Players of Marycliff University Box Set, Books 1–3

by Jerica MacMillan

  Watching her slide into the passenger seat looked so right. But he had to remind himself that this wasn’t going to be a new normal for them. She didn’t want him, no matter how much that rankled.

  She looked up at him just before he closed the door. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

  The gratefulness and worry in her eyes hit him right in the chest. He had to clear his throat to keep the gruffness out of his voice. “No problem.” Trying to play it as casually as possible, Lance walked around the car, slid into his seat, and started the engine. “So, where to?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The ride to Abby’s mom’s house passed in silence. Lance didn’t know what to make of the withdrawn girl he had with him now. This wasn’t the Abby he’d gotten to know over the weekend. That girl always had something sassy to say, and if she got too nervous, he could relax her with a joke. She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t anything, just blank, staring out the window every time he looked over at her. She had completely shut down, not projecting any emotion.

  He tried to engage her in conversation, wanting to distract her or find out what she might need help with—other than transportation—but everything he tried was met with the shortest answer possible.

  “What’s your mom’s name?”

  “Diane.” She said it evenly, still staring out the window.

  “What does she need help with?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She didn’t say?”

  Abby just shook her head, still not looking at him.

  Lance drove in silence for another ten minutes. “How was work today?”

  Abby turned her head slightly in his direction, but still didn’t face him. “Fine.”

  His brows drawn down in concern and frustration, he resigned himself to her silence and left her alone with her thoughts after that. He hoped she’d eventually fill in the blanks for him. But getting personal information out of her was like prying stuck bolts off a tire. Hard work with hand tools and easier with specialized equipment. Right now he was stuck with hand tools and bolts rusted in place.

  When they got off the freeway, she seemed to shake herself back to awareness of her surroundings. Straightening up, she faced forward, looking out the windshield and giving him directions in that dead monotone she’d used since they got in the car.

  She took him to the outskirts of town onto a dirt road. Tall pine trees hedged them in, and every so often they came to a driveway leading to a rundown mobile home. Eventually she indicated an opening in the trees on the right. “Turn here.”

  “Driveway” was a generous term for little more than two rutted tracks nearly overgrown with knapweed, clover, and dandelions. The weeds made hollow sounds as they scraped along the bottom of his car. The track led to a double-wide mobile home on a concrete slab. It was a dirty gray color and the ends of the siding were starting to crumble. A beat-up old Nissan the color of a rusty sky sat off to one side

  Lance stopped where the track ended near the concrete steps leading to the front door. When he killed the engine, Abby finally turned and looked at him for the first time since she had gotten in the car.

  “So, my mom has some issues. Mostly anxiety, and she doesn’t really like meeting new people. I’m not sure what she needs help with today or how long it will take. I’m hoping it won’t take long. I don’t want to ruin your evening.” She hesitated, plucking at her lower lip with one hand and looking at the front door. Then she clenched her hand into a fist. “Do you mind waiting in the car?”

  “You want me to wait in the car?” Lance tried to keep his voice as even as possible, but couldn’t help letting his disbelief seep in.

  Abby nodded, her face pleading and desperate. “Please?” It was the only crack he’d seen in her emotionless facade.

  He let out a breath, knowing he’d agree to whatever she asked for. It was going to be a hot, boring wait, but he couldn’t tell her no. Not when she was so clearly distraught. He couldn’t quite piece together what had her so worked up. There was the obvious cry for help from her mother, and the fact that she didn’t know what was going on had to be worrying. But he got the inkling that having him along was also a source of distress. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed, trying to keep the resignation out of his voice. “I’ll be here.” At least the trees all around meant that he was parked in the shade.

  “Thank you.” There was that relief again, confirming his guess that she didn’t really want him here, even if she was grateful that he got her here faster than if she’d waited for her roommate. She climbed out of his car and walked up the steps. After trying the handle, she knocked on the door before pulling out her keys and opening it.

  “Mom, it’s me.” Her voice carried through his open window as she walked in the door. The door shut firmly behind her, and Lance was left alone in his car in front of a strange house.

  Agitated and unsettled, he shifted in his seat, unbuckling and stretching his legs. He hadn’t expected this. If he had, he would’ve brought a book or something. Picking up his phone, he tried to check his email for something to do, but apparently they were on the edge of civilization because it took forever to load. No surfing for funny YouTube videos to pass the time. He pulled up an ebook, but that didn’t hold his attention. So he switched to a block puzzle game before that got boring, too.

  He checked the time, his leg bouncing, full of nervous energy. Abby had been inside for twenty minutes now, and he hadn’t heard anything. Should he knock on the door and see if everything was okay? No, she’d made it clear that she didn’t want him in the house. He wiped away a drip of sweat running down the side of his face. Damn it was hot. His tongue felt sticky, and he was going to need to pee soon. How much longer was Abby going to take?

  Sighing with irritation, he switched to Candy Crush. Another ten minutes went by without a sign from Abby. At least his white shirt wouldn’t show obvious sweat stains in his armpits. But he really had to pee now. There were lots of trees in the yard. But what were the odds that Abby would come out as soon as he got it out to pee? Somehow he didn’t think pissing on her mom’s trees would go over well. Especially on top of whatever was already going on.

  He tried to ignore the growing pressure, but with nothing holding his attention very long, it became increasingly difficult. Even his irritation was giving way to the growing demands of his bladder. His entire focus was on the fact that he had to pee. Now.

  He got out of the car and stood up to see if that would help.

  Nope.

  Lance laced his fingers behind his head, trying to wait as long as possible. This wasn’t working. He wouldn’t piss in the yard. Which only left asking to use the bathroom.

  He walked up the bare concrete front steps. This place was more utilitarian than even his own house. Three concrete steps with just enough room at the top for one person to stand in front of the door. No porch, no overhang, no awning.

  Not even comparing this place to his house was distracting enough. He lifted his hand to knock and hesitated. Abby had been pretty clear that she wanted him to wait outside. But, damn it, he needed to pee. He couldn’t wait any longer.

  He knocked firmly three times.

  “Calm down, Mom.” Abby’s muffled voice came through the door. She opened it just enough to look out and talk to him. “Hey. What’s up?”

  Seriously? That’s all she was going to say? “I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Oh god. I’m so sorry. Of course you do.” Abby pulled the door open all the way and pointed to his right. “It’s over there, first door on the left.”

  At least she felt bad for leaving him for so long. But Lance didn’t have time to dwell on her feelings right now. He headed straight for the door she indicated, his long strides eating up the small space in no time, all attention focused on the promise of relief in the bathroom. He spared a glance at the space, noting that it was clean, which was nice. But at that point, he wouldn’t have cared if it were dirty and covered in wet towels as long as it had
a working toilet. He got the seat up and his dick out just in time, closing his eyes and biting back a groan of relief as the pressure eased. As he finished, he was able to observe more details. The spotless mirror. The smell of bleach. The way the linoleum had started to peel up around the back of the toilet next to the bathtub, like water had splashed out of the shower there too many times.

  Voices carried to him through the door. Abby and her mom were conducting an argument in low voices so that he couldn’t make out the words. The flush of the toilet and the water running in the sink drowned out their voices, and he was glad. He didn’t want to witness an argument. Not just because he’d be super uncomfortable, but Abby seemed intensely private, and the ride home would be even more awkward if he had to sit through them arguing in front of him. When he opened the door he caught Abby saying, “No, Mom,” and then they both went quiet.

  Lance came out of the hallway and stood by the wall in the living room, unsure what to do with himself. This wasn’t a feeling he experienced very often. He usually knew exactly what to do, but right now he was out of his depth.

  Able to focus on something other than the need to pee, he noticed the dark brown carpet appeared worn through in spots, like in the entryway and where it met the linoleum in the kitchen. A sofa and loveseat sat in front of an older TV on a cheap entertainment center that you could get at any big box store. The furniture, too, showed signs of wear at the edges and in the seats that were sat in the most. It was clean, though, and uncluttered.

  Abby’s mom stood in the kitchen on the other side of the living room, leaning against the breakfast bar. Her oversized shirt hung off her shoulders, her collarbones visible beneath her skin. She wore her dirty blonde hair in a ponytail, accentuating the lines and angles of her face that were pulled tight in a scowl directed at him.

  Lance lifted his hand in a wave and cleared his throat, not sure how to react to that scowl. “Uh, hi.”

  Abby still stood near the front door. In an even and soothing voice, she made the introductions. “Mom, this is my friend Lance that I was telling you about. He gave me a ride today when my car wouldn’t start. Lance, this is my mom, Diane.”

  Lance tried to give Diane a friendly smile, but the scowl on her face didn’t budge. He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling more out of place by the second when she didn’t say anything or do anything other than glare at him. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe it wasn’t that Abby was embarrassed of him, which had been one of his thoughts. Maybe she was embarrassed about her mom. Because she knew that this was how her mom would react.

  Abby came over and put a hand on his arm, and his skin tingled at the contact like it always did when they touched. “I’m sorry, Lance.” Her voice was still soft and soothing, practiced, like she’d spent a lot of time smoothing ruffled feathers. He couldn’t decide if he was pissed off that she was doing that to him or flattered that she felt like he mattered enough to soothe. Either way, her attention made him feel slightly less irritated about waiting in the heat for so long. “I didn’t realize how long we’d been here already. It’ll probably take a little longer. Are you thirsty or anything?”

  He nodded, feeling like his loud, deep voice would be out of place here with her soft, reassuring tones.

  “Let me get you a glass of water. Have a seat.” She gestured toward the living room furniture.

  Settling himself on the loveseat, Lance purposefully avoided the sofa that Diane obviously preferred from the wear patterns on the cushions. He heard the water running while Abby filled a glass for him, and when he looked toward the kitchen, Diane was gone. The sound of a door closing in the hallway told him she’d snuck past while he sat down.

  Abby handed him the glass of water. “I’m sorry about that. Like I said, she doesn’t like meeting new people. I need to finish talking to her. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

  “Sure. Take your time.” He gave her his most charming smile and took a long drink of water, hoping Abby would be reassured by the gesture. At least it was cooler in the house with a fan blowing on him and he had something to drink. Abby gave him the same tight smile from earlier and followed her mom to her bedroom.

  Keeping his arms close to his body, he slumped on the loveseat, feeling oversized and clumsy, like he might mess something up just by being in the house. After finishing the glass of water, he set the empty glass on the side table next to him. Low voices came from the direction of the bedroom, and he tried to ignore them. Once again, he couldn’t make out words, and he didn’t want to, because it sounded like another argument conducted at just above a whisper.

  Abby came out a few minutes later and sat down on the end of the sofa nearest to the loveseat. She rested her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes, every line of her body projecting weariness and resignation. Lance watched her, wanting to ask what was going on, but when he noticed the tight set of her mouth and the furrow between her brows, his remaining irritation dissolved. He kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t think anything he could think of would help, and felt like an intruder by being there.

  After a moment she took a deep breath and let it out. She opened her eyes and turned toward him, sitting forward on the couch, once again with that blank curtain over her features, her moment of weakness gone. She focused on a point over his left shoulder, not meeting his eyes.

  She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, her croaky voice belying her unflappable facade, she said, “My mom needs me to run a few errands for her. I hate to ask this after you’ve already—”

  Lance cut her off, not wanting to hear her chastise herself after watching how hard this clearly was for her. Not only dealing with her mom, but also asking him for anything. Did she have this much trouble asking her friends for help? Was it just because she didn’t know him very well? Or was she this way with everyone?

  There’d be time to figure that out later. “Just tell me where we need to go. It’s not a problem.” He kept his voice businesslike and polite, hoping she’d accept it at face value and not think he only offered out of pity. She clearly had a deep need for independence, and he suspected that pity would be unwelcome.

  She looked at his face then, studying him again like she did before they left her apartment. Once again, she accepted whatever she saw in his face. Nodding once, she stood. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Overwhelmed with the turmoil of emotions swirling inside her, Abby led the way to Lance’s car and absently waited for him to open her door. As she slid into her seat, she realized with a start that she hadn’t even tried to open her own door. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. It was easier to just let Lance do his thing.

  Having him along was wreaking havoc on her already taxed emotional reserves. She loved her mom—of course she did, she was her mom after all—and while helping her with simple and everyday tasks like grocery shopping was nothing new, having something like a normal life at Marycliff the last two years made it harder and harder to come back. In short, her mother was exhausting. The fact that she couldn’t handle an extra person in her space only made it worse. Even if Megan had brought her, Abby’s mom still would’ve been just as rude to her, but at least she wouldn’t have gotten in a fight with Abby in the next room.

  She felt so bad for Lance. And embarrassed. In high school, her mom wouldn’t let her bring anyone home with her even if she wanted to, so this acute sense of shame at her mom’s atrocious behavior and the shabby state of her home—especially compared to someone who she knew came from a family who probably lived in a mansion compared to her mom’s double wide—was new. And unwelcome.

  As embarrassing as it was, though, her mom’s behavior was no surprise. Abby wasn’t sure if it was because Lance was a stranger—though that certainly didn’t help—or that he was a guy, but her mom had been extra awful about him being the one who’d brought her. Instead of being grateful to Lance for coming to Abby’s rescue when her car wouldn
’t start, her mom was suspicious. “He’s just using you,” she’d spat out while they were closed in her bedroom. “A boy like that? Looking like that? He’s only after one thing. The fact that he’s here just means you haven’t given it up yet.”

  Clamping her mouth shut at that statement, Abby had shaken her head and forced her mom to give her a grocery list, ignoring all other grumbles about what Lance’s presence meant or didn’t mean.

  Her dad bailing when she was a little girl had done a number on her mom, sending her into a spiral that ended up with her like she was now. She hadn’t always been this bad. And some part of Abby suspected that she was partly to blame for the steep and steady decline. Her mom used to be able to handle day-to-day tasks. She’d had a job for a while. Did the grocery shopping. Sure, she had to rest more than it seemed like her friends’ moms did, but she still functioned at something resembling a normal level.

  Once Aaron, and later Abby, got old enough to handle things on their own, she started relying on them more and more. After Aaron left, the entire load fell on Abby.

  The seat vibrated beneath her as the car rumbled to life. But it was Lance’s voice that startled her out of her morose thoughts. “Where to?” The same question he’d asked when they left her apartment. The same inflection. The same open and affable expression on his handsome face.

  She stared at him for a moment, taking in the lean lines of his shoulders and biceps outlined by his white button-down shirt. The buttons undone at the collar revealed the hollow of his throat, and combined with his hair ruffled from running his hands through it, gave him a messy-sexy-roguish look. The faint impression of a dimple winked at her from one cheek, brought out by the small, polite smile on his lips. She’d thought that dimple was boyish and sweet the first time she saw it, despite the fact that he’d been laughing at her at the time. Looking back, though, she wondered if maybe he’d been laughing at the situation more than at her. And in hindsight, it was ridiculous enough to be funny. That entire evening had been one ridiculous blunder after the next, starting with agreeing to go to that stupid party, and ending with having pie with a hot guy wearing his oversized Superman shirt.