Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  “Fuck you.” I look at him, then at Mav. “And you.”

  “You know Mom invited them over for Thanksgiving,” Mav says. “I guess you can break the news to the family there. Wait, unless you want to take that time to propose?”

  I shoot him a look. “I’m not proposing and I am not in love. Can we get back to the topic of women being weak?”

  “But they’re not,” Mitch says.

  “Of course you say that.” I roll my eyes. “Momma’s boy.”

  “You’re a momma’s boy too,” Mitch shoots back, then looks at Mav. “So are you, so don’t even think about denying it.”

  “I would never deny that,” Mav argues.

  “If she was weak, she would never have broken it off with Lawrence,” Mitch says.

  “Dude, he did a lot of shit before she broke up with him and I told her about some of the cheating when I saw her.”

  “Who cares? She left right before he’s about to become a super millionaire,” Mav says. “A lot of women would have stayed and reaped the benefits of being with a star.”

  He’s not wrong, but I still hate it. I hate that she seems to still want to protect that piece of shit when he doesn’t deserve it. He wronged her so many times. He hurt her deeply and I see it every single day even though no one else does.

  “I think I’m in love with her,” I say, surprising myself, and them, because even though they talk shit, they weren’t expecting to hear me actually admit that.

  “Damn.” Mitch shakes his head.

  “Damn.” Mav blinks.

  “Damn,” I whisper.

  “And to her you’re just a rebound, right?” Mitch asks. I nod.

  “Always the bridesmaid,” Mav says. We both shoot him a look. “What? Mom always says that to Lily.”

  “Yeah, because Aunt Lily is literally always the bridesmaid.” Mitch chuckles.

  “And I’ve never wanted to be the bride,” I say, rolling my eyes when they both laugh uncontrollably. Assholes. “Or the groom, or whatever.”

  “It does get old though,” Mav says. “Having girls use us for our bodies or connections or money or whatever they think they can get by being with us.”

  “Why do you think I don’t fall into it?” Mitch says. “I’ve been telling you for years. Keep your eye on the prize.”

  “The prize being football,” I say. “Baseball for you.”

  “The prize being getting a professional contract. Yes.”

  “You know what I don’t understand? Everyone’s talking about this big contract he’s going to sign. Does that mean he has an agent?” Mav asks.

  “That’s a good question.” I frown, knowing we’re not supposed to sign with anyone until we play our last game.

  I’ve met a lot of agents and already have one in mind that I’ll probably sign with, but can’t until my last game, so we’ve never gone into that conversation. It’s all very platonic for now. Hi and bye, good game, I like what you did there, etcetera. I could have signed last year, but my injury set me back. Damn injuries.

  “Maybe he’s just talking to an agent, which of course, is also technically illegal, but still. Who would tell on him?”

  I purse my lips. He’s not wrong. This is why so many people get away with that. It’s a stupid rule to begin with. We meet agents all the time, but can’t talk about the future or anything that may hint at us doing any kind of business before our last game played. Even if Lawrence is signed, which I doubt he officially is since everyone knows the consequences of that, I would never snitch on him. As much as I can’t stand the guy, I wouldn’t want to ruin his freaking life. I shake my head. People like Lawrence get away with everything. Some might say the same thing about my brothers and me, but they’d be wrong. We’re more privileged than most, and still we’d never get away with half of the shit guys like Lawrence pull. I take a breath and exhale, unwilling to continue thinking about Lawrence.

  “Do you think Jo feels the same about you?” Mav asks.

  “I’m not sure.” There are times when there’s no question about it, but that’s usually when we’re having sex or alone and she actually lets her walls down for a moment, right before she builds them back up and shutters herself away. She used to be such an open book, not this overly cautious bombshell who looks over her shoulder when she walks and thinks twice before speaking. I think about the paper Lawrence keeps trying to get her to sign and feel my blood getting hot again. I know I need to let it go because if I want her to be more than just a casual hookup, I need to put my energy into that and not spend it on my frustration over the situation with her ex. She’s obviously trying to let it go. I need to try to do the same.

  Chapter 27

  Jo

  I stare at my phone for a full ten seconds before answering the call.

  “I thought you were going to come by on Sunday,” my mother says, her voice soft, softer than it has been in months when speaking to me.

  “I was busy.”

  “Hm.” She pauses. “When will you not be too busy to see your mother?”

  “When my mother stops acting like I killed someone.”

  “You could have, Jo.”

  I shut my eyes. No, I couldn’t have, but my mother doesn’t know that and honestly I’m not sure that she ever will. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway. It’s not like I’d be able to play this last season of volleyball because even if I came clean to my parents, I would never come clean to my coach or old teammates. I truly didn’t want to hurt Lawrence, despite everything. Maybe in a few years I’d tell people the truth about what happened, and who would even care at that point? Besides, as far as I’m concerned, my teammates don’t deserve my friendship. Not after the way they cast judgment and never even tried to keep in touch after I was kicked off the team. I get it, I do, drunk driving is absolutely unacceptable, but I wasn’t driving. It’s the freaking reason I wasn’t driving. Lawrence had nothing to drink that night, yet still lost control of the vehicle.

  “I don’t want to talk about this, Mom,” I say after a long bout of silence.

  “Fine. The Cruzes invited all of us to hang out next weekend. A Friendsgiving of sorts.”

  “Football season is on.”

  “It’s next weekend. Jagger will be on bye week.”

  “Already?”

  “I don’t make the football schedule.”

  “Are we driving or flying?”

  “Driving. We’re going to Asheville, not New York.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you going to come? I know you always say no, but I figured I’d ask and I need to tell Milly so she can be ready for us.”

  “Yeah, I’ll go.”

  “Good.” Mom pauses. “I hope to see you before then, but if not, I’ll text you the information, unless you want to ride with us?”

  “I’ll ride with Misty.”

  “I haven’t spoken to her yet,” Mom says. “I don’t know if she’s going.”

  “She’ll go.”

  “Okay. Sort that out and get back to me. I love you, Josephine. Even if you don’t come visit me.”

  “I love you too, Mom.”

  When we hang up, I feel bereft. I truly miss my mother, but I can’t deny that I’m still pissed at her. Not because she punished me or for taking away the car they gave me for my high school graduation. I’m mad because she never let me explain myself to her or make things right. They just blew the entire thing out of proportion because they didn’t want to look like bad parents, so it was get a lawyer, expunge the DUI, pay this person and that person, oh, and after you’re done with community service, clean the practice once a week. I wasn’t even mad at all of it. On a deep level, I understood what they were doing. I was just hurt.

  I think about Jagger now and wonder what he must think of me. I never gave him a chance to question me. After our brunch non-date fiasco, we’ve pretty much stayed away from each other. I hear him when he gets home late at night after practice and sometimes he’s already there, playing Madden
with his friends, when I get home from the bar. He hasn’t so much as looked at me for more than two seconds. Every time he does, I can tell he’s mad though and that’s enough for me not to want to speak to him. I’m tired of having people be mad at me for no reason and I’m even more tired of having to explain myself to them.

  Chapter 28

  Jagger

  “Cut left. Cut left!” Coach B screams.

  I cut left, but it’s too late, Payton throws the ball over my left arm and I have no time to catch it. I throw my hands down and curse.

  “Dammit, Cruz!” Coach B yells again. “You keep that up and you won’t be starting on Saturday.”

  I shut my eyes and exhale, taking the bottle of the sports drink the water boy is handing me as Payton walks over.

  “You good?” he asks.

  “Miscalculation.” I shake my head and squirt the drink into my mouth before throwing the bottle down on the ground. “Fuck.”

  “You think you’ll be ready by Saturday?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know the plays. You just need to execute.”

  “I fucking know that, Pay.” I shoot him a look.

  “What play do you want me to run that’s going to make you catch the fucking ball and score?” he asks.

  Most QBs I’ve played with wouldn’t ask that. They’d be quick to replace me because they don’t trust I can get the job done. Payton and I have been friends since freshman year and even though I was a starting tight end when I got here, he had to warm the bench until our last QB left for the NFL. Still, he’s been the one I vibe with most when it comes to his impeccable throwing. His arm has power and precision, two things I can count on. Normally, playing with him is easy and seamless, but after my injury, nothing has felt that way.

  “Let’s just run that one again,” I say, picking up the bottle I’d thrown on the ground and handing it to the water boy.

  We run the route again. This time, I’m there, but don’t lift my arm. I cover my face with my hands. It’s frustrating because I envision myself catching the fucking ball every time, and when it comes down to execute the play, I freeze. I’m scared. There’s no way around it. I’m terrified I’ll pull a ligament. Terrified I’ll undo the work I’ve put in to repair my shoulder. If I keep at it, they won’t start me and before I know it, I’ll lose my spot. I know this just as well as they do. Coach jots something down and it takes everything in me not to scream.

  “What are you going to do when you have someone tackle you?” Coach B asks. “You going to freeze up and let them take the ball?”

  “Fuck.” I take a deep breath. “No. I can do this.”

  “Let’s get Jarvis out here,” Coach says. “And Philip.”

  My eyes go wide. Coach shrugs like he’s not trying to kill me out here. Fullbacks Jarvis and Philip don’t take it easy on anyone, not even me. With good reason. We’re here to dominate, not fuck around. I was always grateful for the way they put their hearts into practice because I knew nothing could mess me up in the actual game, but now? Now I’m fucking petrified. I stare at them as they jog over to the field. They’re both going pro, no doubt, and I’ll be proud of them for it as long as they don’t kill me out here.

  “Let’s go, twinkle toes,” Jarvis says, grinning.

  “Fucker.” I narrow my eyes.

  “You need to toughen up,” he shoots back. “They’re not going to take it easy on us this weekend.”

  I nod. He’s right. They’re all right. It doesn’t make it any easier though.

  “Come on, Cruz. You can outrun us easily. Outrun us with the fucking ball in your hand,” Philip adds.

  Jamal sets up. The rest of us follow suit—Phil and Jar ready to double team me, and me ready to catch the damn ball and run like hell. Payton lifts the ball in his hand and rocks back. I start running the route, cutting left, Payton launches the ball as Jarvis and Philip rush me. I catch it, cradle it, and run like hell. They’re right on my tail, I hear both of them practically breathing on me, but it doesn’t matter. I make it past the touchdown line and throw my hands up.

  “You always work well under pressure.” Jarvis bumps my fist with his.

  “Let’s go again,” that’s Coach B. “Bring out the rest of the team.”

  “Coach…” Tucker’s eyes widen. “We already practiced with Jordan.”

  “And now you’re all going to do it again together.” Coach shoots him a pointed look. “Or are you here to make jokes and perform the entire Hamilton musical?”

  “No, sir.” Tucker looks at his feet. Payton, Jarvis, and I stifle a laugh.

  Tucker’s been singing that damn musical for two years now and today’s practice has been no different. This time, when the team comes back, Jordan also joins us on the field. He looks at me as if making sure I’m good and ready, and I give him a nod. Fear or no fear, I was born ready.

  Chapter 29

  Jo

  “Are you going to the game today?”

  I swivel around to see Jagger standing in the threshold of the kitchen. He’s wearing sweat pants and a Giants t-shirt. I haven’t seen him in days and it feels like weeks, and I realize that I miss him. I miss his lips on mine and his hands exploring my body. I miss talking to him, too. I just . . . miss him. I swallow back those emotions because casual and missing someone don’t go hand in hand.

  “I work.”

  He nods once before walking into the kitchen and going to the coffee maker.

  “You’ve been busy lately,” I say.

  “So have you.” He doesn’t look up at me when he says that.

  I’ve been busy trying to avoid him more than anything. The whole casual thing isn’t working for me anymore and I don’t want to be yet another girl who falls for Jagger, but it’s hard not to. I also don’t want to be Jessa in this situation, who brings it up and then is tossed aside for good. I need time to think about this and if it takes me all week, it takes me all week. I already decided that I need to officially cut all of my loose ties. I’ll forgive what needs to be forgiven and move on from Lawrence for good. I’ll come clean to my mother about the accident and make her swear not to make a big deal out of this. I’ll figure out where Jagger and I stand and how to cut him loose if we’re not on the same page. I just can’t handle anything that will lead to more regret right now.

  “At what time do you get off work?” He stirs some cream into his coffee and meets my eyes.

  “Seven.”

  “What are you doing after?”

  “I have to take care of something and then nothing.” I shrug a shoulder.

  “Jordan’s having a party.”

  “So you’ll be busy tonight.” I offer a small smile and hope it’s not shaky.

  I would offer more, but I agreed to dinner with Lawrence tonight so that I can finally give him the signed paper and put everything behind us for good. Dinner at the bar, so there’s no confusion about it. He’ll come right after my shift, we’ll have dinner and talk, I’ll give him a revised version of the NDA, signed, and then we’re absolutely done. I added a clause that says I won’t talk to reporters or write a tell-all about our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I have to keep his name out of my mouth if someone asks me a direct question that I actually want to answer.

  “I can text you the address if you want,” Jagger says, but he’s so nonchalant that I get the feeling maybe he doesn’t want me to go at all but is extending the invite just to be nice. Casual. Casual. Casual. I say that in my head three times and try to seriously push down how much I’m dying for him to kiss me.

  “Okay,” I say instead.

  “No pressure.” He shrugs a shoulder. “But if you want to go . . . ”

  “Maybe I can stop by.” I smile. He starts walking out of the kitchen, but stops when I speak again. “How’s your shoulder feeling? Have you been stretching it?”

  “Yep. Following my doctor’s orders.” He winks as he walks away.

  We never finished our conversation at brunch the oth
er day and I haven’t seen much of him at all this past week. I feel like a total ass about the way I walked out of that restaurant, too. It’s not like Jagger doesn’t have a million and one people to talk to about his problems, but he chose to tell me that day and I chose to walk away, so it’s my fault things are weird between us now. I’ve been avoiding him mostly because I don’t know how to act around him, but I figured once I saw him again things would be cool, totally normal. Obviously, I was wrong. I hate it. Jagger walks back out of his room, bringing a duffel bag with him and my heart slams into my chest. I know it’s just a bag and he has a game, but it makes me think about the day we moved in and suddenly I get sad knowing that this too will come to an end. I must be wearing my emotions on my face because he stops walking and looks at me, those toffee eyes all concerned.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Totally fine.” I nod and swallow. “I feel like I owe you an apology for how I reacted the other day.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Right, but I feel like I do.” I bite my lip. “You opened up and I was so caught up in my own shit and . . . ” I inhale and exhale heavily. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Truly.” He smiles, but it’s not that carefree, joyous smile I’ve gotten used to and it pains me.

  “I would say I can make it up to you with dinner or something, but I know you don’t do dinner and casual.”

  “I don’t.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Dinner might be nice though.” He glances at his fitness watch and back at me. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Good luck.” I rush behind him, following him to the front door. I want to kiss him. I want to hug him. I want to apologize again and talk things out. Instead, I stand there, even as he turns to face me and looks at me like he’s waiting for more. “I hope you kick ass. I’ll be watching from the bar.”

  “Thanks.” He smiles again, another polite one I can’t stand and then he’s gone.