Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,57

clock. The team could manage without me for thirty seconds. Why not get to the locker room and blow my motherfucking head off?

I lost my helmet somewhere on the field. That was fine. There was enough shit to throw down here. I hit the door first. Then the water cooler. A folding chair crashed into the showers.

I couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t even feel the pain when a strong arm shoved me into the lockers.

“Calm the fuck down.”

It wasn’t the first time Cole Hawthorne had me pinned, but I’d make sure it was the last time he ever put his hands on me. I spun, knocking him away. The Beast didn’t scare me.

“Don’t even think about it.” Cole didn’t hit me. He pitched a cup of cold water in my face. The second was just an insult. “Fuck, Jude! What the hell’s gotten into you? You’re acting like me.”

I shook.

Fuck.

The rage burned now. Tightened my chest. Throbbed in my head.

I had never been this angry before.

I didn’t know if I’d ever calm down.

The equipment managers watched in quiet fear, desperately attempting to fix Cole’s broken shoulder pads. The coaches and players funneled inside as the half ended. I couldn’t handle their stares. Couldn’t explain what the hell it was I felt.

This wasn’t me.

It didn’t even feel like me in my own head.

Cole gripped my shoulder. “Breathe, Jude. Count to ten.”

“What the fuck is that gonna do?”

“It gives you something to do before you break another chair…or your hand.”

I leaned over, grimacing, fueled with hate and anger and black-pitted emptiness.

Coach Thompson roared through the locker room. The team silenced, and he pointed a fat finger in my face.

“What the hell are you doing, Owens? You’re acting like a goddamned rookie. Twelve seasons in this league, when have you ever gotten into a fight on the field?”

Never.

I never would have fought during a game.

It was stupid. It was dangerous. It cost the team yardage.

I raised my gaze, looking past the coach, the confused team, our frustrated quarterback.

I looked for her.

And she was the one who brought me back.

“I don’t know.” The adrenaline dried up. I breathed hard, exhausted, confused. “It didn’t feel like me out there.”

“Sort it the fuck out,” Coach Thompson said. “And fix your goddamned family issues off the field.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“You good to play in the second half?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Get a drink and cool down.”

I swallowed, but Rory was quick to my side. She offered me a cup of Gatorade, but she saw through the fight on the field.

“How’s your head?” She kept her voice low. “Headache?”

Why lie? “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“Are you nauseous? Dizzy?”

“I’m fine.”

“Jude, I need to know what’s happening. Are you okay?”

I wasn’t an idiot. There was no way I’d tell her I lost complete control of myself, my emotions, and my thoughts. She’d pull me off the field, and I doubt she’d ever let me on again.

“I’m fine, Doc. I just need to focus. Eric got under my skin.”

“It wasn’t Eric.” Her eyes widened. “Irritability and mood swings are a symptom of post-concussion syndrome. You could be—”

“Your brother and I got some shit to work out. It’s not my head. It’s him.” I softened my voice. The edge hadn’t worn off yet. “I’ll sort it out.”

She stared at me. “I’m worried about you, Jude.”

And that’s what worried me. I needed her on my side, not looking for reasons to bench me.

Fortunately, I knew how to play her. I smiled, hating myself. She couldn’t resist it when I acted sweet. It made me an asshole, but it kept her quiet.

“Thank you, Rory.” I squeezed her hand. “It’s nice to have someone who cares.”

“I do care. More than I should.”

“Then I don’t need any help. I’m already the luckiest guy in the world.”

She bit her lip. “Just…tell me if it gets worse.”

“Absolutely, Doc.”

She returned to the training staff, and I rejoined the team for our half-time adjustments.

Jack stared at me. He knew. “She let you off the hook?”

“I’m fine.”

“How much longer can you sweet talk your way out of this bullshit?”

“Long enough to win a championship.”

“And then what?”

I didn’t answer. It was the first time that I’d ever asked myself that question.

12

Rory

Most woman grew out of imaginary boyfriends when they were kids.

Not this girl. The older I become, the harder I fell for my fake boyfriend.

“I have a plan for Jude.” Leah waved a French fry at me.

I glanced over the Rivets’ cafeteria. We weren’t the only ones in a deep strategy session. The offense held a meeting over their cheeseburgers and