Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  With Morgan at center striker and Lindsay and I on the wings, we should decimate this team. If things weren’t so weird between us now, we could. I don’t want our history to jeopardize this match and I hope they can work with me.

  “Morgan, can I talk to you quick?” Lindsay raises a brow and I wave her along to come with. “Look, I know there’s shit between us, but today is bigger than our history and our drama. I want to win this game for Paxton. He deserves this win. Let’s not ruin it for him. I’m willing to push all the bullshit aside and focus on kicking North Carolina’s ass. Deal?”

  “Deal.” They both say. Lindsay and I walk away, but Morgan hangs back.

  “Bria,” she calls. “Have you talked to him at all? Tatum?” I can’t gauge why she’s asking and despite her tone sounding genuine, I trust her about as much as I trust Shonda Rhimes to not make me cry during Grey’s Anatomy every week.

  “No, you got what you wanted. He’s gone.”

  “Hey, I am sorry. I think Sam got in my head and—”

  “Save it. No bullshit, no drama. Let’s go kick some ass.”

  The second half starts and we have possession of the ball. The three of us up top work like we used to, as if we’re an extension of one person instead of three separate ones. We zigzag through the defense and charge toward the goal.

  Morgan passes to Lindsay and she kicks the ball toward the right upper ninety. As expected, she overshoots, but she and I are a well-oiled machine. I’m there waiting and head the ball into the goal.

  The three of us hug and Paxton cheers from the sidelines. One down, one goal needed to tie and two needed to win. We’re not walking off this field without a trophy.

  We’re both neck and neck. NC picks up their defense, starting to play dirty as expected. We manage to tie the game with seven minutes left on the clock. It’s now or never.

  I get the ball away from number seven and get to the eighteen before my ankle gets blown out. Searing hot pain shoots up my leg and I collapse onto the field. The ref blows a whistle, but everything around me is white noise. My leg is throbbing and the first person I see is Morgan.

  “Are you okay?” She leans beside me as number sixteen on NC steps around me, spitting on the ground and hitting my cleat with her spittle. The whistle blows again and at least this time I notice a flash of red as Sixteen is rewarded a red card. I’m glad she’s out of the game, but that won’t heal my ankle in the next minute so I can take the penalty kick.

  Morgan gives me her hand to help me up, but I shake my head. “I think it’s torn or broken.” The player got the same ankle I had taken out in the first playoff game. I’m sure she knew that, too.

  Paxton and the trainer run over and help me up. I hold onto their shoulders as I hop on one leg off the field. The girls set up and Lindsay gets ready to take the kick.

  “Coach, stop her. Lindsay can’t take the kick.” He looks at me, and he knows I’m right. “She’s too strong and she overshoots. If she doesn’t hit the crossbar, the goalie will be ready for her shot. It’s always in the upper ninety. You know I’m right. Stop her. Morgan has to take the kick.”

  He nods and waves Lindsay over before the whistle is blown. The trainer starts talking to me about my ankle, but I shush him. I’m too focused on the game. I take the ice like I’m told, but the rest can wait.

  Lindsay looks disappointed, but she runs back onto the field and tells Morgan. If she makes this goal, we win the game.

  The whistle blows and Morgan bounces on her toes. The goalie for NC is on the goal line, bouncing on her toes from side to side, waiting for the kick.

  Morgan lines up and runs toward the ball. The goalie follows her hips—a big mistake. Her hips are angled toward the left side but the ball soars into the right.

  “Yes!” I scream and clap. If I could jump up right now I would.

  Paxton walks over to me, giving me a high five and a hug. He looks at me and doesn’t even need to say what he’s thinking because I already know. We did it.

  Granted, there are three minutes still left on the clock.

  The team runs to the half-line with the ball and sets up, rushing the ref to blow the whistle. When he does, they charge. They power down the field, but they’re careless and messy.

  It results in an indirect kick for us and we do our best to run the clock, kicking the ball out of bounds as often as possible. There’s no reason to play fancy. We already won.

  When the whistle is blown, the team huddles, jumping and cheering. We’re fucking champions.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Bria

  The bus pulls up to our stadium after a day of non-stop traveling. First the flight home, then the bus ride back to the stadium, then back in the car to head home. And all with a broken ankle.

  Okay, I’m being dramatic. It’s not broken, but it’s a grade three sprain which means I have to wear a brace for a few weeks. I may as well have broken it.

  What a way to end the season, but at least we won.

  My mom wasn’t able to fly across the country to make the championship game, which sucked, but she watched it on TV. I had eleven missed calls from her starting from the minute I was taken out of the game.

  I called her back from the trainer’s office and calmed her down, assuring her I’ll be fine and can manage with a sprained ankle. She asked where my hot coach was and if he’d be helping me for the next few weeks. The words left a pang in my chest.

  On the plus side, she’s been working overtime and hasn’t heard the latest news surrounding his assault or I really would’ve heard it from her. And now, since the retraction was made, it’s irrelevant anyway and hasn’t been talked about since.

  Silver linings.

  When we pull up to the house, a car is sitting outside. I recognize it, but I don’t want to get my hopes it. A million people could have the same jeep.

  But there aren’t a million people with a body like his and a sleeve of sinfully sexy tattoos.

  I mean, there probably are, but I only know the one.

  I hobble on my boot over to the jeep as my teammates shoot glances at me. Morgan offers a small smile but keeps walking without a word. Basically everyone knows what happened between the two of us. Now the season is over and the team knows the truth, anything can happen.

  “What are you doing here?” A big part of me hoped he’d show up to the game and we’d kiss under falling confetti as the team held up our trophy and sang We Are the Champions at the tops of their lungs.

  But no confetti fell, I couldn’t even stand, and we were surrounded by reporters as soon as the whistle blew. There was no romanticizing that moment.

  “I wanted to say congratulations in person. And also, I wanted to see how you were.” He motions to the boot and I half smile, half grimace.

  “Yeah, pretty sexy, right?” He laughs and God, did I miss the sound.

  “There’s a lot we need to talk about. Can we go somewhere?” Despite exhaustion fighting to consume me, I nod, because there’s no place else I’d rather be than with him anyway.

  He helps me into the jeep and drives away back to where it all began.

  “You know, I was just here. You could’ve met me here instead of coming to the house.” He shrugs and apologizes.

  I don’t actually mind, I just like busting on him.

  “Can you make it to the field?”

  “I think I can manage.” We walk at a slow pace as we cross the track and head onto the turf. I’m grateful when he leads me to the nearest bench because lugging this thing around is more tiring than anyone might realize.

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” he says. He sounds sad which is the complete opposite of what I’m feeling right now.

  “Then let me go first.” I fill him in on Morgan and Sam. I tell him the story got pushed because that reporter Meredith is Sam’s sister. He listens, but he doesn’t seem surprised by most of it. “I’m sorry you somehow got dragged into the middle of my drama,” I tell him.

&nb
sp; “I could say the same.” He runs a hand through his hair. I reach my hand up and press my palm to his cheek. His stubble has grown in much longer than usual.

  “You look good with a beard,” I tell him, though the only thing I can think about right now is whether it would feel soft or scratchy between my legs.

  “I missed you.” He pulls me to him and I hug him around his side. I never want to let him go again. “I’m back on the team,” he tells me and my face lights up, but inside I go slightly dim.

  “That’s amazing, Tatum. I’m so happy for you. I knew you’d figure it out.” He plays with my hand and the light massage is heavenly. “What about Amanda and the baby?”

  He scratches his chin, tugging at the slight beard. His forehead wrinkles and he looks down, his focus elsewhere. “It’s, uh, he’s not my kid. She lied about all of it.”

  “WHAT?” Again, I don’t know if I should be shocked or angry with this chick. She’s certifiable, certainly not fit to raise a child.

  “Yeah, um, we did sleep together, but she was already pregnant and found out later. She knew who I was obviously and used it to her advantage. I feel bad for her, but I also kind of hate her? Is that awful? I mean, I got attached to this kid, you know. To the idea of him even.”

  I nod, but I’m not sure what to say. My heart aches for all of them. “I am so, so sorry Tatum. It’s not right what she did to you.”

  “I know. I’m not making up excuses for her. I know she was in a bad place, but it’s no excuse.” I hate feeling relieved at finding out he doesn’t have a kid. I know he’s hurting, but I wasn’t ready to be a step-mom.

  Not that he and I are getting back together or anything. We haven’t even discussed what’s next for us.

  “So, you’re going back on the road.”

  He nods. “Yup, I’m back on the roster for next season. I’m hoping this all blows over and becomes nothing more than a distant blip.” I open my mouth, ready to tell him how excited I am for him, but he speaks first. “I want you to come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Bria, I’m in love with you. I know it seems crazy because we were never officially together, but the few months I had with you were like nothing I’ve ever felt before. This past month away from you has been hell, and not just because of everything going on. You’re the one person I wanted to talk to about everything and I don’t want to be without you again.”

  Wow. I sigh and rub my palms over my thighs. There’s a lot to unpack with what he said and I know he’s going to hate what I’m about to say.

  “I can’t. You know I can’t. I have one semester left and then grad school.” I look at him, my sapphire eyes meeting his caramel gaze. “I can’t let another man change or rule my life. My dad caused a lot of permanent damage in me, but I’m stronger because of him. That’s why I have to let you go.”

  “We can do long distance. What’s one semester?”

  He’s right…but he’s also wrong. “If I’m dating you, I’m going to be obsessing over you every minute of every day. You consume me. You’ll swallow me whole and I’ll be stuck in a Tatum-bubble.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the worst place to be.”

  I smack his arm lightly. “I need to focus on me and you need to get back into the swing of things. Live your life, Tatum. Once I graduate, I’ll come see you play. If you’re still you and I’m still me and we want to be together, we’ll go from there. It’s the best I can offer you.”

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down and kisses me. The passion and hunger in the kiss knocks me breathless. Desire is always bubbling under the surface whenever I’m with him and today is no different. We kiss for ages, until my leg is in pain and he has to carry me to the car.

  “Five months,” he says as he helps me inside.

  “Not even half a year.”

  “A lot can happen in that time.”

  I agree. “Go be Tatum Trevino, the soccer star. The Elite will be happy to have you back.”

  “They did pretty good this season.”

  “But they didn’t win. They needed you for that.”

  He helps me up the steps to my house and the walk is quiet. We both have a lot to say and not enough time to say it.

  When we reach the landing, I open my mouth to say goodbye, though it’s the last thing I want to say. My throat is thick with emotion and I’m unsure if I’ll even be able to get the word out.

  When I look up at him, I see his chocolate brown eyes swimming with sadness and affection. His hand trails down my arm until he’s holding my hand in his.

  Not caring if anyone sees us, he leans down once more and kisses me. I’m backed up against the door to my house and if anyone pulls it open we’ll both go tumbling down.

  “I love you, Bria Campbell. I don’t care what you say. I’m going to wait for you.”

  I hope, deep in my heart, that he does.

  Five Months Later

  I stand beside Lindsay and Sydney in our matching gowns. Our parents are here, taking pictures of us and crying alongside us. I thought I’d be standing here with Morgan today, but I was never able to get over what she did.

  With everyone distracted, I know I won’t be missed for a few minutes. I sneak out the side door of the building and walk the short distance across campus. I find my way into the stadium and breathe in the air, taking in the moment. This is probably the last time I will ever stand on this field, and it’s definitely more bitter than it is sweet.

  “I thought I’d find you here.” I turn around and see Morgan. Her hair is in chocolate waves around her face and her cap is in her hand. Her gown is parted and she has on a beautiful white dress which accentuates her tan skin.

  “This place is like home, you know. I’m happy here, comfortable. It’s like coming home after a long trip to finally relax and unwind. That’s the peace I felt here and I’m going to miss it.”

  She walks up and stands right beside me, slightly taller than me in her wedges. “I get it. I know exactly how you feel.”

  “I wish things could be different.” I’m not talking about the game anymore.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She sounds honest, but I could never tell when she was lying before. It is what it is.

  “What’s next for you?”

  She is studying journalism. The irony is not lost on me.

  “I got a job at a small digital magazine.” I’m sure her dad helped her score the gig, but I keep my mouth shut. “What about you?”

  “Things are still up in the air for me.” I have a lot of decisions I need to make and a very short amount of time to make them. “But I actually have to catch a flight. I just wanted to say goodbye to all of this one last time.” There’s a lot I’m going to miss about this place. A lot of memories were made here. “Goodbye, Morgan. Good luck with everything.”

  “You too, Bria.” She walks away but calls to me one last time, “Go get him.” Despite everything, she still knows me best of all.

  The flight is a lot shorter than the drive but admittedly less entertaining. I hop in an Uber to take me to the same hotel I was at all those months ago with Tatum. If things go well, maybe I’ll get to be there with him again tonight.

  I watch the game from the stands. The game passes too slowly. I’m amped up with adrenaline and nerves. I’m mesmerized by Tatum’s skills and watch in awe as he glides down the field and around the other team. He’s seamless, light on his feet and insanely quick.

  When the final whistle blows, I push past the people walking in the opposite direction. They’re trying to leave; I’m trying to get to the bottom.

  I reach my goal and I’m as close to the bench as I can be without walking onto the field. When the noise dies down and people start to leave, I make my move.

  “Hey, twenty-two!” I call and he looks up. The eyes I haven’t looked into for months find mine in an instant. Love pools in his gaze, warming and liquefying his eyes.

  He jogs over to me. His hair is matted with sweat and h
is shirt is damp, sticking to his back. I trace my gaze over his tattoos and up to the beard I realize I love so much.

  “Great game,” I tell him with a broad smile. “Think you can make one more shot?”

  He lifts his brows and a devilish grin pulls at his handsome mouth.

  “Why should I?”

  “Well, this is what I’m thinking. If you make the shot, I stay with you and we can finally be together.” He helps me out of the stadium seating and brings me down onto the field.

  He nods, giving nothing away. “That sounds reasonable.”

  He leads me to the field where he takes his soccer ball and I stand in front of the goal. “If I block the shot, I go home,” I warn him.

  He lines up and as soon as he goes to shoot, I walk off to the side of the goal, ensuring he scores.

  “Looks like you win again,” I tell him.

  He runs over to me, a handsome grin pulling at his lips. “You can’t do that.”

  “I just did.”

  “What about school? I can’t let you give up your dreams for me.”

  “You’re not. I’m choosing to.” I clutch his jersey in my hand and pull his mouth down to mine. “I love you, Tatum, and I’m done messing around. I want to be with you and have little soccer prodigy babies with you. No running, no drama. Just you and me.” He laughs and I join in, the sound infectious.

  “Good, because I’m not letting you go.”

  Epilogue

  Bria

  Ten Years Later

  “Ref, open your eyes! That was a foul! What, oh, you’re going to walk away? Real brave. You better—”

  “Hey, baby, what are you doing?”

  “What do you mean? The guy is blind! The little shit ran right into Mia.” I get a death glare from a woman to my left. I’m assuming she’s the mother of the aforementioned little shit, but I couldn’t care less. I’m sure she already knows her son is a terror.

  “I know, baby, but I don’t think it was intentional since they’re, well, five.” My husband’s sexy smirk pulls me from the oncoming emotional meltdown simmering on the horizon.