Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  “Likewise.”

  The waitress comes and takes our first drink order and after a few minutes, the rest of the team shows up. Some of my good friends give me hugs and some of them, like Mitch, I try to steer clear from to shelter Bria from his bullshit.

  Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long.

  A beer lands in front of me and I shake my head. “I didn’t order this.” She points to the other end of the table and I see my teammate with a broad smile.

  “Yo man, you used to be the life of the party. Drink up.” Of all people, Mitch should understand why I’m drinking water.

  “He’s too focused on his new fling. Probably doesn’t want to give her the wrong impression.” Another teammate, Colin, adds. Suddenly I wish we never came.

  Bria tenses beside me and keeps her eyes down as she lifts her cup and takes a long drink of water.

  “I’m sorry,” I lean and whisper in her ear. She shakes her head but doesn’t say anything back.

  The team continues to talk as if nothing happened.

  “When are you coming back? Have you heard anything yet?” My friend Owen asks.

  I glance at Murray, but his expression gives nothing away. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “It’s a load of bullshit. We know you didn’t do it.” Owen tells me, his voice low and my friends beside him agree. “Mitch has always been the problem. Has the girl—”

  “No. Drop it.” I give them a pointed look, forcing them to shut up. This is not how Bria finds out.

  “Tatum, we do need to talk about some things. Do you have any time before you head back?”

  I turn to my coach. I need to meet with him, but it’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to, especially not with the vibes he’s sending me.

  “You can talk now. I’m going to head back to the hotel. I’m not feeling well,” Bria chimes in before I have a chance to reply.

  “I’ll drive you back. Coach, we can talk later.”

  “No, I already called an Uber. I’ll see you later, Tatum. Congrats on the win. It was great to meet everyone,” she says, mainly to Murray, before getting out of her seat and leaving the restaurant.

  Fuck. This is not how I wanted this night to go.

  “Go after her, man,” Owen urges, and I stand, but I’m immediately stopped with a hand on my shoulder.

  I turn to see my coach had stood with me. “You need to stay here because we need to talk. It’s out, Tatum. Officially.”

  With those words, my blood runs cold.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bria

  The dinner with his team could not have gone worse. I will admit Tatum was right to keep me away from Mitch. I didn’t get the best vibes from him, but he could’ve warned me about the rest of his teammates. I knew about his past playboy antics, but to hear it rubbed in my face stung.

  I’m just another girl who deep down hoped to change the guy.

  I’m just another freaking idiot.

  Then, for him to let me leave by myself…

  God. I had the Uber driver from hell and it cost a fortune. If I had the capability and funds I would Uber all the way back to campus, but I bet that’s out of their scope of service. Not to mention I’m a poor college student.

  Once in my hotel room, I draw myself a long bath. As the tub fills with water and bubbles, I check the minibar and grab a couple of bottles at random. Tatum’s paying anyway.

  I set my phone up on its stand on the ledge of the tub, putting on an audiobook to relax. Beside it are the bottles of liquor I snagged and once I’m neck-deep in the suds, I open one of the bottles and take a long swig. I cringe as the alcohol burns my throat on the way down, but I suck it up. The buzz will be worth it.

  As soon as the first bottle is empty and the book gets to a steamy scene, there’s a knock at my door.

  “Go away,” I yell in hopes the person will listen. I know who it has to be on the other side of the door, and I really don’t want to see him.

  “Bria, let me in. We need to talk.”

  Nothing good has ever come from hearing those words, yet he thinks they’ll get me to open the door? No, thank you.

  I ignore him, still hoping he’ll go away. A few seconds pass and he knocks on the door again. “Please, Bria.”

  With a groan, I push out of the tub, sloshing water over the ledge as I swing my leg over. I grab the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and put it on, cinching the waist with the belt.

  I throw open the door with a huff and stand in front of Tatum with my hands on my waist.

  “You wanted to talk. Speak.”

  “Maybe you should get dressed.” He swallows thickly and his Adam’s apple bobs as he drags his gaze over my body.

  “Nope, I’m good. This won’t take long.”

  He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It’s already mussed, like he’s been messing with it all night.

  “I need to tell you why I was really kicked off my team before you hear it from someone else.” Those are the last words I was expecting him to say.

  It throws me off guard and my arms fall to my sides. Taking a step back, I tilt my head in a silent gesture to invite him inside. His expression is grateful as he steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him.

  I pop back into the bathroom to drain the tub and when I come back out, he’s pacing the floor and shaking his head. I climb on the bed and sit back on my knees, making sure the robe keeps everything underneath covered.

  He keeps glancing at me and I want to say something to help him or push him along, but I don’t know what to say. My nerves are using my body like a bounce house, jumping around inside me and making me nauseous.

  “Tatum, you’re starting to freak me out here.” The sound of my voice snaps him out of it and he collapses onto the edge of the bed. His legs are wide and his head is hung between his shoulders, his hands laced behind his neck. He drags his hands back up through his hair on a sigh and leans down to rest his forearms on his knees.

  He can’t settle and it’s putting me on edge. I wish I hadn’t left my tiny liquor bottles in the bathroom because I could use a drink right about now. And I think he could too.

  “Whatever it is, it’s fine. Spit it out already,” I urge him despite not believing what I’m telling him. Truth be told, I can only imagine the reasons he might’ve gotten kicked off his team. It would take a lot and it scares me.

  “I know there are two sides to every story, but I promise you, what I’m about to tell you is the truth.”

  I swallow and nod, even though he can’t see me. “Okay,” I whisper.

  “After playoffs last season, the whole team, for the most part, celebrated. We threw a huge party at one of the houses and it was packed with people. I think there had to be five girls for every one of us on the team. It was insane. Bigger than usual.” He sighs again and I play with the belt of my robe. I’m as fidgety as he is.

  This doesn’t surprise me. I read all about his epic parties and there’s a reason he was the playboy king of the LA Elite. He’s had no shortage of hookups, well, ever, and I can’t blame him or the girls who throw themselves at him. Hell, I’m one of them.

  “A few of my teammates are good men. They’re married and they like to celebrate, but they don’t hang around too late or get mixed up with the chicks at these places. Most of them don’t, anyway.” His voice rumbles with anger.

  I climb off the bed and go to sit next to him. I don’t want to be staring at his back anymore. He looks like he needs comfort and I want to be supportive. “What does that mean?” I know what it means, but for some reason, I have to hear him say it.

  “Some of them don’t care if they have a wife or family at home. They want to live the experience as if they’re still rookies getting laid by a different girl every week.” He grimaces and risks a glance my way. “Sorry.” I shake it off. “Anyway, this particular party was no different. Mitch rents a house in LA for the season and for the most part, his family stays home in Oh
io. He’s the worst of all. He has two daughters home with his wife who deserves better than him.

  “It was late. We were both drunk and there were a couple chicks still there. They were all over us. The girl I was with, Amanda, kept pushing me to go to bed. She finally stood up and offered her hand. We were both drunk, but I took it. We slept together and by the time I woke up, she was gone and I never heard from her again. Not directly anyway.”

  “What does that mean?” I’m a broken record. I pull on the hem of my robe, not wanting to look him in the eye as he tells me about his past sexual encounters. Even though he and I haven’t slept together and it’s not like we’re dating, I still have feelings for him. With the few things he and I have already done, he’s gotten under my skin.

  “She went to the media. Claimed I assaulted her.”

  “What?” Before my brain catches up to me, I notice I’m clutching my robe closed tighter around me. I’m closing myself off to him and he notices. His nod is sad, dejected, but rooted in understanding.

  “Exactly. With the climate surrounding these accusations, it had to be investigated and taken seriously. And it should be. I’m not arguing that. But…fuck. I won’t lie and say I’m not fucking frustrated by it. It’s complete bullshit. It was consensual and this has cost me my career.”

  “Why don’t you come out with your side of what happened?” Even if he does, I don’t know if anyone would believe him at this rate.

  “Because it’s not all black and white. For one, I was wasted and those testimonies never hold up. It’s unreliable at best.”

  “But you have witnesses or whatever, right? You said—”

  “Mitch was there. He’s the only person who saw me with her and I can’t use him because he’s married and it would affect his home life.”

  “Maybe it should affect his marriage. He’s a scumbag.” I’m angry for him and despite it all, despite what most people would probably say or advise, I believe every word he’s told me tonight. His voice never wavered in his conviction.

  “I know. And now he’s the reason the story got out.”

  “What does this mean for you and what happens next?”

  “I don’t know. This reporter apparently found the girl despite our best efforts to keep this all buried. I don’t know when exactly the story will break but I’ll be walking on eggshells every day until it does.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “Paxton knows. He and Murray go way back and they talked. Not at first…Murray got me the job and he eventually found out. They both are on my side and I’m lucky they trust me. He had every right and opportunity to fire me, but he hasn’t. But once word gets out, I know he will. He has to.”

  As a person who was raised in an abusive household, you develop a sense about people. It’s like a third eye opening and seeing people for who they are. When I look at Tatum, I’m not afraid. I don’t have a gut reaction warning me away from him. I sense he’s one of the good ones, even if his exterior doesn’t always show it right away.

  I’m hesitant, but I reach my hand out and grasp his in mine. I want him to know I believe him and I’m here for him. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

  “Thank you for believing me.”

  I swallow around the newfound lump in my throat and nod. I do believe him, but now I’m rooted in doubt. How could I not question him after a girl went to the media? Whether it’s a blatant lie or her side of the story, I don’t know. I’m not entirely sure I want to find out either.

  “What’s going to happen to you?”

  “We were trying to handle the situation in private, but if the story gets out…I don’t know, Bria. I could be forced into retirement. I could go to jail. Best case scenario, the girl will come forward and change her story. Everything is out of my control, and it’s been driving me crazy. I needed to do something to make up the time and Murray put me in contact with Paxton. I got the position as the assistant coach, but I had to come clean to him too. I’m biding my time until—”

  “Wow.” I don’t think he realizes what he said. His brows furrow and he looks at me with his head cocked. “You’re biding your time until you can go back to your real life, your friends, the parties. The women. You’re biding your time with my team. With me.”

  “Bria, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I think you should go.” I stand and walk away from him, clutching my robe closed as I hold open the hotel room door. “Please, leave.”

  He’s crestfallen as he pushes himself up and walks toward me. His hand hovers in the air as if he wants to console me, but considering the story he just told me regarding consent, he stops and his hand falls.

  “I really am sorry. I’m not biding my time with you, Bria. You’re the one thing making this time worth it.”

  With those parting words, he leaves and I shut the door, pulling the chain to lock it before diving into bed and burrowing under the covers, knowing sleep is bound to evade me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bria

  As expected, sleep refuses to consume me. The thoughts plaguing my mind keep me awake. I refuse to be the girl who wallows in self-pity because of a boy. I kick off the covers and climb out of bed, full of restless energy. After changing into workout clothes, I grab a bottle of water, my phone, and my room key and head downstairs to the gym. I’ll run hard and exhaust myself enough to pass out the minute I get back to my room.

  Popping my AirPods in my ears, I blast my running playlist and start the treadmill. I start slow with my warm up, but within a few minutes there’s sweat dripping down my temples as I pump my legs harder and harder. I’m running for almost twenty minutes when someone else enters the gym and I’m no longer alone. It seems I wasn’t the only one with this idea to work out tonight.

  Tatum walks over and takes the treadmill beside me. He doesn’t say anything, but I can’t ignore his presence. I pull the right earbud out and look at him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “No.”

  He’s retreated somewhere dark. The usual playful, flirty Tatum I’ve come to know is nowhere to be found and I don’t blame him. Yet, I should be the one mad at him, but it feels like I’m the one who’s done something wrong here. And for some reason, I want to fix it.

  “What are you listening to?” I ask but he doesn’t answer.

  I pop my earbud back in, content to finish my work out and go to bed. After I run for another mile, I risk a glance at the handsome man beside me. I notice his mouth is moving, but my music is too loud to hear anything he’s saying. I pause my playlist and slow my treadmill down to a walk before saying anything.

  “What were you saying? I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

  “Oh, I was apologizing. I’m sorry for bringing you here. It was a bad idea and I shouldn’t have pushed for you to come.”

  “Why do you say that?” I power off the machine and turn to fully face him. My arms lay atop the armrest of the treadmill as I lean over to catch my breath.

  “The game sucked. My teammates were a bunch of assholes. What should’ve been a great weekend, turned into a goddamn shit show. None of this would’ve happened if you weren’t here.”

  “Wow. I don’t know why you’re lashing out at me, but nothing that’s happened has been my fault.”

  “I wouldn’t have—”

  “What? Told me about the accusation against you? Kissed me? Which of your indiscretions do you regret the most?” He finally stops running and faces me. His face falls, full of pain and guilt. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

  I step off the machine and unfortunately I have to walk past Tatum to get to the exit. As I start to pass him, he grabs my arm. He pulls me back and looks me dead in the eye.

  “Of all the things I regret, kissing you is not one of them, Bria.” His hand moves from my arm and finds my face. He brushes my stray hairs back and cradles my cheek in his hand.

  His touch makes me breathless. My lips flatten and I nod, breaking eye contact in hopes o
f shattering the tension building between us.

  It doesn’t work.

  When I meet his gaze, his caramel eyes search mine. I’m captivated by the intensity. His gaze holds me like I wish his arms would. I want them to wrap around me, to tug me against his chest until I feel our heartbeats flutter in synchronicity.

  With a burst of courage, I lift onto the toes of my running shoes and press my lips to Tatum’s. It’s short and sweet, enough for him to know I don’t regret kissing him either. It’s an olive branch, showing him that no matter what we discussed tonight, I still want him.

  Taking a step back, I offer him a smile before moving past him once more. The urge to look back at him is strong, but I try my best to ignore the feeling.

  “Wait.”

  I hesitate at the exit, my hand braced on the handle of the door. Using my heel, I turn around slowly, just in time to see his final stride before he reaches me.

  His tattooed arm reaches for me, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me to him. Our lips crash together in a frenzy. He pushes me back against the wall, which is cold against my tacky skin.

  My hands fist in his hair, ignoring the sweat at his roots and making a mess of his dark chocolate locks. My stomach quivers and a wave of pleasure takes root in my gut. A throaty sigh escapes from between his lips and the sound has my thighs clenching. A different bolt of pleasure shoots up my spine as Tatum’s thigh makes a home between mine. With reckless abandon, I grind against the muscle, using his leg as my own personal sex toy. I moan as I hit just the right spot. The friction of my shorts hitting my clit sends me higher. I teeter on the edge of reality and cloud nine.

  Tatum’s hands fist my shorts and if he tried to pull them down right here, right now, I don’t think I’d stop him. I wouldn’t care if he bent me over the bike and took me here and now.

  He breaks our kiss and my breathing is jagged. He doesn’t miss a beat, moving to my neck and I tilt my head to give him better access. I’m consumed with pleasure and temptation and I don’t want to stop. I don’t want him to stop.

  His lips find mine once more and the longer we’re here, the hungrier we get. My teeth latch onto his bottom lip and my fingernails dig so hard into his shoulders I fear I’ll break skin. He doesn’t protest, only moans at the intensity of it.