TACKLE (Boston Terriers Book 4)

by Jacob Chance

  Leah rubs my hand. “Yeah, they will, but they’re assholes so take that into consideration.”

  “Have you heard from Trevor at all?” Amelia inquires.

  “Not since last night at dinner. He said he’d call and text, and he did neither. He didn’t show up for class today either.”

  Amelia frowns. “This doesn’t sound like him at all. He never flakes on going to class. He takes school very seriously. Owen told me that.”

  “He dragged me out of bed to go to class when I stayed over at his place the other night. Maybe Sandy’s harder to leave.”

  Amelia jabs her elbow into my arm. “Shut up. Don’t even think that.”

  “Maybe he got what he wanted from me. We had sex and the challenge was gone.” I chew on my bottom lip and fight back the urge to cry. How can I have any more left to shed? “I don’t understand how he went from doing such sweet things and being so caring to disrespecting me so badly.”

  Amelia rubs my back. “There has to be some kind of explanation. A guy doesn’t have a complete behavior change for no reason.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m done with him no matter what the excuse is. I never should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt and put myself in this position. I’m here for football and that’s where my focus needs to stay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Trevor

  Today’s been a clusterfuck from the moment I woke up until now. I overslept this morning and didn’t wake up until I was almost late to the gym. Coach busted our asses harder than ever and practice has been one miscommunication after another. I’ve dropped more balls than I’ve caught.

  “You guys need to get your shit together. You’re playing like a high school team and it’s unacceptable.” Coach tugs his ball cap off and runs a hand through his hair before placing it back on. This is a habit of his and it comes out when he’s nervous or agitated. “Get your heads on straight for the next practice. We have a game at the end of this week and it’s not going to be a walk in the park. This is one of your toughest adversaries. You need to be ready.”

  He dismisses us and we move as a cluster inside the building and toward the locker room. Nolan pushes past me, bumping my shoulder once we’re in the hallway.

  “Excuse you.”

  “Fuck off,” he sneers.

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me, asshole.”

  We step inside the locker room and I dump my pads and helmet in my locker cubby and spin around to face Nolan. “If you’ve got something to say, get over here and say it, tough guy.”

  Nolan shucks his pads and drops his helmet on the bench before striding purposefully toward me. He slams his palms into my chest, pushing me backward. Gritting my teeth, I shove him back and he retreats two steps.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “I told you Grace wasn’t your type.” He pushes me again.

  I drive his back into the wall and get in his face. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re a piece of shit for what you did to her.” He looks me in the eye without blinking.

  “What exactly did I do?” We’re nose to nose.

  “Are you going to deny you fucked Sandy last night?”

  I back up slightly, taken by surprise. “What? I didn’t fuck Sandy last night or any time recently.”

  “Dude, don’t deny it. There are pictures of you guys together.”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  “Where are there pictures?” I bark

  “The Boston Terriers Buzz Blog.”

  “Someone give me their phone. Hurry up,” I shout, holding out my hand.

  Owen hands over his and I pull the blog up onto the screen. I skim through the post and get the gist of what’s going on. When I see the pictures of Sandy and I together I realize the gravity of the circumstances. This looks bad. This is fucking bad. Because no matter how much I deny anything happened, there are pictures that make it look like I’m lying. I move away from Nolan and plop down on a bench, running a hand down my face.

  “I’m so fucked.”

  “You’re damn right you are. You should’ve kept your dick in your pants. Grace deserves better,” Nolan lectures.

  “Like you?” I laugh.

  “Maybe. I wouldn’t have treated her like you did.”

  “You know nothing. I didn’t screw around with Sandy. She worked with me last night and she was trashed. I drove her home and helped her to her room. That’s it. I left as soon as she was inside.” I wave the phone around in my hand. “These aren’t romantic pictures. I was holding her up.”

  “Oh, dude, that sucks.” Owen sits down next to me. “Can I have my phone before you throw it?” He smirks trying to provide levity, but there’s nothing amusing about any of this.

  “How am I going to convince Grace nothing happened?”

  “I don’t know. I guess she’ll have to see how sincere you are. Hopefully she believes in your relationship enough to move forward.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure she’s capable of that. It took me so long to get her to give me a chance and now this…” I gesture at his phone. “If I find out who took those pictures, or who the person behind this blog is …,” I trail off, my nostrils flaring with anger.

  Owen grips the top of my shoulder. “I know, man. Don’t worry about that. You need to find Grace and talk with her.”

  He’s absolutely right. I glance at the clock on the wall and realize I’ll see her at work in thirty minutes. My stomach is twisted up inside like it’s playing Twister. Calm down. You can do this. You didn’t do anything wrong and Grace will see you have nothing to hide. I do my best to lessen my nervousness, but I’ve got too much to lose from this. Grace means everything to me.

  My head pounds all the way to work from the mounting tension. My pulse ticks wildly in my neck as I open the door to the restaurant.

  Will she forgive me?

  I step inside, my eyes scanning for any glimpse of Grace, but I see Carla, one of the other employees who works the day shift for the most part.

  I wave as I pass through and head to the kitchen to see if Grace is hiding out back there. Pushing through the door, I find Mr. Duffy standing in front of the grill.

  He peers over his shoulder at me. “I wasn’t sure you’d show.”

  “Why’s that?” Does he know too? Fuck. If he knows, that means Grace also does. Motherfucker. I can’t catch a break.

  “Grace told me what you did.”

  “What does Grace think I did?”

  “She told me you went home with another girl last night.” Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “I took someone home who was too drunk to drive and helped her inside. Nothing happened.”

  “I told Grace she should ask you before she jumped to conclusions.”

  “Wait. You believe me?”

  “I’ve seen the way you look at my daughter. I know you love her. I also know you’re an intelligent guy. I like to think you’re smart enough not to let someone as wonderful as my daughter slip away.”

  “What am I going to do? There are pictures that make it look like we were involved, but I was just helping her walk.”

  “You’re going to need to talk to Grace ASAP.”

  “Can I use your phone? I don’t have service on mine.”

  “Sure.” He grabs it from a shelf, handing it over.

  “Thanks.” I blow out a large exhale. “I’m nervous,” I confess as I dial her number. Two rings go by before she answers.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Grace, it’s me.”

  “Fuck off.” She ends the call before I can say anything else.

  “Shit.” I hand Mr. Duffy his phone and rub the back of my neck. “That didn’t go well.”

  “Did you really expect it to? This is Grace we’re talking about. I don’t call her fireball for nothing.”

  “I knew she’d be upset, but I hoped she’d at least hear me out.”

  “She’s hurt. The guy she loves c
heated on her, or so she thinks. How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

  I got jealous of Nolan for much less.

  “I’d feel like shit.”

  “Right. You’re going to have to give her some time and I hope you’re willing to work hard to win her back.”

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know that and you know that, but those pictures say the opposite. They’re pretty incriminating.”

  “You saw them?”

  “Of course I did. I had to see for myself what the story was, and I can tell by the girl’s body language she’s drunk. But a twenty-one year old girl who thinks her boyfriend cheated on her isn’t going to look past face value or think rationally.”

  “What do I do now? I gotta tell you, I’m at a loss. This is all new territory for me.”

  “Get out of here. Carla’s here and we’ll be fine. Go get a phone and call Grace.”

  “What if she doesn’t answer?”

  “Keep trying until she does.”

  New phone in hand, I type in Grace’s phone number. I’m glad I memorized it the first time she gave it to me. It rings three times before she answers.

  “Hello.” Her tone is wary. I know she doesn’t recognize the number.

  “Please don’t hang up.” I rush the words out.

  “Trevor, what do you want from me? Haven’t you hurt me enough?” Her voice raises.

  “I just want you to hear me out.”

  “I don’t see how you can explain this away. There are pictures. We really have nothing to talk about.”

  “There’s a lot I need to tell you. Will you give me a chance to say everything I need to?”

  “Don’t call me again,” she whispers ending the call.

  Fuck. I fight the urge to throw my new phone against the brick building where I just purchased it. I sit in my vehicle for ten minutes while my head spins with everything that’s going on. It’s so much to take in. How can things be so fucked up? Everything was perfect less than twenty-four hours ago. No matter what, I refuse to let her shut me out. She’s going to hear what I have to say one way or another.

  My knuckles rap against the wooden door. “Grace, open up.” I wait and see if she’ll answer, but of course she doesn’t. Rap, rap, rap. I knock again. “Grace, come on. I need to talk to you.” In my periphery I notice a head leaning out of a doorway and then the person walks toward me.

  “Trevor, haven’t you done enough damage already?” Leah stands with her hands on her hips, eyes shooting daggers at me.

  “I need to talk to her.”

  “Well, she’s not here.”

  “Where is she then?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “As if I’d tell you.”

  “Leah, please. I didn’t cheat on Grace. Sandy was so drunk she couldn’t even stand up straight. I gave her a ride home and walked her to her room. Once she was inside I left and went back to my place.”

  “What were you doing with her in the first place?”

  “It’s complicated, but I swear there’s nothing between us. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

  “Likely story, Trevor. How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

  “Leah, I swear to you, it’s the God’s honest truth. My phone service was shut off so I couldn’t call her. I just had to get a new phone.” I pull the new cell from my front pocket and shake it in front of her. “See?”

  “Look, just give her some time. This is really horrible for her.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I can’t help you. My loyalty is to my friend.”

  “Where’s Amelia?”

  “She’s working.”

  “If you talk to Grace will you please tell her I need to talk to her? If I didn’t love her why would I bother worrying about her?”

  “Even dickheads can feel remorse sometimes.”

  Ouch. I give a curt nod. “Thanks for your help, Leah.”

  Once I’m back in my vehicle, I text Grace.

  Me: Nothing happened with Sandy. She was drunk and I gave her a ride home.

  Grace: Lose my number, Trevor. We’re done.

  Me: I can’t do that, Red. I love you too much to give up before you know everything.

  Grace: Nothing you can say will change anything. Let it go.

  Me: I love you. I’m not letting you forget that.

  Grace: Sticking your dick in another girl besides your current girlfriend is not love.

  Me: I haven’t touched another girl in months.

  Grace: Those pictures prove differently.

  Me: I mean sexually.

  Grace: It’s over. Just put it to rest.

  Me: Never.

  Where would she go if she was that upset? I’ve never met any of her friends from Babson College and as far as I know she hasn’t seen any of them since she started at B.U. Could she have reached out to one of them to see if she could crash there? It seems unlikely to me that she would. She’s a private person and I don’t think she’d want to point out what’s online to more people.

  She wouldn’t go to the bar where Amelia is. Too many people around. She’d want to be alone. Where could she go that she’d feel comfortable and private? It hits me in an instant. I bet she’s at her parents’ house.

  I’m on my way there before I even think about how she’s most likely not going to open the door. But at least she’ll see that I care. That I think she’s worth the effort.

  Fifteen minutes later I pull up in front of their house. No cars are in the driveway, but there are lights on inside the house. Including the one in Grace’s childhood bedroom. I know because she gave me a tour when I was here yesterday and we took a few minutes to make out in her room. I smile at the memory and steel my resolve that I’m going to do whatever it takes to get through to her.

  Opening my door, I step out onto her driveway and march up the brick path to her front door. Ringing the doorbell, I hold my breath and hope for the best. I wait. I wait some more and she doesn’t answer. I ring the bell again and accompany it with some knocking and shouting. “Grace, I know you’re in there. Open up.” She still doesn’t open the door. I give it one more shot hoping that three’s the charm like the saying goes. But in this case it’s clearly not because I’m still standing here staring at the door instead of my girl’s beautiful face. “Fuck,” I shout and stalk back down the path.

  After little sleep last night, my head is a foggy mess. My brain feels fuzzy and static filled when I try to focus during class. Each professor sounds like a buzzing in my ears when they speak and I’m pretty sure I tanked on a test and a quiz. All I can think of is Grace, and it’s impossible not to worry about her.

  Is she okay? Is she eating? Sleeping? Is she going to class, or is she too embarrassed? Are students harassing her because of that post?

  God, I hope not. I’ve been getting pats on the back from other guys and coy looks from girls, and Grace is probably being treated like the bad guy in all of this. When in reality there is no bad guy, except whoever took those pics. I’d really like to know who it was, but there are more pressing things for me to focus on, like getting Grace back. How the fuck am I going to accomplish it?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Grace

  I’ve ignored life for the last two days by holing up at my parents’ house, skipping class, and missing practice. But I can’t put off the reality of what happened and I can’t let it ruin my life. I have responsibilities and I need to face this head on.

  Trevor texted and called me repeatedly each day. I deleted every message without reading them. Every voicemail he left, I deleted without listening.

  I made the decision that it’s time to buckle down and get myself back on track. I made an error in judgement by going out with Trevor and at least I learned early on. I didn’t waste years on him like I did with my ex. I can’t allow myself to spiral downward and ruin my life.

  Glancing at the clo
ck on the wall behind the counter, I notice the time. Trevor’s shift starts in ten minutes and I expect him to walk in at any moment. I refuse to let him bait me while we’re at work. We’re not discussing what happened. I don’t care how hard he tries to push me to listen to his pathetic excuses. This is not the place to hash it all out, and really there’s no right time or place to do so. It’s over and done with. I just want to move on from it.

  “Hey, Red,” Trevor’s deep voice travels up my spine to tickle the nape of my neck. I grit my teeth, holding in the shiver. I won’t let him see how much he affects me. He lost that right.

  “Hi.” I can be professional while we’re here, but that’s all. If I see him on campus or in class we won’t be exchanging any pleasantries.

  “Where do you want me?”

  Anywhere but here. I busy myself wiping down the counter. Anything to avoid looking at him. Thinking about him is painful enough. Looking at him might kill me. Can I make it through this entire shift without looking at him?

  “Go ask my dad if he needs you.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Turns out my father didn’t need Trevor’s help and he’s been working out front with me. He’s charming with the customers and he brings everything to them in a timely manner. I haven’t looked at him once.

  Okay, that’s a lie.

  I’ve peeked at him a hundred times at least, but they’ve all been brief and when he wasn’t aware. He looks as tired as I feel, and that makes me feel a tiny bit of satisfaction. Why should I be the only miserable one? Especially when I didn’t do anything wrong.

  I push open the door to the kitchen and call out to my dad, “Hey, old man. Do you need anything?”

  “Come here, honey. I want to talk to you.” I close the distance between us. “How are you doing with everything that happened?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine, Fireball, and you don’t need to pretend to be.”

  “Okay. It sucks. I’m sad. And seeing him doesn’t help.”