Campus Player

by Jennifer Sucevic

  “I’m sorry about Rowan.” He shifts uncomfortably on his chair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  With my father?

  As much as I appreciate him asking, I’ll take a hard pass.

  When I shake my head, relief floods his expression. It’s almost comical. Except there’s nothing funny about the situation.

  Dad changes the conversation to a safer topic. “You got a big game coming up tomorrow.”

  Right...soccer.

  I focus my attention on the team we’ll be versing. It’s a conference rival game. We’ve lost to this team as many times as we’ve won. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’ll be a challenging match. This is exactly what I should be concentrating on.

  Instead, my mind circles back to the sudden death of my relationship. Unfortunately, the autopsy is inconclusive. I can’t figure out what went wrong. Even in retrospect, there’s nothing that sticks out in my mind. One minute we were riding high and it seemed like we might actually have a shot at a future after graduation, and the next, the entire thing is exploding upon impact.

  Only Rowan knows what happened, and he isn’t willing to share that information. It would be so much easier to move on if he would give me some answers.

  But he refuses to do that.

  39

  Rowan

  The pass I throw spirals fifty yards through the air before landing in Brayden’s arms like a heat seeking missile. Coach blows his whistle, signaling the end of practice. As soon as he does, Demi pushes her way relentlessly into my thoughts. Out on the field is the only time I can forget about her and concentrate on something else. If I could stay out here twenty-four/seven, I would do it in a heartbeat. It would be so much easier than the constant thoughts of her that swirl through my brain.

  But that’s not possible.

  Brayden grins as he jogs toward me with the football tucked in his arms. I’ll miss playing ball with him next year. Whatever team he goes to will be damned lucky to have him. He’s ranked number one in the country for college receivers.

  When he’s about ten yards away, he tosses the ball, and I catch it easily in my hands.

  “Good practice.” He unsnaps the chinstrap and yanks off his helmet before shaking out his damp hair like a dog.

  My attention meanders to the stands where there is a small group of girls sitting in a line. As soon as Brayden glances their way, they wave frantically. He grins and returns the gesture with a little more subtlety. Each girl has one letter of his name stamped across her chest.

  And people have the audacity to say that I’m a player?

  Please...this guy has an entire fan club dedicated solely to him. Surprisingly, Brayden hasn’t let all the female attention go to his head.

  “Looks like you have plans after practice,” I say with a smirk, nodding in their direction.

  “Nah.” He shakes his head. “Not interested.”

  Well, this is certainly news. Brayden goes through girls like most people go through underwear. He’s one of those guys who could talk a baby out of candy. Or...a girl out of her panties for the evening.

  He’s a charming bastard...when he wants to be.

  “Can’t say I ever thought that would come out of your mouth.”

  “Yeah, me neither.” A slight smile curls around the edges of his lips. “I like being single and playing the field.” He glances at the girls. “That’s what college is all about, right?”

  Maybe for other guys. I’ve never been interested in banging as many chicks as I can get my hands on. There was one girl, and she was all I could see. It was like I was blinded to everyone else.

  He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “But it was never like that for you, was it?”

  The words might be arranged in the format of a question, but I get the feeling we both know the answer without me having to confirm it. Unwilling to have this conversation turned around on me, I lift my chin toward his fan club. “They’ll be disappointed.”

  He flicks a glance toward the stands. “Not really my problem. I’ve got to head over to the library after this.”

  Now he’s really starting to scare me. Brayden is going to turn down pussy to study at the library? I squint at the sky. “Have I somehow entered a parallel universe where up is down and down is up?”

  With a grin, he knocks his shoulder into mine. “Shut the fuck up. It’s more of a study date if you catch my drift.”

  “Well, that makes a little bit more sense.” I guess.

  As we reach the tunnel where the locker rooms are located, a prickle of unease slithers down my spine. I have the strange sensation of being watched. As I glance up, my gaze sweeps over the stands until it fastens on pale blue eyes. My heartbeat stutters before pounding into overdrive. Even though my footsteps falter, I keep moving.

  Brayden stays at my side. He continues to talk, but his voice doesn’t penetrate the thick haze that has descended.

  My father is here...

  At the stadium.

  One side of Dad’s mouth hitches into a nasty smile. He knows I don’t want him anywhere near the university.

  A potent mixture of rage and nerves rush through my veins. Hopelessness swiftly follows, overriding all other emotions trying to take root because I know deep-down he’ll never leave me alone. I’ll admit I’ve been having second thoughts about pushing Demi away, but seeing him here only reconfirms that I made the right decision. There is no way I could saddle her with my past. It’s like having a fucking anchor shackled around my neck. No matter how much I fight against the constriction, it’ll eventually drag me to the bottom of the ocean.

  I don’t realize my feet have stopped moving until Brayden interrupts the frantic whirl of my thoughts.

  “You coming or what?”

  Dread pools inside my gut. “No, go on without me.” The fewer people that see us together, the better. I don’t know how to make it any clearer that he can’t keep popping up on campus like this. Not if he wants more money.

  Brayden jerks his shoulders. “Okay, man. Catch you in a few.”

  “Yup.” I blow out a steady breath as he takes off, thankfully disappearing inside the tunnel.

  A couple of the other guys jog past. Once the turf has been emptied, I glare at my father who has made his way down to the field.

  When I remain silent, he grins, opening his arms wide. “Mighty fine place you got here.” He glances around the stadium as if casing the joint. Like this is my personal space, and he’s trying to come up with a way to rob me blind.

  I clench my hands at my sides in an effort to resist the urge to wrap them around his throat and squeeze. “What do you want?” As if I didn’t already know.

  After he showed up on campus almost two weeks ago, I scraped together another couple hundred bucks. Now he’s back for more. That’s the thing about him. He will always come back for more. Even when there’s nothing for me to give.

  A slight chuckle falls from him as he shrugs. “You know how it goes.”

  Unfortunately, I do. “I thought you were trying to find a job.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been looking around.” His gaze skitters away, which is a sure sign he’s lying. “Even filled out a few applications.” Bitterness whips through his eyes, turning them frosty. “Had to show my parole officer.”

  Right. It’s all smoke screens and lies with this guy. He would probably expend less energy taking a part time gig than constantly manufacturing excuses along with applications for jobs he has no intention of accepting.

  One quick glance around tells me that we’re alone. But still, I step closer and lower my voice. “I told you that I didn’t have anything more to give.”

  “And yet you came up with a little bit more.”

  “That was the last of it.” A towering wave of bitterness crashes over me. “What I make in the summer is all I have to live on during the year.”

  “I bet if you asked around, someone would loan you the money.” He waves a hand, encompassing the stadium. “I saw
all the photos that line the walls, you’re a big deal around here. People are probably throwing shit your way all the time. It wouldn’t surprise me if you could squeeze them for a goddamn car.”

  I drag a hand over my face. He has no idea how anything works.

  “How about that girlfriend of yours?” He shifts his weight and cocks his head. “She’d probably be more than happy to help out.”

  I recoil at the idea of asking Demi for anything, let alone money for my deadbeat father. “We’re not together anymore.”

  Thank fuck. It’s the first time I’ve had reason to think it. But staring at the man before me, it’s a relief to know that she’s out of my life for good. He’ll never touch her.

  “Michaels!”

  Shit.

  I whip around only to find Nick Richards standing twenty feet away with his clipboard in hand.

  “Yeah, Coach?” I straighten my shoulders and pray that he’ll rattle off something before disappearing back into the tunnel.

  Instead, his gaze darts from me to my father before he eats up the distance between us with a couple of long-legged strides. “Hello, Scott. I didn’t realize you’d been released.”

  What the fuck?

  I had no idea that Coach knew anything about my father. It’s not something we’ve ever discussed. It was too embarrassing to admit, even to this man who has been nothing but good to me, that my father was sent to prison for murder.

  “What?” Scott stiffens, eyes narrowing to slits. “You keeping tabs on me?”

  Coach’s lips lift slightly at the corners as his dark eyes harden. “I’ve been at the last two parole hearings, so I think we both understand that I’ve made it my business to be involved.”

  What?

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  My gaze shifts from one man to the other before refocusing on Coach. Barely am I able to find my voice. “You know him?”

  He glances at me for a moment before his attention resettles on my father. It’s like he understands that it wouldn’t be prudent to take his eyes off him, even for a second. “Yup. Made it my business to know.”

  “Why?” My mind spins out of control. I’m almost dizzy with the sensation.

  “You’ve overcome a lot of challenges and worked hard to get to where you are. I wanted to make sure nothing interfered with that.” Nick Richards levels a hard look at my father, and it becomes clear that what he didn’t want interfering in my life was this man.

  “I spent the last decade rotting in prison,” Dad hisses as if answering the silent accusation in the other man’s eyes. “Don’t you think I’ve paid my debt to society?”

  “That’s not my decision to make.” Coach shrugs and steps closer to me before settling a hand on my shoulder. The heavy weight of it anchors me to the earth, leaving me to feel less vulnerable. It’s the first time in my dad’s presence that I’ve been able to suck in a full breath of air. “Why are you here, Scott?”

  My Dad’s lips thin before he bites out a response. “I wanted to see my son. It’s been a long time. The ungrateful little shit didn’t visit me once while I was in prison.” He stabs a finger at Coach before hocking a loogie and spitting it at his feet. “I bet you had something to do with that.”

  “Nope.” Nick shakes his head. “Rowan makes his own decisions. You may not realize this, but he had to grow up awfully quick after you got locked up—probably while you were around. And look at him, he’s done pretty well for himself.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Any man would be proud to call him son.” Before my father can respond, Coach continues. “But here’s the thing, you only seem to come around when you want something. And I’m guessing that what you want right now is money. I won’t put Rowan on the spot by asking him, all I’ll say is this—if you truly want to build a relationship with this young man, then you need to make some positive changes in your life, and let him come to you when he’s ready. Maybe that won’t ever happen. What I do know is that you need to stop coming around campus and harassing him.”

  My father takes a menacing step in our direction. His hands tighten into fists. “That’s not what I’m doing!”

  “Isn’t it?” Coach raises a brow. Instead of being intimidated, the guy is calm, cool, and collected. “You’re a grown man. If you’re intent on turning your situation around, you need to prove that to Rowan by standing on your own two feet instead of looking to your twenty-one-year-old son for handouts. Now, if you’re ready to make those changes, I would be more than happy to steer you in the right direction as far as jobs go.”

  “I don’t need any charity from the likes of you,” Dad snarls.

  “Suit yourself,” Coach says as if it doesn’t make a difference to him one way or the other. “But I think this conversation is over, and it’s time for you to leave.”

  Dad bares his teeth. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

  “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong. You step foot on university property again, I’ll call campus police and tell them that you’ve been harassing one of my players. Then I’ll personally call your parole officer and fill him in on what’s been going on.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “Because we both know this isn’t the first time you’ve contacted Rowan.”

  “You son of a—”

  “Yup,” he agrees easily, cutting off the tirade, “that’s exactly what I am. I’ve got no problem playing hardball with you.”

  Dad grits his teeth as rage flashes in his eyes before they slide to me. “You gonna let this asshole talk to me like this?”

  Ignoring the question, I say instead, “I don’t want you coming around here anymore, and I don’t want you calling. If I want to talk, I’ll get ahold of you.” Although we both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Whatever bridge could have been tentatively built between us has been destroyed.

  Dad opens his mouth to argue when Nick cuts him off. “Your time is up. You can leave on your own volition or,” Coach nods toward the tunnel and the security guard who lounges there, “you can be escorted out. The choice is yours.”

  Scott pales before gnashing his teeth. He looks on the verge of exploding. “Fine, I’m going,” he grumbles.

  With his lips pressed tightly together, he stalks past us.

  When my father is half a dozen feet away, Nick raises his voice. “Chuck, please escort this man off the grounds, and make sure he leaves university property.”

  The security guard dips his chin. “You got it, Coach.”

  With that, Chuck ambles after my father as he disappears across the field. When he reaches the other side, I notice a second guard waiting on a glorified golf cart they use to move around the stadium. We watch in silence as my father is followed off the field before disappearing inside the building. Once he vanishes from sight, the tension filling my body drains away, and my shoulders sag in relief. Only then do I become conscious of the suffocating silence that has fallen over us. I shift my stance and clear my throat. Coach and I have spent hundreds of hours hashing out plays and discussing the intricacies of a football game, and yet, right now, my mind is blank. I never wanted these two worlds to collide. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have a goddamn thing to apologize for.” He searches my eyes. “I hope you realize that.”

  I stare at the turf and shrug.

  “Hey.” When I continue to avoid eye contact, his fingers bite into my shoulder through the thick pads. “Look at me, Rowan.”

  Forcing my gaze to his is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Humiliation gathers in my cheeks, making them burn with heat.

  “Your father is in no way a reflection of the person you are.”

  “His blood runs through my veins.” It takes effort to swallow down the rising nausea. “He’s a criminal.” I force out the ugliest part. “A murderer.”

  “It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference if his DNA is part of your genetic makeup. You are nothing like him.” He gives my shoulder a good shake before bringing his face clo
se to mine until I have no other choice but to meet the intensity of his gaze. “From the first moment you walked onto that high school football field, I knew you were something special. But it’s not your athletic ability that sets you apart from everyone else. It’s what’s in here.” He taps my chest with his fingers. “This is what matters. I’ve never met a player with more heart for the game or life. There aren’t many people I would entrust with my daughter. You’re one of the few.”

  I blink away the emotion as it pricks the back of my eyes. This man is more of a father figure to me than mine could ever be. The sentiment he’s expressing means more than he’ll ever realize. I never wanted Coach to know about my father. I didn’t realize he was aware of the situation. Most of the time, I try to forget the man even exists. It was easy enough to do when he was locked away in prison. Nick Richards knowing about my past, accepting me, and continuing to stand by my side, feels like a massive weight lifted from my shoulders.

  “You’ve known this entire time?”

  “Yup. Your mom told me everything shortly after we met. I made a promise to her when I took you under my wing that I’d keep an eye on the situation and help steer you in the right direction. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do, Rowan. At the time, I wasn’t sure what I was taking on, but you made it easy. Right from the start, you’ve taken school, and this team seriously. You’ve walked the straight and narrow. You’ve grown into a fine young man and a real leader the other guys can look up to. You’re someone I’m proud to have coached, and I look forward to what you’re going to do with your career, as well as your life.”

  I glance down, attempting to wrangle my emotions under control. “Thanks, Coach.” I want to tuck the words away and play them over and over again in my head. I’ve spent years idolizing this man. To hear him verbalize his feelings means everything.

  “You’ve got nothing to thank me for. Everything you’ve achieved has been because of your drive and determination. It’s your work ethic that will get you everywhere in life. Do you understand that?”

  I dip my chin in acknowledgment.