“Hey, Aubrey.” She waves and pushes her sunglasses up into her hair.
“Hey, is this a bad time?”
“No, come on in.” She’s alone, and for some reason, that makes me nervous. I’m sure it’s a coincidence or a timing issue, but I’ve been living in a constant state of worst-case-scenario. I can’t stop my mind from wandering.
I lead her into my house and to the kitchen. I pull out a bottle of water for myself and offer her one as well. Leaning onto my forearms on the island, I eye her and wait for her to tell me what’s going on. I take a long sip of water, and I’m glad she waits for me to swallow before saying what she came here for.
“I met with Amanda.” I figured that’s why she was here, but I don’t like how on edge she is. “How long has it been since everything happened?”
“Almost a year.” Aubrey nods and diverts her gaze.
“She told me why she’s doing this. Well, showed me, really.” I wait, my water bottle crushing in my palm as my nerves take control of my hands. “She has a baby, Tatum. About four months old.”
“What?” I stand up stock straight and search the corners of my mind for any memory of the night I slept with her. Yes, we slept together. No, I didn’t force myself on her. These are the two facts I know for certain, the ones I’ve been focusing on for months. I didn’t stop to remember if I used a condom, but I assumed I did. I never forget that step. Fuck. “She has a kid?” I repeat as if saying the words would make them any less real.
“Yes. A little boy, Theo. He has brown hair and a very cute smile.” I take another sip of my water, trying to extinguish the fire burning within me.
“How? Why would she do this, keep this from me? Why wouldn’t she tell me this happened?”
“Look, I spoke with her, woman to woman, to try and get as many details as I could. Let me make something clear; she didn’t explicitly say the baby is the reason she’s threatening you. She doesn’t want to change her story, but I understood very quickly that this is why she needs money. She told me he was born premature, with a collapsed lung and a world of medical bills followed. I asked her myself why she didn’t tell you, and she said because then you’d think she was lying and using you and your fame for money anyway. She jumped to the bottom line because it’s her way of letting you off the hook and she knew she’d end up there eventually.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. She didn’t want me to think she was using me for money, but that’s exactly what she’s doing now. I’ll help out with the damn kid, but she doesn’t need to drag my name through the mud to get what she fucking wants.” What. The. Fuck.
A kid. I have a kid. One I didn’t even know about. Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why can’t I be involved? Do I even want to be involved? What do I even tell Bria? Does it even matter? I mean, are we even going to make it past this soccer season, if I go back to playing and she graduates? Then what?
I can’t think about her right now. And yet, I thought she was my biggest problem an hour ago. Not a fucking baby. What the fuck.
“Tatum, listen to me.” My eyes snap to Aubrey’s and her face is crumpled with worry. “Amanda wants to talk to you, but I highly advise against it. I don’t know what her plans are or what she’s capable of. Also, if this is her bottom line and the angle she’s going to play, then I must urge you to get a paternity test.”
“You think she’s lying?”
“I don’t know, but my goal is to look at every possible outcome and protect you the best I can.”
Despite the situation, a smirk pulls at my lip. “You got very lawyer-y for a second there.”
She smiles back. “Yeah, I kind of did, didn’t I?”
We’re quiet for a long moment. Aubrey may be able to envision every possible scenario and the outcomes they present, but I can only see one. I’m only imagining the baby. I never even knew if I wanted kids, but now hearing I might have one, I can’t imagine ever not knowing him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bria
It’s been more than a week since I’ve talked to Tatum. He’s bailed out on my training sessions again and at practice he’s ignored me. No, that’s not right. If he was ignoring me he’d still be at least aware of my existence. But what he’s doing is beyond indifference. He looks right through me, like I’m a ghost, like nothing and no one is even there.
He’s freaked out. I get it. But we don’t know for sure someone caught us. It’s mere speculation. It could be our minds playing tricks on us since we were exposed in the heat of the moment.
But for him to totally ice me out…I didn’t think it would hurt this much. Which definitely sounds naïve, I know, but I thought we were finally on the same page. I thought we moved past the games.
I guess I was wrong.
“Bri, you coming?” Morgan slings her bag over her shoulder and hovers with one foot out the door.
“Yeah, be right there.”
We have a game today and once again, my mind couldn’t be less focused. Grabbing my bag, I head downstairs and out the door while Morgan lays on the horn of her car.
I slam the door behind me and settle into the short drive to the stadium. As we pull up, I see Tatum on the field, setting up supplies for our warm up. Seeing him causes butterflies to take root in my stomach.
I need to talk to him. Once we get through this game, I’ll go talk to him. I’ll corner him in his office again afterwards since he seems to spend all his time in there. Fuck, if not, I’ll drive to his goddamn house. I don’t care. I just need to talk to him.
My head is not in the game when the whistle blows. In the first half, I’m single-handedly responsible for three turnovers and when I get pissed, I get aggressive. I receive a red card with five minutes left in the half which makes Paxton pull me from the game.
“What’s going on with you today? You’re not on your game, Campbell.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Coach. I’ll pull it together in the next game.” He shakes his head and grimaces.
“You might not get to play in the next game.” My head snaps over to our assistant coach, who can’t make those calls despite thinking he runs the team.
“You’re not going to bench me,” I scoff, then look to Paxton. “Are you?” His face pulls down in a grimace. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s a bad day. I’ll make up for it.”
“It’s too late. Remember this for the next game.” Tatum’s words are harsh as he interjects his thoughts.
“Trevino,” Paxton’s tone is reprimanding, but Tatum is unforgiving.
When the whistle blows to end the half, I shove my shin guards into my bag and stay on the bench while the team huddles. There’s no reason for me to join in, especially because I don’t want to see Sam’s smug face as she learns she’s taking over my position for the rest of the game.
I drink my water and ignore the chants from my teammates. I may be acting like a spoiled brat, but they’re punishing me over one bad game. I’m allowed to have an off day. Everyone else surely does, and they don’t hear about it.
As the second half starts, I yell at my team from the sidelines. Granted, they’re doing well, which is pissing me off even more. They’re up two to one and if they win without me, then what is my purpose? Maybe I’m not as good as Tatum originally thought I was.
My leg shakes for the entirety of the forty-five minutes as I watch my teammates kick ass. I want to be happy for them, but I’m too wrapped up in my own drama to be supportive. I’ve graduated from being a shitty player to also being a shitty captain.
“Great game ladies. That was the best I’ve seen most of you play in a long time. Whatever fire was lit under your ass today, keep bringing it. We only have a few games left until playoffs start. We can’t start slacking now.” Tatum’s speech is directed at everyone else, but his point is driven home when he glares at me.
It’s the first he’s really looked at me in a long time, and it wasn’t a good look. I’m ashamed and I glance away.
Once again, I’m one o
f the last people on the field. It’s not fair to make my friends wait for me, but I don’t have an option. When Morgan questions me, I lie.
“You go ahead. Tatum wants to talk to me about training tomorrow. I’ll see if I can get another ride home.”
“Are you sure? I can wait.”
“It’s okay. I don’t want to hold you back.”
“Okay, well, call me if you need me to come back.” I nod and she grabs her things and walks side-by-side with Lindsay back to the car.
I march inside the building, exhaling an unsteady breath as I go. Tatum and I have come so far in a few short months. When he first came here, I wouldn’t have blinked twice about confronting him. In fact, I would’ve looked forward to every way I could get under his skin. Now, I’m filled with nerves when all I need to do is talk to him, to explain. And, well, to get an explanation about where he’s been and why he’s been avoiding me.
As I walk down the long hallway, I hear his voice echoing past the concrete walls. He’s whisper-yelling at someone, but I don’t hear anyone responding.
With measured steps, I inch toward his office. The door is cracked, as if he pushed it closed but it never latched. I can see Tatum pacing and he looks pissed. His brows are furrowed and his hair is mussed as if he’s been dragging his hand through it over and over again.
His jaw is locked and his lips are pressed into a hard line. His phone is pressed to his ear, explaining why I couldn’t hear anyone responding to him. He’s been listening for a long time, and when he speaks again, my stomach drops.
“Amanda, we need to talk about this. I don’t care what your terms are, but if he is mine, you can’t keep him from me.”
Pissed doesn’t even begin to cover what he’s feeling. I can sense the anger rolling off him in waves from here. It takes me a minute to process what he says, and when I finally hear it, I wish I could unhear it.
I don’t want to assume the worst, but I do.
Conjuring up all the courage I can muster, I make myself known. I push into his office, making myself comfortable in one of the chairs. His face goes slack and quickly turns to horror. I can see his mind working overtime, but I don’t have any sympathy. Staring at my nails, I wait until he’s done.
“Look, I want to keep talking about this, but I have to go. Can I call you tomorrow?” He pauses and I can make out the faint sound of a woman’s voice on the other end. “Right, of course. I’ll talk to you then.”
“What was that about?” I pounce the minute the phone is pulled away from his ear.
He sighs and rubs his forehead. “Honestly Bria, I’m not in the mood tonight.”
“I know, considering you’ve been avoiding me, but I’m done tiptoeing around you. I’m not dealing with the bullshit and playing games with you. Be straight up with me, right here, right now. I heard who you were talking to. If you made up the whole sob story to get into my pants while still seeing your girlfriend, that’s fucked up. I—I don’t even know what else to say to you.”
“To be fair, if I was trying to get in your pants, I did a really bad job. If I recall, I stopped it from going that far.” I roll my eyes, unamused. “Okay, not the time or place, sorry. I was, um, talking to Amanda. She’s the girl—”
“Yeah, I remember who she is, Tatum. Why were you talking to her? Is she the one who’s been calling you this whole time?” My mind flashes back to all of those unknown calls and my stomach sinks even further.
“Yes, but I haven’t been talking to her this whole time. Long story short, I had a friend meet up with her recently and I found out some information that kind of changes everything.”
I wait, but he doesn’t continue. He paces the room, sighing every few seconds and casting furtive glances in my direction.
“Are you going to tell me?”
The next words come out of his mouth like word vomit. They shock and hurt me and I’ll admit, they do change everything. “I have a son, Bria.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bria
“Oh.” I probably should’ve said literally anything else, but of all the words in my personal lexicon, I couldn’t think of one that would be appropriate.
“Yeah. As you can imagine, finding this out on top of everything else lately, I’ve been a bit stressed, and yeah, I’ve been distant. I’ve needed time to process all of it.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know.” Another stupid thing to say. Of course I wouldn’t know. How could I? “I’ll let you deal with…everything. I’ll see you later.”
“Bria, wait.” He stops me before I’m able to push out of my chair and leave. “When I found out, the first thing I thought was, what am I going to do about Bria? I knew I had to tell you and that this could, no, would change everything. But still, I knew I had to tell you. I don’t have all the answers yet, and I plan to get a paternity test, but I’ve been spending the last week thinking about everything. About what I want and what I plan to do in either scenario. I’ve gone back and forth a lot, unsure of what will happen and how I will actually feel. The one unwavering thing is my feelings for you. I know it may not seem like it; I’ve been hot and cold and all over the place. But Bria, you’re somehow the one solid thing in my life. I feel comfortable with you, like I’ve never felt with anyone before. I’m not willing to give that up or jeopardize it more than I already have. I can imagine this is all a shock to you and I want to take time to think it over, but I don’t want to give up on us yet, Bri. I’m sorry for not proving it to you before now, but it’s true.”
He takes a deep breath and sits down in the chair beside me. Cradling my hand in his, he rubs small circles on the back of my palm. My head is spinning with everything he threw at me.
Somehow, selfishly, this is more unfair to me than it ever was to him. For him to assume I would be okay with this, with all of it. From him casting me away like yesterday’s trash and acting like I don’t exist, to springing this surprise child on me.
What does he expect? For me to drop everything to become some kid’s step-mom? I’m not even twenty-three yet. I’m not ready to be a mother. I have dreams and goals. God, he’s like every other man I’ve known, bossing me around and assuming I’ll drop everything at his whim. Asshole.
“I need to go.”
“I understand, but think about it. Please.”
“Do you even hear yourself? Am I supposed to forgive you because you tell me you have feelings for me? You can’t manipulate me like all the other women you’ve been with. I won’t let you.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Why, am I special? What, it won’t ever happen again? Please, choose which cliché line you’re going to spew next. I promise you, I’ve heard my father say them all before.”
Hot, angry tears spill over the corner of my eyes and I swipe them away, unwilling to let them win.
Tatum reaches out to me, but I flinch away. “Do not touch me. I won’t let you or anyone else control me. Not anymore.” I stand and push past him. “I have to go.”
I all but run down the hallway as the tears fall. I feel like the biggest idiot to ever walk the earth. Why I ever fell for his tricks is beyond me. He played me from the beginning.
He made me feel special, told me things I wanted to hear, pretended to be the good guy. He’s nothing but another manipulative, narcissistic sociopath. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.
Against my better judgment, I call Morgan and ask her to pick me up. She must tell by my watery tone that I need her because she doesn’t even question me or make any smart remarks.
When she arrives, I hop in her car before it’s even fully stopped. “Drive.” She guns it and peels out of the parking lot. I’ve never been more grateful for her unwavering friendship.
Instead of heading home, she drives to our favorite fro-yo place and parks. She doesn’t say anything as she gets out of the car and jogs inside. After five minutes, I’m wondering if she’s waiting in there for me, but then I see her walk back through the doors, with two to-g
o cups in her hands.
I reach over the center console and push open the door for her since her hands are full.
“Thanks,” she says as she hands me one of the cups. “It’s chocolate with Oreos and hot fudge. You look like you could use the sugar rush tonight.”
“More like I could use the sugar rush to mask my depression and self-pity.”
She takes a large spoonful of her pink dessert covered in gummy bears, and they remind me of my trip with Tatum. My emotions resurface and I bite my lip, willing the tears to stay away.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I close my eyes as the chocolatey treat coats my tongue. I want to forget everything for five minutes. I want to push aside my worries and my anger and enjoy my frozen yogurt.
But I can’t. And Morgan is my best friend.
“I’ve been kind of seeing Tatum. Like, outside of training as more than a coach.”
“Holy shit. You’ve been sleeping with him? Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s a bitter undertone to her words and I know she’s hurt I kept this from her. “I knew something was going on with you two.”
“We haven’t slept together, but we’ve gotten close. I really like him, Morg.” I detail everything that’s happened between us…well, almost everything. I don’t tell her about the threat Amanda has made against him. I do tell her about the baby, though. Her eyes bug so far out of her head I’m afraid they’re going to roll out of their sockets.
Her dessert is gone by the time I finish telling my story. While she processes the bevy of information I threw at her, I eat my fro-yo. The hot fudge isn’t hot anymore and there’s a small pool of chocolate from the dessert melting in my hands, but I still enjoy the treat.
“I think I’m having a brain freeze and ironically it has nothing to do with the frozen yogurt.” Somehow I know exactly what she means. “Let me get this straight. You and Tatum are…dating, I guess?” I shrug. “Okay, whatever that means. But you haven’t slept together. And you just found out he has a kid. What happens next?”
Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel Page 15
