“Ready?” Cannon asks, zipping up my duffle and handing me my new accessories for the next three to four weeks, a shiny new pair of crutches. These damn things are going to bruise the hell out of my sides. Again.
“I can’t stand to look at this room another second,” I mutter. I’m restless but exhausted, something I know all too well.
It’s been four days since my second anterior cruciate ligament reconstructive surgery. And they made me wait several long days before putting me on the operating table, which puts my hospital stay at…way too fucking long.
If I never step foot in here again, it’ll be too soon. The antiseptic smell, the never-ending beeping, and the barrage of nurses checking my blood pressure like I just had open heart surgery.
As I said…exhausting.
I position my crutches strategically against my ribs and not right up in my armpit, like my doctor recommended. It’s like he forgot I’m a professional at this.
Before I can get out my hospital room door, one of the nurses rushes in and glares at me. “I told you to wait. You know I have to take you down in this.” She’s pushing a wheelchair like she hates me.
“Come on, Alice. You know I don’t need that,” I tell her, putting on a showy grin that has no depth to it.
She frowns, clearly not charmed by my faux bravado. “Doctor’s orders.”
I grumble and swear, lowering into the seat, letting myself fully absorb the tormenting throb in my leg while Cannon takes my crutches. Bag on my lap, I pull out a shirt and toss it over my head, effectively hiding my face to any nosy individuals or reporters who might be hanging around.
Since the video of the bar fight hit social media, I’m being ridiculed all over the internet. The things people are saying have been fucking horrendous. I don’t need any cameras all up in my face today.
Getting into my brother’s car is a whole damn production, trying to twist and angle myself to minimize the impact on my knee.
Cannon gets behind the wheel and pulls on his seatbelt. I drop my skull against my headrest. “I’m going to your house,” I announce, without bothering to ask.
He gives me a wary glance. “Oh, okay…I figured you’d still be staying with Iris. All your stuff is there.” He hesitates. “And…she misses you.”
His comment strikes me in the chest. I rub the ache with my palm, but of course, it doesn’t fix me. Nothing can. Sometimes the pain in my chest is so big and wide, it throbs harder than the agony in my leg.
“No, I’d rather stay with you, if you don’t mind.”
It’s been how long since I last spoke to her, held her, kissed her? I’m not sure. The last time I saw her was when she rode in the ambulance with me after the bar fight. She was holding my hand, crying, apologizing as I writhed on the stretcher in pain. Fuck, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I resent her.
If only we hadn’t gone to the bar that night…
If only she hadn’t chosen that table in the corner…
Hell, if only she had dumped Kirk’s ass a decade ago instead of forgiving him and loving him and marrying him…
Even I know my thought process is all skewed.
But I still haven’t come to terms with my new reality. I’m still angry. Still looking for anyone and anything to put my blame on. Even though I know it doesn’t make much sense.
“You need to cut the shit, Jude. You love her. We all could see it. Man up and go get your girl back.”
I close my eyes and drag a hand down my face. “I know. I know it’s not her fault, but…but…” I’m so damn tangled up inside. And I miss her. I fucking miss her.
All day every day, my love for her clashes with my grief, my regret, my anger. And I just don’t know how to cope with all these conflicting emotions.
So for now, I just want to go to my brother’s house and hide.
48
Iris
I agreed to meet up with my mom for coffee at Jittery Joe’s. It’s time we make amends. It’s been too long since we’ve talked and, frankly, I miss her, despite the fact that I’m still so mad.
But she won’t worm her way into my good graces without giving me the answers I’m looking for. I deserve to know the truth about my father. I’ve gotten a handful of anecdotes from my sisters here and there but the girls insist that I should hear my mom’s side of the story, too.
“How are you doing, kid?” Mom reaches across the table to squeeze my shoulder. She looks tired, nervous.
I’m so damn tempted to give her some catty comment. But what would that accomplish? She’s still my mother and I still love her. She was there for me when Kirk left and now as I’m struggling to hold the pieces of my shattered heart together once more, I could use her support again. “I’ve been better.” I wrap my fingers around my teacup. Chamomile. Jude’s favorite.
A long moment passes. A soft jazz tune plays low in the background as patrons chat and laugh around us. She observes me in that way that mothers examine their children. I’m heartbroken and conflicted and I’m sure she can read it all with one glance at my face.
Mom hesitates. “Can I tell you about Grant now?”
I shrug, steeling myself to hear it. Honestly, I’m not sure that I’m ready but I’m tired of being in the dark.
“I know the timing is shit, but I think you need to know what happened.”
“Okay,” I agree, nodding and shifting so I can meet her sad gaze.
“I should have told you years ago, Baby, but it started with a small lie to other people, and grew and grew until I almost believed it myself.” A regretful look passes across her face, and I listen as she continues. “I barely knew your father. I met him at a bar one night when he was in town for work. When I got pregnant suddenly, I had some soul searching to do. I wanted to keep my baby, but Grant had vanished. I was young, I was scared but there was no way I could give you up.” She gets a distant look as she stares at her coffee cup. “When I was about six months along, I found him again. That’s when he told me he was married. To Faith and Grace’s mother, I guess. No one was going to tie that man down, not even his own wife. He left us, and I was so embarrassed that I began lying to anyone who asked. I told everyone that I didn’t know who your father was. Stupid. I know,” she scoffs. “But you were the most precious little angel and I couldn’t stomach the thought that the bastard had willingly left you, abandoned you. I guess when you got older and began asking about him, it was just so easy to go with the story I’d told everyone else. I lived that lie for so many years, and it became something I didn’t know how to undo.”
When she finishes, we both fall quiet.
I silently merge these new puzzle pieces with the fragments Faith, Lily and Grace have given me in the weeks since we met. In my mind’s eye, I try to paint a portrait of the father I’ve never known.
I sit still, absorbing the fact that the man is eerily similar to all the jerks in my life. Talk about daddy issues, right?
Knowing now what she went through, I realize that my mom is one badass woman. She was able to stand on her feet even without the support of a man.
I want that. I want to be a badass, too. Right after the persistent pain in my chest subsides.
“I’m so sorry, Iris. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.” Mom’s voice shakes. “You’re better off not knowing him, baby girl. Grant is nothing but a lying dirtbag.”
I bury my face in my hands. Why does every single aspect of my life have to be so damn complicated? It’s like I’m cursed.
Resignation takes over. “Thank you, Mom. I know this must have been hard for you to talk about. So…thank you.”
“If you ever have any questions about him, just ask. I’ll answer if I can.” She stretches her hand across the table.
Slowly, I take it. She’s made her mistakes but I still love her. She’s my mother and you only get one of those.
“How are things with Jude?” she asks softly. “I heard about the bar fight. It’s been all over the internet, all over town. The thi
ngs people are saying…” She shakes her head.
Oh, I’ve heard the things people have been saying. Things about me. My stomach flips with nausea.
And the reminder of the man I love has me aching instantly. “It’s over,” I say flatly. “He won’t speak to me. We’re done.”
She immediately shifts into shamelessly biased, protective momma mode. “Well, if he can’t see what a wonderful, smart, gorgeous human being you are, you’re better off without that shithead,” she says heatedly. “Don’t you take crap from any man, Iris. Don’t be scared to tell his ass to get lost. No matter how charming he is.”
I laugh weakly. “Of course you’d say that.” I’m pretty sure those are the same exact words she said when I told her Kirk packed all of his belongings. And because I’m clearly the only one here who’s still in touch with logic, I have to set her straight. “Mom, Jude has every right to blame me. This whole mess is my fault. I’m the one who married the crazed lunatic who hurt him. I’m the one who insisted we go to a bar that night when all Jude wanted was to take me home. And as much as I want another chance with him, I’m well aware that I can’t fix this. There’s nothing I can do to bring his career back.”
“Oh, baby.” She croons and drags her chair around the table so we’re sitting side by side.
I don’t cry. I did not think it was possible, but I’ve officially used up my tear ducts. I’ve sobbed myself dry. But I still hurt. I hurt so, so bad. I rest my head on Mom’s shoulder, and focus on nothing but breathing for several long moments.
“My Iris. You’ve been through too much. You don’t deserve this.”
“I just don’t want to be lonely anymore,” I whisper. Especially now that I know that someone exists out there for me, someone who makes me happy, someone who believes in me, someone who showed me what love was for the very first time.
Jude…
“Honey, I can promise you I’m not lonely.” She gives me a wayward smile and I really don’t want to know the details behind it. Mom makes it no secret that she has a long list of ‘gentlemen’ eager to keep her company. “Still, I don’t want my life for you. If Jude is the man you say he is, then the two of you will find your way back to each other. If not, someone special will come into your world when the time is right, and you’ll just know.”
I don’t tell her my special person already came. And left.
“Don’t make that face, Iris.” Mom holds my cheeks in her warm hands. I can see the tears brimming in her own eyes. “We’re not out of the game yet, baby. Happily ever after is still an option for us. For you. For me. For all the lonely women out there looking for love. Our own story is written, and we just have to jump into the pages when the time is right. I have to believe that.”
My whole heart shakes. The floodgates break open.
I was wrong. I haven’t run out of tears.
49
Jude
The crash of someone busting my bedroom door open jolts me awake. It takes a second to orient myself in the dark room but then I make out Cannon at the window, tearing the heavy drapes open.
“Ugh! What are you doing, asshole?” Sunlight beats its way through the glass. I cloak a forearm across my eyes to protect myself against the assault.
“Wake the hell up, Jude!” My brother says as he drags the curtain along its tracks. “You need a shower. It smells like shit in here.” He turns to face me and instantly looks away. “Cover up your junk, would you?” He grabs the comforter off the floor and blindly flings it in my direction. “And if you knew all the shit that’s gone down in this bed, you definitely wouldn’t have your bare ass all up on those linens.”
The bastard has the nerve to smirk.
I don’t have the energy to care.
“What time is it?” I groan and glance around the room.
I have to admit that the place is a pig sty. Sheets, a tangled mess. Dirty underwear and burrito wrappers on the floor. Unidentified sticky shit on the bedside table. Cookie crumbs sticking to my left butt cheek.
I got lost on some dark corner of the internet last night, yelling at idiots through my computer screen. Strangers were dragging Iris through the mud. Commenting on the video of my career-ending bar fight. Calling her names. Saying she cheated on her husband with me. Telling all kinds of lies. I couldn’t just sit there and let them paint the portrait of a monster.
Iris Merlini is an angel. The kindest, sweetest, most caring person I’ve ever met. She stood by my side when everyone else thought I was a delusional piece of work. She had my back when it made no logical sense to believe in me. And that’s the picture I want the world to see. I spent the night breathing fire on online sports forums, telling shitheads just that.
Well now, my eyes hurt. My brain is throbbing. I’m angry and my heart is fucking sore. That’s on top of the incessant agony in my leg.
Jesus, I need some ice for my knee.
“Is he decent?” Lexi calls from right outside the door.
I groan and adjust the sheets over my crotch.
Cannon calls back. “He’s not decent. He’s a hot mess. But at least he’s covered up the family jewels.”
Wearing a guarded look, Lexi pokes her head into the room. “Hey.” She tiptoes in cautiously.
I clear my throat. “Hey.”
“I figured you might need this to take your pain meds?” She hands me a glass of water before taking a seat at the foot of the mattress.
My fingers wrap around the glass. “Yeah.” She sits patiently as I ease onto an elbow to pop my pills then collapse back into the bed.
There’s a challenge in Alexia’s eyes when they swing to me. “So, I’m gonna cut to the chase here. What are you gonna do about Iris?”
I jerk a brow up. Cannon’s wife can be painfully blunt when she needs to be.
“I can’t deal with my feelings for Iris right now.” I stubbornly fold my arms over my chest.
“Oh, it’s like that?” She jerks a brow up to match mine. Cannon stands silently just past her shoulder, expression threatening like a constipated bodyguard.
I sink deeper into the bedding. “Yeah, Lexi. It’s like that.”
She glares at me for a second then pulls out her phone. She taps around a bit. She clears her throat. “List of reasons why Iris Merlini is the best damn human being. Number one—She’s fucking beautiful. Even first thing in the morning when she’s got pillow lines on her cheeks and drool on her chin and breadcrumbs on her forehead, the woman is perfection. Number three—She’s scrappy. Just like me. When life kicks her in the lady balls, she might fall down for a second but she will stand up and she will fight back with all she’s got. Number eight—She’s loyal, she’s dependable, she’s trustworthy. We all need someone like her in our corner. Number six—She’s quiet but observant. She notices everything about me, even the things I’m trying to hide from myself. She makes me face my dark side, improve myself. Number who-the-hell’s-counting-anymore—She has a fantastic ass and she loves when I eat it.”
Cannon clears his throat uncomfortably.
Lexi looks at me with a hiked eyebrow. “I’m gonna just skip over a few of these here in the middle. To preserve what’s left of your dignity.” Her eyes drop back to the screen. “So, in conclusion, these are just a few of the reasons I’m in love with Iris Merlini. She’s a queen. And all you people who are judging her can go suck each other’s dicks.”
Shit, I wrote that? On the internet? How fried was my brain last night?
“Those assholes were slamming her,” I say in my own defence. “They were telling lies about her. She doesn’t deserve that. I had to step in with the truth.”
“Well, how about you go say those things to her in person? Because she’s hurting. She probably thinks you agree with all those nasty opinions that are going around.” Lexi puts a hand on my shoulder. “I love you, Jude. You’re the annoying younger brother I never wanted yet somehow got stuck with.” That causes me to chuckle. “And Iris? Me and Iris have never gone halfsies on
a penis but she is my sister-wife in every way that counts. And if you don’t get off your sorry ass and go fix this mess—”
“What, Alexia? What?” I say defensively as I emotionally brace myself for the threat.
My sister-in-law heaves a sigh. “If you don’t go fix this mess, you will be as miserable as you are now, every day for the rest of your god-forsaken life. Because Iris Merlini is one of a kind. And you know that.”
She’s right. I’ve been through enough average women to know a goddess when I see one and Iris is otherworldly.
Cannon narrows his eyes at me. “You. Love. Her. Jude.” Each word is like a well-deserved slap to the back of the skull. “Kirk is the villain here. Iris is as much his victim as you are. So get your head out of your ass and go claim her. Before you lose her for good.”
Fuck. Fuck, they’re right.
I’ve been so angry at the situation, that I never stopped and asked myself the most crucial question; if I had to do it all over again, would I?
If I saw Iris in danger and I knew that inevitably, the outcome of protecting her would be the end of my football career, would I charge in there with the fire of a thousand motherfucking suns to defend her?
The answer is yes.
Always, yes.
I’d lay down my whole, entire life to protect her.
…I love her.
I’ve been trying to avoid this truth. But I can’t avoid it anymore. Now that my career is officially done, I realize that if I had to choose between Iris and my ability to play ball, I’d choose Iris any day. And that scares me. Because football has always been my life. So if this woman has taken the top spot, it means that I have feelings for her. Huge feelings. Priority-shifting feelings.
The inconvenient truth is finally starting to sink in. My epiphany must be showing on my face because now Lexi is smiling softly instead of that menacing scowl that was in her expression just a few minutes ago. “Take some time to think about it. But not too long. And if you need anything, just shout.”
Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2) Page 25
