Out Of Bounds (Brit Boys Sports Romance Book 3)

by J. H. Croix

  “Are you okay?” I asked when he didn’t say anything for a moment.

  He gave his head a small shake when Stanley stepped to his side and nudged his hand. Alex stroked Stanley, his hand sliding in a path along the center of Stanley’s back. He’d quickly come to know what Stanley loved and commenced to idly scratch between Stanley’s shoulders. Alex looked back up at me. “I’m fine. You?”

  Whatever tension he’d been holding eased. His eyes softened as he looked at me. I took a breath and the knot of tension I hadn’t noticed dissolved. “Ready to run,” I replied.

  He held my gaze for a few more beats, his eyes searching. For what, I didn’t know. “Okay then. Let’s go.” He glanced to Stanley. “Ready Stanley?”

  Stanley simply nudged Alex’s leg with his gray head. At that, we started jogging. It worked out that the distance from my apartment to the park was just enough to warm us up. By the time we jogged through the park entrance, we were ready to pick up the pace. We didn’t talk much while we ran, which suited me fine. Alex’s pace was strong and steady. Aside from the layers of reasons why I enjoyed running with him, he was nearly perfect as a running partner for me. He could easily hold pace and his stamina was excellent. Given that he was a professional soccer player, this wasn’t surprising, but nevertheless I appreciated it.

  We ran through the wooded portion of the park and down to a pathway that offered a view of Puget Sound. Gulls called and a salty breeze gusted off the water. The old runner’s high that I loved rose inside, something I’d never quite felt when I ran on a treadmill. Whether it was a myth or not, I loved the rush of adrenaline and the soft exhilaration I felt when I ran through the cool morning air. It had rained during the night, so the air was earthy and felt as if it had been washed clean by the rain. Sun glittered on the damp leaves and grass.

  Stanley ran on one side of me with Alex on the other, his footfalls steady and even. I felt strong this morning as we crested a small rise and turned a corner on the path. I was looking out toward the water when I sensed Alex go tense. I glanced to his face to see those tight lines again, his eyes dark. I followed his gaze to see Joe Schmidt, my personal hell, running in the distance. That sick feeling of dread coiled in my gut, but I pushed back against it. It had been four years since Joe raped me. He’d done a measly two months in jail, and I’d moved on as best I could. I was determined not to let his presence ruin what I’d found again. I swallowed against the fear and kept running. I felt half-sick and ready to vomit, but if I was ever going to get past this awful feeling, I could do it with Stanley and Alex.

  Alex slowed his pace and glanced to me. “Let’s take a different route today.”

  I didn’t know how, but in a flash I realized he knew I’d been raped and that Joe was the man responsible. I stopped abruptly, a wild feeling coursing through me—fear mixed with dread mixed with adrenaline mixed with a dose of recklessness.

  “Why?”

  Joe was still a good distance away, but his stride kept moving in our direction. Alex met my gaze, his own expression a mix of anger and frustration. “Because,” he bit out.

  “Who told you?” I asked.

  Alex’s eyes widened. He rested a hand on his hip, his breath coming in heaves. “Harper… Bloody hell. Can we talk about this later?”

  Neither one of us was saying aloud what we were talking about, but it was clear. “We can talk later, but we’re not taking a different route.”

  My tone was mulish, and most of me thought I was crazy. Completely off my rocker, in fact. You don’t have to get comfy with seeing Joe. He raped you. Getting past it doesn’t mean getting okay around him. That voice was insistent and quite rational. Yet, I was in a strange place right now. I didn’t want to bend my life into contortions to avoid Joe. I’d been doing that for four years. I perversely wanted him to know I didn’t give a damn and I wasn’t afraid. I had nothing to lose because he’d already smashed my life to smithereens once. He couldn’t do it again. Plus, I had Alex with me. I knew I was safe with him.

  Alex leaned his head back to stare at the sky before lasering me with his dark gaze again. “Unless you want me to beat him senseless right now, we’d best take another route,” he said flatly.

  I had no idea how Alex pieced together who Joe was, but I knew without a doubt that if I insisted we cross paths with Joe, Alex would probably do just as he said. As it was, his fists were clenched and his face dark with anger. Alex, who was almost always calm, who felt like a rock of safety to me, felt dangerous right now. Not dangerous to me, but most definitely dangerous to Joe. Much as a part of me wouldn’t mind seeing Joe get his ass kicked, that wasn’t what I wanted right now. I looked back at Alex, a rush of emotion welling inside of me. I fought to keep from crying and couldn’t say if they were good tears or bad tears. Maybe both. I finally nodded in assent and started running again, following Alex’s lead as he turned up another path.

  I could feel the coiled energy coming off of Alex in waves as we ran and didn’t quite know what to do about any of it. The facts of my rape were no secret to anyone who knew me, or anyone who happened to be in Seattle at the time of the rape. It was all over the news because I’d been a track star at University of Washington, and Joe had been one at another nearby university. Looking back, I occasionally wondered how I’d had the courage to report the rape. In hindsight, I think it was because I’d been raised to believe things worked out how they should. People did bad things, you told the police, and they made it right. Little did I know it was never that simple when it came to rape.

  Joe had jogged by me in the semi-darkness that morning. I’d recognized him because he was one of a number of runners who frequented the university grounds. Another pass by him and the rest was a jumble of awful in my memory. What was sharp was how I felt afterwards—shattered inside and out.

  I had no sense of how much time passed before I climbed to my feet and numbly walked to the police station. Thus began months of hell. To this day, I recognized I should feel lucky to have seen any legal consequences at all. I was sadly unable to avoid reading about the recent spate of news stories about college sexual assault and the usual weak response from universities. I hadn’t known at the time that it was smart to have gone to the city police first. I only went there because it was closer, no other reason. There was DNA and physical evidence of his assault. Even with all of that, the prosecutor had offered a plea deal because Joe had an aggressive defense attorney who submitted reams upon reams of court filings to slow the proceedings down, and Joe argued it was consensual—as if leaving someone badly bruised and battered was consensual. Joe managed to graduate before the plea deal was finalized.

  After those grueling, awful months, I’d wanted nothing more than to forget everything that happened. It had taken me four years to get to where I was now, a place where I mostly felt at peace. My mind spun over how Alex might’ve sorted out this part of my past. It wasn’t that I wanted to keep it secret. No, that was impossible. It’s just it would’ve been nice not to be seen as a victim in Alex’s eyes. I didn’t want anyone’s pity. Most certainly not that of the first man who’d made me feel alive inside in years, made me think maybe, just maybe, I could take back something I’d thought lost.

  We ran through the forest, the sunlight falling through the trees in shafts. Within another few moments, we were back on the sidewalk and jogging to the steps of my apartment building. Alex came to a stop and rested his hands on his hips. He looked over at me, his dark gaze searching my face. In the weeks since we’d been running together, this was the time when he usually said goodbye and waited until I let myself in the door. He always waited until the door closed behind me. Right now, I didn’t want him to leave. Which was crazy. I didn’t want to talk about Joe or any of the mess I imagined Alex thought we needed to talk about. No, rather I felt driven and reckless. I wanted all of this with Alex to stay pure, not to be sullied by an event four years ago that had been like a wrecking ball in my life. It felt as if that wrecking ball was
swinging its way into my future, and I didn’t like it.

  I didn’t know why, but with Alex, my body took over, rather insistently in fact. Intellectually, I thought I should be so rattled at seeing Joe again that the last thing on my mind would be anything even remotely resembling sex. But Joe was long gone in my mind. Alex stood before me. His t-shirt was damp from his sweat and clung to his muscled chest. Heat coiled low in my belly, and I wanted nothing but him.

  “Do you want some tea?” I blurted out, the only question I could think of. I’d usually have a cup of coffee after a shower, but I thought Alex preferred tea.

  His eyes widened slightly before he looked up to the sky again. His gaze leveled with mine after another moment, and he nodded. “Don’t suppose you have coffee?”

  I didn’t wait and walked up the stairs, my body humming. “Of course I have coffee. I just thought you were a tea guy,” I said as he followed me inside and up the stairs with Stanley right behind us.

  Chapter 7

  Alex

  I splashed icy water on my face and wiped it dry with a towel. Carefully hanging the towel on its hook by the sink, I stared at myself for a moment. My hair stuck up in spikes, as it tended to do after a run. My t-shirt was damp. I tried to ascertain if I looked as angry as I felt. Seeing Joe Schmidt had sent me to a place inside I hadn’t been in years. If Harper hadn’t been with me, I would’ve run straight at him and clocked him. But she had been, and I hadn’t wanted to rattle her in any way. I’d seen the man I now knew to be Joe enough times in the park that I knew I’d best him in a fight. It wouldn’t be much trouble really, and it would feel so damn good. Ever since I’d spoken to Olivia and Liam yesterday, I’d been wanting to.

  I was known for never losing my cool on the field, and I didn’t. My nerves were hard won. I’d been raised in a middle class town outside of London—a lovely town in the English countryside. My father had been a barrister. On its face, his life was proper. Behind closed doors, he wielded power with the threat of violence toward my mum, my two sisters and me. He rarely used violence, but when he did the message was clear—violence was the consequence if you didn’t toe his line. I’d been a rough lad, lashing out the only way I’d learned. Then, I’d lucked into landing on a football team with Liam when I was eight years old. I loved it. My dad let me play because he liked the prestige that came with having a boy who was one of the best footballers in town. I lucked into finding a few men I could look up to who weren’t my father and learned violence wasn’t the only way to solve problems.

  I didn’t even have to try all that hard to manage my temper. But it was there, deep under the surface. Very few things caused the tail of my temper to flick. Violence against anyone vulnerable would do it. Raping a woman I’d come to care way too much about in a very short time—well, to say that lit my fuse was a massive understatement.

  Yet, reverberating in my thoughts was how absolutely critical it was I didn’t lose control. Harper didn’t need to see that. No matter how much Joe deserved it. I couldn’t suss out how Harper was doing. She felt jumpy and restless when we walked into her apartment. I’d asked to use the loo to catch my breath and because I hoped a splash of icy water would cool the anger inside. It helped, but I still wanted to make this right for Harper.

  Olivia said to let Harper be with this. Don’t make this a battle when it isn’t for her.

  I was trying to make sense of what to do, but I simply didn’t know if I could just let this sit. It wasn’t right. Yet, what Harper wanted had to be what happened. I pushed through the door and returned to the kitchen. The scent of coffee filtered through the air. Harper was rinsing something in the sink. Stanley had stretched out in a patch of sunshine in the living room and was already sound asleep. After turning the water off, she dried her hands and shifted to face me, leaning her hips against the counter.

  “Coffee’s almost ready,” she said.

  I nodded and tried to shove the questions I had about what must be a hellish topic for her out of my mind. She crossed her arms and tapped the toe of one foot lightly on the floor. After a moment of silence, she gestured to the island between the kitchen and living room where there were low stools. “You can sit if you’d like.”

  I hooked a hand over the back of one of the stools and sat, resting an elbow on the counter and wondering what mundane topic we could discuss. It all felt ridiculous. I might only be just getting to know Harper beyond the superficial, but it didn’t feel right to try to ignore what had happened and to pretend I didn’t know about her past. I ran a hand through my hair and leaned back.

  “Would you like me to answer your question in the park?” I finally asked in reference to her question about who told me about Joe. I figured it was best to give her the chance to decide if we talked about anything related to the last fifteen minutes or so.

  Her eyes widened slightly, and she tightened her arms where they crossed. For a flash, I saw that guarded quality she carried with her, but then she took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “I’m guessing Olivia told you,” she finally said, her voice soft and edged with weariness.

  “Right. She wasn’t trying to gossip. I think she was trying to be helpful,” I offered, not ready to admit I’d demanded it from Olivia when she made her passing comment about Harper running with me.

  “I know. Most everyone I know and plenty of strangers know what happened. It’s not a big secret in my life. I guess I was a little startled you figured out who Joe was.”

  I watched her and held myself back from standing and wrapping her in my arms. It took an enormous amount of restraint, but I managed. I sensed she didn’t want to be viewed as vulnerable.

  “Right. After Olivia told me what happened, I looked him up. Maybe it’s none of my business, but…”

  But what? What was I doing looking up the guy? The quick answer was I wanted to make sure I knew precisely who hurt Harper. My gut had told me it would be the very man we’d encountered in the park before, and my gut had been right. I’d seen Joe’s photo online and recognized him immediately.

  Harper was still waiting for me to finish, her blue eyes watching and waiting patiently. I shifted my shoulders just as the coffee maker beeped. Harper didn’t turn away, so I took a breath and plowed ahead. Maybe I wasn’t comfortable with any of this, but she was asking, so I’d answer. “I wanted to know who he was. After the other morning when we saw him, well…I was worried. I’m not trying to dredge anything up. I just…” I lifted my hands and let them fall. “Hell, I don’t know. All I can say is I figured I’d rather know who the guy was in case I ever saw him.”

  Harper nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek as she did. After a moment, she turned and poured two cups of coffee before sitting down beside me. The island counter curved such that we were angled toward each other. She slid a cup of coffee in front of me. “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

  “Neither,” I said before taking a gulp. The rich, slightly bitter flavor hit me, and I closed my eyes.

  “I guess I should say thanks for caring enough to want to look the guy up,” Harper said, her words soft, but laced with anger.

  Opening my eyes, I looked over to find her staring into her mug as she circled it in her hand.

  “The whole thing’s bloody awful. Now I know who he is, if I see him…” My words trailed off because I didn’t think it would be particularly helpful to tell her I’d be happy to bash his face in.

  “You can beat him senseless?” she said, an odd, sad smile curling her lips as she repeated my earlier words.

  I shrugged and took another swallow of coffee. “Yup. If needed, that’s what I’ll do.” I set my mug down and looked over at her. “But if you told me not to, I’d leave him alone. You have to know that.”

  She stopped circling her mug in her hands, her eyes whipping up to mine. I could feel her searching me. The air was taut around us, humming with the intensity I’d come to recognize whenever I was near her. At the moment, it wasn’t weighted with desire, but a simple
depth of feeling.

  She finally nodded slowly. “That’s good to know.” She paused, chewing the inside of her cheek again as she eyed me. “If you want to know the truth, part of me would love for you to kick his ass. The other part of me knows it’s not worth it. He’s not worth any of it, and it won’t change what happened.” Another long pause. This time, she drummed her fingers on the counter and took a gulp of coffee. “I guess it’s weird to say this, but I’m glad you looked him up. I try not to think about him too much because it’s been four years. I only moved into this apartment a few months ago, and I didn’t know he lived anywhere near here. I don’t like to worry my friends and family, so I haven’t told anyone I saw him. I guess it makes me feel better knowing you know he’s around. In a roundabout way, I think I’m saying thanks,” she said with a small smile, her dimple winking at me.

  I absorbed her words and her smile, and my chest felt tight. I was used to worrying about people. I’d spent my entire childhood worrying about my mum and my two sisters. Whenever I looked back, I remembered the sense of freedom I felt when I played football. It was about the only thing I could do to escape the house and the heaviness that resided there. Funny thing, but I’d never worried about my own safety. My dad was the kind of jerk who steered clear of anyone who could push back too hard, so aside from verbal attacks, he largely left me alone. Even when I wasn’t very big, I didn’t hesitate to lash back. By the time I was in my teens, I was bigger, taller and stronger than him. Only then did he back off from my mum and my sisters. I’d had it in the back of my mind to talk my mum into moving out before I left for university, but he died from a heart attack and that was that. My sense of relief had been profound and only sadness had followed.