by Saxon James
“It’s okay.” And it is. I’m not his responsibility, but I’m not exactly in a rational mindset as I hang up.
Groaning, I drag my hands back through my hair, really wishing I could stop for a second. It’s been a fucking long day. Not for the first time, I wish I lived closer to Taryn. It’s going to be almost two hours until I get to his place by the time I pick up the car and drive down. Urg. I turn and kick the wall, but all it does is send a sharp jolt of pain up my foot.
Gritting my teeth as I shake my foot out, I try not to curse. It’s going to be a long night, and that’s not going to change in a hurry if I don’t get my ass in gear. And at least, no matter how long it takes, I know Taryn will be there at the other end.
I send him a quick message with an apology and the photos I’ve taken. I’ll explain when I get there. There’s something off about 34225.
Then I head for the side of the road to wait. Taryn’s game would have started and he’s been basically off the grid, so I haven’t even been able to hear his reassuring voice this afternoon. I miss it. I miss him.
So fucking much it’s painful.
Who the hell have I become?
I open his texts back up and stare at my pathetic attempt at an apology. Sighing, I try again.
I really am sorry. Sorry we live so far away. Sorry I’m a bit of a mess. Sorry my job is causing so much trouble. But I hope you still think I’m worth it. Because you are. You’re worth everything.
I almost delete it. Almost erase the first bit of evidence that I can show affection, but Taryn’s never held back, and because I doubt I’ll be able to say it to his face, and he at least deserves to know, I keep the text. Drawing a long breath, I hit Send, then slide my cell back into my pocket.
Surprisingly, that one text makes me feel lighter. Freer. Like I’m smiling on the inside. He’s twisting me all up, and I never want it to stop.
A light smile pulls at my lips, and as I let it break free—
I’m grabbed from behind.
My feet leave the ground, something is forced over my head, and then a sharp stick in my right arm shoots pressure into the muscle. I cry out in surprise, but the sound dies on my lips as everything goes dark.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
We’re falling behind. Kurt Bradley and Neil Davidson have literally run circles around our defense, but what do you expect when our whole defensive strategy was based on Bradley and Davidson being out for the game. Every yard they take makes me more restless, so by the time I get back out there, my head’s not focused like it should be. We struggle to make the ten yards each down, which is a fucking nightmare considering how well we’ve been playing, but every time I get my hands on the ball, Jason Churng is there to take me out.
I have no idea where this kid came from, but he’s lightning fast for such a big guy, and as he rams me into the ground for the umpteenth time, my shoulder complains under the impact. Trying to hold back my groan, I push back to my feet, determined not to show the pain radiating from my shoulder to my neck.
When I finally come off and the defense takes the field, I work on stretching out my shoulder as subtly as possible while I watch Zane fucking dominate. He’s all over the Cubs tight end, not letting the guy get a run in, and in all the mess of our game, Zane is a highlight.
Until he goes down.
He’s rushing the offensive line, but before he can even reach his mark, his leg gives out and he hits the dirt. I can’t see his face from here, but I don’t miss the way his knee pulls up to his chest and he grabs his ankle. He rocks to one side, arm thrown over his face guard, and the referee finally calls a time out.
My fists are clenched as I stand there panting, waiting for him to get back up. I’d noticed the limp he was trying to hide, but every time I questioned him about it, he told me he was fine. Damn it! Maybe I should have pushed harder. When the medical team brings the stretcher out, my stomach drops through the field. He’s out. Hopefully only for this game, but I feel fucking sick watching them take him away. When one of us gets injured, we all feel it because it really is that easy. And with Zane gone, we feel it more than ever. Bradley goes over for two touchdowns, pulling their lead way out ahead.
And in the final quarter, we only manage one touchdown to their three. It’s a bloodbath.
I don’t know whether Elliot giving me the heads up was a good thing or not. Maybe it got into my head that we were gonna lose. Maybe I could have played better. Did I hold back? Did I assume we were done?
Or was it simply because we’d been blindsided by Bradley and Davidson?
Either way… we lost.
The atmosphere in the locker room is completely flat. It’s only our second loss, and yeah, that doesn’t completely rule us out of the playoffs, but fuck, we weren’t prepared. At least the team wasn’t. I’m taking the loss a little better than I probably would have considering I had the head’s up.
And while the other guys are icing their muscles and being looked at by Doctor Fallins, my head is on a loop of was the game fixed? How? Who? Zane’s usual energy is missing and not having him sitting beside me doesn’t feel right. I’d actually been planning to try to get a feel for how he’d react to my coming out, and if I had the chance, I was just going to do it. No way for that to happen now. I dig out my phone and send him a text to check in when he can, but then I realize his stuff is probably all still here.
Sighing, I check the locker next to mine and find his bag shoved at the top.
I grab it and check that his phone and wallet are both in there before winding my way through the guys and passing it off to our coach. He’s finally stopped pointing out what we did wrong, but the frown etched into his face shows he’s still pissed.
“Ah, Coach? Zane might need this.”
He looks at the bag for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll take it. Gotta go check in on him straight after the press conference.”
“I hope he’s okay. I know his ankle hasn’t been right for a while, but…”
“But no one was expecting that. He had the all clear.”
“That’s what he said.” I shake my head. “Guess it’s one of those things.”
“Yeah, well one of those things isn’t supposed to happen to my players. I’m going to be having words with whoever made that call, I tell you.” He pats me on the shoulder and heads into his office, slamming the door a little louder than he normally does. One by one, the team starts getting up to take their showers, and when I finally open the message Elliot sent earlier, I’m almost glad everyone is distracted by the loss. First, the photo and his cryptic message have me frowning, trying to puzzle out what it could all mean, but it kinda sounds like—does Elliot have a lead? Is that what this is?
Excitement and trepidation war for room in my stomach, but they’re both completely overrun when I read his next text. Warmth floods me with each word, and I’m not sure what look I have on my face, but damn I’m glad there’s no one around to witness it. I want to hug my phone, and the way my eyes start to prickle is completely unwelcome.
I need to get home.
I need to see his face.
With everyone else still operating at the slowest level possible, my sudden burst of energy has me powering through my shower, grabbing my stuff, and getting the hell out of here. Some of the guys are going out to drown their sorrows, which doesn’t sound even the slightest bit appealing to me. They’re going to get messy, and I can see it ending badly. No, the only thing that can break through the sour feeling of losing a game is seeing Elliot’s gorgeous face. I’m going to grab him so tight and tell him that everything he wrote, I feel it too. Because maybe, maybe I love him.
I’ll keep that to myself right now, but Jesus, the more I think about him, the more I’m flooded with that warmth, the helium in my stomach, the jitters and dumb smiles.
Was it like this with Liam in the beginning? No. Liam and I were friends who decided to go on a date, then share a kiss, then e
ventually start dating and hooking up. It felt real, it felt safe and comfortable, but was that love?
I have a niggling little flutter in my chest that tells me probably not. Because this feeling is totally fucking new.
With Elliot, nothing feels like it’s gone the way things are supposed to. But if they hadn’t, we might not have gotten to where we are now. And where we are now is pretty fucking perfect.
He’s perfect.
My heart is aching as I peel out of the parking lot, driving a tad faster than normal in my race to get home. He should have gotten there a good half hour ago, and knowing he’s in my space, that he let himself in with the key I gave him, is kinda incredible.
As I turn onto my street, the lack of car parked out front sends my stomach into a spin. Did he not borrow Rainer’s car? I turn into the driveway, and while the dark interior doesn’t completely take away my excitement, it definitely doesn’t seem like a great sign.
He said he’d be here, though, and I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t be.
It’s not until I walk into my conspicuously quiet house and realize the upstairs is deserted that I accept he’s not here. I’m disappointed for sure, but he’s probably just hit traffic. And at least an empty house gives me a chance to do something I couldn’t in the team showers.
Tonight, I want Elliot to try to fuck me. The thought of it is still terrifying, but I’m willing to at least try, especially because the last few times I’ve tried with my fingers hasn’t been… terrible. But it’s different when he’s with me.
After my shower, I busy myself by cooking dinner, and when I don’t burn the sausages, I feel a little burst of pride. When Elliot walks in to the smell of food actually cooking—not burning—it’ll be a first. Maybe he’ll even reward me for my efforts.
Smiling, I plate up the steamed vegetables and meat, dumping the too-watery onion gravy down the sink, where I can pretend it never happened. Simple, yes. But it’s edible, and that’s really all I care about.
I grab my phone and check for messages again, but nothing has come through. Worry, real, actual worry, hits me for the first time as I tap on his name and call.
Straight to voicemail.
Fuck.
A million thoughts vie for space in my head. Has his phone died? That’s reasonable, and probably most likely, right? I hurry to pull up the traffic alerts for the area on my phone, but even when I scroll out to include New Jersey, everything seems clear. So he hasn’t gotten into an accident which is a huge fucking relief. And also incredibly fucking worrying. With a clear run, he should have been here well over an hour ago, probably closer to two. Did he get sidetracked? Has something happened to Rainer?
Or…
I hurry to pull up his message again. It doesn’t read as a goodbye. Did something happen between him sending it and getting here to make him rethink our relationship? I know I pushed him a little with the whole boyfriend thing, but when he was here, he seemed to genuinely want it too. Did I misread it?
My heart is thumping heavy and fast against my ribs, making me sick. I try his phone again, but again, I get his voicemail. And it’s not even his voice either, just a robotic recording.
Feeling like I might be sick, I quickly type out, Hey, Elliot, you nearly here? and hit send. I definitely want to write way more than that, but with this sudden onslaught of doubt, I hold back. If Elliot’s already getting cold feet, like hell am I going to give him even more reason for it.
Besides, he promised it wasn’t like that anymore. And as hard as it is, I have to trust him. There’s a lump in my stomach as I consider eating dinner, which rids me of that idea pretty damn fast. I place both plates in the fridge and head to my room to get changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. I’d tried for something a bit nicer so I wouldn’t look like a slob when I first saw him, but now I need to keep distracted. I pour a glass of the wine he likes so much then settle in front of the TV, not able to stop from checking my phone every few minutes.
One hour passes, then another.
My stomach is an absolute mess. Would he really leave me waiting like this? Apparently, yes.
It’s not until midnight that I finally face the facts. If something had come up, he would have at least sent a text, but there’s still nothing. Literally. No teammates, no family, no Elliot.
And that’s… depressing as fuck.
There’s still no contact by one or two. Finally, I get so tired I slump over on the couch, hoping he’ll walk in at any minute. My shoulder twinges as I adjust position, and as I lie there waiting, I eventually fall asleep.
***
I have no idea what time it is when a loud knock beats against my front door, jolting me awake. My stomach flips over at the thought that it’s finally Elliot, and I trip down the stairs as I remind myself he has a key. He could let himself in.
But maybe he’s being polite?
I should know better than to hope, but I’m a disaster at rational thinking. I hold onto the slightest shard of optimism anyway, well aware it’s the worst thing I could be doing.
The loud knock comes again, faster and more urgent. Whoever the hell it is isn’t fucking around.
I jog down the hall and wrench open the door, ready to give the person a piece of my mind, but when I come face to face with the red-faced, blond-haired guy, I falter. His eyes shoot wide in recognition.
“Where the hell is he? I’m going to kill him!” He goes to start past me, but my arm flies out in time.
“Who?”
“Elliot. The big idiot!”
His response makes me frown. “Let me guess, Rainer?”
“Well, who else, darling? Now where the hell is that horrible, good for nothing ex-best friend of mine?” For as much as he tries to sound tough, I easily pick up on his worry. He ducks under my arm and storms down the hall like he owns the place.
“He’s not here. Find him though, and then we’ll both know.”
Rainer’s determined stride falters. “What do you mean he’s not here?”
“I’m sorry, is that somehow unclear?”
And I’ve got to hand it to him, for a tiny guy, Rainer’s glare is vicious. “I’m sorry, are you sassing me right now?”
“You realize you’re the one who barged in here? Elliot never showed up. How much clearer do I need to be?”
“Did you have a fight?”
“No.”
“Then where the hell is he?” Rainer’s anger gives over completely to concern, and if Rainer’s concerned, maybe I should be too.
“How should I know?” But I’ve lost the fight.
“He was supposed to pick up my car last night. When I woke up this morning and it was still there, I figured he refused to take my car out of principle or something. I called him this morning, but it went to voicemail. So then I went to his place, but he wasn’t there, and neither were any of his work things, so I assumed he came straight here from work yesterday.”
“Did you call his work to make sure he wasn’t there?”
“Of course, I’m not an idiot. I did that on my way here.”
“And how did you find here?”
He shrugs. “It was in my car’s recent GPS locations.”
“Obviously,” I say with a scoff, shaking my head. I rub one hand back over my hair as I try to figure out what’s going on. “So, you’re what? Saying he’s missing?”
“Either that, or he’s pissed off at us both and gone into hiding.”
I shake my head. “No. No, he wasn’t annoyed at me.”
Rainer rolls his eyes. “How can you possibly know that? He’s a sensitive one.”
“Come with me.” I lead him upstairs and show him the last message Elliot sent me.
“If it’s a dick pic, I may forward it to myself, you’ve been warned.”
I roll my eyes. “Read it.”
His frown deepens as he reads before handing the phone back to me. “That’s… not a side I’ve ever
seen of Elliot.” He squints up at me. “Do you have a gold-plated cock or something?”
I cringe. “How the hell is that a good thing?”
“Good, maybe not”—Rainer shrugs one bony shoulder—“but it sure would be kinky.”
“Is now really the time for jokes?” Worry is starting to build in my stomach, and this time it isn’t worry for our relationship, but worry about Elliot.
“Well, what the hell else can we do?” Rainer snaps.
He sinks onto my couch as I glance at the other text Elliot sent last night and I’m hit with a dreadful kind of thought.
“Rainer…”
“What?”
“This is gonna sound dumb…” I clear my throat. “But what if Elliot’s in trouble?”
He looks at me blankly. “Well, safe people usually don’t go missing, Einstein.”
“Okay, cut the attitude, dickhead. I’m worried too.”
Rainer works his bottom lip. “He was being followed yesterday.”
“He mentioned that. But he said it was his boss keeping an eye on him.”
“How does he know it was his boss?”
Oh shit. “Well, who else would it be?” My words are strangled in fear as I remember the photo Elliot sent. “He was looking into who fixed my game.”
“Then this is your fault.”
“Shut the hell up, Rainer. You know he would have done it anyway.” Would he though? No matter how sure I am that Elliot would do the right thing, I’m also very conscious of the fact I probably influenced his decision to go snooping.
“He would have, the dumb idiot.” Rainer sniffs, roughly scrubbing at his red eyes. “If this has something to do with your game and dirty bets, Taryn… I don’t like the idea of what that could mean.”
My hands shake as I start to consider the possibilities. “Whatever it is, it can’t be anything good.”
Chapter Thirty
I wake up in what looks like a pretty typical bedroom, but there are bars on the windows and the door is heavy and metal. My shoulders ache from having my hands tied behind my back, and all I can think as I glance around is, congratulations, Elliot. You’re in a whole world of trouble now.
