Fighting For Love - A Standalone Novel (A Bad Boy Sports Romance Love Story) (Burbank Brothers, Book #5)

by Naomi Niles

  “Cops? Really.” Mom turned to my father. “That boy is done if our daughter has to talk to the cops because of him.”

  “That isn’t the case, Mother,” I said.

  Dylan had saved me. He’d known how much of a threat that Greg was and had faced the odds to save me. I wouldn’t let my mother talk badly about him.

  “I’m Officer Redmond and this is Officer Clarke. We need to speak to you about the incident earlier today.”

  He glanced at my parents. My mother was dabbing her eyes. I rolled mine. “They can stay. I’m eighteen, but they are my parents.”

  The cops sat and indicated the chair across from them. I sat next to my dad, who put a hand on my shoulder.

  “We need to know what happened.”

  I took a deep breath. Too much was going to get revealed, but I was tired of lying. “Greg lured me into the locker room. He said he had something to show me.”

  “This is Mr. Grand?”

  “Yes, Greg Grand.”

  “Okay. What happened next?”

  The officer had kind eyes, so it wasn’t hard talking to him. “He taped my hands together. He made some threats.”

  “We need you to be specific.”

  I gulped. I hadn’t really been thinking about what he’d said. I’d been concentrating on Dylan. Now that I had to say the words out loud, I suddenly realized what I had escaped. Or what Dylan had saved me from.

  “Uh, he said he was going to have sex with me.”

  “Would you have consented?”

  “No, sir. I didn’t want to have sex with Greg.”

  The officer looked down at his notepad then at me. “I have to ask this, I’m sorry. Have you ever had sex with Greg Grand?”

  “No. I haven’t.” My mother let out a noisy breath. My father squeezed my shoulder.

  “Did you know him?”

  “I’d been on a date with him this past weekend. It didn’t go well, and I told him that I didn’t want to see him again.”

  “Verbally?”

  “And in text messages.”

  Officer Clarke nodded. “We’ll need a screen shot emailed to us. We might have to take your phone in as evidence, so don’t delete the text stream.”

  Dylan had told me to keep it. He was so much smarter about these things than I was. “I won’t.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Greg had me up against the wall when Dylan came in.”

  “Dylan Cabot?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Go ahead,” prompted Officer Redmond when I didn’t pick up the story right away.

  I swallowed, then began again. I could see my mother staring at me in disbelief. “Dylan tackled Greg and told me to run. I ran out of the locker room and found a teacher. We went back in. When I saw Dylan, he was on the ground, unconscious.”

  “So, you didn’t see who hit him?”

  “No, but no one else was in the locker as far as I could tell. I was herded out after that.”

  “Is there anything you want to add?”

  “No, sir.”

  Officer Redmond closed his notebook. “Okay.” He sifted a card out of his pocket. “Send me that text stream and if there is anything you can think of, please let me know.”

  “Okay, sir.”

  The officers left, leaving a vacuum in the room. I looked at my father who had a grim frown on his face.

  “Are you sure you weren’t misunderstanding Greg?” my mother said.

  “Mallory, for God’s sake. He taped her wrists together. Greg is the bad guy in all of this. Not Dylan,” my father said.

  My mother pressed her lips together. Why was she this judgmental? Even given the facts, she still thought Dylan was bad news.

  “I still think we wouldn’t be in this spot if it weren’t for Dylan.”

  “Mallory, be quiet. You just don’t want to see the good in him.”

  I sighed. My father was right. “If Dylan hadn’t intervened, I don’t know what would have happened.”

  “Why did you go into that locker room?” my mother asked.

  “It’s my fault?” I shouted.

  My father gave me a hug. “It’s okay, kitten. Everything’s fine.”

  A nurse came into the waiting room. “Are you the Deans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Since Dylan is eighteen, he is considered an adult, but he has given permission for you to be told about his medical condition.”

  I took my father’s hand as the nurse sat down.

  “He’s had a slight concussion and will probably have a headache for a few days. He needs rest and to stay calm. You’ll take him home with you?”

  “Of course,” my father said and I couldn’t love the man any more than I did at that moment.

  He wasn’t going to throw Dylan out onto the street.

  “Can I see him?”

  “He’s getting his discharge orders. He’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  I nodded and my father stood. “Let me make sure we get sent the bill.”

  Okay. I could love the man more.

  ***

  Dylan hobbled in before my mother could say anything. I went to hug him, but stopped, not knowing what hurt on him.

  “Did you break anything?” I said.

  “No. I just have a killer headache,” he said. “Is your dad here?”

  “He’s off paying the bill,” my mother said. I could hear the bitterness in her voice. I wanted to scream.

  Dylan was hurt and he’d saved me from an assault, and she still couldn’t see the good in him. Dylan grimaced. He’s heard the negative tones in her voice also. I sighed.

  “As soon as he’s done, we’ll go home.”

  My mother held out her hand. “Can I read your discharge orders? What will I be doing for the next few days?”

  “You don’t need to take care of me, Mrs. Dean.”

  Her face softened. “Yes, I do, Dylan. Thank you for helping my daughter.”

  That probably almost killed her. I gave her a big smile, but she didn’t return it. Dylan handed her the paper he had in his hand. She read it while he stared at her, looking hopeful. Maybe she was softening, but I wasn’t so easily convinced.

  My father returned. “We’re all set. Let’s get this boy home.”

  Dylan rose carefully. I wanted to help him, but I had no idea how. “Can I see his discharge papers?” I looked at him. “Is that okay?”

  “Sure.”

  My mother handed them to me. “He has to rest. I think we should set him up in the basement so he had movies or television to watch.”

  “You don’t have to go to any trouble, Mrs. Dean. I can stay in my room.”

  “No, Dylan. It’s fine.”

  My mother could buck up when necessary. Dylan nodded. My father smiled and kissed my mother on the cheek. “It’s a good thing you’re doing, Mallory.”

  “I wish my heart was as big as yours some days, Rob.”

  I guess my heart was bigger than my mother’s.

  When we arrived home, I went downstairs with Dylan. I brought my homework to do. “I talked to the cops before you were released,” I said.

  “I did, too.”

  My phone dinged. “That’s Helena. They charged Greg with assault, but his parents’ lawyer got him out on bail.”

  “Of course.”

  “His dad is a lawyer, so he knows other lawyers.”

  “Right.”

  Dylan had his head on the back of the couch. His shoeless feet were resting on the coffee table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m okay, Taylor.”

  “Is it just your head that hurts?”

  “No. My whole body hurts. Greg did slam me against the locker once. It’s not like on television. I didn’t walk away from the fight unscathed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  I looked down at the pencil in my hand. “If I would have believed you that he was dangerous, this wouldn’t have happened.”


  “It was going to happen at some point. He’s pissed at you, and Bailey used him to get back at you. Does anyone know that part of this?”

  “No, I was able to keep that out of my story.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re safe.”

  “I am. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.” I shuddered. “You’re a hero.”

  “I’m not a hero, Taylor. Please don’t call me that.”

  “You’re my hero, for sure.”

  He shook his head then grimaced.

  “You want me to leave you alone?”

  “No, Taylor. Stay. Just, maybe, talk a little less.”

  “I’ll get you a soda, then I’ll be quiet.”

  I retrieved two sodas from the small refrigerator. I handed one to Dylan. “Thanks.”

  I nodded and went back to my homework. He sat there, not watching television. “You can turn on the TV. It won’t bother me.”

  “I’m not sure I want to watch television, but thanks.”

  I did my history homework, then looked up at him. His breathing was regular. He must have fallen asleep. He had the soda resting on his flat stomach. Should I put it on the table so he didn’t drop it?

  I rose and tried to edge the can out of his hand. He startled awake, his eyes flying open.

  “I’m sorry. I was just putting your can on the table so it wouldn’t spill.”

  We were close. His eyes looked darker than usual, like molten chocolate ready to be poured onto a cake. Now, I was hungry.

  “It’s okay.”

  He didn’t move. He just stared at me. My mouth went dry. He was really cute. Even injured, he had a certain appeal.

  I stepped away, afraid for what might happen. I could see the disappointment in his eyes. He put the can on the table. “Now, I won’t spill it.”

  “No, you won’t.” I went back to my homework, but I found him staring at me. “What?”

  “You stick your tongue out slightly when you’re concentrating,” he said.

  I laughed a little embarrassed. “I thought I stopped doing that ages ago.”

  “No, you didn’t. It’s cute.”

  Cute? I was cute? I blinked, not sure how to react. I didn’t want to sound like a complete doofus to the guy who had saved me. The guy who was looking cuter and cuter.

  “Why a snake tattoo?”

  “I thought it was cool.”

  “Will you get it filled in?”

  “No, I like it this way.”

  “How far up your arm does it go?”

  “To my shoulder,” he said.

  “How long did it take?”

  “I don’t remember. It was over a couple of days. You want to see it?”

  My mouthy went dry. “Uh, sure.”

  He took off his shirt then turned to show me his side. His abs were flat, but he had some muscle to him.

  “Cool.”

  My fingers itched to touch it, but I thought that was asking too much. Too personal. I suddenly needed to put some distance between us. “I wonder if my mother is making dinner soon.”

  “I don’t smell anything yet.”

  “You hungry? I’ll go see how long it will be.”

  Chicken, I thought to myself as I escaped upstairs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Taylor

  I turned from my computer to see Dylan standing in my doorway. I’d thought I’d heard a knock, but wasn’t sure. He’d only taken a few days to recover from his concussion and was back at school by the time Friday rolled around.

  “Hi.”

  I’d enjoyed my time hanging with him with week. He was smart, funny, and nothing like what I thought he’d be from what he looked like. He wasn’t dangerous, at all. No, he was a sweet guy and I was beginning to have feelings for him. That was bad. He was so amazingly off-limits to me.

  We lived in the same house. If I got involved with Dylan, my father might kick him out. So, I’d decided that I had to avoid him.

  But he was so cute and had been so sweet to me. Even with his concussion, he was still helping me with math. I might even get a B this quarter.

  “Hi,” I said back.

  He shuffled his feet, looking nervous, which made him even cuter. The boy was asking me something that was important to him. I gave him my full attention.

  “Uh, it seems that I’m going to compete in this weekend’s mathlete tournament.”

  “Nice.”

  “Yeah, one of the other guys is sick so they asked me. I’m not sure I’m prepared, but I’ll do what I can.”

  “That’s great, Dylan. Good luck.”

  He grimaced. “The thing is, I wondered if you would come watch?”

  Watch a mathlete tournament. I hoped my face didn’t show that I wasn’t interested, but then again, this was important to Dylan. Even if I didn’t love the idea, I should go. I planted a smile on my face. “I’d love to. Where is it?”

  “It’s at our high school this time,” he said. “This morning. I’m on my way there right now, but it doesn’t start until ten.”

  “I can do that, Dylan. I’ll be there. Do I need tickets?”

  “No, it’s free.”

  “I’ll bring Helena.”

  His face lit up. “It’ll be nice to have people other than parents in the audience,” he said.

  Oh. Brother.

  I called Helena, who was still the only friend talking to me. As if everyone hadn’t been mad enough before, now with Greg getting charged with assault, they were all even more pissed. Though, his friends had squealed on him to get reduced charges.

  Whatever.

  “Hey, home girl,” Helena said.

  “You want to go to a mathlete event this morning at the high school?”

  “Sure. I got nothing going on.”

  “Good. I have the car back, so I’ll pick you up at 9:30. I can’t imagine we’ll have trouble getting seats.”

  Boy, was I wrong. The auditorium was packed. I glanced at Helena. “Who knew this was a big deal?”

  She laughed. “Well, I’ve been to one of these before. I just never asked you because I figured you’d laugh. Then Dylan came into your life and you’ve loosened up a bit.”

  I had to laugh. “Between most of my so called friends being mad at me, I’ve had to expand my horizons.”

  “Andm you get to spend more time with me.”

  We found two seats in the middle and sat in them. “I know I’ve been a horrible friend to you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Just don’t throw me over when Bailey and Barbie come back.”

  “I won’t. In fact, I hope they don’t come back. I still have to see them at cheerleading, but that’s it.” I laughed. “The best part is that they have to listen to me since I’m captain.”

  She laughed. “You are probably enjoying that too much.”

  The house lights dimmed and the competition started. The crowd cheered like it was a football game. I looked at Helena, who seemed to be just as excited as everyone else. This was too weird – even for the new me.

  I wasn’t sure what to think. I didn’t know any of the kids on the stage besides Dylan. I also didn’t know anyone in the audience. Helena and I were in a sea of strangers and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  Finally, there was an intermission. I hadn’t cheered once. I probably should have gotten into it more, but this was not my crowd.

  Helena and I purchased, sodas then went back to our seats. “I don’t really get the excitement in it,” I commented.

  “You don’t get it? Or you don’t understand the questions?”

  “Either. I don’t even know why the answers are right, so how can I get excited?” I said.

  This wasn’t my thing. I just had to admit it. I wasn’t this smart, and I wasn’t comfortable around people this smart. Who knew Dylan could kick such academic ass.

  I looked for him, but the mathletes didn’t come out into the lobby. At half time, the coach gave the football team a pep talk.
Did the mathletes have a coach, too? I had no idea about any of this, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  Give me a good athletic event and I could tell you all about it. I had to know when to cheer, so our faculty advisor had taught us about the various sports. Each year, the new cheerleaders had to go through it.

  It would be embarrassing if they cheered for the wrong team.

  “Uh, I don’t think I want to stay for the second half,” I said.

  “You aren’t having a good time? Not even watching Dylan?”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I was uncomfortable with how smart he was. Maybe we wouldn’t make a good pair.

  As much as he’d been sweet to me, he probably knew that I wasn’t very smart. Not just in math, but overall.

  “Not even watching Dylan.”

  “I’ll find a ride home, Taylor.”

  “You mad that I’m ditching you?”

  “As long as it isn’t for the B girls, then no.”

  ***

  I went home to do some homework and laundry. I’d been doing my own laundry for years. I think my mother was ready to be done being a mother. Sad, really.

  I hoped that if I had kids, I wouldn’t be finished before the kids were.

  I sat in the laundry room reading the latest by Christina Paul on my Kindle. I loved historical romances. My phone rang – Dylan. What was I going to say to him? I couldn’t ignore him. He knew that I always kept my phone with me.

  “Hi, Dylan.”

  “Hey, Taylor. I’m sorry you left.”

  “Yeah.”

  I could hear cheering in the back. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was a at a basketball game.

  “We won.”

  “That’s great, Dylan. Congratulations.”

  “It is. I answered the winning question.”

  Wow. He was that smart. “That’s great.”

  “You don’t sound excited.”

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t get that excited.”

  “If I’d made the winning touchdown, you’d be screaming. In fact, if it had been a sport, you would have stayed for the whole thing.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I was a terrible person. Most of it was because I wasn’t smart. I never would be. I was good at science, but not genius good. Just good. “I guess I’m just more into that than this.”

  “I thought you were different, Taylor.”

  “I thought I was, too. At least, I did go. Don’t I get credit for that?”