she gave me a knowing look and nodded toward the locker room hallway. “Walk with me.”

  “Are we about to have the talk?” I grinned over at her. “The one where you tell me to be careful?”

  “Hah!” She winked, her bright blonde hair bouncing down her back with each perky step. “Absolutely not. You’re a big girl, just like he’s a big boy. You seem happy. I’m glad.”

  “I was happy before!” I tried, pointing around.

  “No, you were content before,” Em argued. “Now you . . . glow.”

  “Don’t say glow.” I shook my head. “That’s all we need, a pregnancy rumor getting thrown around during our first game.”

  “Kinsey Romonov!” She elbowed me in the side. “That’s not what I meant and you know it, but you’re right, I’ll watch my mouth.”

  I stopped walking. “You’re not . . . mad?”

  Em threw up her hands. “Why in the world would I be mad?”

  “He’s . . . he was your boyfriend, your best friend—”

  “Whoa!” Em held up her hands. “Stopping you right there. Six years ago, yeah, but I have Sanchez now, and even though I love Miller to death and always will, Grant Sanchez is my future. Oh wow, that sounded so wrong even to my ears.” She toyed with the giant rock on her finger.

  “So wrong it’s right?” I grinned.

  “He’s horribly awesome.” She sighed happily. “I only want to kill him half the time, so that’s a bonus, and last night he made chocolate cake.”

  I groaned and patted my stomach. “Next time, save your friend a piece.”

  “I’m not a monster!” We were nearing the end of the tunnel. “I saved you two.”

  “This.” I grabbed her hand. “This is why we’re best friends.”

  “Thought I was your best friend.” Miller’s deep voice had me jumping out of my Spanx. “Damn it, already cheating on me, Waffles?”

  “Chicken Dinner, I could never do that,” I shot back.

  Sanchez and Jax were both with them.

  While Jax looked ready to strangle anything that spoke, Sanchez was groaning and patting his stomach. “Promise me we get chicken and waffles after this.”

  “I nominate Em as tribute.” I pointed to her with my pom-poms. “She can cook anything.”

  “Settled.” Miller eyed me up and down. “Dinner after the game.”

  Jax snorted. “Sounds super fun.”

  “Bring Harley.” I crossed my arms.

  Everyone around us froze.

  He tried to walk past Miller, but Miller grabbed him by the jersey and jerked him back. “Something you wanna tell us?”

  “Yeah.” Sanchez rubbed his chin. “I thought you guys weren’t speaking . . . something about . . . bagging and bailing.”

  “Holy shit, you slept with her and left?” Miller’s shocked expression so wasn’t helping Jax’s glower.

  “Are you guys supposed to be talking to us right now?” Jax pointed out. “Why the hell are you in this tunnel?”

  I looked around and paled. “Shit! Em and I were talking, and we took a left. EM!”

  She was already running back down the tunnel with me. Even though the players and cheerleaders were like a small family, chatting it up before a game was still frowned upon.

  We made it to the right side before most of our teammates had gathered. I wheezed out a cough while Em slapped me on the back.

  “So chicken and waffles?”

  “Happening,” I decided.

  “And this Harley situation?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I have no idea. Jax refuses to talk about it, but last night the guy had a hickey the size of Sanchez’s ego on the side of his neck so . . .” I shrugged. “No offense.”

  “That must have been one big hickey.” She went with it and wrapped an arm around my neck. “I know you have a lot going on, Kins. Just know I’m here for you, and I think . . . this is going to be a really good year.”

  “Thank you.” I felt my body shudder.

  “For?” She frowned, squeezing my body harder.

  I shrugged. “Just, being you. An awesome friend.”

  “Aw.” She released me and took in a deep breath, eyeing the field before us; the excitement of the crowd was like an electric pulse, making me dizzy with excitement. Lights flashed in front of us. “Well, thanks for taking me unde
r your wing this last year.”

  “Like you needed me.” I squeezed her hand.

  “I really did.” She put her head on my shoulder then smacked me on the butt. “Alright, let’s do this.”

  I grinned as the air swirled and shifted around me.

  Despite my dad’s illness and the situation between Jax and Miller, I had to admit, something felt charged—different.

  For the first time in weeks.

  I felt fine.

  Which should have been the warning I needed.

  That what comes up.

  Must always.

  Always.

  Come down.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  MILLER

  Preseason Game 1

  Tampa vs. Bellevue

  Home Turf

  Favored Team: Bellevue Bucks

  Jax won the coin toss.

  The guy seemed to always win the coin toss. We were kicking first and then receiving first in the second half. Part of the Bucks’ game plan was to use our defense to make their offense skittish when it came to doing any sort of pass plays, and it almost always worked.

  And while playing Tampa? Well, they either fumbled within the first two minutes or an interception was thrown. Luthor was a good QB. He’d been in the game for close to a decade, but he had shit receivers and young rookies who loved the game—but loved the fame just a little bit more.

  Rumors ran rampant that Luthor’s rookies were known for partying into the season, while the rest of us were focused on winning. They spent all the money they earned faster than most teams.

  Then again, it was nothing compared to Miami.

  Those guys could take the field drunk off their asses and still somehow find a way to win.

  I hated Miami.

  Everyone hated Miami.

  Thank God we didn’t play them unless they made the playoffs or in a preseason game.

  Fourth down and my fingers itched to throw on my helmet.

  It was hard as fuck not to continuously look in Kinsey’s direction, but I knew if I did, I’d lose all concentration, so I focused on the game and told myself there would be plenty of time later.

  “You ready for this?” Sanchez flanked my left while Jax stood to my right.

  “Been waiting all year.”

  Fourth down and Taylor, the wide receiver, missed a catch, nearly allowing one of our guys to intercept.

  Jax cursed. “The guy needs better receivers.”

  “Or actual protection.” I put on my helmet.

  Jax sniffed and looked down at the grass. “You feel like a trick play?”

  Sanchez rubbed his hands together. “God, I love football.”

  I hesitated. “Just what kind of trick play are we talking?”

  Jax put on his helmet. “Miller, where the hell is your sense of adventure?”

  “Jax got laid!” Sanchez chuckled under his breath. “And we’re going to win the championship again.”

  Jax scowled, but even he couldn’t wipe the dopey grin from his face or the fact that both Sanchez and I jumped on him like he’d just said he won a billion dollars and his own private jet.

  Close.

  He got to see a girl naked.

  I smacked his helmet with my gloved hand. “And here I thought you were being an ass because you hadn’t gotten any.”

  “Nah, that’s just Jax’s pregame routine. Jackassery and constipation.” Sanchez grinned. “Trick play . . . wait . . .” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not talking about Cherry Coke Me?”

  Jax’s face spread out into a grin. “Look, they’re going to take us out after the second quarter anyway, may as well have some fun.”

  “Coach!” Sanchez pointed over at Jax. “Your QB just said the F word!”

  “Get on the field, you little shits!” Coach yelled back.

  “I love it when he gives us compliments.” Sanchez grinned while we all ran into the huddle.

  Jax took a knee. “Gentleman, let’s start this season off right. Most of you are fighting for a spot on this team, so show me what you got, I need good blocking, and let’s hope to God Miller actually still knows how to throw a football.”

  Everyone chuckled while I flipped him off.

  “Cherry Coke Me on three!”

  Sanchez looked giddy like he was ready to piss his pants while I was thinking about all the horrible things that could happen to me if the blocking went south.

  Then again.

  I just had to throw a ball.

  We got in position.

  Insults were thrown.

  “I screwed your sister, Jax,” one of the defensive ends yelled.

  While that was meant for Jax, it was actually messing with me more than him.

  Jax counted off.

  On three, the ball snapped. I blocked then ran wide right. Jax threw me the ball and took off directly down the middle of the field while Sanchez turned and blocked for him.

  Once he was at our forty, I threw up a Hail Mary. It sailed directly into his hands as he ran into the end zone.

  Touchdown, Bucks.

  I saluted him from my spot on the field and took a bow.

  He and Sanchez were standing side by side and did the same thing back.

  We got a warning not to celebrate.

  And the crowd went wild.

  Lost their minds.

  It was so loud in the stadium, I couldn’t think.

  It used to be enough. The fans, the pandemonium, the cheers, but in that moment, all I wanted to do was see the look on Kins’s face.

  The camera followed me while I made my way back to the sidelines, pats on the back followed, and then I finally found her, locked eyes with her, and winked.

  She blew me a kiss.

  And that’s when Jax smacked me on the back with his helmet. “Cut that shit out.”

  “Sorry.” But I wasn’t.

  It was going to be a good year.

  A good season.

  I could feel it.

  Coach pulled us out in the second quarter since Tampa had yet to score. It was boring as hell sitting on the sidelines when all I wanted to do was play, but they never wanted to risk their top players getting a stupid injury during the preseason.

  “This blows.” Sanchez handed me a piece of licorice, I took it and put on my Bucks hat.

  “Tell me about it,” I sighed, my fingers itching to touch the ball again.

  Jax joined us, his face tense.

  “What’s up?” I frowned while he popped his knuckles and shook his head like he was contemplating murder.

  He nodded his head at Coach. “Anderson’s blocking well, Coach wants to keep him on, it’s one game, and Coach says he’s seen all he needs to see.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Sanchez spat. “Anderson’s—”

  Anderson suddenly appeared out of nowhere, helmet off. He grabbed a cup of Gatorade and lifted it up to us like he was celebrating. Meanwhile, I wanted to cut his face off. With a smirk he walked off.

  I clenched the bench with my fingers. “He’s lucky I don’t run him over with my car.”

  Jax gave me a double take. “You know where to bury a body?”

  Sanchez barked out a laugh. “Not sure if this matters but I got a few cousins in New York that claim to be mafia. One’s a florist, so I highly doubt it, but I could make some calls.”

  “Nah, guys.” I tried to cool down. “He’s doing it on purpose . . . the last thing we need is to get in a fight with him and look like we’re the ones with the problem. He’s such a cocky little shit. How the hell did you let Kinsey date him?”

  “Let her?” Jax wiped his face with his hands. “I warned her, but the more I warned her away, the more she wanted him, so I finally stopped, and then when things got bad, I finally stepped in, and it took more than a few times to convince her that he was the one with the problem, not her.”

  Rage built into my system until I couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped to my feet, only to be grabbed by both Jax and Sanchez and hauled
back onto the bench.

  “Cool off, man.” Sanchez patted my shoulder pads. “She’s got you now, alright? He has nothing. Don’t give him anything just because you’re pissed about something that happened years ago.”

  Jax froze next to me.

  I licked my lips, that guilty feeling returning with a vengeance. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  I didn’t look at Jax.

  I knew my expression would be more of a confession than an apology about wanting to kill Anderson.

  So instead, of giving us away, I stood and started stretching, then went in search of a protein bar. My guilty ass was going to burn in hell if I didn’t tell him soon.

  I eyed Kinsey across the field.

  A few more days before all hell broke loose.

  And after Jax got a few hits in—he’d be fine.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  JAX

  Harley: Good game! You caught a ball!

  Jax: I’m insulted—I’m a football player. I catch all balls.

  Harley: Don’t leave yourself open to me, QB, I have all the jokes, the ball jokes, that is. Grandma taught me.

  I groaned and texted her back really quick.

  Jax: Still traumatized she caught us having sex.

  Harley: Traumatized? The woman gave me a high five when she came home and proceeded to make a turkey dinner—we don’t even have turkey dinner for Thanksgiving. I think I made her life. Though when she asked me about what you were packing, I had to lie, hope you don’t mind.

  Jax: The hell!!

  Harley: And by lie, I mean, I said eh, not too impressive but told her I’d take candids of it later.

  Jax: You’re insane.

  Harley: She’s a very dedicated fan. I’m thinking if she actually saw the pictures, she’d probably just have a heart attack and see Jesus—don’t you want her to die happy, Jax?

  Jax: She’s not getting a dick shot.

  Harley: Spoilsport.

  I was nervous.

  Nervous to invite her into my life.

  Even though I saw her on a daily basis, going as far as to pick her up from work because I couldn’t wait any longer to kiss her.

  I was pathetic.

  So damn pathetic.

  Sex was messing with my brain cells.

  And yet, I’d just played the best game of my life, despite the fact that my sister wanted to shank me, my dad was dying, and Miller still refused to look me in the eyes.