THE MAN. THE GAME. THE BABY. (A Knight Brothers Novel) (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)

by London Casey

  Trouble made me who I was… and it brought Willow into my life once… it would work again.

  (Willow)

  I finished my glass of wine and casually looked at my phone to see what time it was.

  That’s exactly how things were going with Trevor. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either.

  I realized two seconds into the date that I had forgotten to call Roman back. But I was still completely shocked that Scarlett put a damn pregnancy test on my bed. I couldn’t be pregnant. I tossed the test into the nightstand and left it there to hide. It was impossible I could be pregnant. I was on the pill.

  I took it… well, I mostly took it every day.

  The last little while had been hit or miss, sure, but it wasn’t like I was on the bed with my legs open with a FREE sign on me. I only fooled around with Roman twice. That was it. Just two times.

  Two times he came inside you. Two times that you weren’t sure what day it was and whether you hadn’t taken your pill.

  I had tried to do the calendar count back thing a few times and couldn’t figure out when my last period really was. I had always been regular and never tracked it. I remembered having it during court when the Donnelly disaster was happening. I had been in court, standing there, listening to the prosecution tear him apart on the stand and it felt like someone was inside my lower back using my insides as a punching bag.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  I caught myself staring into space. “Sorry. I… my mind. Lawyer shit.”

  “Try me then,” Trevor said. “Would you like more wine?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He was dressed up nice, a shirt and tie, no jacket. I hated myself for it but the first thing I noticed was that his shoulders were boney. They pressed against his shoulders and the shirt was baggy. Nothing like Roman. Roman was a tank. He would have filled that shirt out…

  This was who I had become?

  “What’s the case?” Trevor asked. “Come on, we can break the ice here, Willow. This is weird for both of us. I feel like I’ve been chasing you for years. You then call me out of nowhere. Fuck it. Be casual. I can’t stand dating.”

  “Neither can I, Trevor.”

  “So talk work.”

  I had to scramble and think of something. “Did you ever lose a big case?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you get fired or punished?”

  “I took heat,” he said. “That’s it. Why? You still worried about the Donnelly thing?”

  “Yeah. I’m in a mess with this Roman thing.”

  “That was punishment? If you feel unfairly treated, Willow…” Trevor reached across the table and touched my hand. “I know people who could help. Other attorneys.”

  “I’m not suing Jay,” I said. “Plus, this is a chance for a promotion. I might have a chance at something bigger.”

  Trevor took his hand back. “Got it. Just making sure you know there’s options. It’s a hard situation.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I said.

  The conversation then fell flat as could be. So much that I actually excused myself to go to the bathroom. I stood there and stared at myself in the mirror. Like I was trying to fake myself out.

  Are you going to sleep with him? If you do that, it’ll hurt Roman. It’ll piss him off. But it’ll take the sting away. Roman is the fantasy. Trevor is reality. You have to face that.

  I tried to call Roman but he didn’t answer.

  “You better be staying out of trouble,” I said on his voicemail. “Call me. Please.”

  Had I really just called another guy while I was on a date?

  That was a business call. Just checking in.

  And you want Roman to check in between your legs again.

  “Fuck,” I whispered.

  I went back to the table and saw Trevor sitting there, all proper, with his hands folded. He would be the white picket fence guy. He’d stress about the election. He’d worry about the 401(k).

  Any woman would be lucky to have that.

  But that? That terrified me.

  I sat back down and looked at Trevor.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I think I need to go.”

  “You think? Did something happen?”

  “Roman. I haven’t heard from him today.”

  Great. Now use Roman to get out of this crappy date.

  “Oh. Okay. Can I help with anything?”

  I shook my head. “Trevor… the thing is…”

  My phone started to ring.

  I jumped up so fast, I hit the table and spilled some of my wine. I scrambled for my phone and saw it was Leslie calling. I thought about ignoring it but I knew she wouldn’t call me unless it was something important.

  “Leslie, what’s wrong?”

  “I hate to do this… but Roman’s in trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Get online right now. He’s been arrested.”

  I scrambled to get out of the restaurant. I was in my car and speeding away in seconds. My mind raced as fast as my car did. I hurried to call Ted but he didn’t answer. Then I called Johnny. He didn’t answer. I had goddamn nothing to go by except stuff popping up online about Roman.

  The gist?

  He got busted for street racing.

  Fucking street racing.

  He was arrested locally so I started calling police stations until I found the one he was at.

  All this detective work done as I was driving, putting myself in danger as my focus was not completely on the road.

  By the time I got to the police station, there was already a line of media outside.

  I pulled around back and parked, then made a run for the back door.

  An officer was waiting for me. “No media.”

  “I’m Roman’s attorney.”

  “He has an attorney here.”

  “Ted? Shit.”

  “Are you Willow?”

  “Yes. I’m Willow. I’m his attorney.”

  “He’s looking for you.”

  The officer let me in. I made it down a hall before Ted appeared from nowhere. His tie was loose, his face red. We met eyes and he shook his head.

  “Ted,” I said. “I tried calling you.”

  “Where were you?” he asked.

  “Trying to find him. He wouldn’t answer me.”

  “You should have called me then. He was up visiting his father. I guess his old man is recovering from surgery.”

  “Oh, shit,” I said. “I know that situation hurts him. He won’t tell me why.”

  “You know what? I’m at the point where I don’t care anymore,” Ted said. “I’ve worked out terms to get him out. He’s your problem, Willow. If I see him, I’ll hit him. But I’ll tell you this… figure this out. I’ll talk to Jay about this and we’ll smooth it over. This is partly my fault.”

  “What is?”

  “For not telling you the truth.”

  “Which is what?”

  Ted pulled me away from everyone. “His father used to beat him up. Bad. Tried killing him and his brothers a few times.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Roman’s mother… ah, goddammit. She committed suicide when he was a kid.”

  Roman sat with his back against the wall. He had one leg bent and just stared at the wall. The cell was small with a concrete block as a bed. It was just a holding cell and normally had more than one person in it. But since Roman was famous, he got special treatment.

  I walked up to the cell and grabbed the bars. “What were you doing?”

  “Did you hear?”

  “Maybe. Why don’t you tell me your version?”

  Roman looked at me.

  His eyes were so dark, so beautiful.

  His mother committed suicide?

  It ripped through me.

  “What version?” he asked. “The legal version or the truth?”

  “It’s just you and me, Roman. With bars between us. How fitting.”

  Roman turned and
stood up. “How fitting? You’re the one who put that up. Not me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Exactly. I went after you. Remember that. You wanted to stay away. I respected that. As much as I fucking hated it.”

  “This is my fault?”

  Roman gripped the bars. I wondered if he could tear the cell door right off. Probably not, but still…

  “How was your date?”

  I felt my heart sink. “Really?”

  “What? I’m just asking. I mean, if I interrupted it… sorry.”

  “You fucking prick,” I said. “What did you do? Have someone spy on me?”

  “I called your office looking for you,” he said. “You didn’t answer your phone. I was visiting my brothers. I went to the hospital. I saw him. Shit stirred up inside me and I thought I could rely on you. You’re the only one who calms that down, Willow. I guess not.”

  “Don’t you dare try to put this on me,” I said. “I can do whatever I want, when I want.”

  “So can I.”

  “You’re behind bars. I’m not.”

  I wanted to make a clear point to Roman but that got ruined a second later when an officer came to let him out. Whatever deal Ted made had gone through and Roman was out.

  “Can you give me a minute alone with my client?” I asked the officer.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Good luck this season, Roman.”

  “Thanks,” Roman said but he kept his eyes on me.

  “Do you want to hurt me?” I asked.

  “I’m not answering that.”

  He started to move and I put a hand to his chest. “You’re hurting me with this.”

  “A guy pulled up next to me at a red light. I was dying for a drink and a blowjob, okay? I was trying to fight it off and wait for you. This guy revved his engine. I looked at him and was ready to go. So we raced. I burned him down the street, his supped up piece of shit car couldn’t stand against my luxury car. I took a hard right, tires screaming, and a cop car came flying up on me. He’d been watching and waiting for it. I guess there’s been activity on that street.”

  “Jesus, Roman,” I said. “A drink and a blowjob?” I tightened my hand around his shirt. “You’re jealous that I was out with someone.”

  “I never said that,” he said.

  He put his hand to mine and ripped my hand away. He looked right at me. “I’ll tell you this, sweetie, you can search all you want out there, but you’ll never find it.”

  “Oh, and you’re going to be a committed man to a relationship?”

  I thought about the pregnancy test in my nightstand.

  Not a chance, Willow. You are not pregnant.

  “You put a lot of words in my mouth. Maybe you should try my cock.”

  I slapped him across the face. “Maybe you should learn to talk to me then. I’m tired of thinking about you.”

  Roman rubbed his cheek. He stepped at me, bumping into me, putting me back until I was against the wall. I could smell his sweat. His skin. Everything.

  “What do you want to know about me? Huh? My brothers? My father?”

  “Your mother,” I said.

  I knew I had pushed too hard at him.

  Roman made fists and put them to the wall. He had me blocked in, not that I was trying to get away from him. I wanted to get closer to him.

  He slowly shook his head. “You don’t…”

  “Is everything okay here, Roman?” a voice asked.

  It was the officer who had let him out.

  “Yeah,” Roman said. “My legal representation was just getting ready to leave. She’s going to go out front and face the press while I sneak out back.” He looked at the officer. “You’re giving me a ride?”

  “Sure,” the officer said.

  Roman pushed away from the wall and walked away.

  He didn’t say another word to me.

  And, yes, I walked out the front door of the damn police station.

  There were two dozen people there, cameras flashing, questions being yelled.

  I stood there and looked around, realizing what I had gotten myself into.

  I opened my mouth, trying to have my mind conjure up as much bullshit as I could.

  Then it really hit me.

  This was the life Roman lived.

  Of course he couldn’t talk to me. Everyone watched him closely. Everyone waited for him to fuck up. He had tried to do the right thing by getting in contact with me. But I had been in the damn bathtub. Then I had dealt with a stupid pregnancy test. Then my date.

  I hurt him. I hurt Roman.

  I walked down the steps and kept my head down.

  I rushed away to my car.

  By the time I started to drive, tears were in my eyes.

  I’d never hated someone… and loved them at the same time.

  (Roman)

  A car was a car.

  One phone call to my accountant and one phone call to my car guy and I had a new car before lunch. It was outside my luxury apartment and the keys were hand delivered by a man in a suit named Paul. He asked me for a picture with the car and I took the keys and slammed the door in his face.

  Before I could take the vehicle out for a test drive, I made sure my license was still good to go. I called Ted and he told me the friend in him would say not to drive but in all legality, my license was free and clear.

  I hung up before he could ask another question about what had happened, or about Willow.

  Then my fucking phone rang again and it was Mackey.

  “You son of a bitch,” he yelled.

  “Careful what you say about my mother,” I said. “I am not in a good mood.”

  “Neither am I,” he said. “Robert is going to eat me alive with this.”

  “It’s blown out of proportion.”

  “Oh? How’s that? Last I heard you were arrested for street racing. I even believe there’s a video of you. Just speeding down on the road like an asshole and cutting a turn before the cops caught you.”

  “Keyword there is speeding. That’s all it was. Me speeding. Wrong? Sure. Did I hurt someone? No. I was in my car, doing my thing. When the police took it the wrong way because of the activity on that street, I didn’t fight back either, Mackey. I let my lawyers handle it. I already have a car again. My license is fine. This is simply bullshit.”

  “What this is… it’s fuel for Robert.”

  “It’s a story for Robert,” I said. “He can keep his league in the spotlight during the entire off season because of me. He should be paying me.”

  “He is!” Mackey yelled. “You’re the goddamn highest paid player in the league. I negotiated that contract for you, remember?”

  “Don’t get high and mighty on me,” I said. “What you need to do is explain it to Robert the way I just did.”

  “What you need to do is come clean.”

  “Come clean?”

  “With your donations,” Mackey said. “I’m sorry, Roman, I know you don’t like that. But you need to come forward and be there. Spend the next few weeks before training camp going from organization to organization with another check, a smile, and some pictures. That’s what your boy Shawn does. Keeps his nose clean.”

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that to me.”

  “No. Don’t. It’s the truth.”

  “The truth? You can go fuck yourself, Mackey. I’m not donating that money because I’m looking for my image to get better. I’m not going to take a picture with some woman who has gone through hell because it’ll be about me. It should be about them. Their organization needs the money to provide for those women. They’re the heroes, Mackey, not me. I’m just a drinking, pussy loving, bar fighting, street racing athlete.”

  I had heard enough.

  I ended the call with Mackey and tossed my phone to the table. I then tossed my keys too. I had nowhere to go. I could go to the gym but there was probably media waiting for me. Plus, a few of the other guys had come back and they w
ere shuffling rookies in and out, trying to get them acclimated to their new life.

  My job would eventually be to show up and talk to them. Tell them how their lives were going to keep changing and how to stay out of trouble and make it through training camp alive.

  Me giving advice on how to stay out of trouble?

  It was hilarious.

  I grabbed a beer from the fridge and then grabbed a chin-up bar from the closet and attached it to the doorway to the bathroom. I did sets of fifty and drank beer. My little workout for an hour.

  I couldn’t calm down. I couldn’t stop thinking about Willow. She’d said I hurt her. Maybe I did. Her job was on the line because of me. Just what I needed - more pressure in my life. Shit. I had to be big, fast, strong, throw accurate, take hits, manage my line, rebel against my coaches when needed. I had to put a football in impossible places on the field, making damn sure guys like Shawn were superstars.

  Now I cared about a woman?

  Willow kept insisting to hear about my family. Nobody knew everything about my family and that was my doing. I didn’t need pity. I didn’t need some story of how an abused kid who lost his mother to suicide grew up to become the best quarterback in the league. No TV specials with sad music, old pictures, and deep questions.

  I got another beer and switched to pushups and sit-ups.

  The thought of Willow on a date bothered me. Some guy trying to talk to her, flirt with her, trying to ask questions. Some guy touching her hand, her arm, maybe leaning in for a kiss. Touching her face, fingers stroking her hair. Shit, maybe even taking her home. Putting her on his bed, taking her clothes off, not knowing where to touch her or how.

  I jumped up and grabbed an empty beer bottle. I turned and launched it. It slammed against a wall in the dining room, shattering. I made fists and went after the same wall.

  You’re going to fight a wall? Because of a woman?

  I stopped myself and stood there, sweating, out of breath. My housekeeper would come clean the apartment later, including the beer bottle. So I left it there.

  I grabbed my phone and called Willow.

  She answered the phone and sounded tired.

  From having sex all night with some guy?

  “Roman? Everything okay?”

  “Do you like him?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Do you like him?”

  “Like who?”

  “The date guy.”