Cocky Quarterback: Eric Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 12)

by Faleena Hopkins

  “I offered her a ride home,” I mutter, starting to suspect that I’m naïve and Bethany might be right.

  “And she didn’t take it?”

  “No…”

  “Tony, if I was sick and you wanted to drive me, I would let you.” Turning back to me she adds, “I’m sorry, Eric.”

  They’re all quiet. The guys know I wouldn’t have said Wren’s name on live television if I didn’t care about her. I was already calling her my girlfriend, a title I’ve given nobody, ever. “Doesn’t matter. I’m good.”

  “Good?” Tony asks, brown eyes huge. “Man, you’re a fuckin’ star today. You think the offers were good before? The hero who yanked us out of the shitter and brought us to victory—with a hand blistered up like yours—he is getting some motherfuckin’ phone calls, man!”

  Mott grins, his deep voice filled with vibrato as he agrees, “It’s gonna rain sponsorships now. You are sitting pretty for the season, Super Bowl or no Super Bowl. Everyone’s gonna want your mug on their mug.”

  “Nice,” Tony says, and they high-five.

  I couldn’t care less. I have enough money. As the years pass, I’ll save more. And sure, it’s nice to have a cushion in case anything happens and I can’t play. But right now the last thing I care about is being the face on someone’s product.

  It’s not my face I’m thinking about.

  It’s hers.

  She looked disgusted.

  “I’ve gotta take a leak. I’ll catch you later.”

  Tony calls after me, “Not coming drinking with us?”

  “Hand hurts. Probably goin’ home.”

  “No way! Come back to my place!”

  Walking to O’Neal’s I call over my shoulder, “Maybe. I’ll text you if I’m feeling it. Otherwise, have fun!”

  Sooks had been quiet this whole time but my abandoning the party inspires him to speak up, “Cocker, your ass is coming with us tonight! We’ve got all these girls here. They would be extremely disappointed if you didn’t go.”

  Laughing I wave, “Do they know how squeaky clean your balls are, Sooks? If they did they wouldn’t want me and my Poison Ivy!”

  As I disappear inside I hear Mott shouting at me.

  I’m sure I’ll get a million messages from them demanding my attendance but the thought of some girl grinning at me, trying to get in my pants, isn’t interesting to me. There’s only one girl I wanted to spend the night with.

  “Hey Mike! Eleanor! You guys mind, I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

  They wave and I pass the bar-back whose name I don’t know. He smacks my arm with a proud fan-smile as I head into one of the two unisex stalls that just happens to be where Wren and I cleaned up. A frown pierces me at the memory. Loved to hear that laugh. I don’t have to pee, but I might as well since I’m here.

  Might give me the time I need to figure out how to ask Mike about her without sounding…desperate. Washing my hands I stare at my reflection. Is this what insecurity feels like?

  Fuck.

  This.

  Feeling.

  Quick strides take me outside and over to the people with the answers. “Mike, Eleanor, was Wren really sick or does she want nothing to do with me? Give it to me straight.”

  Blank looks stare back at me before shock registers and they both speak at the same time.

  “She’s sick!”

  “Are you crazy?”

  My frown drops toward the sticky tile under my feet. “That’s what I thought.” Tapping the counter I head out. “Thanks, just had to check.”

  Dion approaches me from outside. We slow down, me waiting for him to talk me into parties and orgies. But he pats my shoulder and passes me. “Don’t give up on her, man. She’s probably just sick.”

  Over my shoulder I follow his strides and before he disappears I call out, “Hey!”

  With his meaty fingers gripping the doorknob he glances back. “What?”

  “You going after who I think you’re going after?”

  Lowering his already deep voice he rumbles, “You see that shirt Eleanor had on? She knows that’s my favorite. That woman makes my balls throb, Eric, and you don’t let that shit get away.” He vanishes.

  A grin flashes on my face, then freezes. Digging my phone out I text Wren:

  Hope you feel better, Sweets. Here if you need me. I can bring soup, carry you to the hospital. Make you laugh so you heal faster. Whatever you need. – E.

  At my car, the street quiet now, my chest pounds as I see the edge of a white cocktail napkin tucked under the driver’s side wiper-blade. Thinking it might be from her, I snatch it out, unfold it quickly, and slump. Mott’s ginormous scrawl stares back at me from it, saying I’d better show up or they’re taking the party to my apartment.

  Can’t let that happen, so I text him that I’m on my way. Hopping in my Jeep, top down and doors still in the storage unit of my parking garage at home, I turn up the tunes. My cousin Gabriel’s playlist is all I listen to these days. He’s got four albums out now and I love them all. I mean, sure some are a little sappy, and some aren’t as good as his Number One hits, but music is as subjective as any art form.

  There’s one song he sings that I love better than any of the ones that have made it to radio. Don’t Let Them Stop You isn’t like his ballads or anthems. It’s this great Rock & Roll number reminiscent of old music from The Police before Sting went solo. The shit is incredible. Uncle Jason produces all Gabriel’s stuff and they really knocked it out of the park with that song. Right up my alley.

  But any of these make me feel better.

  He’s my blood.

  Gabriel’s career has only just begun.

  And there he is, in love with just one woman.

  Frowning, I let the wind and the music soothe me.

  It’s sure to be an all-nighter at Tony’s place. Naked girls. Tons of booze. Don’t have practice until Wednesday and the guys are going to let their dogs loose. Offers of sex left and right, any way you want it. The girls will triple in number. A few calls and texts and boom, pussy everywhere.

  And here I am heading to my brother’s.

  When the guys show up at my place, hunting me down—which they will—I don’t want to be there.

  There’s only one woman I want to be with tonight. If I can’t be with her, I’ll hide out at Ethan’s. Lord knows he’s got enough bedrooms.

  Chapter 31

  WREN

  Unwanted sunlight sneaks in through my blinds, and nothing could be more irritating. Burrowing under my pillow I stifle the emotions morning brought with her. Took me forever to fall asleep. The ceiling has never been so thoroughly inspected.

  His text didn’t help.

  Sounded so kind.

  What’s the point of his keeping up the game? He already scored the proverbial touchdown. I gave him what he wanted.

  Maybe he’s like Peter who also has been texting me every day since Eric beat him up and the truth was freed.

  Sleep won’t come.

  Too awake.

  Too angry.

  Too sad.

  Fuck.

  Tumbling the pillow off me I scramble to my feet and rub my eyes. First the bathroom. Brushing teeth can wait. Then the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. Turns out Fruity Pebbles has vitamins thrown in with all that sugar so that’s a good enough reason for me to have two bowls. Need more B12, don’t I? Why yes, yes I do.

  Am I out of coffee?

  I can’t be out of coffee.

  Shit.

  I am.

  Shit shit shit.

  Brushing teeth can still wait, and so can changing clothes. If anyone has a problem with the pajama shorts and baggy hoodie I wore to sleep, they can kiss my butt. This is the best effort I can make today. Slip on a pair of flip-flops, grab my keys, snatch up my phone in case my stupid car dies on the side of a deserted road on the way to Octane Coffee, and I’m heading for the door. Sunlight be damned.

  Dare I look at my phone to see who called?

&nbs
p; Don’t peek at it, Wren.

  Just walk.

  But who has that much will power?

  I sneak a glance, discover a voicemail from Peter and a missed call from Eleanor. Nothing new from Eric after the hope you feel better text late last night.

  I hate that I’m disappointed.

  But the heart is not the head.

  It will take time to shut down for good.

  “Did someone leave their garbage out here?” I mutter, pulling a reusable Trader Joes bag from under the shade of my shrubbery. Poking around I find a care package of Vitamin C, bananas, five protein bars, a sack of very hard avocados, two boxes of tissues, a gallon jug of bottled water, and—blessings of all blessings—gourmet coffee beans.

  There’s no card, but I know who these are from. My mom hates that I drink so much coffee. I’m about to call Eleanor and thank her when I spot tiny handwriting on one of the tissue boxes.

  Figured you might need extra, since you have a snot problem and I was out of poison ivy. – E.

  Tears instantly spring to the corners of my eyes as I gasp and read it again. Guess I’ll be needing two boxes after all.

  Chapter 32

  ERIC

  “Text her again,” my brother tells me from across the patio table in his enormous backyard. Kaya is sitting on Ethan’s knees, grinning up at her father. I can’t believe he’s a dad. It doesn’t escape my notice how happy he is, either.

  “Three unanswered texts is probably the limit for one day,” I mutter while patting medicated numbing lotion onto my hand. The football did it no favors, but that’s not my complaint today. “My teammates won’t stop blowing up my phone for skipping out on them last night.”

  “Every time it beeps you think it’s Wren.”

  Sighing, “Yeah,” I lock eyes with Ethan. “We were in her bed for two days, and there was only one reason I wanted to get up and play in that game.”

  “You wanted to impress her.”

  Sucking patience through my teeth I stand up and drag my left hand through my hair, staring at the waning sun. “I can’t hide out here all day.”

  “But you don’t want to go to an empty apartment now.”

  “Wasn’t empty before, and I’ve been living alone for years.”

  Ethan gives me a knowing smirk, not mocking me, just feeling my pain. “That’s forever changed. Once you know what it feels like to be with a woman you can’t get enough of, life isn’t the same anymore. Even if it doesn’t work out with Wren, you’ll search for that feeling. But it might never come again.”

  I flick an irritated look his way, “You’re a big help.”

  “Am I wrong?” Chuckling he adds, “I’m never wrong so why am I askin’?”

  That gets a smile out of me, but not a big one. “She’s probably just sick.”

  “I’m sure that’s what’s going on.”

  “But too ill to text? How long does it take?” I lock eyes with my brother but he’s got no comfort to give. We don’t bullshit each other when it comes to the real stuff. Razzing, pranks, mockery and mimicry, sure…but that’s all in fun. We love each other and we both like the truth too much. It’s where control is. If you know what’s going on you can do something about it.

  “I’m going to call her. Fuck texting.”

  “There ya go!” He gives his pinky to Kaya to hold while she makes cute noises. Looking up, Ethan waits with me and frowns when I’m sent to voicemail. As my shoulders slump he says, “Try again, Eric.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah!”

  A sharp inhale and a thumb jab later and the phone is ringing again. “Hello?” comes her voice, quiet and hesitant.

  “Wren? Hey!” Ethan and I share a look, and I calm my voice down so I don’t seem so damn excited, even needy. “Sorry I hung up on your voicemail, I was worried about you.”

  “Thank you for the care package.”

  Smiling with relief I walk away for privacy, lowering my voice. “You got that? Good, I wasn’t sure if you’d go out. Didn’t want the squirrels getting it. Or the lizards.”

  There’s no sign of laughter as she whispers, “I ran out of coffee so…”

  “Oh, so I saved you a trip.”

  “You did.”

  “You feeling better or worse?”

  “Eric…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want you calling me anymore.”

  My heart stops and I freeze on the grass, whispering and covering the phone with my hand. “Hey Wren if I came on a little strong I just—”

  “—I know why, okay? So just stop. Please leave me alone. Oh God,” she whispers, “I have to throw up now. Goodbye Eric.”

  The phone goes dead. My blood is thudding in my ears. Ethan walks up to me, hugging his daughter as she pulls at his hair. “What just happened? You look white as a ghost. Is she in the hospital? Let’s go! My car is faster than yours—I’ll drive.”

  Staring into nothingness I barely hear him. “She broke up with me.”

  Ethan moves to catch my gaze, bending to ask, “What? Are you kidding me?”

  In a daze my head shakes slowly from side to side. “She said she doesn’t want me to call her anymore.” Eyes flicking to his I groan, “What am I gonna do?”

  He exhales, blinking heavily, stunned. “You’re gonna have to let her go.”

  Clutching my chest I give a single nod and walk into the mansion, gather my keys and head for the door. Ethan appears and calls after me, “You okay to drive?”

  “No.”

  “Stay here until you calm down.”

  “No.”

  “ERIC, STOP!”

  I spin around and see him without Kaya. In the background she’s in her electric swing. Quick strides bring him over to wrestle my keys out of my hand.

  “Stop it, Ethan!”

  “Let them go!”

  “I have to get out of here.”

  “You’re staying until you calm down.”

  “Give me my fuckin’ keys!”

  I feel the fist before I see it coming. Reeling back I grab my jaw and glare at him. He holds the jingling keys to my freedom up, eyebrows high, and sprints for the backyard. I take off after him, but since he surprised me he got the head start he needed. As I explode out the backdoor I see him standing there with a smug challenge in his eyes, palms out, fingers spread and empty.

  “Where’d you hide ’em?!”

  He smirks, “Oh no, what happened?”

  Chapter 33

  WREN

  A week later Eleanor whines over the bar, “I can’t believe this is your last night here!”

  Stocking beers at the end of my last shift I sigh, “The bar I’m going to will be better for me. High-income clientele. Bigger tips.”

  “Stripping?” she sarcastically asks.

  Flattening the empty cardboard box I tilt my head. “Thank you for hiring a babysitter so you could work my last night.”

  She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but her eyes are sad. So are mine. “I know I said I didn’t want to know, but now that it’s really happening I can’t stick my head in the sand anymore. Dammit! Fine, tell me. Who are you leaving us for?”

  “St. Regis Hotel.”

  Her eyebrows rise. “That’s a nice place.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  She follows me to dry storage, warning, “You could spend a lifetime at a place like that.”

  “So?” I mutter, tossing the flattened box onto the recycling pile, and rolling a heavy keg out next. “I hate hooking these up. Every time they run out during my shift I wince. It’s like moving a cement barrel!”

  Eleanor ignores my lame attempt to change the subject. “What about singing, Wren? Are you ever going to do that again?”

  “God, you and my mother,” I mumble. “It’s my life, my dreams, what do you care?”

  With an empty O’Neal’s behind her, loud music off and the bright house-lights on, Eleanor jabs her finger in the air. “You hear that?”


  Dropping the keg in place I look around, “No, did someone knock?”

  “You said dreams. Your dreams, Wren! You can’t walk away from those! Not all of us have them!”

  “Everyone has dreams.”

  “I don’t,” she shrugs. “Unless you count being a good mom, which I am. Unless you count making my kids love me more than they love their dad, which I don’t think you can count—that’s just a selfish goal, but it’s there and I’m making it come true,” she grins, then becomes serious again, “Other than those, I’m just happy living my life my way.”

  Latching the hose to the keg and testing it I consider her point. “That’s a dream…living your life your way.”

  “Sure, but you know what I’m talking about here. It’s not a God-given talent. I’ve heard you. Your voice is beautiful!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with tending bar. It’s a skill. I make a very good drink, and you know it.”

  Throwing up her hands she pleads her case, “I know you do! And I never said there was anything wrong with it, did I? I love being a server. My hours are flexible. If my kids need me I can cover a shift. I get cash every day and I don’t have to take off my clothes for it! And I get to meet men! If I didn’t have this job I never would have met Dion, would I, no! What were the chances we’d run into each other in some grocery store? I mean, come on, that never happens.”

  I blink at her, thinking of my run-in with Eric at TJ’s.

  Grabbing my shoulders Eleanor insists, “I’m just saying that if you were born with a talent like you have, it was given to you for a reason. Don’t forget about it, okay?”

  A stillness overcomes me. “Okay.”

  She hugs me and I return it. “Did you tell Mike where you’re going from here?”

  “Yes. He’s not happy about it, but mostly because of the one-week-notice.”

  Rolling her eyes Eleanor heads off to turn the chairs over on the tables so the janitors can vacuum and mop the slime from the floor. “Please, you know how the owners are. Every person who’s given two weeks Carla takes them off the schedule early, anyway.”