Tackling Life: A Sports Romance (Tackling Romance Series Book 2)

by Kathleen Kelly

  KATHLEEN KELLY

  Tackling Life

  Kathleen Kelly

  Copyright © 2021 Kathleen Kelly

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except with brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Kathleen Kelly is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  All efforts have been made to ensure the correct grammar and punctuation in the book. If you do find any errors, please e-mail Kathleen Kelly: kathleenkellyauthor@gmail.com

  Thank you.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  Book design by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover design by Clarise Tan of CT Creations

  Cover Image Copyright 2021

  First Edition 2021

  All Rights Reserved

  Grayson Moore linebacker for the New England Warriors.

  His entire life has been working up to this moment, the moment when his team wins the Super Bowl.

  But life has a way of throwing you an illegal pass.

  Diandra Evergrow was the love of his life, well, until she ended it.

  Now she’s walked back in on the best night of his life with news that could destroy not only him but all those who are close to him.

  Will Grayson put it all on the line for the woman who once claimed his heart?

  Or will he tuck and run to protect it?

  Book 2 in Kathleen Kelly’s Sports Romance Series.

  For everyone who enjoyed the first book, Tackling Love, this one is for you.

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Connect With Me Online

  About The Author

  GRAYSON

  The music is pumping as I enter the club. I’m high-fiving people as I make my way through the crowd of partygoers. Everyone is in good spirits. The New England Warriors have won the Super Bowl. It’s a dream come true for me, something I’ve worked toward my entire life.

  Colton Anders, our quarterback and my best friend, is at the bar with my teammates. His woman, Skye, is only a few feet away, staring at him like he’s hung the moon.

  Walking up to Colton, I slap him on the back, and he turns to shake my hand then pulls me in for the briefest of hugs.

  “I can’t believe we did it!” I yell as I turn around, arms in the air, doing a victory spin.

  “Me, either.”

  I’m grinning at Colton, but he’s not smiling, his expression is serious. There’s not even a hint of happiness or excitement.

  “Not Skye problems?” I ask in a hushed tone.

  “No, no, no. Syke is perfect. We’re good.” He licks his lips in nervousness.

  “What then?”

  Colton takes a deep breath. “You have a visitor.”

  Laughing, I slap his shoulder. “I bet I’ll have a lot of visitors in the off-season.” I wink at him.

  Colton doesn’t return my teasing. In fact, he looks uncomfortable.

  “Is my mom here?”

  Colton smiles. “No, Gray.” He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “It’s Diandra.”

  I shake my head twice and do a double-take. “Diandra?”

  “Yeah, she’s over near Skye.”

  Turning, Diandra’s standing slightly behind Colt’s woman. I can’t believe I didn’t notice her. She’s still gorgeous. Her mocha-colored skin glows next to her figure-hugging gold dress. Those blue eyes, which still haunt me, are staring back at me. Why couldn’t she have put on a ton of weight or have severe acne? An ache in my chest intensifies the longer I stare at her.

  Colton nudges me, drawing my attention back to him. “You okay?”

  “I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched on the best night of my life.” Puffing out my cheeks, I let out a breath. “Why is she here?”

  Colton clears his throat and shakes his head. “You know I love you like a brother, but she needs to tell you.”

  Placing my hands on my hips, I look down. “Whatever she has to say, she’s three years too late. I don’t care.”

  “You will.”

  “Fine.”

  Turning, I stride toward her. Skye moves out of the way and hurries toward Colton, giving me the briefest of smiles. Diandra has her hands clasped together in front of her, a worried expression on her still-beautiful face.

  “Hello, Gray.”

  The ache in my chest expands, and I rub it to try and dissipate the pressure. “Hello, Diandra. What do you want?” The worlds come out quickly and far harsher than I imagined they would.

  She hurt me so badly when she ended us. Diandra picked up and moved to New York. She told me not to follow, that it was over—no explanation, no further contact, nothing. I was messed up and not in a good way for a long time. I’m only just dating again. Sure, I have hook-ups but nothing serious. To say Diandra broke my heart doesn’t seem like a powerful enough statement. No, she shattered it into a million pieces.

  Diandra lets out a huff, clearly not expecting me to be so aggressive. “Don’t be like that, Gray.”

  “We just won the Super Bowl. It’s the best night of my life in a very long time, and you turn up. Why? Did you want to wreck this for me too?”

  Diandra steps back as though I’ve hit her, and instantly I regret my words. She bends, picks up her purse, and walks past me as though I don’t exist. Briefly, she stops and says something to Colton, whose eyes come to me with a look of surprise, and then she continues through the throng of people and out of the club.

  Colton walks toward me. “You fucked up.”

  “I fucked up?” I shake my head at him. “Do you remember how she treated me? And you’re telling me I fucked up.”

  “I get it, Gray, she hurt you, but trust me when I tell you, you need to hear what she has to say.”

  Shaking my head, I
wave a hand at him. “Nah, not tonight. Tonight we celebrate.” I grin at him, projecting a false bravado that I don’t feel now having upset Diandra. “If it’s so important, I’ll ring her tomorrow.”

  Colton nods. “Okay, just make sure you do.”

  I crack an eye open, and the light causes a blinding headache. With a groan, I roll over and put my feet on the floor. Looking at the carpet, I must be in a hotel room, a suite. I have no idea how I got here. No one shares my bed. Tentatively, I stand and stumble into the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, I fill up the sink and splash cold water onto my face, feeling instantly better.

  The man staring back at me in the mirror is a joke. I’m not one for drinking so much, I believe my body is my temple, but seeing Diandra rocked me to my core. She’s still able to unnerve me. There’s an aura around her, and she’s like a magnet, pulling people into her stratosphere. Clearly, Colton thinks I need to go back to where my world revolves around her, but I’ve grown in the past three years. I’m stronger, my career path is mapped out, and I don’t have time for trivial pursuits.

  My cell phone rings, and I ignore it. My priority is to shower, clean up, and then I’ll think about food and then maybe Diandra.

  Who am I kidding?

  I have no intention of calling her. With that thought, I step into the shower. The spray is nice and cold as the water runs over me, helping to clear my addled mind. If this doesn’t help sober me up, nothing will. My headache slowly eases, making me feel a hundred times better. I soap up, then stand under the spray until my fingers prune.

  With a sigh and a shake of my head, I get out of the shower, towel myself off, and go in search of my clothes. They’re neatly folded on the couch in the adjoining room.

  “Hello?” I call out, but there’s no one else here.

  So, I put on the same clothes as last night and head downstairs to the lobby.

  The concierge greets me, “Hello, Mr. Moore. I trust the room was to your liking?”

  Frowning, I ask, “It was a great room, but how did I get here?”

  He smiles. “You arrived by cab, and I helped you to your room.”

  Awkwardly I ask, “Was I alone?”

  “Completely, sir.”

  Relief floods through me, and my cell phone rings again. Taking it out of my pocket, Colton’s name flashes on the screen. I hit the decline button and then notice he’s rung me five times. Jesus, he’s like a dog with a bone.

  With my focus back on the concierge, I ask, “Do I owe you anything?”

  “No, sir, you’re paid in full.”

  With a grateful smile, I walk away and out into the sunlight. I wish I had my sunglasses as the bright light causes me to squint.

  “Look, Mom, it’s Grayson Moore!” shouts a boy from a few feet away.

  I smile and wave and keep walking. I love the fans, but right now, I need to find food. Hailing a cabbie, he pulls up next to me, and I climb in.

  “Where to?”

  “1502 Possum Road, Weston.”

  “You sure, buddy? It’s a bit out of town.”

  “I have family there.”

  The cabbie’s lips turn down, but he pulls out into traffic. He must not be a football fan as he doesn’t make small talk for the ride out to my mother’s, which is fine by me as the headache from earlier is thumping along nicely with every bump and rut in the road.

  Mom’s house is a little over half an hour away. I spend the time thinking about the last game, the one where we won. A smile creeps its way across my face, then Diandra’s face flashes into focus and my smile disappears.

  The cabbie pulls up in my mother’s driveway. The fare is a little over forty dollars, so I give him sixty and get out. Before I can knock on the door, my mother opens it.

  “Hey, Mom!” I embrace her. “We won!”

  “I know, honey.” She pulls back from me, not letting me enter her house.

  “Mom?”

  She puts her arms across the doorway. “There’s someone here.”

  I stand back and give her a cheeky grin. “You got a man in there?”

  Mom smiles. “No, honey. Diandra is here.”

  This takes me by surprise, and whatever she sees in my face, Mom drops her arms, and I enter her home. It’s a ranch-style house she’s recently redecorated in what she calls Hamptons’ bling. To me, it looks as though she’s only changed the color scheme to white, blue, and lots of crystal chandeliers, but I’m no expert. It’s a far cry from the crappy apartment she used to live in years ago. This was my gift to Mom for all her hard work and support back in the early days.

  Sitting at my mother’s dining table in a cream pant suit with a blue silk blouse is Diandra. At first, she looks shocked to see me, and then she slowly rises.

  “I told you, I had to speak to you, Gray. I thought your mom might break the ice.”

  Mom puts a hand on my arm. “Do you need something to eat?”

  “Yes, and Advil.”

  Mom squeezes me and leaves us.

  “Gray—”

  I shake my head. “Whatever you have to say, Diandra, can wait until I’ve had something to eat.”

  Her lips press together, and she clenches her jaw. “Fine.”

  Diandra walks into the kitchen, and like a lost puppy, I trail behind her.

  Mom is putting together the makings of a grilled cheese which isn’t like her. Normally, she’d make me fried chicken, so whatever Diandra has to tell me must be bad.

  I sit at the island counter, and Mom puts a bottle of Advil and a glass of water in front of me. “Take them,” she orders.

  Considering I asked for them, her request feels redundant. I take two then swivel to look at Dee—that’s what I called her way back when.

  “Do you want one, too, Diandra?” asks my mom, gesturing toward the food.

  “No, thank you, Minerva.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes,” we both say at the same time.

  Mom smiles. “I’ll put the machine on.” She makes a fuss of turning on the machine and then looks at me. “Diandra has something to tell you.”

  “Then let her tell it.”

  “Grayson Moore, don’t you use that tone with me.” Mom puts her hands on her hips and waves a teaspoon at me.

  Speaking through clenched teeth and with forced restraint, I nod at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mom makes us all a coffee and puts one in front of me. Diandra’s she leaves on the kitchen island nearest to where she’s standing. With a sigh, I stare at Diandra as she picks up the cup. Mom puts the grilled cheese in front of me, and I take a bite.

  “Why are you here?” I ask with a full mouth.

  Diandra puts down her cup and glances at my mother, who nods at her. “I want to start out by apologizing to you and your mother.” She straightens up and undoes the button on her jacket, then takes a deep breath. “You have a son… his name is Dawson.”

  Dropping the grilled cheese and swallowing down the food which feels like a large brick, I stare at my Mom, who nods, smiling, but she has tears in her eyes.

  “I have a son?”

  “We have a son.”

  I bark out a mirthless laugh. “Now, I get it. You think because we won the Super Bowl that you can waltz in here looking for a payday?”

  “Grayson!” admonishes my mother.

  “Not going to happen, sweetheart. Let’s do a paternity test first, and we’ll see if he’s mine.”

  Diandra holds up a hand to my mother, a frozen smile on her face. “It’s okay, Minerva, I deserved that.” She turns to me. “I don’t want your money, Gray. If that were the case, I’d have hit you up for child support years ago. Did you notice I gave him your grandfather’s name?”

  I shrug. “If you’re not here for money, why are you here?”

  My mother takes two quick steps toward me and slaps her hand on the kitchen island, and the sound reverberates around the room. “Because in times of trouble, family sticks together!”

  “Mom, how can y
ou say that? If he’s mine, we’ll work out a payment plan and go from there.”

  “Grayson Moore, I raised you better than that!” Mom puts her hands on her hips. “Diandra is here because the boy is sick, and you might be the only one who can help him.”

  Diandra sits beside me. “He has Goodpasture Syndrome. It’s rare for a child under four to get it, only a handful have. He’s in remission right now but needs a kidney transplant. I’m not a great match. We need to test you to see if you are.” She sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. “Of course, it all depends if you are his father. They’ll need to do a paternity test to see.”

  Her words cut through me like a knife. It’s one thing for me to insinuate he isn’t mine and totally another for her to imply she fooled around.

  “When do I need to do this?”

  “Yesterday,” Diandra replies.

  “I’ll get tested, too,” says Mom.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “He’s in a private hospital in New York. I’d like it if we could leave immediately.” She smiles. “I don’t like to be away from him this long.”

  Mom is wringing her hands, her expression anxious.

  “Would you have told me about him if he wasn’t sick?”

  Diandra shakes her head. “I don’t know. What you and I had feels like a lifetime ago. I’ve made a new life for myself, one where Dawson is my priority. My life consists of Dawson and work. There’s no room for anything else.”

  “You could’ve told me.” Feelings of hurt rise to the surface. With her sitting so close to me, all I can think is that I loved her. She was my everything.

  “You had a plan. Gray, you said a child would ruin everything, so I did what I felt was right for the both of us. Look where you are, you’re on track, you’ve achieved so much. We were too young to take on the responsibility of a child.”

  “So you did it on your own?”

  Diandra exchanges a glance with my mom.

  “Gray, none of this matters. The only thing that matters is you have a son, a son who needs our help. Let’s get tested, and we’ll go from there. You might not even be a match.” Mom smiles encouragingly at me.