Encroachment (Coach's Shadow Trilogy #2)

by Monica DeSimone

  My words say no, but my hands have a mind of their own as they slowly massage her thighs, making their way to her hot core.

  Claire moves her delectable hands down to the hem of my shirt and wiggles them under and up to my chest. And I still.

  Realizing that I have completely stopped, she looks up and asks, “Jackson? What did I do wrong?” But her hands are still roaming my chest and it is pure pleasure and sweet agony. I need for her to stop. Now. But I don’t want to discourage her. I need this side of her. I need for Claire to realize that she is a passionate and desirable woman. But I can’t handle her knowing about my weakness. I need for her to know that I’m strong, both of mind and soul. And knowing about the scar on my chest, and what caused it, will only make her look at me with pity. This scar is a constant reminder that I have let every one of my girls down.

  Claire looks at me in question, begging me to say something, to confirm she hasn’t done something to make me suddenly withdraw. Then her left hand hits the scar over my heart, and stops. I know the instant Claire puts two and two together. With a quickness that I never expected of her, she whips my shirt up and over my head. “What happened to you, Jackson?” she asks as her index finger traces over the disgusting mark that takes up a good portion of my left pectoral.

  Not wanting to say anything but knowing something must be said, I begin to tell her about the scar that almost took my life. “I was fifteen, my mother had just taken her own life, my father had withdrawn from the world and only existed in his bedroom, and I was left to maintain the farm—our only source of income—as well as myself. One day I was in the barn pulling a bale of hay from the loft when a spring storm hit. My only thought was that my girl, my beautiful chestnut mare, was out in the pasture alone. Unaware and uncaring of the dangers, my only concern was getting to my lady and getting her to safety. She was the last gift my mother had given me, and I couldn’t lose her. I was halfway out the barn door when the world tilted and I was knocked down on my ass, the force knocking me unconscious. I woke up in the hospital. They said it took almost eight hours to find me in the rubble. And when they did a piece of wood was lodged deep inside my chest.

  “Tornadoes aren’t very common in Kentucky, and this one was classified as the second strongest in the state’s history. An EF3, or so they say. All the doctors said I was lucky. Two centimeters more to the left and I would have died.” Claire’s gasp pulls me out of my memory.

  Placing her hand over my heart, Claire leans down and places the sweetest kisses I have ever received over the entire length of my scar. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes, but not pity. “What happened to your lady?”

  Leave it to Claire to care about an animal. “She was put down.”

  “Oh, Jackson, I’m sorry!”

  “Don’t be, she survived the storm and lived to be twenty-eight years old, and gave me Claire’s Lady and My Beloved Sasha. It seems I’m destined to have girls.”

  “Oh my God, Jackson, you named your horses after Sash and me?” Claire covers her mouth to conceal her sobs, and looks away. “You never forgot us? All those years and you kept us close.”

  Turning her face to mine, I kiss the tears that have stained her face while my hands cup her jaw. “You, Claire, have always been in my heart and always on my mind. I will never leave you. Even if you banish me from your life, I will always be there—watching, protecting, guiding.”

  “How were you capable of playing at the level you did with this?” She strokes my scar, the movement soothing wounds I thought would never heal.

  “Determination. I refused to be told no. That I can’t do something. Besides, if I wanted to succeed, my only shot was through football. I was alive and I refused to give in, refused to allow life to swallow me whole. Like you, I chose to persevere. To not allow this world and life to beat me down.”

  Claire’s words are kind but her hands have started to roam over my chest again, causing my cock to go from “Ehh, I’m happy here” to “Hello, my Lady, how may I serve you?” in two point two seconds.

  “Claire, you have to stop touching me. I’m not sure I can take anymore at the moment.”

  “I don’t want to, Jackson. I need you. I want you to teach me how to love you and how to be loved.”

  “Jesus, woman, you test me.”

  Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong starts blaring from the other side of the counter, and Claire dives for her phone. She’s laid out before me with her ass in the air, all long, slim limbs. And the only thing I want is my mouth on that deliciously tight ass of hers.

  “Zoey?” Claire answers her phone, pulling me out of a most pleasing fantasy. “I’m leaving now,” she says. The woman who was just putty in my hands has crawled up onto all fours, or three’s as one hand is holding her cell phone to her ear, and has become all business, which for Claire is mom mode. “No, don’t wait. I’ll find you.” She pauses. “Tell her I love her!”

  Claire hops off of the island, and grabs a knife out of the drawer. She proceeds to quickly slice half of the roasted chicken and wraps a paper napkin around the leg portion, slapping it into my right hand as she grabs my left and starts pulling. “Let’s go, Jackson, I’m about to become an aunt.”

  And just like that, I have been turned on, twice, seduced once, and fed all within a matter of moments. God this woman amazes me.

  Claire

  “WHAT DO YOU mean I can’t see her?” I glance at Jackson, and God bless him, he’s kept his mouth shut, even when I almost ran over Old Miss Temering when she took too long walking her ferret across the street. It’s not my fault she didn’t take the hint when I honked the horn and yelled out the window at her. And all Jackson did, bless his heart, was transfer that chicken leg into his right hand and then pat my thigh in comfort.

  “I don’t think that you understand,” I say to Nurse Ratchett. “My girl is in that room right now and I have to see her. She needs me!”

  “Ma’am, Mrs. Hendrickson is being prepped for an emergency C-section. I’m sorry, but you can’t go in.”

  “You either let me by or I’ll have your fucking job, and make no mistake, I can make that happen. I know the president of the hospital. Now what do I have to put on and which room is my girl in?”

  “Claire”—Derrick comes running down the hall toward us—“the babies are struggling, they have to do an emergency C-section. Come with me, Zo wants to see you.”

  I rush past the nurse and follow Derrick to the end of the hall and make a right. At the second room on the left, Derrick stops and points to the scrubs on a cart just to the right of the door. “You have to put those on, along with a mask.” He gives me a quick nudge and says, “Hurry, Claire. The babies and Zoey are hurting.”

  Willing my body into motion, I grab a green top and bottoms and put them on. All while Derrick grabs a mask, hat and booties for me. As I’m putting the booties over my feet, Derrick hangs the mask around my face and slaps the hat on my head.

  I walk into my sister’s room and freeze. There are too many people in here, too many machines. This isn’t right. An alarm on one of the machines goes off and more people rush in. Derrick passes me and is now standing at the bed, holding Zo’s hand. Leaning down, he whispers something into her ear and her head immediately turns in my direction.

  “Claire?” The water works begin. “I tried to do everything right. Now the babies are in distress, and if they can’t get them out quick enough I might lose them.”

  At the sight of Zoey’s agony and Derrick’s inability to soothe her, my momma bear instincts kick in. Rushing over to my baby sister, I look at the doctor and nurses that are all around. “Well what the fuck are we waiting for? Get those kids out!”

  Looking back to one of the most important people in my life, I grab her hand and squeeze. “You listen to me, Zoey Elizabeth. You fucking fight. Do you hear me? We don’t quit. We don’t give up. We’re fucking McEvoys and the only option is to succeed. So, you fucking fight.”

  Another alarm goes off and
Zoey’s hand goes limp in mine. The medical staff starts shouting words and terms I’ve never heard before. A nurse places a hand on my shoulder and attempts to escort me out of Zoey’s room. Derrick is already at the door and the look of devastation on his face worries me. Then the one alarm going off catches my attention. It’s the one I know that is monitoring Zoey’s heart…and it’s flat.

  DERRICK IS PACING the private surgical waiting room we’ve been given. Suzie, Ben, and Sasha have arrived as well. I’ve already rearranged the room twice and am about to do it a third time when Suzie comes over and sits down next to me.

  “I can’t lose her, Claire. I just can’t. Outside of my husband and daughter, she’s the most important thing in the world to me.”

  “She’s a fighter, Suzie. I didn’t raise a quitter,” I say as I give her hand a squeeze, then I look over at Derrick. Seeing the destruction written all over him, I say, “We have to be strong. No matter what.” Nodding my head in Derrick’s direction, I whisper, “He’s gonna need our strength.” I shake the negativity off, and follow up with, “She’s a fighter.”

  That’s my inner mantra for the next three hours. Right up until the doctor comes into the room, and everything stills.

  I look to Derrick for strength, and he looks to me for the same. So I get up and force my legs to walk over to where he and the doctor are standing.

  “Mr. Hendrickson, she’s one tough lady. She lost a lot of blood and we had to perform an emergency hysterectomy due to the damage done to her womb. But all three are alive. You can see the babies shortly. Congratulations, it’s a boy and girl in that order.”

  “And Zoey?”

  “She’s still unconscious, but stable. To reiterate, she lost a lot of blood, but as you know, your wife was ever prepared. She banked her own blood for the past several months. Now we just need to let her heal and wake on her own.”

  I’m on auto pilot at the moment. Happy that the babies are fine but freaked about Zoey.

  “A boy and a girl. She got her wish, Claire.” Derrick says, his voice sounding far off.

  I rub Derrick’s arm and smile. “Yeah, Derrick, she did. As per usual with Zoey. Do y’all have names picked out? She wouldn’t share.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Derrick looks at me. “We didn’t fancy naming them with cheesy, popular names, so we decided that if they were boys we’d do a play off of our fathers. Mackenzie James. But I really like that for the girl. I always did.”

  “And the second name?”

  “Christopher William. Zoey wouldn’t even entertain girls’ names. She wanted a girl, but she said she just knew they were boys.”

  “Then there are your names, Derrick.”

  I look up and realize that our entire group—our family—is now surrounding us.

  “So?” Suzie speaks up.

  Before either of us can answer, a nurse walks in and slaps two bracelets on Derrick’s wrist, reading Baby Boy Hendrickson and Baby Girl Hendrickson. Turning, she addresses the room as a whole. “Ms. McEvoy? Claire McEvoy?”

  Raising my hand, I say, “That’s me.”

  She turns to me and slaps two bracelets on my wrist. At my questioning look, she states, “Mrs. Hendrickson had specific instructions. No matter what, you were to have unlimited access to the children. Congratulations, Grandma.”

  Grandma! Do I look that old?

  “Grandma?” I hear from Sasha. There is snark in her tone but I let it go. Because my girl just gave me the greatest gift ever. Two precious babies to spoil!

  Jackson

  WE’RE PLAYING THE Philadelphia Eagles today, at home, and although we’ve had a strong showing so far this season, this is our first real test before we play the Dallas Cowboys next week. Derrick hasn’t stepped one foot on the field since the babies were born over a month ago, and I don’t blame him. Zoey finally woke up three very long days after the children were born, and when told about the hysterectomy, she promptly slipped into her old friend depression. Leaving her husband and sister to care for the babies.

  Although Derrick has been fined two hundred thousand dollars by the league, it has not deterred him. Literally writing a check and saying fuck you, he proved the naysayers wrong about his marriage being for namesake only. This week is his first game back, and with Muldoon finally accepting his new position, the New York Giants should be unstoppable. Muldoon’s feet are finally working with the rest of his all-star ability.

  As the team is about to run out of the tunnel, Claire walks toward us. She’s escorting yet another overpaid and useless VIP off the field. And damn it if the man isn’t flirting with my woman. Over the past month and a half, Claire and I have slipped back to distant colleagues. Which isn’t flying for me. Every time that I have even tried to engage her, she has rebuffed me. It’s as though the two amazing weeks we had together never happened.

  Well fuck that!

  Letting the team pass me, I reach out to Claire as she walks by. “Avoiding me, Legs?”

  “Jackson!” Looking around, Claire realizes that her douchebag of a VIP is still walking forward. Lowering her voice, she says, “What are you doing? I’m working!” It’s a reprimand and would work on any other person. Me? Not so much.

  An overwhelming desire to tease her hits me, and I go with it. “I absolutely love it when you say my name in that pissy tone of yours. Christ, Legs, it really gets me going.”

  “Jackson!”

  “See there you go again. I suspect you’re doing it on purpose now.” At her gasp of shock at my teasing, I chuckle. “You do know I have a game to coach? It doesn’t look good for me to be walking around on the sidelines with a raging erection.”

  Claire’s neck and cheeks are a lovely red and I can’t help but laugh full out at her discomfort. “You are a sassy one, Legs. Sassy!” I pat her cheek and walk past her, out of the tunnel. But at the last minute, I turn and shout back to her. She is still standing there, pink from collarbone to hairline, and looking gorgeous. “Legs, I’ll be stopping by tonight after the game. You have been avoiding me since Zoey had the babies. They’re all okay and doing fine. Thriving from what I saw yesterday when I stopped by to see them. It’s time we finish what we started. I need you, Claire.”

  Walking out of the tunnel, I have an extra pep in my step and am whistling my way onto the field.

  Claire

  DROPPING MR. RYNQUIEST off at his suite, I stop in and make sure that everyone is comfortable and has their hearts’ desires, then I head on up to check on Mr. Mara and his guests. His granddaughter Rooney is in attendance today with the man she’s seeing. I have to admit, I like Rooney Mara. She’s feisty, quirky, and knows her football, as she should. She too comes from two of the biggest football families, and we have known each other for years.

  Thinking about Jackson’s parting words both excites and scares me. I technically haven’t been avoiding him. I’ve just been busy. Picking up the slack at the Foundation in Zoey’s absence hasn’t been easy. The woman did not slow down in the slightest and had a full calendar of meetings that couldn’t be put off.

  Plus, last week Brad came into my office and informed me that he was adding a few more VIPs to this week’s game. I was ever accommodating and refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing that meant I had to shuffle existing suite owners around. It also cost me several favors that I had been holding on to.

  I don’t even want to think about what is going on with Sasha. She has gone MIA and isn’t returning my calls or texts. She is still interning with the team three days a week, but anytime I see her she literally walks in the other direction. She is still carrying a full load at school. I checked. Yes, I’m that mom. And stops by every day to spend time with Zoey, Mackenzie and Christopher. It appears that my loving child is avoiding only me.

  Walking into the suite, I’m surprised to see Zoey and Suzie here. What. The. Fuck! I make a beeline for my sister and grab her arm, turning her toward me. “Where are the babies?”

  Yanking her arm out of my
grasp, Zoey looks at me and snarls, “Suz’s mom has them. I’m leaving at halftime. I needed to be here for Derrick.”

  Christ, she knows how my mind works. Answered my questions before I could get them out.

  “I need to talk to you before you head out.”

  “Hey, Claire, what’s up? I haven’t really seen you lately. Did Zo tell you that Mom has all of the kids today?”

  “Just did,” I say in annoyance.

  Leaning into me, Zoey touches my arm and says, “Sorry, I’m on edge with leaving them for the first time. What do you want to talk about?”

  I shake my head to let her know that now isn’t the time or place, and I walk away to check on Mr. Mara and his guests.

  THE DAY GOT away from me. I had wanted to leave by the third quarter, but fucking Brad called me—while I was in the owner’s suite—and insisted that I help his VIPS, i.e. his drunk prep school buddies to their car. I learned that while giving Mr. Rynquiest a tour of the locker room and field. I have filed that away for a later date. Abuse of the suites is a major no-no.

  That little detour set my escape back by an entire quarter and earned me multiple bruises from the handsy bastards. Sitting in traffic and about to call Zoey, my phone starts ringing.

  “Hel—”

  “What are you doing right now? I have to tell you something and you should really be sitting for it.” My sister cuts me off.

  “I’m in the car, Zo.”

  A hesitant chuckle escapes Zoey as she begins. “A captive audience. Good. Okay, so first of all, you do know that I love you, right?

  “Yes, Zoey, I know that and I love you too.”

  Zoey is hemming and hawing and it sets my nerves on edge. Which only makes my crappy day turn to shit.