Downed (Gridiron #3)

by Jen Frederick

  He nods slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

  "Two things, Carter. Whatever Zane did isn't a reflection on you or your friendship. Every man is responsible for his own path. Coach Johnson preaches that, and I know you believe it. Second, after we win this game, I'll have three titles on my shelf. How many college quarterbacks you know who have won three National Championships?"

  He can't come up with an answer.

  "Exactly." I slap him hard. "What woman can resist that?"

  Carter shakes his head, but a smile breaks across his face.

  The game goes just as I thought. The Miami night is perfect football weather. There's not a cloud in the sky. Under the lights, every Renegade executes just as the coaches asked. It might’ve been our preparation, the muscle memory kicking in and instinct taking over, but I attribute part of our perfection to the connection we forged in the locker room. We’re one heart tonight.

  Western's no slouch, but they don't get off the blocks as quickly as we do. Their freshman quarterback, brilliant all season, starts crumbling in the second half. By the end of the third quarter, we are up by two touchdowns and can taste the sweet tang of victory. Tomorrow the storyline that will dominate sports news will be how I beat the team that got rid of me. And there’s no denying that this particular win is glorious, but it’s the off-the-field game that is holding the greatest stakes.

  My eyes seek out Bryant during one of Western's offensive possessions in the fourth quarter. Her red silk shirt is easy to spot. Face flushed, her hands to her mouth, she follows the action on the field with intense concentration.

  I had no idea I'd fall in love here at Southern. I hadn't come looking for it, that's for damn sure. But I don't regret it. All of the acts of my past—both good and bad—led me to her.

  Football is a game, but Bryant's my future. And I'll keep fighting for her for as long as it takes. Good thing I know how to win.

  Huge cheers drag my attention back to the field in time to see Ty sack the quarterback. The ball spurts loose and Travarius leaps on it. I shove my helmet back on. Time to put this game to bed so I can move on to the most important challenge of my life.

  29

  Bryant

  Despite the fourteen-point lead, I don’t take a solid breath until the clock clicks over to four zeros. I’m holding hands with one of the student trainers. Our fingernails dig into each other’s palms. When the last whistle blows, we jump up so high, I swear I kiss a cloud. Everyone is kissing and hugging each other. Daddy runs down to the sidelines and grabs me. He swings me into the air, just as he did when I was five.

  “We did it!” he shouts.

  The moment my feet touch the air, someone else takes hold. I’m hugging everyone, smiling as wide as my lips can stretch, but inside, I’m a mess. The tears in my eyes are passed off as ones of happiness, and some can definitely be assigned to that sunny emotion, but there are others that come from a deep well of confusion. Because now that the Renegades have won, there’s no reason, no excuse, for me and Ace to continue to be together.

  I land on my feet around the thirty-yard line, and this time, instead of the arms of a burly trainer or a wiry coach, slender, elegant limbs embrace me. The familiar notes of gardenias fill my nose, and I look up in surprise to see my mother.

  “What are you doing here?” I exclaim, swiping my tears with the back of my hand.

  She bestows a gentle smile. “Watching your father win his first title in five years. Where else would I be?”

  Where else would she be? She hasn’t been to a game since Ginny died, but one look at her beautiful, happy face, and the sharp words die on my tongue. Tonight’s not a night for recriminations, but one of celebration. Daddy will be thrilled she’s here.

  “Nowhere.” I smile back, falling forward for another one of those precious motherly hugs. “Nowhere but here.”

  She folds me close and we hold each other for a long, joyous time. She releases me, hands sliding from my back, down my arms to encircle my wrists.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask, still slightly shocked to see her.

  “Since the fourth quarter. I arrived late and watched most of it from up there.” She gestures toward one of the luxury suites. “I didn’t want to come down on the field and bother anyone.”

  “It wouldn’t have been a bother,” I demur, but it might have. Daddy might’ve gotten distracted by her unexpected presence.

  “I would have been a hindrance and not a help. I’m here now, and that’s what’s important. Your young man looked tremendous tonight,” she says, gesturing toward a victorious Ace, who has his helmet off and is standing with a dark-haired boy wearing a Western State jersey. Both appear to be laughing at something a girl with stick-straight blonde hair says.

  “He’s not my man,” I answer almost by rote, but the words taste bitter on my tongue. The blonde is Lucy—his old, dear friend. I recognize her from pictures on his phone. We’d thumbed through his camera roll one night in search of a video he’d taken back at Western of him skateboarding.

  “You’re hurting my hand, dear,” comes the amused reproof of Momma.

  I release her hastily. “Sorry, sorry. Ace and I are just friends.”

  Her knowing gaze follows mine. “Did he mean to carry off another girl and came by our house by accident?”

  “It was just a prank.” I wave my hand, trying to downplay Ace’s gesture.

  Momma’s not buying it. “That’s why your beautiful brown eyes are so green? Because you’re not at all perturbed by your fine quarterback chatting up a beautiful girl, enjoying her smiles?”

  “Are you trying to rile me up, Momma?” I ask, expecting her to deny it.

  “Why, yes, I am.”

  I tear my eyes from Ace to stare in astonishment at my mother.

  Mischief dances in her eyes. “You’ve never been afraid of anything, Bryant, why start now?”

  “I’m not af—” I start to protest but then realize that I can’t lie to my momma. She’d see right through it, just as she sees through me now.

  “Go on then.” She gives me a nudge. “Don’t stand on the sidelines for three years and miss a bunch of important things.” Like her, she seems to be saying. “Go and get what you want. If that boy breaks your heart, you’ll cry and shout and maybe throw a few things, but then you’ll dust yourself off and keep going.”

  “What if I can’t?” I ask, heart in my throat, a tornado of emotions tearing up my tummy.

  “You can, baby girl. I know you.” She presses a soft hand against my skull, smoothing my hair down. “There isn’t any girl with a backbone like yours. You’d never let a boy keep you down. Not you, Bryant Johnson. Besides”—she leans close, her warm, lovely face inches away from mine—“he’s not the type to let you go, even if you wanted that. Not that you do. We both know that. According to your daddy, you changed Ace. This win today is partly yours to own. Go over there and celebrate with him.”

  I shake my head. “I don't think I had much to do with Ace’s change. I think he just grew into himself. And I happened to be there at the right time to witness the transformation.” And “I really didn't do much of anything. I was there. That’s all.”

  “That’s as much as any person needs, sugar.”

  Is it? Maybe that’s all that is necessary. To be there for someone. To tell someone that their hurt is real. That they are valuable. That they matter. And maybe that’s a lesson I should take to heart. That living matters, even if it means a little pain now and again.

  I guess I’m my own last project. The person needing fixing up wasn’t Ace—it’s me. And part of my own path forward is not allowing the fear of loss cripple me any longer, because as I stare at the tall, broad-shouldered, caring man throwing back his head laughing, I can’t imagine being okay with another woman standing at his side, listening to his woes, and celebrating his victories. That’s my job.

  There's really only one person in this world who needs Ace, and he’s the person who needs me. />
  “I suppose you’re right, Momma.”

  “I know I am.”

  We share a smile and then I say, “Well, I’ve got a claim to lay, so I can’t be shooting the breeze with you any longer.”

  “Wait a moment, sugar,” she says. She digs in her purse and pulls out a hotel key card. “I got a room, but I’m going to stay with your father tonight. Apparently, the school put him up in a nice suite. He deserves to have a little private celebration.”

  “Momma, please don’t say another word!” I say in scandalized tones, and I grab the key card and skip off before she can traumatize me any further.

  I march down the field, sidle up to Ace and slide my fingers around his biceps. He tenses under my touch, but the look of annoyance quickly transforms to satisfaction when he sees it’s me. His expression says finally!

  I grin back at him and then stick my hand out. “You must be Lucy Washington. I'm Bryant Johnson, Ace's girlfriend.”

  Lucy shakes my hand. “I know, he was just telling me about you.”

  I lean my head against Ace’s arm. “Was he now?”

  “Yeah, he says that you were a big part of his success here. Apparently, you helped him gel with his team.”

  “Any success Ace has had here is all because of his own efforts. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “You can give yourself a little credit,” he drawls, withdrawing his arm from my clasp so he can pull me snug against his side.

  We all laugh at that. Lucy introduces me to her boyfriend, but a reporter interrupts. “I’m here from Sports News Now. Do you have a few minutes?”

  Lucy and her boyfriend take their leave, saying they’ll catch up with us later. Ace gives Lucy a light hug without letting go of me even for a moment and then turns his attention to the reporter.

  “Will you be entering the draft?”

  Ace nods. “I’m interested. I’d like to go to the combine, compete, and see where the chips fall. I’ll look at any and all offers.”

  “Including those not at the quarterback position?”

  “Yeah, even those not at the quarterback position.” He gazes down at me, a light in his eyes, and quotes back my own words. “I’ve been told I have a good situational awareness and good instincts. I know all the passing routes, the tricks of the wide receivers and can read a quarterback’s eyes as well as his body language. I’ve learned so much from this game that it’d be a shame if I didn’t try to see what else it had to offer.”

  “And what did you learn from the game?” the reporter asks.

  Ace falls silent for a minute, his eyes still locked with mine. “The game allowed me an opportunity to grow up and find myself. If I never play another down, it was an amazing ride, but my life’s only getting started.”

  The reporter wants to ask another question, but I can tell by the shuttering of Ace’s expression that he’s done for the night. Too many people, too many questions, too many emotions swirling around.

  “I think Coach Johnson is free for questions if you want to touch base with him,” I offer, throwing Daddy under the bus.

  The reporter scurries away before I say another word.

  Ace brushes a lock of hair out of my face. “So you're my girlfriend now?”

  “Of course I am. The only girlfriend you're ever going to have, too.”

  A smile cracks across his face. “Is that right?”

  “Damn straight,” I vow.

  His smile broadens. “Good, because kidnapping you is tough work.”

  I grab him by the collar of his jersey, pull him down so his face is level with mine, and plant a kiss on his lips that’s so fierce his eyes are glazed over when I draw back.

  “Thanks for the woody,” he murmurs.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Ace laughs, shakes his head, and drapes his arm back around my shoulders. He doesn’t let go, not even through four more interviews, a shower of confetti, and a spray of Gatorade sent in our direction courtesy of Travarius and Ty.

  After another half hour of well-wishers and back slaps, Lucy, her boyfriend, Ty, and his brother come over.

  “Want to go to—”

  “No,” Ace says abruptly.

  “But what about—”

  “Thanks but no.”

  Then he walks off, done with it all.

  I sigh. “That was kind of rude, Ace.”

  “I said thanks,” he objects. “And even if it was, I don’t care.”

  “They’re your friends.”

  “Bryant,” he says with exaggerated exasperation. “I'm high on victory and horny as fuck. I figured you'd want to be somewhere private before I throw you down and have my wicked way with you, but if you don’t mind the world seeing our lovemaking, then by all means, let’s stick around.”

  “No. I’m good,” I say and start hurrying off the field.

  Ace mows through the crowd. He won his game, met his press obligations, said hello to his friends, and now he’s interested in having one thing. Me.

  It’s a short Uber to the hotel, but Ace bolts from the car, dragging me behind him as if the devil dogs themselves were on our heels.

  “What’s the hurry?” I ask with a laugh.

  “We have the room to ourselves for about thirty minutes,” he says over his shoulder while simultaneously jabbing the elevator button. “That’s not enough time, but it’ll have to do.”

  I hold up my momma’s key between my fingers. “Nope. We have the entire night. This is Momma’s, and she’s lending it to me.”

  Relief fills his expression, tempered with a dash of consternation. “So your parents know I’m violating their princess? That seems kinda wrong.”

  “Trust me, sugar, Momma evened the scale by announcing she would help Daddy celebrate all night long.”

  Ace relaxes with a laugh. “Good to know.”

  The elevator dings and the doors slide open. We move inside, hands clasped and hearts full. He draws me into his arms, sweeping the hair out of my face and cupping my chin.

  “I love you,” he says as the elevator cab slowly rises.

  “I love you, too.” I raise a hand to squeeze his arm. It’s warm and strong beneath my palm. The hard planes of his body press against me, and I shiver thinking about the delicious and naughty things our bodies will soon do to each other.

  “I wanted to say it before we had sex tonight.” His face lowers a scant breath away.

  “I knew you loved me. It’s what made me afraid. That and my love for you.” Although as I look into his green eyes radiating with sincerity and deep emotion, I wonder why I ever felt a twinge of uncertainty.

  His thumb works a circle on the apple of my cheek. “How come you’re not afraid anymore?”

  “Oh, I still am.” I give him a crooked smile. “But I guess my love for you is more powerful than my fear.”

  His forehead touches mine. “Futures are unknowable and uncertainty can be scary as hell. It’s why we’re better together.”

  He seals those words with a soft kiss, tender, deep, and loving until the doors open, and we’re forced to separate.

  “What if I turn crazy?” I ask as we walk toward room 1209. “What if I grow clingy and follow you around, demanding to read texts on your phone, or wear your underwear on my head?”

  “I want you to cling. I want you to follow me around. You're the only person I text besides my mom. The last one is fucking weird. You’re not to do that.” He unlocks the door and ushers me inside. Kicking the door shut, he lifts me into his arms and carries me the short distance to the bed.

  He sets me on my feet and starts to unbutton my shirt. “How many fancy red silky shirts do you own?”

  “A dozen,” I say breathlessly. His knuckles brush against the sides of my breasts, and my nipples harden.

  “I like them. You look good in red.”

  “I know.” Ace isn’t the only one who can be smug sometimes.

  He laughs and then stops short, his own breath catching when my shirt falls open. H
is hands cup my breasts. “You have beautiful tits, sweetheart. After our first round, I'm gonna suck on them for an hour.”

  Thank goodness for Ace’s athletic skills, because he’s able to continue lavishing attention on my bare skin while unzipping my skirt and pulling off my shirt, until I’m clad in nothing but a set of red lace panties and bra.

  “You’re so hot it hurts to look at you,” he says huskily.

  I reach down and place my hand over his erection. Squeezing, I say, “Maybe if I kiss it, it will make it better.”

  He grins. “Maybe.”

  I sink to my knees. He gathers my hair in his hand, holding it away from my face so he can watch as I lower the zipper of his dress pants and take out his hard, hot length.

  The broad head glistens with evidence of Ace’s excitement. I lick it off. He groans. I draw him inside, licking what I can while sucking him as deep as possible. Above me, his eyes glitter with dark need that makes every needy body part clench in anticipation.

  “Enough,” he rasps after only a few long drags of his shaft. His hands are shaking as they pull me to my feet, but steady enough to dispose of my underwear. We tackle his clothes. Or he does, because I get distracted by his bare chest, the planes of his muscles, the jagged lines of the tattoo he hates, the ridges of his abdomen, the delightful trail that arrows from his stomach to the other tattoo that he hates.

  On the bed, he takes my hand and slides it through the soft tuft of hair at the apex of my thighs. “I want you to feel what I feel. How good it is. How tight and hot and wet you are.”

  He pushes inside of me, taking me with him. My fingers are shorter than his. His reach places I can’t. This is so dirty, so filthy, so erotic, I can do nothing but stare at him in open-mouthed astonishment. Both of us slide around in me, our fingers gliding over each other, thrusting in and out in a decadent manner. The orgasm is building inside of me.