Dirty Curve

“Who do you think covers that girl’s tuition, huh?”

“She has a perfect GPA. She can do that without you.”

“Shows how much you know.”

“So fucking tell me!”

“It’s not your concern. Focus on that nine-million-dollar contract coming your way, thanks to what I’ve offered you.” He pushes to his feet. “Everything I’ve done, I did to make sure you’d get to where you are now. All those times I covered for your ass and got you out of trouble. The times I carried your ass out of bars or got rid of your company for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to do all that.”

“Yeah, you did, Tobias. Own that.”

“This isn’t the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same.” He glares, and then something flashes in his eyes. “But I take it she never got around to telling you about the night I picked her up off your doorstep, did she?”

My face falls, the weight of a dozen boulders falling onto my chest.

He shakes his head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’m not the only one hiding parts of my life. The girl is trouble, Tobias, she’s a natural born liar, and I’m trying to keep you away from that. The last thing you need is a leech.”

“What do you mean?” I swallow, and when he doesn’t say anything, I dart forward, grip him by the shirt and throw him into the shelves beside us. “I said what does that mean?! Are you saying I was with her before?! That I don’t remember her?!”

I could never forget her. I wouldn’t.

“Why do you think she didn’t want to tutor you, Playboy?” Coach Reid shoves my hands off of him, standing tall. “Memories can be a bitch.”

I stagger backward, searching my mind and coming up empty.

“Bailey ...” My gaze falls to the floor and I run my hand over my head. “She ... is she ...”

Blue eyes.

I look up, struck by the gobsmacked expression on my coach’s face.

He eyes me, his head tipping more and more to the side, the creases framing his brows deepening, and then the man laughs.

A full, unexpected, incredulous laugh that has my pulse picking up even more.

“Well, I’ll be fucking damned. You really are a clueless son of a bitch.” He shakes his head. “Get out of here and get your ass in check.”

“Fuck you,” I spit. “Fuck. You.”

I walk out, my body tingling. Full fucking rage brewing in my chest, and a million other emotions whirling with it.

“If you think you’re going to play house with my daughter and I’m going to allow it, you’re wrong. I own you for six more weeks, kid.”

“School’s out in three.”

“And our season will continue to the end of June. Don’t act like you don’t understand what I’m saying. You made me a deal!”

I whip around, my fist coming down on the wall an inch from his face like a hammer. “I got you to the top. We’re in the world series and on track for the championship game,” I seethe.

“Now you’ll get me my protégé,” he says coldly. “You’ll go back to your house that I pay for, take a fucking shower, and pack your fucking bag. You’ll be at the gate in time to get on the bus. You will dominate these next few games and we’ll be on our way to the big game. I’ll get my banner, my program-grown god, and you’ll get your contract.” He creeps closer. “And after that, you’ll be gone, nothing but a memory to me and Meyer.”

It fucking stings, his quick disregard, but not more than it disgusts me.

“The fact that you believe me to be such a man is proof you don’t know me at all.” I shake my head, taking backward steps away from him. “I might have had a falling out with my parents, but my dad was a good man, and he taught me better than to leave the people I love. And I love her. I love them both.”

With that, I push out the double doors and into the tunnel, but the bastard’s footsteps follow.

“Stay away from her, Tobias!” he shouts. “You’ll only hurt her in the end, and you know it. All those girls on the road, the fame you’ve been chasing. How many times have you said all you needed was the freedom to do whatever you wanted in the world? You could never let all that go!”

I cut him a quick look over my shoulder, and while I’m not sure what mine conveys, his face falls as I say, “Watch me.”

q

Meyer

For the last hour, I’ve been wearing a hole into my rug, pacing the short stretch of my living room without pause, when suddenly, there’s a soft tap at my front door.

My hands fly to my chest, and I freeze where I stand.

The minutes have passed abysmally slow as I wait on pins and needles for Tobias to get back, because I knew he would be, but now that he’s on the other side of the door, I don’t know if I can open it.