On the other hand, I was taking a hell of a chance that he wouldn’t run straight to Coach, but I had my lie all ready to go.
I’d lost my knife a while back.
Maybe it belonged to some other player with an M initial.
Plus, this was the most important game of the season, and I was counting on the fact that if Felix did run his mouth, Coach wouldn’t want to hear any shit before we took the field. Not to mention, we were the two best quarterbacks on the team. No way in hell would he bench us and put in a third-string player.
Felix shot a quick look over his shoulder, but I made sure to be cleaning my shoes, my expression easy going. Calm. I trash talked with the other players.
Later, Coach called us all together, and I was exceedingly polite when I asked if Felix could pass me a water bottle during the pre-game talk. He eyed me warily.
If I wasn’t so angry, I’d be enjoying this.
We headed out to face Taylor University, one of the top-rated schools in the country.
The hometown crowd was insanely loud, homemade signs and cheers from every direction. I looked up into the packed stadium stands to send Sunny my two-fingers kiss, but she wasn’t there. Neither was Mimi. I saw my dad, though, sitting in the seat he’d managed to find that was behind the two he kept each season. I’d told him when he said he wanted to come that he’d have to figure out a way to sit near Sunny because his seat now belonged to Mimi. So where were they?
I slowed my run, and the football player behind me bumped into me as we were running out, and I quickly stepped out of the way to let them pass. I jogged to the bench, my eyes searching the student section, thinking perhaps she’d decided to sit with Ash and Isabella, but then I remembered it was Thanksgiving weekend and they’d gone home to see family.
I felt off-kilter when the game started, especially when we got off to two false starts and a holding penalty.
At the end of the half, we trailed seventeen to three as we walked to the locker rooms. We’d had two missed kicks and I’d thrown an interception. Anxiety rode me hard.
You’ve been in tougher situations, I reminded myself.
My gut churned for another reason as I passed the empty seats where Sunny and Mimi should be.
Where was she?
Sunny
IT WAS A FEW HOURS before game day, and I was taking a pregnancy test.
Yes, I was on the pill, but accidents were possible, and as much as we’d been together—
I stopped. Don’t go there, Sunny. You’re not pregnant.
The night before I stayed at Mimi’s because she’d been under the weather. We’d watched some TV and had dinner together. Right before I went to the guest room to sleep, I’d recalled the comment that Max’s dad had made about me being pregnant, and it dawned on me that my period was late this month. I’d barely slept, and this morning when the sun came up, I headed back home, stopping at Walgreens along the way to buy the most expensive test I could find.
The earliest pregnancy indicator on the market, the packaging promised.
Please let it be negative.
I rushed inside the house and locked the door—as if I was afraid Max could sense what I was doing and suddenly appear. Stupid.
“It doesn’t look good, Charlie,” I said to the unicorn on the wall as I walked in the bathroom. He glared down at me. I imagined he’d say something like What did you expect, idiot? It’s Max-freaking-Kent. All you have to do is look at him and you get knocked up.
Max.
God.
He would—I didn’t know what he’d do.
Nausea rose in my stomach as I read the directions on the back of the box. I sat down on the cold tile in the bathroom, recalling how Bianca had told him she was pregnant. She’d lied but I could only imagine the fear he must have felt.
He might resent me.
And those were the words that pinged around in my head as I took out the white pieces of plastic and did my thing. I set it aside on the back of the toilet and waited.
A knock came at my front door, sending me in every direction. I scrambled to pull back on my skinny jeans and ran out of the bathroom in my sock feet.
Mimi stood at the door dressed in a roomy number seventeen jersey Max had given her, leggings, and her fake Uggs.
“Whatcha doing?” I asked, trying to play off my I might be pregnant face. I caught a glimpse of a yellow cab as it pulled away from the curb. She’d woken up this morning feeling better after a bout of bronchitis but was still determined to get to the game. “I was coming to get you later for the game, silly. You didn’t have to waste your money and come here.”
That had been our plan anyway.
She swallowed, and it was then I noticed the way her lips compressed.
“Mimi? What’s the matter?”
She shook her head and brushed past me and into the house, and I followed her all the way to the den.
“Your father—his cousin just called me. He’s dying. The doctors don’t expect him to make it through the weekend. He asking to see you. He’s home.”
I found myself sitting even though I hadn’t remembered doing it. My lips went numb but I managed to move them anyway. “Why now?”
Mimi sat next to me. “I don’t know. Maybe he wants to ask forgiveness. He is a preacher.”
My heart dropped. Before my mother died, he’d been a decent father to me, but could I just forget all the bad? “Do I need to be there?” I couldn’t think.
Mimi looked at me, her face set in gentle lines. “It’s ultimately up to you, but perhaps closure would be good. He’s all you have left. And it’s his dying wish.”
I sucked in a breath. “What about Max’s game?”
She nodded, petting my head like I was a child. “I know Max. He’ll understand.”
I leaned into her. “Will you—will you go with me?”
She nodded. “I’ve no love for your father, but I’ll go for you. Just you, sugar. I’ll pack us some Long Island Iced Tea, too. Well, not for you since you’ll have to do the driving.” A sad smile crossed her lips. “I wouldn’t mind visiting your mama’s grave, too. I didn’t go to the funeral.”
I nodded. I got that. Part of me wanted to see it again—and my brother’s.
I’d left so many things behind.
For three years, I’d shoved everything from North Carolina into a dark box and focused on being the person I wanted to be. But now, perhaps it was time to face my past. I stood, my head fuzzy as I stumbled toward the hallway. “I’ll pack.”
Max
WE MARCHED ON THE FIELD for the second half, the smell of popcorn and beer filling my senses. I checked the stands. Still no Sunny.
Back in the locker room, when Coach had taken a restroom break, I’d snatched my phone to see if she’d sent me any texts. She hadn’t. I sent her one.
Where are you? Worried.
She hadn’t replied, but then I’d had to put my phone away when halftime was over. I didn’t care about the appearances; I just wanted her to be okay.
Resolving to get back in the game, I slapped Tate on the back. “Dude. I’m throwing you the ball all damn day and you better catch it and hang on. We’re gonna win.”
He nodded, a gleam in his eyes. “Bloody hell, I like your pep talks.”
“Let’s do this,” I called out as we lined up. Several agreeing murmurs came from my guys. The ball snapped, and I connected a gorgeous pass to Tate, who ran a route straight to the end zone. The crowd went nuts.
At a time out, I grabbed water from one of the boys and sat on the bench with Harley, the offensive coach. He walked me through some possible scenarios of the Taylor defense.
Felix approached although I pretended to barely notice. “I see your fiancée isn’t in the stands. Wonder where she is, Kent? You think she found someone else?”
Now that I’d scored, I felt more in control. “Don’t be such a baby, Felix, just because you aren’t playing in the biggest game of my career. Fuck off.”
&nb
sp; His ears reddened. “I hope we lose this game.”
I shook my head at him and smirked. “You will say anything to make me blow up. Guess it really doesn’t matter anyway. The police will handle you.”
His eyes narrowed. “What lies are you spouting?”
“I know what you did in the library to Sunny. Bianca told me. I skipped campus police and went to the Atlanta PD today and told them everything. Hell, I hate my father, but I even took him with me.” I forced a laugh. “Everyone loves him, you know . . . big famous NFL player and all. The cops were more than willing to listen to us. He even signed a few autographs. They’re waiting for you just outside the stadium because I asked them to let you be part of the team—just in case I got hurt.”
Part of that was true and part of that was utter bullshit. I had gone to the police, but the cops weren’t waiting for him. They didn’t have enough evidence . . . yet.
I smiled a shit-eating grin, enjoying the shock on his face. “See ya.” I jogged out on the field for another run.
We started off at the fifty, and when I saw the double coverage, I sidestepped, took an opening in the defense, and ran like hell, the sound of the crowd louder the further I went.
Touchdown! I tossed the ball in the crowd and a fan caught it.
I glanced up to Sunny’s seats and kissed my fingers—out of habit—but she still wasn’t there.
Let it go, Max. She’s okay.
I concentrated on the next possession. We lined up, the ball was snapped, and like perfect choreography, I looked down the left sideline and connected with Tate for a twenty-yard pick up. Another pass to the tight end put us within thirty yards of a touchdown.
We moved the ball further down the field.
But we had to score to win. Time was ticking.
I caught the snap, looked down the center, and saw Tate wide open. I sailed it through the air, and he caught it on the ten and ran it in for the final touchdown.
The noise in the stadium was deafening. Confetti went everywhere. The marching band cranked up our fight song.
My heart raced as I looked at the scoreboard and watched as the seconds counted down. Three, two, one . . .
I tossed my head back and yelled my victory into the now darkened sky. That’s for you, Mom, I whispered into the chilly air.
Like a horde, players and fans swarmed the field, jostling each other. It was an assault of flashbulbs, reporters, and the other team coming to congratulate us.
Someone nudged me in the back, and I turned around. Felix. He whipped his helmet off and held it with a tight grip. “Were you serious about the police?” His eyes darted around the stadium.
“Hell yeah.” I slapped him on the back. “Can’t go to the NFL if you’re in jail, asshole.”
Hardness grew in his gaze, and I could tell he was getting ready to mouth off.
Fuck that. I ignored him and turned away.
This was my team. My moment.
Someone shoved me from behind, causing me to stumble into a lady reporter who was busy getting her mic out. Mortified, I quickly regained my balance and apologized. Once I made sure she was okay, I flipped around, expecting to see some random person. It was Felix. Again. He curled his lip as people milled around us.
I just stared at him. He’d always been the instigator in our run-ins, yet infuriatingly cool when I’d been the one to react.
But now, he was the livid one, his taut stance practically begging me to come at him.
I wasn’t stupid.
I read that asshole like a weak defensive line.
He was itching for me to hit him. He wanted me to fuck up. This was his last opportunity to ruin my chances at a Heisman.
I smiled at him. Who knew that keeping my cool would feel so fucking good?
Fast as ever and always looking out for me, Tate popped up next to me. He looked from me to Felix, taking in his clenched fists and red face. He took him by the arm and forcefully directed him to the sidelines. I watched as they disappeared slowly.
I refocused and met the bewildered eyes of the reporter who had obviously not seen anything since he’d been hidden behind me. Thank God. I didn’t need any media drama. “Sorry about that. I can throw a ball but apparently I have two left feet.”
She blushed and laughed, saying something about too many people and how she was glad to catch my fall. She waved her camera guy over and once he set up, she put her mic in my face. “What are your plans after the big win tonight?”
Clarity drifted in, and fuck, did it feel good.
Sunny. I needed her.
I couldn’t exist without her in my world.
I smiled at the reporter, a genuine one, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. “I’m going to kiss my girl.”
I just had to find her first.
Max
“IT’S ON TV AGAIN,” TATE called from the den. I jogged out from the bedroom and came to a halt in front of the blaring television.
It was Tuesday, and I was still riding high from our win. The only thing missing was Sunny. As soon as the game ended, I’d grabbed my phone and found the reply she’d sent me. Her dad was dying, and she and Mimi had headed there so she could say goodbye. I worried for her, missing her like hell and wanting to tell her everything going on with me, but I was waiting—albeit a bit impatiently—until I saw her.
“Check it,” Tate called, pointing at the TV.
A Sports Center Special Report was on, showing the last play of Saturday’s game. The head anchor, a burly fellow who’d played college football for Tennessee, spoke to the camera. “And later tonight at six, we’ll be live at the Downtown Athletic Club in New York for the Heisman Finalist announcement.” A picture of me came on the screen. I swallowed.
He continued, “Max Kent has been the front-runner most of the season, but he and the Tigers stumbled mid-season. He finished strong in the win against Taylor University, and I’m sure he’s on the edge of seat wondering if he made the cut.” The reporter sent a knowing look to his co-anchor.
“That’s right,” another sportscaster chimed in. “Plus, it looks like he might be headed to a national championship after the win against Taylor. Saturday was his best game of the season . . .” the voice drifted off, going into details about other games over the weekend.
Tate went to the kitchen and came back with beers, handing me one as he sent me a cocky grin. “Here’s to tonight and the end of an era. No matter what happens, I couldn’t have picked a better person to have this run with.”
“Cheers, my friend, and ditto that.” We clinked bottles, and I took a swig.
I leaned against the doorjamb, my eyes going to Sunny’s house across the street. When I’d called her this morning, she’d been rather curt, busy with packing so they could leave as soon as the funeral was over. I was thankful Mimi had gone with her. We’d talked everyday she’d been gone, but she’d been off. Her dad had died on Sunday, and she was busy, handling the funeral and visiting with distant relatives.
She also said she had something to tell me, but she wanted to do it in person. I already knew what it was, but for the life of me, I couldn’t ask her about it.
I went to my room and pulled the blue and pink packaging from my nightstand drawer and stared down at it. It was wrinkled and dented from the nights I’d cradled it in my hands. I’d been wrestling with what it meant since I’d found it in her house on Sunday after the game. She’d called and asked me to use the key she’d given me after the daisy incident to double check her lights and locks because she’d left in such a hurry.
She’d left the light on in the bathroom, and I found the empty box—with no test strip. Of course, she’d probably taken it with her.
I came out of the bedroom and headed to the kitchen to eat some of the catered food my dad had sent over. Our countertops and kitchen table were covered in sandwiches, fancy deli meats, dips, chips, and a plethora of other snacks. Two kegs were outside by the fire pit, also courtesy of my dad, just waiting for guests to show up
later when we had our party that Tate insisted on.
Dad had even bought us a new eighty-inch big screen TV. Two guys had arrived this morning and set it up outside under the covered porch, so we’d have plenty of room for the players, coaches, and anyone else we wanted to watch the live show in the backyard.
Yeah. My dad was trying.
Buying me things wasn’t going to make a difference, yet we’d had a slight bonding moment when he’d gone to the police department with me. Just today he’d called to let me know that the police had sought out an interview with Bianca, but she’d left school unexpectedly. Bullshit. She just hadn’t wanted to squeal on Felix. He’d probably gotten to her and convinced her to keep her mouth shut. She wasn’t a reliable witness.
On the other hand, Cyndi and Felix had been questioned by the police, but according to my dad’s contacts, they’d denied any involvement in the library incident. As of now, everything we had was hearsay. Whatever. I wasn’t going to worry about it. Not today. Somehow, someway, Felix would fuck up.
As for my dad, it would take time and a shit ton of patience to build a relationship with him. Anything was possible, I guess.
“When does Sunny get here?” Tate asked from the kitchen where he was cramming pepperonis in his mouth. “I hope she makes the show.”
I grinned. “Tonight. You gonna string more lights up for her?”
Dude had gone nuts on the decorating, even calling some of his favorite groupies to come over and help him get the backyard situated like he wanted. Tiger football banners, twinkling lights, and an assortment of tables and chairs now dotted the area.
“Maybe,” he chuckled. “I didn’t think we’d get it done in time, but it looks great. I’m glad the weather warmed up.” He made a funny face. “Bloody hell, I’m a good decorator.”
I agreed.
A few hours later, the house was packed. About fifty people, most of them players and coaches, roamed around the den and outside. I got nervous, watching all the smiling faces as they came in the door. If I didn’t get a nod as a candidate, I’d be embarrassed while everyone watched.
I drank another beer and waited, my eyes bouncing to the bay window every few minutes so I could see if Sunny had arrived. I rechecked my phone. The last call I’d gotten from her had been two hours ago when they’d stopped for gas.
Fake Fiancée Page 19
