Kickin’ It

by Van Dyken, Rachel

And saw the same word.

  Spray-painted across my front door.

  WHORE.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  PARKER

  “Sleep.” Matt kissed my forehead, but I was wide awake, stupefied into disbelief. Would Erik actually do something like that? Had he been following us? He seemed the most likely suspect, and the fact that anyone had been watching our home freaked me out.

  Our home.

  My safe place with Matt.

  Someone threatened it, and I wanted to threaten them right back.

  I hugged the pillow to my chest while Matt paced. He was like this shirtless, angry Greek god wearing a hole in the ground.

  “I can’t sleep if you don’t sleep,” I said with a sigh. “Plus you promised me dessert.”

  He looked up, concern and maybe a little bit of fear lined his face. “I’ll hire security.”

  “Why would I need security when I have you?” I said in a dumbfounded voice.

  “You’ll be traveling with the team. I can’t be there twenty-four seven, so yeah, I’m going to hire a giant to just stand over you so nobody can hurt you.”

  “First off . . .” My heart swelled at the gesture. Oh good, he was back to pacing again. “That’s really creepy, someone should never just stand over another human. It’s weird, and how would you get your vitamin D? Second, you can’t protect me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my past, it’s that there comes a point when you need to learn how to protect yourself.” My throat went dry. “I didn’t. I chose the easy way out by not saying anything and then got violent when it ended up not being easy.”

  “You were terrified,” Matt said in a soft voice.

  “I didn’t know what he was capable of then. He was just an arrogant coach with a god complex.”

  Matt tilted his head. “How did he handle rejection from other girls?”

  “I don’t think he did, I mean I don’t think he ever got rejected by the girls I knew about, and we don’t know anyone ever turned him down. For all I know he loved the attention and was pissed because I wasn’t like them.”

  “So there could still be other girls suffering like you are,” Matt argued.

  “Can we not talk about Erik in our bed?”

  Matt’s lips twitched. “One night and now you’re claiming it?”

  “Why not? It comes with you, doesn’t it?”

  “Not exactly with me, but it’s present when coming happens.” He winked.

  I rolled my eyes and burst out laughing.

  “There it is.” Matt sobered as he crawled onto the bed and pulled me into his arms. “There’s my Cheetah Girl.”

  I slumped against him. “What if this gets in my head, messes up my tryout and—”

  “Son of a bitch, that’s it!” Matt yelled, scaring the ever-loving hell out of me.

  “What? What’s it?” I pressed a hand to my chest, my heart beating like crazy. The guy had a death wish. Next time I was going to punch him in the jugular.

  “He’s trying to get in your head.” Matt grabbed my hands. “Maybe it triggered something when we turned down LA. Say the worst happens and the Reign passes, say other teams pass, say the only team left is LA . . .”

  My stomach dropped as a wave of nausea rolled through my system. “Then what? Is he going to stop threatening me with name-calling? Is it going to turn into something more physical? Drastic?”

  I stared down at the remote by the nightstand.

  Matt pulled it away before I could grab it. “Don’t. Even if he did the worst, even if he went to the media, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Oh, you know”—tears filled my eyes—“I get called a whore by complete strangers and the guy that hit me, and tried to rape me . . .” The minute the words left me, something snapped. I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. Pain pounded through my body as I remembered the rest of that night, the words he said, the way I felt like I gave in.

  The pop of his peppermint gum. “You want this, you know you want this.”

  “I don’t want this,” I remember saying. “Please, no . . .”

  “Just enjoy yourself, we’ll be so good together, just tell me which team you want and I’ll get you in once I’m in . . .” He smirked at his own joke.

  “Erik—”

  “Say my name again, I like it, tell me to fuck you.”

  My clothes were gone. Where were my clothes?

  Frozen, I squeezed my eyes shut as he pressed me against the wall, and then bent me over the training table. “Say you want it.”

  “No.”

  “Say it!” He pulled my loose hair so tight that I screamed. “Oh yeah, just like that . . .”

  “I want it,” I said through sobs. “I want it . . .”

  I crumpled against Matt’s chest, weeping. It was the missing piece, always the missing piece as I remember just leaving my body and letting it happen. I always remembered saying I wanted it.

  Not because I did.

  But because he forced me to.

  Because he was hurting me.

  Because I was afraid.

  “Just cry.” Matt held my sobbing body close. “It’s okay, I’m not leaving, Parker. It’s okay, just cry.”

  I wasn’t even breathing as I tore angrily at my own clothes, they were suffocating me just like he had suffocated me.

  Matt didn’t even blink. He pulled my shirt over my head and then pulled the sheets away from my legs.

  “He doesn’t get this, Parker,” Matt said softly. I started to hiccup. “He doesn’t get our bed, our home, he doesn’t get to steal this from us, alright?”

  I nodded, crying so much that tears streamed down my body.

  Matt pulled me back into his arms and rocked me until I cried myself out, until I nearly fell asleep.

  He rocked me, and when he laid me down against the mattress and tucked me against his body, he whispered, “I love you . . .”

  Chapter Thirty

  MATT

  I was more nervous than Parker, slept like shit, kept asking her if she was okay every few seconds, and somehow she looked better than I did, fresher, happier. How was that possible?

  I wanted to sleep with a gun in case that fucker decided to come back to our house and then knew I’d end up in prison because I wouldn’t just fire a warning shot.

  No, I’d fire several shots directly into his pathetic dick and then see if I could take his head off.

  I was livid.

  I wanted to go to the media.

  I wanted her to go to the media.

  But first we had the tryout, and I promised her we wouldn’t take any action until it was over.

  I ran my hands through my hair and checked my Rolex again as a few other girls also trying to make the team ran around the field.

  “She’s going to do great.” Slade popped a piece of gum in his mouth. “Trust me, she’s talented. She’s got this.”

  Jagger crossed his arms. “She just needs to focus on her footwork and make sure that the other girls don’t shove her around.”

  “She’s good at being bossy.” I wiped my face with my hands. “Shit, I don’t know if I can watch. Last night wasn’t good, guys. I just . . . What if he’s in her head?”

  “No room for that, bro, not when you’re in her heart.” Jagger elbowed me.

  Slade and I looked over at him.

  “What?” He shrugged. “I can be sensitive.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Just how sensitive are you around my sister?”

  His lips twitched while Slade bit back a curse.

  “Yeah, fantastic,” I grumbled. Jagger smiled and looked away because he knew I wouldn’t like his smug expression.

  “Is this serious?” I found myself asking as tryouts started. Different girls ran to different stations, there was a staff member at each station. Shit, they had her doing passing drills first.

  I would have preferred her in front of the goal, but passing was fine.

  “I’m going to marry her,” Jagge
r announced.

  I cranked my head toward him. “The hell?”

  “Your sister.” His grin turned soft. “I mean she’s too young right now, so I’m going to let her sow whatever oats she wants—but in the end, she’ll choose me.”

  “Isn’t she already sowing her oats?” Slade just had to ask, making me think about oats and Jagger and her and that damn game of tag again. “With dickhead here?”

  I groaned into my hands. “How’s Parker doing?”

  “Are you seriously not watching? Where’s the giant camera? Sign? The Capri Suns and orange slices? You’re worse than a soccer mom taking her kid’s Ritalin,” Slade joked. “And she’s consistent, which is more than I could say for number two, who keeps passing too far ahead, making her partner sprint to stop the ball.”

  I eyed the field with an intensity that almost seemed foreign. As if it was my team, I was coaching, and we were one game away from the playoffs. I exhaled and took another deep breath as one of the coaching staff blew his whistle and made a motion with his hand.

  Parker moved to the other side of the field and played one-on-one defense against another team member. I grinned because this was where she outshined everyone else. She knew how to score, she knew how to pass, she had impeccable footwork and a great attitude when she wasn’t scowling. But her ability to read plays was outstanding. It was one of the first things I had noticed when I watched her old tape.

  “Left, right, left,” I whispered under my breath. “Don’t let her fake it, she’s going left again.”

  And like she’d heard my words, Parker lunged to the left, stealing the ball from around the other player’s legs and moving down the field. She stopped and kicked the ball back for another drill.

  I clapped.

  And suddenly wished I did have a sign and a video camera so I could remember this moment and show her how proud I was—how proud I am.

  “Attagirl.” Jagger clapped his hands and whistled. “She just handed that girl her ass.”

  I grinned with pride. “Yeah, she did.”

  “She still has to make it through the next few drills,” Slade said, deflating my enthusiasm and pumping worry back into my veins. “She’ll be fine. She just needs to stay focused.”

  My body tensed with each move she made as if I was the one doing it. On the outside, I was calm; on the inside, I was on that field with her, I was coaching her, encouraging her, berating her when she went the wrong way, and then blowing the shit out of my whistle when I needed her to hustle.

  “No offense, Matt, but I’ve never seen a guy flinch so much in my entire life.” Slade laughed. “You look like one of those dance moms who memorized their kid’s entire routine and can’t help but do some of those moves in the crowd.”

  Jagger burst out laughing. “Finally, a perfect nickname for him: Dance Mom Matt!”

  They both fell into fits of laughter.

  I ignored them.

  Because she had one drill left.

  Which some may think was the easiest.

  Score as many goals as you can in under a minute.

  Soccer balls stretched from one edge of the field to the other, each one lined up to a different shot she could strike from. She’d have to start at one end and kick them in order.

  I flinched when the whistle blew.

  And almost laughed when Jagger seemed to hold his breath while Slade pulled out his phone.

  At least one of us was smart enough to document it.

  The first kick was a bit wide but made it in, and as she went down the line, the kicks got tighter and tighter until she drilled one straight down the middle that had the goalie stumbling backward as the ball hit the net.

  I grabbed Slade’s arm and Jagger’s shirt.

  We waited like that, holding our breath.

  And then Parker looked over her shoulder to me, blew a kiss, turned, and drilled her last goal into the corner of the net.

  “YES!” I jumped into the air, and Slade and Jagger shook me.

  We were celebrating, and she hadn’t even made it yet.

  But we knew soccer.

  We knew the game.

  The coaching staff couldn’t stop smiling.

  And I knew Parker was one of the main reasons.

  We hung back until the final girl went. I waited for Parker, she ran toward me at full speed.

  I couldn’t help but catch her in my arms, and the need to kiss her was so desperate I almost did it in front of everyone.

  My eyes fell to her lips. “In my mind I’m kissing the hell out of you right now and already at work stripping that sweaty uniform from your body. I’m telling you how fucking fantastic you are, and I’m swearing I’ll prove to you just how proud I am by worshipping every inch of your body.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Is there a reason we’re still here, then? Because that sounds way better than ice cream for a job well done.”

  “We can do that too.” I chuckled, swinging her around and then setting her down on her feet just as Slade and Jagger walked up and gave her hugs and high fives.

  “What do you think, boys? Should I play for the men’s team instead and help you win another championship?”

  Slade choked out a laugh. “Yeah, maybe one day you’ll get there.”

  “Small fry,” Jagger joked.

  She stuck out her tongue at both of them just as the head coach, Darius Peters, approached us.

  “Who do I have to thank for getting Parker ready for tryouts? I wanna give him or her a call.” Darius grinned from ear to ear.

  “Actually,” I chuckled, “that would be me.”

  Darius’s eyebrows shot up. “Thought you retired.”

  “It turns out I had a little left to give, plus I had a shiny new whistle I wanted to use.”

  “Ah . . .” He laughed. “And you two?” He looked at Slade and Jagger.

  “Oh, we helped kick her ass the other day in a scrimmage,” Jagger said with laughter in his voice. “But she ended up handing us ours.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Slade shoved him with a grin.

  Darius was already looking at Parker with the word championship in his eyes. “I’m glad we didn’t pass on you, Parker. You’ll be hearing from us soon, alright?”

  Parker nodded excitedly, I could tell she was trying not to scream and dance around us. But she remained professional.

  Until we got back to the Benz, about a half hour later.

  Then she was dancing in the car and starting to strip.

  I about choked on my tongue when her shirt went flying. “Maybe let’s wait until we’re home for that.”

  “Home.” She spread her arms wide and then seemed to deflate. “Home.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “No, nothing, it’s just . . .” She made a face. “It feels that way, to me at least.”

  “Good.” I rubbed her leg, and when we pulled up to a stop sign, I couldn’t help myself. I reached across the console and kissed her long and hard, so deep that I didn’t want to come up for air, but the honking behind me was clue enough I couldn’t handle myself in public.

  I needed my girl in private.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved in the rearview mirror and took off with a half-naked Parker holding onto my hand and beaming like she’d just won the World Cup.

  We wasted no time. I pulled into the garage, closed the door, and raced her through the house and into the bathroom.

  “Are you hitting the showers with me, Coach?” She peeled her sports bra off her perfect little body.

  “Sounds dirty . . .” I said in a low voice. “A bit wrong . . .”

  “No.” She smiled up at me as she helped me shrug down my jeans. “This isn’t wrong, not you and me.”

  “No.” I grinned. “Never.”

  She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my lips and let out a giggle when I hooked my fingers in her shorts and wiggled them to the floor. I carefully discarded each cleat, sock, shin guard. And then it was just the smell of sweat, grass, and victo
ry all wrapped up in one perfect package staring down at me like I was the reason for her happiness when she had no idea that she was the sole reason for mine.

  Her hair was a tangled auburn mess at her shoulders, her eyes lit up when I ran my hands up her thighs and cupped her hips. “I’m so damn proud of you, Parker.”

  “Yeah?” She grinned, chewing on her lower lip as my hands caressed their way up her body until we were face to face.

  “Yeah.” I brushed a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Oh, and I have a new nickname, Dance Mom Matt. Unfortunately, I think it’s going to stick.”

  She made a face then burst out laughing. “Then where’s my snack, bitch?”

  “That’s it!” I threw her over my shoulder and carried her into the small shower in the guest bathroom, wishing mine was remodeled so we could spread out and just camp in there for the next day, feeding each other grapes or whatever the hell you do as a happy couple.

  “Sto-op.” She laughed as water sprayed all over our faces, running down our bodies. “Okay, I’m sorry I called you a bitch, but I’ll take my snack now, Coach.” She dropped to her knees before I could stop her and then I was dying a slow death in the heat of her wicked mouth as I leaned against the shower tile so I wouldn’t crush her with my weight or my enthusiasm as she worked her tongue around me.

  “Parker.” I ground out her name as I moved my hips. “Bend over . . . now.”

  “Wha—”

  I had her on her feet, her back facing me within seconds. She panted my name as I cupped her breasts from behind, watched the water slide down her perfect ass. I rubbed the tender skin there. “This is mine . . .”

  “Yes.” She threw her head back.

  “All of this.” A wave of dangerous possession took hold as I jerked her against me, found her entrance, and sank in with one fluid thrust that had her wet hair slapping my chest as my hips moved with hers.

  “Yes, yes,” she panted. “Please, Matt, right there . . .”

  “Where?” I joked, earning a helpless sigh from her as I angled my body and pulled her entire weight in the air. “Put your hands on the wall, yeah, like that . . . and your feet right on the ledge . . .” I nipped her ear. “And hold on tight.”

  With that angle I had gravity on my side and the fact that she was bent just enough for me to hit every deep and delicious spot that had her thighs pulsing and our bodies buzzing in ecstasy.