Kickoff

by Jami Davenport

  Instead, Rachel endured two hours of emotional torture, unable to find the courage to insist he tell her what was wrong. Unable to take it any longer, she donned her ice princess facade and waded into the frigid waters.

  “Derek, what’s wrong?” she croaked. The lump lodged halfway down her throat stayed where it was. Perhaps he was just uptight about the upcoming game.

  He faced her, his gaze accusing in its intensity and grief-stricken in its misery. Her heart sank even deeper. This had nothing to do with football and everything to do with them. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. As if the words he needed to say were too painful to be uttered.

  “Is it true? Were you getting close to me to convince me to help your dad?” The sheer agony in his voice cut right down to her soul.

  “Of course not.” Rachel gripped the seat cushion and looked into his eyes, at the devastation reflected there. She could think of only one thing that could make him look at her with such disillusionment.

  His eyes narrowed. “I met with your dad and Mitch last night.”

  Rachel’s heart stalled; fear coursed through her veins. “About what?” The ice princess ran for cover and left her with no armor, no backup plan.

  “About you and me.” He laughed a cynical, dry laugh. “I was stupid enough to think we had a future.”

  “A future?” She echoed his words, hanging on to them like a life raft in stormy seas.

  He rolled his eyes. “Give me the idiot award. I thought you loved me too.”

  “Too?” She gripped harder, savoring the meaning behind his words, and ignored the contradiction in his eyes.

  “Yeah, too. I was in love with you, Rachel.”

  She ignored the past tense and clung to the words. “I do. I love you.”

  “Yeah, right. Love isn’t a four-letter word for nothing.”

  She cringed at the disgust in his voice. “I love you, Derek Ramsey, with all my heart and soul.” She laid it all out on the table and reached for him. He jerked to his feet and paced the floor in front of her. Helpless, she stared up at him.

  “You used me to help your dad and your career.” His cold, emotionless voice scared the crap out of her.

  “No, it’s not that anymore.” Her answer rang true. She’d known it in her heart for months, and her words only reinforced the truth.

  “You think I let your dad hang out to dry for my own selfish reasons? Don’t you know me better than that?”

  “I felt that way at first, but now I don’t think it’s possible.”

  “You don’t think it’s possible?” His anger and hurt slammed into her, leaving her breathless. “You played me for a fool. You took what I had to offer and used it to your advantage, all the while probing for weakness. You betrayed me.”

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  His pacing grew more determined, his turns sharp and crisp. His long legs ate up the length of his living room in a few furious strides. He whipped around in front of her and stopped, hands on hips. Raising his head, he regarded her with indifference, which alarmed her more than the anger.

  “Let me tell you something about the state championship game my junior year. Something I’ve never told anyone except Tyler. That night, last play of the game. We were behind by four points. The other team had our number on the running game, but your dad kept running the ball. Coach called a sucker play, one he’d called several times with no success. I couldn’t figure out why the hell he kept going back to it.”

  Rachel held her stomach, sick with dread. Derek resumed his pacing. “Ty didn’t call the play your dad wanted. He called a pass into the end zone instead. Jacob Lantz and I went for it. I swear to God he batted it out of my hands. Pissed me off, but I figured he’d just gotten taken in by the moment and didn’t realize he was fighting his own teammate for the ball. Yet I wondered about the whole weird-assed night. Mostly I wondered about the plays your dad called. Tyler trusted him, kept running them until the very end. Then Tyler and I heard a conversation, and we knew.”

  “Are you insinuating my dad would fix a game? Football is his passion. His life.”

  “They say every person has a price.”

  “Do they? What’s yours?” Rachel challenged him.

  “Nothing money can buy.” Sadness flickered in his dark eyes. She winced as if he’d slugged her in the stomach. “Your dad has a gambling problem. A big one. I think he had big-time gambling debts and was getting desperate.”

  “You’re wrong. You’re lying.”

  “So now I’m a liar?”

  She didn’t answer and, by keeping silent, gave him the answer he needed.

  “I thought we had something special going on, Rachel. You. Me. Our history. Our love of football. What you do to me every time I see you smile. How you filled up all the empty spaces and made me look forward to coming home every night. I thought with you I could get beyond my mother’s abandonment and betrayal. Yet you’re doing the same damn thing to me.”

  “It’s not the same. You’re accusing my father of something he’d never do.”

  “I’m not accusing anyone, but I know what I know.” Derek walked to the door and jerked it open.

  “Good-bye, Derek.” Rachel fought for control. She felt his eyes on her, but she stared straight ahead. With a Herculean effort, she didn’t flinch, didn’t soften, didn’t show the least bit of emotion. He walked woodenly out the door.

  Rachel’s heart shattered like a crystal goblet dropped on concrete, irreparable and final.

  Derek glanced back, and she almost caved. The stark agony on his face weakened her resolve, yet the determination in his stance pushed her away.

  Steeling herself against the pain ripping her in half, she hardened her heart only nothing stopped the pain. Half blinded by tears, she threw herself on her bed. Huge sobs of grief racked her body. Nothing had ever hurt her so much, not even her mother’s death, not their long-term estrangement. Nothing.

  She’d seen it coming, yet a small part of her had held out hope for a happy ending. Somehow, they’d find a way. Well, life wasn’t a fairy tale. Derek wasn’t Prince Charming, and no way in hell was she Cinderella. He’d fallen in love with her, a dream come true turned to a nightmare. He believed the unthinkable about her father. He was wrong. She’d find a way to prove it—and then what?

  It was over. The sooner she came to terms with the ending, the better.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  A day later, Derek sat in the easy chair in Mitch’s home and watched an old action-adventure movie with Ryan. He’d be damned if he’d let the situation with Rachel and her family keep him away from a dying kid. To Mitch’s credit, he didn’t say a word when Derek showed up. Instead, he left him alone.

  Ryan lay on the couch and didn’t say much, in as much of a funk as Derek himself. Which suited Derek just fine. Still reeling from confusion and sadness over Rachel, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her green eyes had haunted his dreams last night. Not seeing her smile dimmed his day. He’d walked through the motions of living, numb and disengaged. He had a shitty practice and needed to get it together before he lost everything.

  Derek shook his head and pressed his palms against his scalp. His head pounded, and the pain in his heart became unbearable. He knew better than to get attached to a woman. They screwed you over the first chance they got.

  She hadn’t trusted him. They’d worked and played side by side all these months, not because she cared but because he had the power to further her career and possibly clear her father’s name. He’d opened the gate and let her in, only to be played for a fool.

  When Ryan suddenly spoke, Derek jumped half out of his chair. Ryan chuckled at his reaction but immediately sobered. “Did—did Tyler tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Derek’s mind spun in circles in an attempt to decipher Ryan’s words. “I had him do a little research for me.”

  “What kind of research?” Derek sat up straighter, giving Ryan his full attention.

  “I asked him t
o find my mother.”

  “Oh. Did he?” Wary of another emotional minefield, Derek trod lightly. Ryan’s mother and his shared the same mold.

  Silence. Cold, dead silence. Derek craned his neck to see if Ryan had drifted off again. Instead, their eyes met, and Derek knew the answer. His own dilemma seemed petty in the wake of this kid’s struggles. Ryan’s pain became his pain. It choked him, constricted his throat, slid through him like a knife gutting him from the inside out. He waited, giving Ryan time.

  “He found her in Vegas.” Ryan stared at the ceiling.

  “Is she okay?” Derek leaned forward in his chair.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s a stripper. Again.” The kid’s breath hitched. Derek didn’t have a response to that. “She’s not coming back.”

  “Ry, I’m sorry.” Derek knelt by the couch and touched the kid’s shoulder. Those simple words, powerful in their sincerity, had never contained so much meaning.

  “I never thought it would hurt this much.” Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, but a few tears leaked out.

  Derek knew how much it hurt. He’d been there. Not even time completely healed the wounds caused by a disinterested mother, and time was something Ryan didn’t have. Silence permeated the room, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Ryan broke the silence first. “What’s your mother like? You never talk about her.”

  Yeah, for a damn good reason. “My mother isn’t a part of my life.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “I don’t know her. Do I miss having a mother? Yeah, at times, but I miss having a mother like Tyler has, not like the mother I have. I’m lucky to have a great stepmother. She’s essentially my mother.”

  “Did you ever want to contact your real mom?”

  “I did once. When I was a teenager, I called her. I thought she’d invite me to visit or tell me how much she missed me and regretted her decision to leave me behind. Yeah, I had this stupid fantasy. The reality of it was something different.”

  “What happened?” Ryan swiped at his face.

  “She told me to go to hell and never contact her again.”

  “Oh. Wow. I’m sorry.” Ryan chewed on Derek’s revelation for a moment.

  Derek shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “It still sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does, buddy. Sometimes it does.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Great teams find a way to win even when they play like shit. Never had that been so true as it was Sunday.

  The Steelheads won by a field goal in overtime with no help from their star wide receiver.

  For the first time all season, the other team got to Derek. They double-teamed and triple- teamed him, disrupting his concentration. He didn’t actually screw up, but he played a mediocre four quarters. He caught short passes but didn’t make the big plays. His timing was nonexistent, his connection with Tyler severed. Nothing gelled. Nothing felt right.

  Their plane landed close to midnight after a rough cross-country flight, capped by a frigging snowstorm over the Rockies.

  All Derek wanted to do was crawl into a warm bed and pass out. His entire body ached. He had bruises on top of bruises; his knees throbbed. His head hurt. At intervals, knife-blade pain stabbed him in the back. Yet none of it compared to the pain in his heart.

  But the Steelheads had won. They’d lived to play another day. He felt no joy in the victory, only numbness and relief, like he’d cheated fate one more time.

  Sleep showed Derek no mercy either. He’d give his left nut for some dreamless Zs. Instead, he lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Random yet somehow connected thoughts bounced around in his head.

  He was so fucking confused.

  He sighed, and his mind drifted to Rachel. If only she lay next to him right now. He missed her humor, her gentle teasing, her common sense, her ability to pull him from a funk, her football knowledge and insight. Hell, he missed everything about her.

  Stupid. Fucking stupid.

  They were through, and it was best left that way. He’d gotten too attached, and they had no future.

  Even though it hurt like hell, this was for the best.

  Chapter 27—Late Hit

  Derek balked when he saw Rachel sitting in the backseat of Tyler’s monstrous SUV. Next to her sat her brother. Mitch didn’t say a word. He stared out the window, fingers wrapped around a newspaper as if he wished it were Derek’s neck. Ignoring them all, he snapped open the paper and concealed his face.

  “Get in,” Tyler growled.

  “I think I’ll pass. A road trip with the McCormicks doesn’t appeal to me.” Derek turned to leave, but Tyler blocked his exit.

  “I said, get your ass in before I kick it from here to Sunday,” Tyler ground out.

  His determined expression didn’t allow for any deviation from the plan, whatever the hell it was. Against his better judgment, Derek slid into the front passenger’s seat. Tyler stalked to the driver’s side, got in, and started the engine.

  “Hang on. Spending my day with the three of you is not my idea of a fun day off.”

  Rachel smiled sweetly at him and patted his shoulder. “We appreciate you, Ty.”

  “We? There’s no we in this.” Derek fastened his seat belt as Tyler gunned the black gas-guzzler down the driveway. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll know when we get there.” Tyler fishtailed onto the county road and blasted down the blacktop. No one uttered a word, probably scared shitless. Derek gripped the armrest, leaned his head against the headrest, and prayed for a quick, painless death.

  The three-hour trip up Highway 101 and the Olympic Peninsula lasted a lifetime. Tyler cranked up some classic rock and sang along as his SUV careened around the curves hugging Hood Canal. Rachel, who couldn’t carry a tune, joined in.

  Every once in a while, Derek heard Mitch’s newspaper rustling, then a snap as he turned to a new page. Tyler took tailgating and road rage to a new level as he blew past every slow-moving vehicle.

  They rocketed through a small town near the Straits of Juan De Fuca. Tyler slammed on the brakes in front of a community church. Derek pressed his face against the window, not believing what he was seeing.

  “Church? You? Have you lost your frigging mind?” Derek stared at his cousin.

  “Just saving your sorry souls, buddy.” Tyler grinned and glanced in the rearview mirror. Derek looked around for a bar nearby, but there weren’t any. Tyler got out and climbed the steps to the church’s front door. He motioned to the rest of them to follow.

  “What the fuck?” Mitch emerged from behind his paper and wadded it into a tight ball.

  “Couldn’t have said it better,” Derek added.

  “For once we agree on something,” Mitch shot back.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Rachel sat in the front pew flanked by Derek and her brother. Tyler leaned against the far wall, not venturing too far into the sanctuary, almost as if he feared God would strike him dead.

  Jacob Lantz, former Fircrest High School third-string wide receiver, regarded the trio with a way-too-tranquil expression. Rachel hadn’t seen him in years, had actually forgotten about him. A one-time party boy and all-around screwup, Lantz had dropped out of school and disappeared shortly after the ill-fated state championship. The man had aged, evidenced by the lines around his eyes, yet contentment replaced his once restless energy.

  “You came to talk to me about the game.” He dragged a piano bench in front of them and took a seat. “I’m surprised it took so long.”

  “So long?” Tyler’s voice echoed through the empty building from the back of the room.

  “For someone to ask me about it.” Pastor Jake, as he’d requested they refer to him, motioned for Tyler to move closer. Tyler balked.

  “We’re asking now.” Rachel smiled encouragement. She caught Derek’s quick glance out of the corner of her eye. Avoiding his gaze, she fingered the zipper on her sweatshirt.

  Not one of them questioned which game. They all knew and nodded in unison.


  “Ah, the truth.” Pastor Jake rubbed his chin. “Truth is a relative term and sometimes overrated when it comes to the greater good.”

  “We need the truth. What happened? I have to know if my dad had a part in the loss.” Rachel met the man’s kind gray eyes. His compassion struck fear in her. He knew the truth, and she wasn’t going to like it.

  “Are you sure the past isn’t best left buried?” Pastor Jake waited with the patience of the saint-in-training he’d become.

  Derek glanced at Rachel. “Do you really want to hear this?” Rachel nodded, numb with fear, and turned to check with Mitch.

  “Get on with it.” Mitch grimaced and shifted his weight. He’d gotten all stiff and defensive beside her.

  The pastor sighed, not enjoying his task. “Fircrest needed to lose, and you guys almost screwed it up.”

  “Why did Fircrest need to lose?” Derek leaned forward.

  “Because Rizzoli, a local bookie at the time, was owed money. There were some big bets riding on that game. Rizzoli had fixed games before. It wasn’t any big deal to him.”

  “So, you fixed the game for money?”

  “Not exactly.” Jacob’s steady gaze fell on Rachel, then Mitch. “Your father paid in a different way.”

  “My father?” Rachel shook her head, denial battling with her gut feeling Jacob told the truth.

  Jacob patted her hand. “I’m sorry. He had a huge gambling debt. In order to repay it, his team had to lose. I was vulnerable and needed help. He knew I wasn’t going to have enough credits for graduation and was developing an expensive drug habit. Your father caught me dealing in the locker room. Since I was eighteen, juvenile laws wouldn’t protect me. I left town shortly afterward with your dad’s promise he wouldn’t turn me in for possession.”

  “I was a senior on that team.” Mitch choked on the realization. “My own father cheated me out of a state championship.”

  Rachel linked her arm through his. “Mitch. I’m sorry.”

  “Why would Dad do such a thing? Cheating goes against everything he ever stood for. What could be so important he’d sell out his own son and disregard his values?”