by L. M. Carr
Oh, my god!
After scrutinizing the image like Naomi said I should if I got another one, I type my findings and forward her the email.
Although the details of that night are somewhat vague, I do remember drinking at the bar and going back to his apartment. “Why are you doing this?” I murmur.
Next, I call my brother. Since he’s at practice, I leave a message, asking him to call me back as soon as possible. I spend several hours scouring the Internet before I finally find what I’m looking for.
When Julian arrives home, he’s exhausted. Giving me a swift kiss on my cheek, he rushes into the shower, eats dinner, then strides out of the kitchen, claiming a headache, his hand rubbing the base of his neck.
“Is everything okay?” I touch his arm.
He responds with a throaty grunt, nothing else.
“Want me to give you a massage?” I ask as he moves his hand to his temples, rubbing.
“I’ll be all right. I have an early morning.”
Feeling slighted, I watch him disappear into our bedroom, so I follow. I remove my clothes and slide into bed with him, running my hand across his back as he faces away from me. I kiss his shoulder, silently begging for his attention.
“Not tonight, baby.”
I flinch at his rejection. “What’s wrong, Julian?”
“I told you. I’ve got a lot on my mind and have a headache,” he says, turning onto his back, pulling me against his chest.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I know.” He kisses my forehead and sighs, closing his eyes.
§
I wake up the next morning, alone. I check my phone for a text to indicate where he’s gone. Seeing nothing, I type three words to him and hit send.
After getting ready, I drive to the office, arriving earlier than usual in order to get as much work done as possible before the weekend.
“Hey, lady!” Wes says, popping his head into my office. “How are you doing?”
I shrug. “I’m good,” I lie, my stomach roiling. I still haven’t heard from Julian.
“When you get back from Buffalo, we need to sit down and chat.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “About what?”
“I have a proposition for you.” He retreats back into the hallway with a smile. “Have a great trip!”
My flight for Buffalo leaves in the morning, and I still need to pack. As much as I would love to stay home to watch Julian’s team, I have a job to do.
On the way home from work, I stop and pick up dinner, eating alone.
“Dammit,” I groan, noticing the zipper on my suitcase is broken. Preferring to have one large piece of luggage rather than two smaller ones, I shove mine back into the closet and grab Julian’s.
My bed is covered with several outfits. I know I’m overpacking, but I remember how inconsistent the weather in upstate New York can be in September. It could be chilly with temperatures in the fifties, or summer-like with the mercury pushing ninety.
I toss in my sneakers and neatly place my dress shoes on one side. Wedging every article into the bag, I feel something small in the interior pocket. Reaching in, I retrieve a small, velvet box. My curiosity piqued, I open it. Shock ripples through my body at the sight of a huge diamond ring. The exquisite emerald cut is at least three carats, smaller diamonds nestled in the platinum band. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Julian must’ve paid a fortune for it.
Why did he give me his mother’s ring if he had this one?
I remove the ring and slide it into place on my right hand, but it stops at my knuckles. It’s too small. Upon further inspection, I realize how small it actually is.
Removing the ring, I place it back into the box and shake my head in disbelief that Julian didn’t know my ring size. I’ve never been a petite girl.
Once my bag is packed and I set it by the front door, I look at the ring once more, then put it inside the drawer of his nightstand.
It’s late and I’m already in bed, waiting for Julian to get home, when Mallory calls.
I smile. “Hey there!”
“Hi, AJ. How are you?” she says quickly. I can tell something is off by the tone of her voice.
“It’s been a rough few days, but I’m okay. How’s everything with you?”
“Um, well…” She blows out a breath. “I’m worried about Rence.”
“Why?” I inquire, despite having the same feeling. He hasn’t been returning my messages or phone calls as quickly as he used to.
“Earlier today, he called me from the locker room and flipped out. All I did was ask a simple question and he lost his mind.”
“Really?”
“I could’ve sworn it sounded like he threw his phone across the room.”
“I know they’ve got a big game with the Eagles this weekend, but that’s no excuse for him to be a jerk.” I refrain from telling her about Julian’s level of stress in recent days.
“I wish there was something I could do or say to make him feel better. He wanted me to come down next week, but I have to work.”
“I’ll talk to him and see if I can find out what’s going on. I know he’s been working really hard to make an impression here.” I don’t tell her that a couple analysts are starting to question Julian’s decision to sign Rence.
“I appreciate that. You know how important your brother is to me,” she says softly.
“I know he is, as are you to him.”
I hear the front door open and softly close.
“Hey, Julian just got home. Don’t forget. I’ll be in Chicago at the end of October.”
We end the call with promises to chat again soon.
I set my phone down and look up when he walks into the room, the tension radiating from him palpable. My gaze follows his movements as he undresses and slides into bed wordlessly.
“Julian, what’s going on?” I beg. With a light caress to his face, I force him to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
His chest rises and falls as he huffs. “Everything.”
His admission causes an ache in my heart. Unsure how to respond, I wait for him to continue.
“Nothing is working out like it’s supposed to.”
My eyes fill with tears. “Does that include us?” I ask, forcing back a sob.
“What?” he snaps, locking his eyes with mine. “What are you talking about?”
“You just said everything is wrong.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “I wasn’t referring to you.” He lowers his voice and adds, “Well, not exactly.”
I swipe at the single tear that drops down my face.
“This thing with Asher is killing me. I feel so fucking guilty that I wasn’t there to protect you. I can’t concentrate on anything else, which affects my work, both on and off the field.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Then I have the GM breathing down my neck about a trade he wants to make.”
I open my mouth, but he continues.
“I don’t understand how some people make demands that border on threats and expect me to listen. That’s not who I am.”
My thoughts immediately go to the pictures I’ve received. Slowly, the pieces click together, but I’m not ready to share my thoughts with Julian just yet. He would never be persuaded by blackmail.
“Is there something I can do?”
“Is quitting your job and staying home an option?” He gives me a small smirk, already knowing the answer.
I scoff and raise my eyebrows. “Not likely. Julian, I love what I do. I’ve worked so hard to get here, and I don’t want to just give it up…” I stop myself before I say what’s really on my mind.
“I know, so I’ve been thinking of some other ways to keep you safe.”
I turn to face him. “I was safe before Ed Asher came into the picture. Once he’s in jail, I won’t have to worry.”
He clenches his fists. “He went after you to get back at me.”
“Why?”
He sighs. �
�Because of what happened with his daughter.”
“Speaking of which…” I swallow. “Can I ask you a question?”
Julian inhales. “Sure. You can ask me anything.”
“I know she lived with you for a little while before we reconnected, but…” I pause. “Did you ever think about marrying her?”
Tightened lips pulling his mouth into a frown, he shakes his head. “No.”
When I’d realized the ring I found wasn’t meant for me, I assumed it was for Gigi.
“Her father wanted us to get married. He thought it would be a great way to get his name out there in the league.”
“But you bought a ring,” I blurt.
He furrows his brows. “What? No, I didn’t.”
I purse my lips. “Julian, I found it today while I was packing. The zipper on my bag was broken, so I pulled your suitcase out of the closet.” I swallow nervously. “The ring was in the side pocket.”
He scrubs his hands over his face. “You found that?”
I’m hurt that he hid this bit of information from me, but worse is the fact he lied about it.
“Why would you lie to me?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t buy that ring.”
I tilt my head and narrow my eyes.
“I swear, Addison. She made her father buy the ring she wanted.” Chuckling darkly, he continues. “He said I could give it to her when I proposed.”
“So why do you still have it?”
“Because I couldn’t find it!”
I frown.
“Addison, I was packing like a fucking madman just so I could get back to you. I threw shit into boxes and didn’t care if anything got smashed in the process. I must’ve put it in there so I could return it to Asher at some point. If I gave it back to her, I was worried she would go around town telling everyone I gave her a ring. I actually panicked when I couldn’t find it!”
“So you really never bought her an engagement ring?”
He reaches for my hand, locks his eyes with mine and shakes his head. “There was never a need. The only girl I was ever going to marry was you, and this ring…” He touches it. “My mother gave it to me for you.”
I throw myself at him, sliding my arms around his neck and crashing my mouth against his.
Pulling back, I place my forehead against Julian’s. “I love you so very much. You’re the best person I know, and I’m completely and absolutely honored to spend my life with you.”
He caresses my back. “Baby, you’re my life. I would give anything to keep you safe.”
“Stop!” I press my fingers against his mouth. “I’m not going to let Ed Asher, or any other man, weaken me.”
“I think he’s done this to a lot more women. The truth will come out soon enough.”
I nod. “I’m tired of assholes like him thinking they can treat women like property. I’ll be more than happy to bring him down several notches.”
Julian rolls me onto my back and hovers above me, love shining in his eyes.
“By the way, I’m still a little mad at you.” I frown.
He grins. “Why? What did I do?”
“You left this morning without so much as a goodbye,” I say, pointing out the obvious.
“That’s not true. I kissed you goodbye and left you a note right there.” He gestures with his chin to the nightstand.
“I didn’t see a note.”
Julian looks over and jumps off the bed, squatting down to look around the floor.
“Not to mention you didn’t text me back all day.”
Still searching around the wooden table, he says, “I broke my phone and had to get it fixed… Ah-ha!” He reaches behind the table. “Here it is!” He stands, a piece of pale pink cardstock monogrammed with an M in his hand.
“Let me see it.” I extend my arm, but he pulls it away, a hurt look on his face.
“Did you really think I would leave without saying goodbye?”
I smile contritely and lift a shoulder. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
“Wrong. I’ve had one thing on my mind.” He climbs back on top of me. “You. Your happiness, your health, your safety.”
“Well, you have one thing that I desperately need,” I whisper, bucking my hips against his erection.
§
Early the next morning, I wake energized with a new sense of purpose.
Once we’re both ready, Julian walks me outside so he can start his day and I can head to the airport.
“I love you,” I say, placing my suitcase into my trunk.
He grabs my hips and presses me against the car, giving me a passionate kiss, leaving me breathless. “I love you, too,” he whispers against my lips. Stepping toward his car, he looks over his shoulder. “Text me when you land.”
I nod, then wait for Julian to leave before making the phone call I’ve been dreading all morning. Climbing into the car, my anxiety spikes until he answers.
“Hello?” a hoarse voice asks. “This had better be important.”
After a quick glance to the dashboard clock, I note the early hour and realize I could’ve waited until the sun fully rose.
“Rence, I need your help.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As I expected, the weather in Buffalo was mild with temps in the low seventies. The smell of autumn was in the air, the leaves already turning, displaying the spectacular array of gold, red and orange.
Billy has become overprotective, to the point of even waiting outside the restroom for me. After what happened in California, he’s become my personal bodyguard, despite my reassurances, telling me he’d promised Julian he’d look after me.
“Do you think you’ll have to testify against him?” Melody asks on our ride to the stadium on game day.
“I’m sure I will. I won’t stop until justice is served.”
I smile tightly, gazing out the window as the conversation with Santino replays in my mind. Just as Naomi predicted, Ed Asher’s attorney dug into my past and even tried to use the photo shoot in Maxim to disparage my character, but Santino was prepared. He shot that angle down like a ballistic missile.
Meanwhile, according to her last email, Naomi has been hard at work, doing some digging of her own. I’m so grateful to be surrounded by such supportive people who have great connections.
I cover the game, then fly home later that night, while the rest of the team opts to stay until Monday. During the flight, I access the airplane Wi-Fi and go to the network’s website, which highlights the games. For several hours, I watch strong, offensive lines run the ball mercilessly, as other teams struggle to get any plays started. I jot down several notes about each game, only sometimes agreeing with the on-air commentaries, then check my schedule for next week. I faintly hear their conversation about the two key players who still haven’t reported to their teams and are trying to renegotiate their multi-million dollar contract with a year remaining.
I shake my head. Have these men no honor? No integrity?
Then a plan formulates, a small smile growing.
My fingers tap furiously on the keyboard in response to Naomi’s email. My jaw nearly drops at the critical information she’s uncovered, and I carefully consider my timing in confronting this cyberbully.
§
In the early morning hours, I finally slide into bed and gently kiss Julian. A quiet moan reverberates through his chest as his strong arms encircle me, holding me close. He presses his lips into my forehead for a soft kiss before releasing a heavy sigh and settling back to sleep.
As my eyelids flutter to a close, I relish the feeling of being safe and loved. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him. He is everything to me.
Hours later, awakened by the sound of water running in the bathroom, I stare at the empty space in our bed, then hear Julian shuffling around our bedroom in search of clothing.
A lazy smile slides onto my face when I see him pulling on a pair of black boxers, watching the cords of muscle on his back bunch with the
movement. God, he’s a beautiful man.
He glances over his shoulder, smiling when he sees my eyes are open. “Good morning,” he says softly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
I yawn and stretch my arms above my head. “Do you know how gorgeous you are?” I ask, my gaze traveling the length of his body.
His eyes sparkle with mischief as he poses, tightening his body.
I chuckle. “I’m serious.”
Sauntering over, Julian climbs back onto the bed and crawls on top of me. I feel his erection between my legs, happy he reacts that way to me.
“I missed you,” he whispers into my ear, placing a soft kiss just below it.
I hum to let him know the feeling is mutual.
His hand slides down my bare skin and awakens my core with a gentle sweep over my most sensitive spot. His lips pepper my neck with light nibbles.
He quickly sheds his boxers and thrusts into me. My legs wrap around his waist as I accept the hard pounding, even begging for more from him until we both find our release.
As we both lay there, trying to regulate our breathing, I rake my fingers through his hair. “You need a haircut.”
“I know, but I haven’t had time.”
“I could cut it when you get home tonight.”
His eyebrows shoot up, a smirk forming.
“What?” I laugh. “I’ve cut Rence’s hair before.”
He snickers. “I remember… I also remember him coming to school late the next morning because he had to wait for the barbershop to open so they could fix the mess you made.”
I chuckle at the memory. “That wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know the wrong blade was on the clippers.”
“Stick to reporting football and being my beautiful wife.”
I kiss him, biting his bottom lip playfully.
We chat about our weekends before he rises from the bed, grabs his boxers from the floor and walks over to the dresser to retrieve some clothing. I watch as he dresses in a polo shirt and cargo shorts.
“You don’t look like a ‘coach’,” I say, putting the word in air quotes.
He flicks a look in my direction. “And what exactly does a coach look like?”
“I don’t know,” I hesitate. “Old, rundown, stressed out.”
