The Relationship Pact: Kings of Football

by Locke, Adriana

  I get off the porch and go to her.

  “Can I ask you something else?” I say.

  She laughs. “Look at who’s the one full of questions now.”

  “It’s paybacks.” I stand behind her and wrap my arms around her front, locking my hands at her belly button. She holds on to my hands, her succulent bracelet tickling my skin. “Why did you come today? Why did you still show up after I pushed you away?”

  She stills in my arms. “Because I love you, and you needed me.”

  My throat tightens as I hold this woman.

  She came because I needed her. Even though I never told her.

  I don’t know what to say to that.

  “I’ll always be here for you. So will my family.” She lifts her chin and looks up at me. “You have so many people who love you. If you will just let us.”

  Something happens inside me, a shift that I didn’t think would ever happen. It’s like a number of puzzle pieces click together. I can hear the snap as they form one picture.

  “I love you,” I tell her. “I don’t know what that means. I’m not promising you I’m not going to make mistakes because, well, I’m Hollis Hudson, and I’m kind of known for that.”

  She laughs.

  “But I’ll love you with everything I have,” I tell her. “And I’ll never leave you alone to try to figure things out by yourself. You have me.”

  “And you have me. And if you decide you don’t want me, I’ll come and show you that I’m not going anywhere. I choose you, baby.”

  I grin. “I choose you, too. Every time, beautiful girl. Eevery time. No matter what.”

  She spins around in my arms and faces me. “What do we do about you going back to school?”

  I groan, wondering why the world has to constantly throw speed bumps in my way.

  “I have an idea,” she says.

  “Shoot, Shooter.”

  “I have a semester left too. And Braxton is not that far from here. What? Three hours?”

  “Yeah. About that.”

  She plays with the buttons on my shirt. “So we both finish our degrees because that’s important. And we make a deal that we see each other at least every two weeks. Whoever can travel the easiest, that’s the person who goes. But it’s non-negotiable.”

  “Can I come every weekend if I can? I don’t think I have classes on Monday or Friday. I could probably swing a lot of long weekends either way.”

  Her face brightens. “Perfect.”

  A grin toys against my lips. “Let’s see how this goes. Let’s be open to change. But whatever happens, we stick together. We’re teammates.”

  “How about family? Teammates make me think of sweaty socks and stinky shoes.”

  I laugh, pressing my lips against her forehead.

  We’ll be family someday. For real. I promise you.

  “Now,” she says, looking up at me warily, “I have something to tell you, and you can’t get mad.”

  “What? What did you do?”

  My brows pull together as I wonder what in the world she could’ve done in twenty-four hours to make me that mad.

  She bites her lip. “Promise you won’t be mad first.”

  “Do you want me to lie to you? Because if you say the name Sebastian or some dumb shit like that, I promise nothing.”

  She giggles. “It’s nothing like that. I promise.”

  I consider this. “I promise, but I include an addendum that if I do get mad that it will be in response to whatever you’ve done. Same scale.”

  “I accept.”

  “Now, what is it?”

  She makes a face. “I found a poem you wrote the night you stayed and then left before I woke up. It might be a poem or lyrics or just thoughts that seem to kind of flow …”

  I remember writing that. It was about watching her sleep and how it felt like the purest, sweetest moment I’d ever felt. It was just a bunch of thoughts that kind of rambled and I couldn’t sleep.

  I just forgot to take it.

  “It was under my chair,” she says. “And I gave it to Coy. Well, I didn’t give it to him. I took a screenshot and sent it to him.”

  She bites her teeth together and waits for my reaction.

  I feel a bit violated that my thoughts were shared outside of me, but I’m the one who forgot to take it with me. And I know, without a doubt, that she meant well.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’m not mad. I’m not thrilled, but I’m not mad.”

  She squeals. “Good, because Coy wants you to call him. He wants to buy it from you, but there are contracts and stuff that you’ll have to sign because he wants to record it—”

  “What?”

  My eyes about fall out of my head.

  “I know, right?” She beams. “You are so talented. Coy thinks so too. He will be home in a few days again—something happened, I don’t know—and he wants to sit down with you and talk to you about maybe actually writing some stuff for him.”

  I don’t know what to say. I just stand there like an idiot and wonder if it’s a dream. Because it feels like it.

  “See what happens when you don’t block your blessings?” she asks. “Good things happen.”

  I pull her to me and kiss her again.

  Good things happen, indeed.

  Epilogue #2

  Three months later …

  Hollis

  Me: My abs are a little worse for the wear, but they still look better than yours.

  It takes a minute before my texts blow up.

  River: For the love of God.

  Crew: Do you just sit around and think about your abs?

  Me: Sometimes. Don’t you?

  Crew: Never.

  River: Honestly? Yeah. Sometimes. But I don’t think about texting you about it.

  Me: How are the audiobooks coming?

  River: Oh, I have more genius to share. Call me later. This time, it’s about fish.

  Crew: Why do I feel like I missed something?

  Me: Consider yourself lucky, Hollywood.

  Crew: Done.

  Larissa lies asleep next to me. She brought new sheets and blankets to the house, and I think she used Lysol on everything before she touched it. But, hey—whatever it takes to get her to visit me on the weekends that I can’t get to Savannah.

  Me: Having dinner with Coach next week. He wants to know my plans post-graduation. I think he’s going to offer me a job this summer working with the receivers.

  Crew: Why? You can’t catch.

  River: Burn!

  Crew: Kidding. That’s awesome, Hollis.

  Me: I’m going to turn it down. I’m not going to the Combine either. Turns out that I played ball for the people and not the game.

  River: Sounds genius-level thought process.

  I laugh.

  Crew: So what are you going to do then?

  Me: I’m going to graduate and then I’m going to work with Kelvin McCoy and write some music.

  River: THAT IS SICK.

  Crew: Oh, wow.

  Me: I might suck at it. I’m nervous. But it should be fun.

  River: It’ll definitely be fun.

  Me: Okay, well, that’s all I had to say.

  Crew: You are so random.

  Me: Again, you asked for random check-ins.

  River: This is true, Hollywood.

  Crew: Check-in made. Good night.

  River: Later.

  Me: Night.

  I lean against the pillows and sigh.

  Tossing and turning, I try to sleep, but I can’t. Not even with Larissa beside me. I’m in a funk again where my brain just spins all night and wonders about everything from the Titanic to my sister.

  I haven’t heard back from Child Protective Services about Harlee. My old case manager said she’d try to track her down but didn’t know how possible that would be. That was two days ago. It’s as though now I’ve found my peace—my future—I need to reconcile with my past too.

  It’s time Harlee had a big brother a
gain. Someone to show up for her. Someone in her corner to love her unconditionally.

  Someone like me.

  I climb out of bed and sneak out of the room. Maybe if I finish the last thing on my to-do list, I’ll be able to sleep.

  Crew’s desk is in the corner of the living room. I sit down at it. The notebook I left on top is still there, and I open it.

  I find the first blank piece of paper and pick up a pen.

  Dear Philip and Kim,

  Hey, guys. I know it’s been a while. I just wanted to check in and let you know I’m doing great now …

  A Note From The Author

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading The Relationship Pact. I hope you enjoyed Hollis and Larissa’s story.

  If you want to keep reading about these football players, you’re in luck. The Kings of Football series contains two more standalone stories by two other amazing authors. In the next few pages, you can take a peek at Ilsa Madden-Mills’ The Revenge Pact and Meghan Quinn’s The Romantic Pact.

  Thank you again for reading. I’d be thrilled if you would consider leaving a review for The Relationship Pact.

  Keep reading for all the books.

  With love,

  Adriana

  The Revenge Pact

  Excerpt from The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football) by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  The Revenge Pact

  Copyright 2020 by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  This excerpt is included with permission from the copyright holder.

  River

  “Why is the elevator so slow?” she mutters.

  “Tell me three things you’re grateful for,” I say.

  She does a double take. “Is this where I’m like your…pet project? Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  Rainbow, sorry is the last thing I feel for you.

  I want you under me.

  Deep and hard.

  There aren’t enough minutes in the day for how long I want to fuck you.

  She blows out a breath. “Fine. I can see you aren’t going to budge. One, June is still around. Sam is keeping her low key. Two, I finished my paper, and three, I got off work to go on the ski trip.”

  “How are things with Donovan?”

  Her throat bobs. “I-I can’t talk to you about him. I mean, yeah, um, it…doesn’t feel right, you know, to him.” A sigh escapes her lips.

  Right. He’s her boyfriend and my frat brother.

  The door opens and she slips out, her arm brushing against my chest. I follow, sucking down the electricity between us. “I just wanted to check in—”

  “I know what this is, why you’re being nice to me—”

  “Yeah? Tell me, because I can’t figure it out,” I snap, annoyed she won’t open up while the other side is pissed at myself for asking. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t…” I stop, my jaw clenching.

  She stops at the door to class and turns to face me. Her expression torn, she takes a deep breath. “Your paper. I’m sorry I can’t help you, I really am. I love helping others, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us…” She licks her lips, her gaze avoiding mine. “There’s something about you and me—” She halts and looks down at her feet. “Anyway, I know a few students who tutor athletes. Let me give you their names—”

  “No one but you, Anastasia.”

  “What? Why?”

  Instinct takes over and I back her against the wall, towering over her. I tilt her chin up, and she doesn’t speak or move, just breathing fast, as my hand slides around to her nape. A hum of heat goes through my body as my hands tangle in her hair.

  “River…what…” Pink rises on her cheeks as her lashes flutter.

  Fuck.

  Every time, I’m pushing a little more, the dark side of me winning. Monday. Her apartment. Now.

  I could kiss her right now, but it’s wrong, immensely so, I’m being bad, so bad, but one touch and my dick is a steel pipe, damn, what would it be like to have her in my arms…

  She gazes up at me, her eyes flaring, the gold around her pupils darkening. She swallows as goose bumps appear on her neck.

  A primal sound builds in my throat.

  Anger.

  Frustration.

  Loyalty.

  Dammit. I shouldn’t be this close, shouldn’t touch her—

  “I’ll wait.” I grind my teeth and step back.

  Her lips part, a small puff of air coming out. She looks at my mouth. “For what?”

  The lethal side of me, the one itching to play this game no matter the consequences, tries to take over and speak the truth. I shove it down.

  You, I say in my head.

  Leaving her there, I sweep past her and go to my seat.

  Five fucking rows back.

  Dying to know what happens in this fated love story? Read more HERE.

  The Romantic Pact

  Excerpt from The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football) by Meghan Quinn

  The Romantic Pact

  Copyright 2020 by Meghan Quinn

  This excerpt is included with permission from the copyright holder.

  Crew

  “Hazel?” I ask, my heart tripping at the sight of an old friend.

  Her warm, caramel-colored eyes snap to mine, her face registering shock. “Crew?” A small smile pulls at her lips. She checks her seat number and then her ticket again and smiles even larger. “Would you look at that? Seems as though we’re seatmates.”

  “Holy shit,” I say as she takes a seat and beams at me.

  “How are you, Hollywood?”

  “Better now.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug.

  Hazel Allen.

  Born and raised in the neighboring house to Pops’s farm, this outgoing ball of sugar and spice was a staple of my childhood ever since I can remember. Her grandpa, Thomas, was best friends with Pops, and she worked on the farm from a very young age. Whenever I visited, she always made fun of me and my latest West Coast style as she strutted around in overalls, a tank top, and rubber boots. Her hair was always tied up on the top of her head, with a rolled-up bandanna around the crown to hold back any stray hairs.

  Down to earth, fun, and a jokester, Hazel was one of my best friends growing up.

  Pen pals.

  Long-distance friends.

  And of course, each other’s first kiss.

  When we pull away, Hazel lifts her hand to my face and presses her palm to my cheek. “God, you just keep getting more and more handsome.”

  I chuckle.

  “And this scruff. Now you’re really looking like your DILF of a dad.”

  “Can you not refer to my dad as a DILF? It really creeps me the fuck out.”

  “Ahh, but he is a hot piece of dad ass. Sorry.” She shrugs, sets her backpack on the floor, then turns in her seat to face me. “When my Grandpa told me about this trip, I had an inkling you might be my traveling partner, but I wasn’t sure.” She takes my hand in hers. “God, I’m so glad it’s you.”

  “The feeling is mutual, Haze,” I say, taking in her rosy, freckled cheeks and the way her hair softly falls over her forehead. Thank you, Pops. How easy it will be to travel with one of my best friends.

  God, when was the last time I saw her? I think it’s been a few years, to be honest. Once college started, I kind of lost contact with everyone. Training, studying game videos, and perfecting my throw took over.

  Eyes softening, she asks, “How have you been? I saw your season . . .” She winces.

  “Yeah,” I huff out, staring down at the way her small hand fits in mine, the callouses on her fingers from all the hard work on the farm reminding me just how different our lives are, despite a lot of the variables being the same. “Wasn’t my best show on the field. Just wasn’t in it mentally.”

  “I can understand that.” She squeezes my hand and then says, “But we’re not here to talk about all of your interceptions, and I mean all of them . . .” When I glance up at her, she’s smiling a Julia Roberts smile. I poke her side and she
laughs, her head falling back as she pushes my hand away.

  “How have you been, Hazel?” God, I’ve missed this girl.

  “Oh, you know, just living the life out on the farm. Got caught up in some mourning, ate way too much pumpkin pie this past fall. Did you get your fair share of pumpkin spice lattes?” She nudges me. “I know what a basic bitch you are.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I had a few.”

  “A few? I remember senior year in high school when you were drinking one a day. At least, that’s what you wrote to me. Then again, it has been three years . . .”

  “Has it?” I ask, knowing damn well it’s been three years since I’ve seen her. Three years since . . . hell, three years since I ran from her.

  Want to find out exactly why Crew ran away from Hazel? Oo, it's a doozy. Keep reading here: https://amzn.to/2HLdH60

  Want to see why Bellamy hates Coy? You’re in luck! REPUTATION, their enemies-to-lovers story comes out on January 5th. You can preorder it HERE.

  Can’t wait? Swipe to the next page to read Chapter One.

  Chapter One: Reputation

  Reputation

  Coy Mason & Bellamy Davenport

  Chapter One

  Coy

  “You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?”

  “Not yet,” I say, slurping the milk off my spoon. “But I just got here. Give me time.”

  My eldest brother, Holt, half-laughs, half-groans through the phone.

  The groan is there because he knows me enough to be afraid I’m serious. The laugh is there because, as much as he hates it, he’s entertained by my antics.

  Somewhat, anyway.

  I scoop up another spoonful of fruity cereal and shove it into my mouth. Ice-cold milk dribbles down my chin, and I swipe it away with the back of my hand.