Beneath the Stands: An Enemies to Lovers, Best Friend's Brother Romance (Sugarlake Series, Book Two)

by Emily McIntire

  Lee’s face scrunches. “You did? I didn’t know that.”

  The root of my self-deprecation grows branches, rising through my stomach and into my chest. “I never told you.”

  She nods slowly, her nostrils flaring.

  “At first, I didn’t tell you ‘cause if I did… I’d have to admit that I didn’t hate your brother as much as I should, and that felt disloyal. And then, before I could take a breath, it was this gigantic, malleable thing that wrapped around me, makin’ me lose sight of everything but him.”

  “Becca,” Lee breathes. “You could have told me anything. Don’t you know me at all? When have I ever made you think I’d judge you for that?”

  I rub my hands on my thighs, the friction of my jeans against my palms almost enough to distract me from the nerves. “I was scared, okay? I remember what it was like with Lily when she found out about you and Chase. The thought of losin’ you—” My voice cracks, tears warming my cheeks as they drip off my chin. “I knew it was wrong to keep it from you. It was on the tip of my tongue every time we talked. But how could I, Lee? How could I tell you that I was gettin’ all his hours when you were beggin’ for a minute?”

  Lee bites her lip, her eyes glossing over.

  “What you saw last night was a mistake. It wasn’t…” My breath stutters and I shake my head. “No, It was what it looked like, and I hate myself for it, Lee. Can’t stand the feel of bein’ in my own skin after doin’ what I did.”

  “You mean bein’ with Eli?” Lee asks.

  “Not for being with Eli. Maybe I should feel some type of way about that, but I don’t.” A sour sensation pangs in my gut, reverberating off my bones and making them ache. “But for bein’ with Eli when he’s supposed to be with someone else. Eli isn’t mine to have, and instead of respectin’ that, I ended up becomin’ the thing I hate most. My father.”

  Lee’s face drops and she’s quiet, chewing on her bottom lip. She’s the only person I’ve ever told about how I walked in on Papa. How it dug deep inside me and latched on to the essence of my soul, suffusing it with betrayal.

  She opens her mouth and closes it a few times. “You hurt me. Eli did too, but you… you are my person. I’m supposed to be able to trust you with anything and I thought you were the same way with me. But I…” She blows out a breath. “Do you love him?”

  My heart clatters against my ribs, my stomach flipping at the question. “Yeah, Lee. I love him. I don’t remember what it feels like not to love him.”

  Lee’s eyes soften. “He’s the reason you came back, ain’t he?”

  I nod, unable to speak around the sudden lump in my throat.

  “Did he do somethin’?”

  “No, I–I did.”

  Her breath whooshes out and she reaches over, tangling her fingers with mine. Her touch breaks the dam on my tears and they pour down my face, warming my cheeks and dripping of my chin.

  “Ar–are you gonna forgive me?” I hiccup.

  She cocks her head. “Do you think you can forgive yourself?”

  Her question slams into my stomach.

  Forgiveness.

  I’ve heard Papa preach it a thousand times, and I’ve felt the weight of its absence as it crushes down on my soul, but I’m not sure I truly know what it means. “I don’t think I know how to forgive.”

  Lee squeezes my hand. “I think before you worry about others, you should figure out yourself.”

  “Is that what you’ve done with your old man?”

  Her eyes widen, her hand snapping back. “I shoulda known Jax would run and tell you.” She breathes deep. “Daddy is a work in progress for me. There’s a lot to forgive.” She glances at her lap. “But I’ve learned—very recently—that it’s not about him… not really. It’s about lettin’ go of the hurt and the anger for me. So that I can find peace.” She pauses, the palm of her hand rubbing against her chest.

  “‘Forgiveness is divine, Alina May.’ That’s what Mama always told me.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Maybe you should try to find your faith.”

  49

  Eli

  I’ve lived most of my life living with certain proclivities. Beliefs that were projected like a bullhorn, blaring into my eardrums until I was deaf to anything else.

  One: Pops’s word is law.

  Two: Success is the only thing that matters.

  It’s no coincidence the two molded together like playdough. Different colors of the same thing mixing until I couldn’t tell them apart. Pops’s aspirations became my own. Still, through all the times Pops pushed me, all the critiques he gave instead of his pride, he was still my hero. In my eyes, he could do no wrong, and I was forever trying to appease him.

  But yesterday, something shifted.

  Something cataclysmic came loose, rattling around until it jumbled up my head and my heart, forming a new mold for my soul to fit into.

  Now, I see things clear.

  Pops isn’t infallible. He’s human. He makes mistakes. He’ll have to pay his own penance for the things that he’s done. For the people he’s sucked into his vortex, whipping them through the tornado of his grief, and spitting them out damaged and torn.

  My hope is he’ll put in the work at Stepping Stones, which is where I dropped him off yesterday after Lee came over. He went without fanfare, solemn on the drive and quiet as he was checked in.

  Now it’s Monday morning, and even though I’ve been trying like hell to relax, my muscles are tense and my mind is a minefield.

  Basketball lost its meaning once Becca left.

  It hurt to look at the glossy maple floors and remember teaching her to own the paint. Too painful to reflect on the feel of her fingers under mine while I positioned her hands. But for the first time in five years, my fingers itch to hold a ball in my hands. To stand on the court and breathe it all in. Not because it’s my job, but because my soul is yearning for solace.

  It’s that twinge of a spark which makes me head to Sugarlake High this morning. I’m not even sure the doors will be unlocked, but there’s a pull between my stomach and my chest, tugging me in the direction of my memories.

  For some reason, I know it’s the only way to quiet my mind today.

  A few cars are scattered through the lot and the doors are open, so I walk inside and head straight to the gymnasium. The squeak of my shoes rebound off the metal of the lockers, and the bittersweet taste of nostalgia fills me up as I remember what it was like to make this same trek eleven years ago.

  Back when I was the next big thing. Before I became the town’s biggest disappointment.

  The thought doesn’t sting like it once did. To assume we know our fate is futile, and when one path is stunted, another one is paved.

  I stay quiet when I push open the double doors to the gym, not wanting to attract any attention. I’m not sure I’m technically allowed to be here.

  A smile pulls at my lips as I make my way to the center of the court. If I strain my ears, I can almost hear the cheers ringing through the bleachers, chants of my name and thirty-three bouncing off the walls. My chest warms at the memory, but I don’t ache to grasp the feeling like I once did.

  My eyes take in my surroundings. Not much has changed in eleven years. The Sugarlake Bobcat is still painted in a gaudy blue, shining off the whitewashed bricks on the far wall. A rolling cart of basketballs are resting against its surface. I walk over and pick one up, staring at how the black lines cut through the dark orange surface.

  This feeling right here—this rightness—has only happened with two things in my life.

  The feel of a ball in my hands and the warmth of Becca in my arms.

  I palm the leather, popping it up and spinning it on the tip of my finger as I make my way to the free-throw line.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I dribble once. Twice. I take the shot at the exact moment a bang echoes off the walls, making my stance falter. The ball hits the backboard and bounces to the side, rolling toward the entrance to the gym.

  My eyes foll
ow.

  Bright red heels.

  Killer legs.

  Hips that make my hands tingle with the memory of their curve.

  Rebecca.

  My stomach flips at the sight of her.

  “You,” she gasps.

  I smirk, the first time we ran into each other at FCU flashing through my mind.

  “Rebecca.” I stride toward her, my cock jerking as she bends at the waist to grab the basketball. Those crazy curls fall over her shoulder, begging me to grip them in my palm, tug the silky strands as they tangle in my fingers.

  She straightens, her cheeks flushed a gorgeous stain of pink. I stand close, peering down at her. Our gazes lock and heat simmers low in my gut.

  She brushes a curl out of her face. “What are you doin’ here?”

  My eyebrow quirks. “What’s it look like?”

  She scoffs. “I meant at the school, big head.”

  My eyes narrow. “What are you doing? I thought you were gone. Running away to somewhere new.”

  She lifts a shoulder, chewing on her lip. “The people who matter most need me here.”

  Stale anger filters through my veins at the audacity of her statement. Once again, she’ll stay when someone else needs her, but wouldn’t stay for me.

  It’s the bitterness of that thought on my tongue which makes my voice sharp. “Never stopped you before.”

  She sucks on her teeth, nodding. “I know. And as much as I wish I could turn back time and change my choices, I can’t.” She sighs, her fingers brushing through her hair. “But I’m tryin’ to learn. Tryin’ to stand up straight for the first time in my life and see things from a different angle. To forgive myself for the mistakes I’ve made.”

  Old wounds throb inside me and the ache has me stepping in closer, my breath fanning the wisps of her hair away from her face. “Well what about my forgiveness, Becca? You give a damn about that?”

  She licks her lips and my own lips tingle from envy.

  “If I thought for one second it would make a lick of difference, I’d be on my knees beggin’.”

  Try it, baby girl. Just show me you give a damn.

  Her eyes catalog my every action. She’s holding the basketball against her sternum and she steps into me, the ball pressing uncomfortably against my abs.

  My stomach jolts, my cock growing against my leg.

  “I’m sorry, Eli. I’m so damn sorry for hurtin’ you. I could go into all the reasons why, but they don’t matter. Not really. They’re nothin’ more than excuses to try and keep my guilt at bay.”

  I grit my teeth, gulping around the lump in my throat. “What if I want your excuses?”

  She shakes her head, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye and trailing down her cheek, her makeup melting away to showcase those perfect freckles underneath. “You deserve better. And even if I tried to give you reasons, they don’t change a thing. I made a mistake. The worst…” She blows out a breath, her eyes squeezing shut as she swallows. “The worst mistake I think I’ve ever made in my life, and I’m still strugglin’ to gather all my pieces and accept I was the one who broke them.” She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m not the woman you deserve, Eli. I never was.”

  My heart slingshots off my ribs, my chest pulling tight at her admission. At her show of emotion.

  At her heartbreak.

  She backs up, the cool air slicing through my shirt, sending goose bumps scaling down my arms. My hand snaps forward and grips her wrist tight, yanking her back into me.

  The basketball drops from her hands, the rhythmic bouncing an echo of the way my heart stutters in my chest.

  “I broke it off with Sarah.”

  The words are gruff as they sail through the air. I’m not sure why I said it at this particular moment, other than the delicate thread holding me together is fraying at the seams, and all I can think about is how badly I need her to know.

  “What?” she gasps, her eyes widening. “When? Was it after—”

  “It was before the party,” I interrupt. “Right after we left the meeting with you, actually.”

  “Oh,” she whispers.

  “Yeah. Oh. And do you know why, Rebecca?”

  Her chest heaves against mine, the fabric of my shirt scratching against my skin with each of her breaths.

  I lean in, my mouth grazing the shell of her ear. “Because it doesn’t matter if she’s the woman I deserve, when you’re the only one I see.”

  She pants out a breath and I catch it with my lips, groaning at the explosion of her taste on my tongue.

  Her moans vibrate through my body, her fingers diving in the strands of my hair and twisting, the sting just enough to make my cock pulse with want. I grip her arms and pull her closer, plastering her body to mine, lost in the blaze.

  50

  Becca

  I’m weak.

  There’s nothing I can say to defend how easily I give in, but when it comes to Eli, he demands my submission without saying a word.

  When he tells me he’s not with Sarah—that I’m the only one he sees—I’m lost in what he’s offering. Drowning in everything he is and all the ways I crave him.

  His tongue skims across my mouth, parting my lips, diving in and twisting with mine, sending sparks of his flavor across my taste buds. My fingers tangle in his hair and pull him closer. He slides his palms up from where they grip my shoulders until they wrap around my neck, his thumbs brushing my jaw, making my skin prickle with heat.

  The kiss changes, his teeth pulling on my lower lip until it splits, the sting making me moan into his mouth. He growls, licking along the cut and diving back in, the tang of my blood mixing with the sweetness of his breath.

  He walks us backward, his mouth never leaving mine. I stumble in my heels, but he doesn’t miss a beat, gripping an ass cheek in each hand and lifting me, bunching my skirt until my legs are wrapped around him. His hip bones cut against my inner thighs, and my center presses against the rigid outline of his dick. I moan, grinding myself against him, my pussy clenching at the memory of what he felt like inside me.

  “Goddamn, baby girl,” he growls, slamming me against the end rails of the bleachers. The metal frame presses into my back. His fingers dig into the meat of my ass and he pulls my lower half into him, dragging me along the length of his cock. Even through his basketball shorts, I can feel it pulsing against my clit.

  His mouth nips down my neck and my legs tremble from the torture of having him dangle me off the edge of euphoria.

  “Eli, please. Do somethin’,” I breathe.

  He chuckles, his face skimming between my cleavage. “What exactly would you like me to do, Rebecca?”

  His right hand moves from behind and trails up my thigh until he’s cupping me through my soaked panties.

  “Fuck, you’re wet as hell. You miss me that bad?” He pushes the fabric to the side and spreads my pussy lips with his fingers. I’m so wet they glide easily along my slit, every stroke coiling me tighter until I could scream from how badly I need him to let me unravel.

  My head smacks the railing and echoes off the walls, the rattle jarring in the otherwise silent gym. “Eli, God. Either finish what you started or get outta the way so I can do it my damn self.”

  His mouth curls up against my breast and he glances at me through his lashes. “Say please.”

  “No,” I whisper with a smile. The fire surging through my veins mixes with the warmth filling up my chest from our banter.

  The pressure leaves my clit and my legs tighten around his wrist, trying to keep him pressed against me. He dips in the top of my panties, twisting the fabric between his fingers, making my stomach flip.

  He tugs slightly, making the lace pull against my hips and slide between my folds, creating a delicious friction. A slight sheen of sweat breaks against my brow from the exertion of being so close to relief yet constantly on the precipice of falling.

  My stomach knots tighter with each jerk of his hand, my breaths coming qu
ick as he manipulates the fabric against my core.

  He leans in and kisses that spot. That spot. The one right behind my ear. Frissons of desire race down my spine and rocket through my body, spreading heat like lava, melting everything in its path.

  “Eli, please,” I groan.

  He smiles, his eyes meeting mine as he leans in for a kiss.

  “You know I love it when you beg,” he says against my mouth.

  With a sharp pull, he rips the panties from my body, the sting of the fabric tearing against my skin causing a mix of pain and pleasure that has my eyes rolling.

  I should probably care that we’re at my place of employment—should give a damn about the fact he has me mewling like a schoolgirl against the bleachers of a high school gym, but I don’t.

  My need for him outweighs everything else. My control has been bent until it snapped, thousands of pieces scattering until there’s no chance of being glued together again.

  His fingers push inside me further, curling up and pressing against my inner walls, creating a deep ache in my womb. I moan, my body shaking.

  “So many things I want to do with you,” he rumbles in my ear.

  “Like what?” I pant.

  “We can start with your pussy sucking on my fingers until you’re a puddle in my hands.” His movement twists, making my walls quiver and my clit swell against his palm. “And then... I’m gonna fuck you, right here, beneath the stands. Bathe my cock in your juices, while that tight cunt milks me and has me filling you up with my cum.”

  My pussy spasms around his fingers, drawing them in deeper, desperate to give him what he’s asking.

  “Would you like that, baby girl?” he asks. “Want me to remind you who you belong to? Who you’ve always belonged to?”

  His hand tangles in my curls, wrapping my strands around his fist and pulling sharply until my throat is exposed and my head is angled.

  He laves kisses on the juncture between my neck and shoulder, my vision dotting from riding the ebb and flow of pleasure.