Nixon: A Raleigh Raptors Novel

by Whiskey, Samantha

  I froze completely. She was right. Usually, I would have made a list and accomplished every item on it in order to feel like I was in control of a situation, but here, there was no control to be had. Liberty had it all, and I was doing my best to hold on to her…and it wasn’t just because she was carrying our daughter.

  My emotions were so wrapped up in her that she was my first thought—and sight—when I got out of bed in the morning and my last thought before I closed my eyes at night, no matter if we were home or away. Shit…I think I’d fallen—

  “Nixon?” Mom prompted.

  “Hmmm?” I leaned back against my kitchen counter.

  “This is where you laugh, dear. I was just making a joke with that trust fund and identity theft stuff. See? I’m funny.” Her voice softened.

  “Right. I really should be more on top of it, though, huh?”

  “As much as I would love to know my granddaughter’s name and meet her mother,” her voice sharpened slightly before softening again, “I’m just really glad that you’ve met someone who can loosen you up a bit. You really care for her, don’t you?”

  “Liberty? Yeah. I really do.” More than I’d admitted to myself.

  “Good. I’ve been waiting a long time to hear the change in your voice when you talk about a woman.” She huffed a long, dramatic sigh. “So fine, I’ll wait to come down and terrify her. But only until after the holidays, Nixon. You understand me?”

  “I really miss you, Mom.” I smiled.

  “I really miss you, too, Nixon. I mean, now your poor father has to take out the garbage all on his own!”

  We hung up while we were both still laughing, and my heart lightened. The idea of Dad taking out the trash solo made me laugh again. Mom was one of the hardest working women I knew, if not the hardest, and was up every morning at five a.m. to keep their place running and get Dad off to their shop.

  My smile fell because that was something Liberty didn’t know…because I hadn’t told her. Because the deeper I let her in, the more she’d have the power to rip out if she left.

  I heard the garage door open and glanced at the clock—six p.m. She was right on time.

  Liberty burst through the door a couple of minutes later, dropping things here and there like a tornado. Her jacket dropped off a barstool, her bag landed on the floor, she heaped a stack of notebooks onto the kitchen island before turning that grin on me.

  “Hey, handsome.” She came over and raised her face for a kiss.

  I gave it to her, kissing her softly, then deepening it until we were both breathing ragged. “You hungry?” I asked against her lips.

  “For you? Or dinner? Because the answer is yes.” She looped her arms around my neck.

  “Good, the chicken will be done in about a half-hour.”

  “Mmm. I knew something smelled good. Gotta love a man who cooks.”

  I wrapped my arms around her. “Well, a man had to pick up a few more skills since his girlfriend dismissed the cook.”

  “Hey!” She swatted my chest playfully and stepped out of my arms. “It was pure extravagance to have someone prep meals when we’re both fully capable.”

  “But now he’s out of a job.” I wrinkled my nose.

  Liberty’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. You’re right…and in this economy. Can we hire him back?”

  “I mean…maybe if we act fast enough?” I raised my shoulders slowly.

  She stilled, then narrowed her eyes on me. “Nixon Noble. You never fired Pete, did you?”

  I stalked across the kitchen, backing Liberty against the pantry door. “Why do you think dinner smells so good?”

  “It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” she muttered.

  I hit my knees in front of her, then smoothed my hands on the sides of her growing belly. “And how was your day, my little whoosh?”

  Liberty’s entire posture softened as I put my ear against the bump and nodded my head as if our daughter had spoken to me. “Is that so?”

  Liberty’s eyebrow rose.

  “Me, too, little whoosh. Me, too. Don’t you worry, I won’t let your mama starve you with my cooking, either.” I pressed a kiss to Liberty’s belly and stood. “See? She said she’s glad I didn’t let Pete go, either.”

  Liberty let a begrudging grin spread across her face. “And it’s a good thing you’re sweet, too.”

  I tugged her close and smoothed her thick, soft hair back from her face. “Out of everything I’ve been called in this world, sweet is not one of them. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m more known for the broody type.”

  “Not to me. Maybe I just know you better than everyone else.” Her eyes danced, and that spark of happiness that had taken up residence in my chest flared to brilliant life. Yeah, I had feelings for this woman—really big feelings that came with real risk.

  She kissed me again, then slipped out of my arms and headed for the kitchen island. She picked up her stack of notebooks and carried them into the war-torn dining room that served as her study.

  I leaned against the doorframe and watched her add the notebooks into different piles, more than a little relieved to see that she had some kind of organization system, even if I didn’t understand it.

  She thought I was sweet, but she also knew that she didn’t have access to the parts of me that made me bitter and angry.

  “My brother Nick played quarterback, just like me,” I said slowly.

  Her gaze flew to meet mine, but other than that, she didn’t move an inch. Her lack of holy shit reaction was what kept my mouth moving.

  “We grew up tossing the ball. Nathan, too, but his thing was always hockey. Probably because he knew it was the one place Nick and I wouldn’t follow. When you’re a twin, people tend to lump you together like you’re one person, and hockey made him…Nate.”

  She sat in the dining room chair slowly, not losing our eye contact.

  “So yeah, when we were out in the yard, I was always with Nick, practicing our throws, talking about plays. He was a year younger than us, which sucked because he was always stuck in my shadow while we were in high school. He never got to play first string until I graduated, but when he did…” I cracked a smile. “He was something else. I was always good because I can read the field. I know where the play is going. But Nick had a cannon for an arm.”

  My chest tightened as his smile came to mind. The easy, lopsided grin that had stolen my mother’s heart and charmed entirely too many girls for being as young as he was.

  “They called him Little Noble, which he hated, of course.”

  “Of course,” Liberty echoed softly.

  “So anyway, senior year I got into Notre Dame on a full-ride scholarship—”

  Her brow puckered, no doubt thinking about the University of Minnesota hoodie she liked to steal out of my closet.

  “—yeah, we’ll get to that,” I assured her. “My parents were over the moon, and Nick’s eyes…I knew that’s where he’d wanted to go, too. Hell, he’d had the pennant tacked on his wall. But Nate didn’t get a hockey scholarship—not from Notre Dame, and it wasn’t like our parents could afford to foot the tuition, right? But he did get one from the University of Minnesota.”

  I shifted my weight, crossing one ankle over the other. “I knew that if I went to Notre Dame, then either Nick would follow and be stuck in my shadow again, or he’d choose somewhere else and lose the dream he’d had tacked on his wall since he was eight.” I swallowed hard as my emotions rippled, jutting through my armor uncomfortably like I was a dog who’d been pet against the grain of his fur. “And when push came to shove, I didn’t know how to exist without Nathan. He was a part of me—he still is, but we were tethered together back then. So I had my coach send some tape, and I was offered a full ride at Minnesota.”

  “You took it,” Liberty guessed with a small smile.

  “I took it.” I nodded. “So Nate and I went to Minnesota, and Nick got his chance to shine. Kid almost beat my single-year passing yards record. At the time, I
’d been relieved that I’d kept my name up there on the gym wall, but now…” My stomach sank. “Now, I wish he’d beaten me.” My throat started to ache, but instead of shoving the thoughts down and boxing them away, I let myself co-exist with them.

  It took a minute to compose myself, but Liberty didn’t move or pressure me for more. She simply sat there with compassion shining out of her eyes.

  “His record might not have been good enough to beat mine, but it was good enough to get a full ride to Notre Dame.” I grinned.

  So did Liberty.

  “He was so fucking happy that day we dropped him off for training camp.” His laugh echoed around my head like he was still in the room with me, like I could reach out and touch him if I tried hard enough. “It was the last time we saw him.”

  Liberty’s face fell.

  “He died before his first game. Took a hard hit that never should have happened. You don’t hit quarterbacks in practice,” I growled, my hands forming fists of anger that had never let go of Nick’s death. “We donated his organs, and then Nate and I went back to school. I’d tell you that I got over it in a healthy way, but I didn’t. I latched on to the wrong girl, who pretended to love me for three years.”

  “Then she faked her pregnancy,” Liberty whispered, putting the pieces together.

  “Yeah. And it’s not like I’m the only one who carries shit around from it. Hell, Nathan risked his life doing concussion research. Did you know that Harper designed the helmets we use?”

  “She did?” Liberty’s eyebrows rose.

  “Yeah. She’s a world-class, go to college when you’re freaky-young, genius. Nate worked with her, and nearly got his ass killed, and you know what he told me? He said he did it to save the other little brothers.” I looked away, choosing to study the photograph of the three Noble boys that hung just outside my dining room. “Nate’s the good one.”

  Liberty rose. “You’re both the good ones.”

  I snorted. “No. I’m really not. I almost ran Harper out of Nate’s life because I thought she was just using him. I nearly ruined his relationship.”

  “It’s understandable to transfer that kind of suspicion,” she said softly, rounding the table to stand in front of me. “And in the end, it seems to have worked out. Harper’s very protective of you.”

  “She shouldn’t be.” I shook my head. “And you know what still kills me? Every time I take the field, there’s this part of me that knows I’m living the life he should have had. Like I have to live it for both of us. I have to throw the most yardage. I have to get the best contract. I wear the number nine because his birthday was September ninth, and I carry him with me every single time I run through that tunnel.”

  “Because you love him.” She took my hand.

  “Because if I’d just gone to Notre Dame in the first place, I would have been the one to take the hit. I would have died, and he would have lived.” There. I’d said it. She could damn me, or she could accept me as I was, but I’d cut my soul open and served it to her on a platter.

  “Oh, Nixon,” she raised her hands to my face. “That’s not how it works.”

  “You don’t know that.” I backed away slightly, putting a few feet between us. “No one knows that. I tried to buy my parents a house for years after I joined the NFL, and they’d never take it. But Nate gets picked up for the NHL years later, and now they’re living in the house he bought them while my dad won’t even drive the truck I gave him. They might not say it, but they blame me, and they’re right. If I hadn’t thrown that ball with him so much. If I’d taken the first scholarship…” I sucked a breath through my teeth. “And I’m not telling you this so you can do your whole psychoanalyze thing on me.”

  “I would never,” she promised, letting her hands fall, and resting one on the top of the curve that held our daughter.

  “I’m telling you because you have to know that the shit that’s wrong with me will always be wrong. There’s a reason I have to control everything. A reason I keep the spices in alphabetical order and organize my shirts by color.” I gestured back toward the cabinet where the spices were kept.

  She looked but didn’t speak.

  “I have to maintain control over the things that don’t matter because when it comes to the things that do, I’m powerless. I can’t control if Harper breaks Nathan’s heart, or if he gets hit too hard in a game. I can’t control if my father will ever drive that goddamned truck, or if my mother will ever watch me play and not think about Nick. And you…” I shook my head and backed away until the counter of the kitchen island hit my back. “God, I have no control over what you do, and I’m terrified because I’m in love with you.”

  Her lips parted, and her eyes glistened in the kitchen light as she followed me.

  “So I figured I had to tell you exactly what’s fucked up with me to even deserve a prayer that you might choose to build a future with me. A real future that’s not just based on how much we both love our daughter, but what we feel for each other.” I raked my hands over my face, wishing I’d just kept my fucking mouth shut.

  “You’re in love with me?” she asked softly, tugging my wrists so she could see my face.

  “Yeah. Guess I can’t control my feelings either, right?” I tried to lift my lip into a smirk, but it didn’t happen.

  She let go of my wrists and took my face in her hands. “You can’t control the way you feel. Trust me, I’ve tried. Loving you is the best and scariest thing I’ve ever felt. Not because you’re not amazing—you are, and I swear I’ll make you believe that if it’s the last thing I do—but because you make me want things like a home and roots, when all I’ve ever known are wings and freedom.”

  “Your name is Liberty,” I noted with a slight curve to my lip.

  “Not the time, Nixon.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  “You love me, too?” I asked, clinging to that one sentence of her confession.

  “So much it hurts.” She had the same look in her eyes that I did—wild, joyous, and ringed with the sharp edge of fear. “I love you.”

  I kissed her, sweeping inside her mouth and laying claim to the woman I loved. I shoved all that fear to the side, and just for the moment, chose to live in the joy. I buried my fingers in her hair and tugged her closer, giving myself over to every emotion that came over me.

  The timer beeped.

  “Leave it,” Liberty ordered, shutting it off as we kissed our way by.

  I glanced over to make sure the oven had turned off simultaneously, then I carried her upstairs, undressed her slowly, and made love to her even slower than that. Every touch was a feeling I hadn’t voiced. Every kiss was a promise I had every intention of keeping. I worshipped her with abandon, knowing that she was my life, my future, my family…all of it.

  She was the only woman I would ever want. The only woman I would ever have beneath me again. And if something happened and she left—don’t even think like that—well, she’d still be the only one for me. I would love Liberty until the day I died.

  When I finally slid inside her, slow and deep, we both moaned at the perfection of our fit. “I love you. I will always love you,” I vowed against her lips.

  “I love you, too,” she swore. Then she raised her knees and took me deeper.

  Fuck, she felt divine, wrapped around me. She was the closest to heaven I was ever going to get.

  I slid a pillow under her hips to ease any pressure on her belly, and then I started moving in slow, rhythmic thrusts that had us both straining for the other. Our eyes locked, and our fingers laced.

  She turned her head and bit the heel of my thumb gently. “Harder.”

  “Are you—”

  “Harder,” she demanded. “You feel so good inside me, Nixon. Right—oh God—right there!”

  I swung my hips and took her deep and hard, pushing us both over the edge with a quick roll of my fingers between our bodies. We took each other so high in those moments I knew we’d set a new standard for the w
ay we’d touch each other from now on. It might be slow and sweet or hard and quick, but there would be love in every single touch.

  We both cried out as we came, and the aftermath was just as powerful as I held her in my arms.

  Once we’d cleaned up and put minimal clothing on—me in athletic shorts, and her in my t-shirt, I served us both dinner…which was shockingly edible after being left in that oven for an hour.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was as soft and sweet as she was.

  “For what?”

  “For sharing yourself with me.”

  “Anything of mine is yours, Liberty. It’s all yours.” My lips pursed.

  “Oh, God, what now?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “In that spirit of everything of mine being yours…” I took a deep breath and readied my heart for rejection. “Will you please, for the love of God, let me buy you a new car? That thing doesn’t even have airbags, and you’re driving around on the highway. And it’s not just about the baby—”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s about you. Because I won’t survive it if some asshole hits you and you get hurt all because you’re being stubborn about me buying you—”

  “Nixon, I said, ‘Yes.’” She grinned.

  I stilled, my thoughts trickling back to that new pickup truck that sat at my parents, unwanted and undriven. “Yes?”

  She ran her fingers through my hair. “I get it. Why you need to feel like you’ve protected our little girl…and me. I get it. So, yes.”

  “Holy shit, I just fell in love with you all over again.” I kissed her soundly. “I’m thinking something along the lines of an M-1 tank.”

  “Don’t push your luck.” She laughed.

  “Fine. Armored truck it is.”

  That only made her laugh harder.

  16

  Liberty

  “What is the specific problem from your viewpoint?” I asked as I crossed one leg over the other. Dr. Bernard sat observing in a leather chair in the corner across the room, the client seated before me.