Quarterback Sneak: A Forbidden Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)

We had a home game the Saturday after my injury.

We lost.

Not for our lack of trying, because the team was phenomenal on the field. Offense converted when they could, defense held our opponents from too many points. My backup, Blake Russo, had been kicking his ass to learn the new playbook this season just as much as I had. He had been ready to go the last two seasons just in case something like this happened, and I appreciated that he took it seriously when the time came.

They all did good.

It just wasn’t good enough.

Even though we only lost by seven, a loss was a loss, and we all felt the weight of it as we moved into the next week. Fortunately, it was the week I could actually start working on rehab, on getting my shoulder back to normal.

I hadn’t been as optimistic as Julep had been when I first got injured. Memories of my major tear and the surgery that went along with it wouldn’t let me be. But as we worked through the first bit of rehab, the stretching and isometric strengthening — I was surprised at how good I felt.

“Because you listened to me and actually rested,” she had said after our first day when I noted my surprise.

It was about the only thing she’d said to me since that morning in my garden.

I thought we were breaking ground, thought maybe I’d defrosted the ice queen — even if only marginally. But after that morning, she had retreated into herself. She wasn’t cold with me the way she had been in the beginning, but she also wasn’t smiling or trying to make conversation the way she had been in the car on the way home from the hospital.

Still, rehab forced her to be around me, and I’d never admit how much I looked forward to those hours in the training room. It didn’t matter the torture she was putting me through, how the smallest movement and exercises made me feel like my shoulder was burning off.

Because at the base of it all, she still had that look in her eyes.

Understanding.

And it felt like I’d built the first pillar of a bridge between us.

At least, until that pillar was knocked down by the hand of a reality check one evening after practice.

I’d sat out, again, watching from the sidelines as we prepared to head on the road and face off against the Rhode Island Trojans. But even from the sidelines, I called out what I saw, coached Russo in-between plays, and instructed my offensive line how to help him gain a little more time in the pocket so he could make his throws. He wasn’t quite as quick as I was, and it took him longer to find the player he wanted, to decide, to wind up and make the pass.

Every second counted.

By the time we made it back to the locker room, I was exhausted and just as sweaty as if I’d been on the field with the rest of the team. I carefully removed my jersey, trying not to anger my shoulder that was still tender even if I was gaining better movement with it.

The locker room was alive with the chatter it usually had, primarily because Kyle had decided we were having a party at the Pit tonight. A big part of me wanted to nip that plan right in the bud, but the other part of me knew the team needed this — a way to blow off steam after our loss, to have a little fun before we took on the Trojans. So, I let it ride, committing to the fact that I’d just have to suck it up for a night.

I had my eyes on where I was taking off my cleats when the buzz died down, and I looked up just in time to see Julep duck into her dad’s office. She rattled off something to him, and he nodded and checked his watch before saying something back. Then, with a simple nod, she rounded out of his office — and she didn’t look at a single player gawking at her as she walked the few short steps that took her back out of the locker room.

Someone let out a wolf whistle, and then the room broke out into a mixture of laughter and talking again.

“Swear to God, I have never seen a finer ass on any woman,” Kyle said, biting his knuckles and doing a little spin.

“Yeah, well I hope you’ve made peace with the fact that looking at it is all you’ll ever do,” Zeke popped back.

“Pshh, just what a pussy-whipped simp would say.” Kyle waved him off. “Just because you’re soft from only having one girl in your bed for two seasons now doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

Riley gave Kyle a fake smile before flipping him off and heading toward the showers, clearly done with the conversation.

“You don’t stand a chance,” Clay told Kyle, wiping his forehead with a towel before hanging it over his shoulder.

Kyle crossed his arms on a devilish smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

“No,” I cut in, blood pulsing in my neck. “It’s a reminder that she’s a member of our training staff and the daughter of our head coach — who made it pretty clear that she was off limits the first time he walked into this locker room.”

Every head spun toward me, and Kyle’s eyebrow shot up before he let out a high-pitched laugh. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Cap.”

I blinked, looking back down at where I was untying my other cleat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. That’s why you had her practically naked in our back yard last week, right?”

Those disrespectful words aimed toward Julep were an incendiary device on my already-frayed emotions.

My teeth nearly shattered from how hard I gritted them when I stood, and in a flash, I had Kyle pinned by the neck against the lockers. He just laughed harder as I pressed into his space.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I spat. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your fucking mouth.”

“Careful,” he said with a wink. “Don’t want to hurt your precious arm there.”

I pressed my left forearm even more into his neck, hating the challenge I saw in his eyes before Clay carefully peeled me off him, and Zeke stepped in, too, pulling Kyle in the opposite direction.

“Alright,” Leo said, exchanging looks with Clay and Zeke before snapping his towel between me and Kyle. “That’s enough machismo for today. Neither of you stand a chance of fucking the coach’s daughter, so let’s just drop it, hey?”

“Speak for him,” Kyle said, nodding toward me. His eyes flicked toward Coach’s office to make sure the door was still closed before he shrugged the guys off and pinned me with a glare. “You may have had her playing in the dirt with you in her bra and underwear, Cap, but it’ll be my bed she lands in. I promise you that.”

I surged toward him, ready to plow his fucking teeth in — shoulder be damned. But Zeke and Clay both caught me and shoved me back, which only made Kyle laugh like he’d already won. He winked at me before dropping his shorts and sauntering toward the shower, letting his dick swing the whole way.

“Get off me,” I growled, shoving my friends away before I kicked my cleats toward my locker and reached in for my shirt, tugging it on a bit too quickly. My shoulder stung, but I ignored it.

Leo squeezed my healthy shoulder, he and the other two hovering behind me as I tried to school my breaths.

“Coach’s daughter,” he said, so low only the four of us could hear it.

“I know,” I bit back.

“Then fucking act like it,” Zeke added, and I turned to face him, to face all three of them, ready to fight like an animal backed into a corner.

But when I met their gazes, I saw nothing but the concern of my brothers, my friends who loved me like family.

They could see right through me, my walls nothing but glass to them.

I let out a long breath, my head falling back against the locker before I shook it. “Yeah, no. I’m fine. Just… tired.”

It was a sorry excuse, one I knew didn’t fool any of them as they exchanged looks. But they nodded, and Leo squeezed my shoulder once more before releasing me.

“We’ll blow off some steam tonight,” he assured me. “Pong. You’re on my team.”

I nodded, though I knew no amount of beer could make me not act like an absolute psycho when I heard someone talk that way about Julep — especially a scumbag like Kyle Robbins. He was the worst of the worst, the kind of guy you hated as a human but depended on as a player. He was the best tight end in our division, which meant we were lucky to have him. But he was also a disrespectful misogynist who cared more about how much money he could make from a shoe deal than whether our team won the championship or not.

I didn’t want him so much as looking at Julep, let alone thinking about touching her.

The problem was that I had no right to feel that way, or act that way.

I was losing my damn mind over a girl I should have been staying far, far away from.

“Hit the shower,” Clay said to me, and he gave me a look that said he’d be talking to me later, that he saw right through the bullshit.

They all did.

Which meant I had better get my act together before Coach Lee started to notice, too.

Julep

God, if you really exist, please strike me with a lightning bolt at this very moment and end it all.

The thought was only half a joke as I pushed pasta around on my plate listening to my father tell Mary stories about me as a kid. Of course, Mary leaned into every word, smiling and laughing and egging him on with questions in-between throwing me winks across the table.

Traitor.

I was happy she was winning him over — first with inviting him to dinner, then with cooking said dinner, and now by laughing at his stupid jokes and acting like she was interested in his boring football talk. When he’d first seen her on move-in day, piercings and tattoos and leather-clad, I knew he’d been worried. So, this dinner, her softening his suspicion — it was a good thing.

I just wished it wasn’t at my expense.

And I wished my father wasn’t pretending we had some glorious relationship when the truth was that we barely knew each other at all.

“Wait,” Mary said, chuckling as she wiped her mouth with her napkin before folding it in her lap again. “You’re telling me that Julep, the Julep sitting at this table with us, used to tie bows in her hair?”

“Every day,” Dad said, beaming. “She’d match it to whatever she wore that day, and she had a special one for game day. Bright blue and orange like her uniform.”

“I still can’t believe you were a cheerleader,” Mary said, snickering.

“Trust me, it wasn’t by choice,” I grumbled.

“You loved it,” Dad teased.

“No, Abby loved it,” I corrected, meeting his eyes. “I just did it for the boys.”

Dad’s mouth thinned into a flat line, and an awkward silence fell over the table as he reached for his wine and took a sip.

My gaze stayed fixed on him, as if this time might be different from every other time I brought her up. I wanted so desperately for him to admit it. To say, “Ah, that’s right. It was Abby who loved cheerleading, wasn’t it? Didn’t she used to cheer the birthday song to you every year?” And I could laugh and say, “She sure did, even when we were teenagers.”

Then, we’d both laugh — even if that laughter was underlined with sorrow. But we could remember her, share the memory of her, and keep her alive in even that small way.

Instead, he stayed silent, and I grew more resentful.

Mary gave me a look like what the hell was that?

I only looked down at my plate, counting down the minutes for this dinner to be over.

To anyone on the outside of this dinner, it would seem I was being a brat. And I guess in many ways, I was. But I felt that lingering gaze from my father all the time. It wasn’t as bad as Mom’s, who barely wanted to see me at all anymore, but I still felt it.

It was the sadness, the worry, the fear of what my life was, and even more so of what it would become.

In truth, I could admit that I was an ungrateful little snot when it came to how much he put up with where I was concerned. I’d put him through enough, too much really, and yet he still tried. He still wanted to see me succeed.

Sometimes, I wished he’d just leave me to dig my holes and bury myself alive in them.

“Speaking of boys,” Dad said after a minute, and all the lightness that was in his voice before disappeared. “Are the players leaving you alone?”

“Oh, my God, Dad,” I said, huffing as I sat back and shoved my plate away from me.

“I see the way they look at you,” he said. “And I know better than most how football players can be.”

“No one is bothering me.”

“Leo Hernandez?”

“No,” I said in a bored tone, though I didn’t miss how Mary’s lip curled at his name.

“Zeke Collins? Clay Johnson?”

“They both have girlfriends. You know their girlfriends.”

Dad made a face like he wasn’t sure that mattered. “Kyle Robbins?”

“Who?” I made a face, waving my hand in the air to illustrate how little I cared.

Dad picked up his fork, stacking some pasta and broccoli. “What about Holden Moore?”

I sighed, shoving back from the table and standing. “Trust me, Dad — everyone has heeded your warning and they’re all staying away from me. Now, if this interrogation is done, may I be excused?”

“You’ve barely touched your dinner,” Mary commented with a pout.

“Yeah, well, I’m not hungry,” I said to no one in particular.

I didn’t dare look at my father, not when I knew the disappointment I’d see waiting for me if I did. I knew the look well, the one that said he wished it was his other daughter who survived instead of me.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly to Mary. “Dinner was great. I really appreciate it. I’m just… tired.”

She nodded like she understood, giving me a look that said we could talk later.

She’d be disappointed to find that I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

I forced myself to smile at my father, because no matter how irritated I was, I knew how precious life was, how quickly it could go. “I really am just tired,” I reiterated, because I knew the way he was looking at me, he didn’t believe the lie I’d fed Mary.

Thankfully, he still held enough compassion for me that he nodded like he did. He stood, opening his arms, and I slipped into them for a brief hug.

“Love you, Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you, too. Your mom wanted me to tell you hello, by the way. She’s going to call later this week. Things have just been crazy with planning the church banquet. You know how into all that she gets.”

I rolled my eyes at the lie, because pretending I was indifferent hurt less than admitting how much that lie really hurt. Mom had no intention of calling me. She hadn’t since we left.

“Okay,” I said.

When he released me, I drained the last bit of the wine in my glass before retreating up the stairs and to my room.

I wanted to slam my door, to throw a tantrum like I was allowed to when I was a pre-teen. Instead, I closed it with a quiet snick that seemed to echo through the empty room before flopping face-first onto my bed and letting out a strangled scream into my pillow.

For a while, I just laid there, listening to the muffled voices downstairs until I heard the distinct sound of the front door opening and closing. Mary knocked on my door a moment later, her voice soft as she told me he was gone.

I didn’t respond.

“You okay, roomie?” she asked after a moment.

When I didn’t reply, I heard a long sigh leave her.

“I’m going to eat an edible and watch old episodes of Schitt’s Creek. Invitation is open.”

Then, she was gone.

I eventually rolled onto my back, watching as the last bit of sunlight faded from my room. I thought of Abby, of my parents, of what things might have been like if Abby were still here.

If I hadn’t…

I couldn’t even finish the thought before emotion gripped me by the throat, and I closed my eyes, willing myself to just go numb. Eventually, I snuck back downstairs and quietly topped off my wine glass. I didn’t care that I’d already had two. I wanted another.

I took it back up to my room and drank it too quickly before I flopped back on my bed. The minutes ticked by with me staring at the ceiling, and just about the time I convinced myself I should shower and go to bed, I heard it.

Music.

It was muffled, but the base beat thick through the house, rattling my bed frame a bit. I frowned, leaning up on my elbows before I rolled off my bed and padded over to my window.

Holden’s lawn was covered with people.

The front door was wide open, students ambling in and out of it with plastic cups in their hands. Music blasted, couples made out on the porch, and a group of guys dragged a large folding table into the back yard, careful not to step on any flowers, fruits, or vegetables.

I chewed my lip, watching, and then for reasons unbeknownst to me, I bolted out of my room and shoved into Mary’s without knocking.

“Hey!” she scolded, holding up the shirt she’d just taken off to cover her knockers.

But I didn’t turn around, didn’t leave, didn’t do anything for fear that one second of hesitation would make me change my mind.

“Are you tired?”

She was still frowning at me, like I was a crazy person on the verge of a breakdown. “Not really?” she answered, almost more of a question than a certainty.

I nodded, folding my arms before I glanced down the hall at my room, and then back at my roommate.

“How do you feel about making an appearance at the Pit?”