The Running Back: A New Adult Sports Romance ~ Sean (The Rookies Book 3)

by Zoë Lane

  Rose cautiously stepped into the den. “I wanted to ask him how he thought we should tell you.”

  “How about you just come right out and say it?”

  She closed her eyes for a second and then opened them. All sympathy vanished. “You’ve been dealing with a lot lately. It seemed insensitive to me to just…‘say it,’ as you put it. The timing…”

  “You think I couldn’t handle it?”

  “I think it would be difficult for you, yes.”

  “That’s what therapy is for,” I said sarcastically and threw myself onto the couch.

  I’d forgotten I’d left the television on. It was a show about a couple fixing up people’s houses. I loved that show. It was like taking something trashed and making it beautiful.

  I wanted to feel beautiful.

  Landyn entered the room with a bag of Mexican food.

  “I’ll take that,” Rose offered and disappeared, probably into the kitchen.

  Landyn sat next to me.

  “How do I know you would’ve told me?” I asked quietly, watching the wife of the fixer team explain how beautiful this couple’s house was going to be.

  “What do you mean, how do you know? You think I would’ve lied?”

  I stared into his eyes. “Would you have told me today? Or would you have waited? Or maybe not at all?”

  He blinked.

  I knew it.

  I shook my head and chuckled. “You never would’ve said anything.”

  “I would’ve!”

  “Oh, sure, you would’ve said the investigator was looking, but I never would’ve known that you think she’s dead!”

  Landyn sighed. “We don’t even know if that’s true, Lace. We don’t know. That’s the point. No sense in saying anything until we know for sure.”

  No. No, I knew my brother. The protector. He would’ve kept it from me for as long as he could’ve. “Are you going to look into her case?”

  He stared blankly at the TV. “Yeah.”

  “Why aren’t you at least a little bit mad?”

  He shrugged.

  Shrugged!

  “Because I don’t know the facts, Lacey. I didn’t know about a missing case. I don’t even think Rose has told me everything since you interrupted us.”

  “Maybe she’s keeping something from you.”

  He made a clicking sound with his teeth and stood. “Now you’re just talking crazy.”

  Crazy? I was crazy? I could feel my muscles tense—everywhere.

  “Just let me figure this out, okay? You have enough to deal with.”

  “I think I can handle this,” I gritted.

  He laughed. “Sure you can. Just like you can handle booze.” His gaze faltered, and he frowned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Yeah, you did.” I bolted from the couch and nearly ran into Rose, who was entering the den with two full plates in her hands. “I’ll eat in my room.” I passed the kitchen without getting the food and slammed my bedroom door shut.

  Trash.

  Crazy.

  My mother’s dead.

  I fell onto the bed face first and beat the cushions with my fists.

  I was sick of the lies. Sick of everything.

  6

  SEAN

  Sean wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He flipped the last of five steaks over and stepped back from the grill.

  His grandmother’s small backyard overflowed with people he recognized from the neighborhood, including a few of the guys he invited from the team. Coach Hicks made a brief appearance, stole a hotdog, and excused himself to go to a meeting. The weather held up; there wouldn’t be many warm days left in the year. At least not warm enough to barbeque.

  Music blared from the house, and a few people—who could find room—danced. Several guys he grew up with had joined him at the grill, boasting their predictions for the season and their fantasy football scores. Sean smiled at his grandmother, who brought him a plate of two hotdogs, baked beans, homemade potato salad, and mac and cheese. He dug into the mac and cheese followed it with a giant bite of hotdog. He’d pay for it at the gym tomorrow.

  “Looking good, Sean.”

  Keisha Stewart peeked over my shoulder, grinning at the steaks. I caught the knowing looks of the surrounding guys, who immediately clammed up.

  “Hey, Keisha.” Couldn’t help my eyes traveling down her form. She wore the shortest shorts, and a cropped top—similar to her high school cheerleading outfit. Everything was still exceptionally proportionate. Her chocolate skinned glowed in the sun. “Been a long time. What are you doing back? Last I heard you went to Northwestern.”

  “Graduated in May.” She flicked her long, straight extensions over her shoulder and showed a toothy grin.

  “A year early? Congratulations. What’s next?”

  “Well, getting some meat.” She laughed cheekily. The guys hooted. I was glad to have the excuse of grilling to wipe off more sweat.

  “And then?” I pressed.

  She ran a perfectly manicured hand down my wet arm. “Was thinking of applying for a position at the Rhinos.”

  “Oh? You…you’re still looking for a job?”

  Her hand fell away and the pleased-with-what-she-saw look on her face turned icy. “I’m taking my time. Can afford to now that daddy got a promotion at work. Vice President of Communications. My parents just moved up to the north side.”

  The affluent community.

  “Well then, make sure to tell your dad congratulations from me. You went for communications too, right?”

  “Uh-huh. You remembered.” Her lids lowered and a seductive smile clocked into work.

  Who could forget Keisha? One of the prettiest girls on the cheerleading squad and well known to us jocks. We’d kissed a few times at parties, but beyond that my mind drew a blank. At graduation, she made sure everyone knew she had earned a full-ride to Northwestern for communications.

  “I’ve been watching your games. Haven’t been able to get tickets yet.”

  “And you probably won’t because he’s got a limited number,” came Grandma’s voice from behind. “Now stop distracting my grandson because a few of us have been waiting for these steaks.” She nearly knocked Keisha over with her wide hips to inspect the steaks.

  Keisha’s close-mouthed smile didn’t reach her eyes. She sashayed away, and with her went our gazes.

  My grandmother waved a towel to get our attention. “Should be ashamed. All of you. See a couple of cheeks hanging out shorts and you all go dumb.”

  I chuckled. “I think the steaks are ready.”

  “Good.” She held out a plate. “Hand ’em here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Then I closed the lid of the grill. “That’s it! I’m done.”

  I settled into conversation with the guys, frequently interrupted by Keisha on her catwalk.

  “She’s offering, Sean,” one of the guys mentioned as she walked by.

  “I know,” I said simply. She was beautiful, no doubt.

  My mind flashed back to the locker room and Lacey in her janitor outfit. I grinned remembering how she tried to be inconspicuous with a hat covering half her face. The bridge of my nose tingled as the memory moved to the way her hands caressed it.

  Not Keisha, but…

  “You gonna hit that? Or you over it?”

  “Nah. Not interested.” About six pairs of eyes rounded. I laughed softly. “Gotta keep my focus on the game. We took that last loss hard.”

  “Uncle Sean!”

  Timothy, the son of one of my high school buddies ran over.

  “Boy, your face is all dirty!”

  His tongue circled his mouth, licking the last of the mustard. “Clean!”

  I grinned and rubbed his head. “What is it?”

  “Someone’s at the gate for you.” He darted off and joined a group of kids playing horseshoe.

  We left the gate open for visitors, but Grandma did say she was expecting a package from the UPS ma
n.

  The person I saw wasn’t dressed in brown.

  I joined my grandmother, who had a stern look on her face. We watched the person move down the street.

  “Grandma, who was that?”

  She huffed. “Someone that wasn’t invited, that’s all. Never you mind.” She stormed away.

  From the back, I couldn’t identify the guy. But he wore designer jeans and sneakers I knew cost five hundred dollars because I had just bought a pair.

  “Anyone we know?” a guy asked when I rejoined the group.

  I shook my head. “Not sure. But my grandmother wasn’t happy.”

  “Probably somebody looking to crash a party. If Grandma Bethel don’t like him…” The other guys joined in agreement.

  Grandma Bethel knew everyone on this side of the city. The good and the bad. Although she’d give food to anyone in the name of Jesus, if she didn’t let that guy in, then he was probably Satan himself.

  7

  SEAN

  The coach blew the whistle, and the kids came running to the sideline.

  I slapped a few of them on their backs, and we huddled close to the coach to hear his critique.

  “Sean!”

  Malik.

  I jogged up to him. “Malik!” We grasped hands and slapped each other on the back. “Man, I haven’t seen you in forever. Where’ve you been?”

  “I been good, man, real good.”

  I eyed him curiously. “Heard you were in prison for a little while.”

  He laughed. “Nah, nah, that was nothing.” He licked his lips. “My cousin’s on your team. Ty.”

  “Oh, yeah? Ty’s a good running back. He should keep it up.”

  Malik chuckled. “So he can be like you, you mean? He’s gotta have more talent than what he’s got.”

  “Come on, now, Malik. He’s in middle school. Give him a few years and he’ll be getting a scholarship to college.”

  Malik’s grin mocked me. “Yeah, just like you?”

  “Uh, yeah. Why not?”

  “Don’t be puttin’ ideas into his head that he can be somebody.”

  My head snapped back. “Why? Because it’s true? Malik, he can be somebody. All he’s gotta do is work at it. Do his best. Be better than everybody else.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You think you’re better than everybody else?”

  He wasn’t actually curious about my answer. It was an indictment that I thought I was better than him. Better than the people in my neighborhood. It wasn’t about football at all.

  “He could be better than me,” I said. “He’s got great speed—natural speed. I had to work for mine. Hated doing sprints until they got easy.”

  Malik smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, whatever you say. You’re the coach.”

  “Just the defensive coordinator.”

  “How you got time to do this and play?”

  “Made a deal with the coach. Told him I’d be here for practices and games when I’m not on the road. Coach Hicks will let us use the stadium field to practice, too.”

  “Real generous. Real generous.”

  “That’s Coach Hicks. Uh, look, man, it’s real good to see you, but I’ve got to get back—”

  “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to tell you we’ve got a fantasy league going. Lots of money.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed hard. “We bettin’ against you,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Malik.” I started walking back.

  “Wait a minute! I’m not done talking to you.”

  I heard the warning in his voice. I stopped and faced him.

  I knew Malik mainly by reputation. Big talker—who followed through. Heard he had gotten caught for assault and spent a few years in jail while I was in college.

  Almost beat a guy to death.

  “Hey, Malik, I gotta spend time with these kids. I promised them.”

  Malik chuckled. “Yeah, we seen you on the TV talking about promises. That you doing all of this for da kids.”

  I nodded. “And I meant it.”

  “I know, but I wanted to talk to you about the league.”

  “I ain’t joining a league, man. I got enough on my plate.”

  “No, no. A few of us got a lot of money riding on our players. Want to know if you’d throw a few games. We’ll pay you when we get paid.”

  The sounds of the other kids practicing their sports on fields surrounding ours, the whistles blown for the runners around the track encircling the football field—all of it faded. I stared at Malik, who had his head cocked to one side, his lips pursed, and black eyes that told me not to refuse.

  “I can’t do that, man. We’re trying to get to the playoffs.”

  He cocked a brow. “You can’t?”

  I stepped closer, but my gaze went to his hands, which were clutched in front of his chest. No weapons. “Yeah, I can’t. No one believes our team can succeed right out the gate. We’re trying to prove them wrong. Maybe if y’all bet on us—”

  “But we ain’t. Season’s already started. We gotta follow through.”

  “How much money you talkin’?”

  Malik shrugged. “Lotta money. Gonna be a big cut for you if you throw the next few games. You can still win, but you gotta drop a couple of passes, or miss them. Maybe not make as many downs.”

  My jaw tightened. I worked it to get the words out. “And hurt my average.”

  “You can make it up. Doesn’t have to be now. But I’m telling you, it’s a lot of money.”

  I laughed. “You think I need that money? You know how much my contract is worth?”

  Malik came closer and whispered, “Yeah, and I know an injury can make you lose it.”

  Kids were all around me, so I took a few steps back. Instead of putting hands on him, I held on to my clipboard like it was a life jacket and I was in the ocean.

  It was a threat I knew he’d make good on. Either him or one of his friends. His crew had intimidated people in the neighborhood for as long as I could remember. Growing up, I’d made sure I wasn’t walking the same side of the street as him so he’d zero in on somebody else. When I’d put on height and weight in high school, he hadn’t bothered me like he had some other smaller kids. I’d felt safe.

  Stupid assumption.

  “It’s a good thing I’m healthy.”

  Malik showed me his teeth. “Think about it,” he said, still grinning. “Just let me know. I’ll tell the guys you haven’t made a decision.”

  Yes, I had.

  He turned away.

  “You’re not going to wait for Ty?” I called out after him.

  “He knows how to get home,” he said over his shoulder.

  I shook my head and let out a breath and then jogged back to the sideline. “Sorry, Coach,” I mumbled.

  “No worries, Sean.” He proceeded to tell me the next play.

  I had to concentrate hard on the kids to keep my mind from spinning out of control over Malik. The gambling, his request, his threat.

  He could only make good if he could catch me.

  And I was pretty fast.

  Really fast.

  Record-breaking fast.

  8

  SEAN

  I jogged down the stairs at HQ, heading toward the locker room. My mind was still on Malik’s threat from the day before, and I nearly fell over someone sitting on the stairs.

  A pair of blue eyes flashed up at me.

  “Lacey.” I smiled.

  That’s when I noticed the redness in those pretty eyes, her matching nose, and the lines of tears on her cheeks.

  I sat beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  She wiped her cheeks. “Nothing,” she breathed.

  “You’re sitting in the stairwell.”

  “Only place I can get some peace.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “Tell me,” I urged. “Can’t be that bad.”

  She looked at me, and my heart stopped working. Her face only inches from mine. A sea of blue fi
lled my vision. I smelled her sweet perfume, mixed with probably trash. Felt the warmth of her body beneath her too-big janitor shirt and pants.

  “My mom’s probably dead. Murdered.”

  Yeah, she was right. It was bad.

  I cleared my throat. “You sure?” I croaked out.

  Her shoulders slumped, and she shook her head. “No. But Landyn’s private investigator thinks she’s missing, and not because she just left.”

  “You going to look for her?”

  “We’ve already got the investigator doing that.”

  Stupid question. I cleared my throat again. “I mean, open a case or something? Call the police?”

  She nodded. “Landyn said he’d look into it.”

  I saw her smirk.

  “What?” I asked. “You don’t think he will?”

  “Nope.” Her head shook. “I don’t think he would’ve even told me if I hadn’t overheard him talking to Rose. Do you know they’re together? Isn’t that unprofessional or something?”

  I didn’t know about him and Rose, but I didn’t care about that. “Don’t you have a right to know what happened to your mother? Why wouldn’t he tell you?”

  She snorted. “Thinks I can’t handle it. I have too much going on. Actually, I don’t. All I have is therapy and community service. I already dropped out of my classes this semester.”

  “Yeah, it sounds to me like you…I dunno, I guess you could’ve handled it.” What did I know?

  Her blue eyes turned icy. She shrugged off my arm. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours!” I said quickly. “Come back here.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder again and tugged her closer. “If you think you can handle it, you can.”

  “I mean, what could I do about it anyway? I’d have to wait until we get the information from the police department.”

  I struggled to find words to say. “Did you know your mother at all?”

  She shook her head. “Was gone by the time I was three. I don’t remember her at all.” She tugged at my shirt. “That’s why I want her found. So I can know about her. Why she left or…” Her face was downcast. “What happened to her,” she whispered.