The Not-Outcast

by Tijan

  Sasha added her one cent, “Happy.” Then she narrowed her eyes before stepping back and following the other two.

  Cut frowned at me. “I’m now wondering what the emergency was?”

  “Sasha would’ve gone nuclear on him if he hadn’t stopped. That’s the reason for the call. Mel relaxed because she knew once I walked in here, Sasha would calm down, and she also knew Chad would leave. Which all happened.”

  Cut winced. “What a great endorsement for Chad.”

  Yeah…

  My chest felt a little heavy now. Some of the background was seeping back in.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head, his arm coming around me as he pulled me to him. I stepped in, touching his chest, and then his head came down to rest against mine. “Chad’s got some good. It’s just that some of his bad is showing right now. He’s like a brother for a reason. He’ll come around.”

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  “I don’t care about Nut-Brother. I want you to know that.”

  “Nut-Broth—you know? I don’t want to know.” He frowned down at me. “But your dad, and Hunter—”

  “I’m not like that. I’m not built that way. What happened was kind of shitty, and I thought it was really cool that Deek took me in when he did. My baggage isn’t him, or Natalie, or Chad. I didn’t do anything wrong when I was a kid, but they acted like I was going to rob them blind. I came in from the streets and that’s how they viewed me. Some people have those thoughts and they can’t get rid of them. It’s like fostering a teenager, I’m sure. Some are scared to do it, but I had no control over my life at that age. Only one who didn’t judge me was Hunter, and that’s all I kinda care about. It’d be cool to see Hunter, but we email and I’ll see him more once he’s older. My baggage is just my head.” I tapped my head. “It’s in here. This is enough to deal with. Everything else is cosmetic. Surface shit. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Family doesn’t matter?”

  “They aren’t family. Sasha. Melanie. Hunter. They’re my family.”

  His grin turned crooked, and it was adorable on him. “You simplify things.”

  I shrugged, stepping closer because I couldn’t help myself. There was that pull from him again, and I was remembering high school. I was remembering when I first saw him, how I felt it then, too.

  “I’m saying this stuff so you don’t take any of it on. Whatever’s between you and Chad, I don’t want you taking on my stuff. I don’t harbor any feelings toward Chad. If I did, it’d be on behalf of Sasha. Me and Chad, there isn’t a me and Chad thing. I’m okay with it.”

  “I reserve the right to feel a certain way, just like you said you could feel a certain way on behalf of your girl. It’s the same thing for me.”

  I opened my mouth. I was going to say it wasn’t the same thing, but … it was.

  It was because he cared about me, and I was really starting to feel that. He’d said it before, but hearing someone cares about you and actually believing someone cares about you are two different things.

  A whole warm feeling was spreading through me. It went to my toes and fingers, and I was starting to tingle. “Okay, but I don’t want you to worry about what I’m feeling about him. That make sense?”

  He nodded. “It does.” And his hands slid down my sides, rounding to my back, and he pulled me flush up against him. “Since we’re here and we’re alone, wanna stay a bit?”

  I’d almost forgotten we were in a nightclub. That said volumes right there.

  “Yeah.”

  He pulled me over and we sat in the back booth. As if they’d been watching, giving us privacy, a staff member came in then to check on us. She brought us waters. As soon as she left, he lifted me up so I was on his lap.

  We sat like that, not talking.

  There weren’t words for how good this felt.

  I wasn’t just stepping inside from the cold here. I was inside and there was a fire, and I was getting handed hot chocolate with marshmallows. It was that kind of feeling, and sometime later, I relaxed so much against him that he was cradling me in his arms. My back was to his chest. I was watching the play of lights on the ceiling, and my legs had fallen to the side of his.

  I felt like I was in a trance, like where you inhale happiness and contentment, and it filled you up from the inside out. I was so calm that I was breathing out peace and tranquility. It was a trip, the whole thing, and I knew then that I was fucked.

  I just didn’t have it in me to care.

  From: Koala Boy

  To: Cheychey

  Subject: I broke up with Monica.

  From: Cheychey

  To: Koala Boy

  Subject: Need me to hurt her? I know a Herb who has a vicious dog.

  From: Koala Boy

  To: Cheychey

  Subject: You’re joking, right?

  From: Cheychey

  To: Koala Boy

  Subject: Dude.

  27

  Cut

  Two days later, I was leaving the locker room when Cassie popped out from the PT room. “Margo wants to see you.”

  I frowned. Margo was the Mustangs’ owner, one of them. She and her husband owned the team together, but Marcus was usually off doing business around the world. Margo stayed put to oversee the team, or just be on hand. She was involved with the program every day, and she never called me to her office.

  “You know what about?”

  She shook her head, her ponytail swishing from side to side.

  I shrugged, taking my bag with me in the opposite direction.

  As I passed her, Cassie shifted. Her hand came up to rest against the doorframe and she asked, “Hey, uh…”

  I paused.

  “Did you have fun the other night? At Bresko’s?”

  It’d been a game changer for Cheyenne and me. I took her home, and she took my hand, leading me to bed with her. We slept and cuddled, but it felt good to wake up with her next to me. Last night was a repeat. I knew we needed to have a conversation about the change, but it was like she came to a different decision. She was letting me in. I was somewhat going with the flow, uneasy to upset the balance either way.

  “Yeah. You and your girl looked good. You looked happy.”

  She lifted up her shoulder. “I like her. We’re having fun so far.”

  “Fun is good.”

  “Um…”

  I started to head out, but held back again.

  She was biting down on her lip, her head looking down. She shifted forward, her heel lifting behind her, and she moved it back and forth in a distracted way. Then, she stopped and looked back up. “I was wrong about Cheyenne.”

  “I know.”

  She grinned. “Mel mentioned something about a group get-together this weekend, Sunday.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is that something you’d be interested in doing?”

  “What? Like you and your girl, me and Cheyenne, and …”

  Cassie opened her mouth, then stopped. “I have no idea.”

  “Yeah.”

  She laughed. “How’d it end with those two?”

  I didn’t have a clue. Chad hadn’t texted or called. I’d only been to the house to go in, get something, and I headed back out. “Who the fuck knows with those two.”

  “Yeah?”

  She was fishing, and as long as I’d known Cassie, I didn’t know her as a gossiper. That was telling me she was fishing for someone else. Didn’t need a hunch to know who it was, and that meant that not only the Not-Brother wasn’t sharing, but the Not-Russian must not be sharing either.

  And I was starting to think in Cheyenne speak.

  “I’m going to head up, find out what the boss wants.”

  “Okay. Don’t forget your ice soak.”

  “I won’t.” Fuck, I hated those.

  Margo was in her office when I stopped in. Her door was left open, and I could hear her on the phone. I waited outside, hearing, “...I’ll run it by him, see if he’s willing or not.
Okay… Okay. Sounds good. Yes. Talk to you later.”

  I knocked on the door right as she looked up.

  “Cutler.” Margo was one of the few who called me by my full name. She was a no-nonsense owner, and I liked that for some reason. “Come in. Can you shut the door behind you?”

  I did, moving to take one of the seats across from her. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me up here. What’s going on?”

  She pointed to the phone. “Got a call earlier today. You know Deek Fausten?”

  I frowned. “He used to be my best friend’s stepdad. You know him?”

  No way in hell was Deek calling about Cheyenne. Or I was hoping not, because if that were the case, if this trail was going to lead to where she’d get fucked over, my relationship with Deek would change from being civil to a whole different level.

  She nodded, her eyes narrowing. “Kind of. He’s new, and he’s working some of our business accounts. He’s got some friends in high places, personal friends of mine. That’s the only reason any of this is coming from me. We got a request yesterday to do a funding event for that kitchen downtown. Come Our Way. The two connect because I got a call that this Fausten was invited. He reached out to me because of you. Said there might be a conflict of interest.” She paused, her head tilting to the side. “You know anything about that?”

  That fuck.

  And fucking Chad, because I knew where all this was going, and fuck everyone. Except Cheyenne.

  She kept on, “—he explained that you would know what he’s referring to.”

  That fucker.

  “The thing is, is that I’m confused why we’re getting a call and why he’s not directing his issue straight to Come Our Way. From what I was told, the place is legit. Good staff there. Good morale. They’re doing good work, not corrupt or being greedy. Not scraping by, but their hearts are in the right place. Now, as he explained to me, is that his issue isn’t with you. He’s not saying you can’t be there, which also has me scratching my head about why that’d even be an issue in the first place.” Her eyebrows were fully pinched together. “You want to explain to me what all this is about here?”

  This dick of a father was putting me in a position where I’d have to get on the phone and reach out to him, see what the fuck his problem was.

  Fuck. Him.

  My jaw was granite, I was sure. My whole body felt like one big rock of cement, but I shook my head, a hard clip to the side. “As far as I know, he’s good with Chad, but I can ask him about it.”

  “That’s what this is about? Your best friend?”

  “At this point, who knows. I’m as confused as you.”

  “Conflict of interest indicated he doesn’t want someone there. I know Chad frequents the team’s social gatherings, but I’ve never heard of something like this.”

  “Me either.”

  It was unprofessional. It was messy, and it put me in a messed-up, awkward position. I was starting to climb on board Cheyenne’s whole motto that she didn’t care about Deek Fausten.

  I admitted, “I always thought he was a decent guy.”

  “But Chad. He’s a bit of a partier, isn’t he?”

  “That’s what he does for a living.”

  “Yeah?”

  I dipped my head up and down. “Clubs hire him, and he shows up with a whole group of beautiful people ready to party.”

  “That’s actually a job?”

  I gave her a look. “Come on. You know it is.”

  She only gave me a little wink. “Maybe. Maybe not, but okay. You can squash whatever’s the issue?”

  Like fuck I would, but I gave her another nod.

  She stood, so did I, and she held out her hand. “You’ve been playing amazing this season. You usually do, but you’re sticking out even more. I know you’ve got a contract renewal coming up in the next couple years. I’m telling you now that we aren’t letting you go anywhere. You got that?”

  This was typical business stuff.

  She’d say this to smooth over any feelings and as a way to stroke my ego. Some players soaked it up. Not me. My contract would be renewed if I played the same, and if my terms and their terms were all copacetic. I loved this game. I breathed this game, but underneath it all, this game was a business.

  I knew that.

  I also knew that Deek Fausten coming to a charity event, one that I didn’t even know about, and seeing his daughter there wouldn’t have anything to do with that contract.

  But because I was still feeling it, fuuuuck him.

  28

  Cheyenne

  Cut was coming over, and I was trying not to freak out about it.

  But I was. Because I could. And I was happy, and my mind was racing, my pulse was racing, and my sweat glands were racing. I almost wished I had some wine here, but then the buzzer sounded, and a weird, calming sensation came over me.

  Cut was here.

  I hit the button, unlocked the door, and I was still standing there when it swung open.

  He stood in the doorway, fresh from practice, and he not only had flowers in one hand, but he had dinner in the other hand. He raised up the bags. “Z-man sandwiches.”

  My mouth was watering. “Yes, please.”

  He moved in, putting the bags on the table, and I went around, grabbing for the other one. “Did you get—”

  “I did.”

  The seasoned fries were in there.

  Wait.

  I grabbed him, standing up, and I pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Thank you, and hi, how are you?”

  He laughed, but his hand snaked around the back of my head and he held me still. “Wait.”

  “Hmm?”

  He pulled back, still holding me. “Are we to the kissing part yet? I mean, I think we’re moving fa—”

  “Shut up.” I was laughing, but then I pulled him back down.

  His mouth fit over mine, and I could’ve sighed from contentment.

  Lust and pleasure, and warmth, and my toes were curling, and I was sagging in his arms. Or I felt like sagging, because my knees were getting weak and that’s such a cliché response, but it was true. Heart palpitations. Well, I already had my heart racing from before, but it was more now. It was for a whole different reason, and I couldn’t remember why I tried walking away from him…

  Except I could, and a voice started to whisper in my head—I hushed her. She needed to shut up.

  Then Cut’s mouth was opening over mine, his tongue moving inside, and all thoughts were silenced.

  This was like the first night.

  He was claiming me.

  I could taste him, and I wanted him to taste me, and then I was climbing up his body. His hands went around my ass, he was palming me, and he lifted his head. “Are you—”

  “Yes.” No more talking.

  I squeezed my legs, starting to move against him, and he cursed into my mouth. “Fuck.”

  “Yes.”

  “Babe.”

  He turned me, sitting me on the table. The food was shoved to the side.

  I wound my legs around him, burning up from the inside out.

  I made my decision at Bresko’s, before Bresko’s even. I was in. I had to be in. I had to try.

  I had to let him choose, and he chose me, and he was moving down my throat, his hands moving down to my hips.

  An inferno was lit inside of me.

  Forget my brain.

  Forget my fear.

  Forget everything.

  Just forget.

  I wanted to forget.

  I slid my fingers through his hair, grabbing ahold—BUZZ!

  He stiffened.

  “No,” I groaned.

  BUZZ!

  BUZZ!

  BUZZZZZ!

  His head lifted, and those eyes…those adorable eyes were filled with lust, and my heart jumped in my chest, because that’d been for me. I reached down, my thumb grazing his lip.

  Simple things like that.

  I could do that.

  I cou
ld touch him like that.

  That took my breath away.

  BUZZZZZ!

  “Jesus Christ.” He tore from me, stalking to the door.

  I flicked my eyes upward.

  Then he was hitting the button. “Who is it?”

  A crackle, and then, “Melanie.”

  I tensed because that wasn’t happy and fun-fucking-and-shitting Melanie. Her voice was trembling.

  Cut looked back at me.

  We sighed at the same time.

  I started to slide from the table as he hit the button to let her in.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “You okay?”

  I nodded, dumbstruck from all the sensations still flooding me. My throat was full, for some reason, and a second later, we both heard Melanie hurrying down the hallway.

  “I’m going to make myself sparse for a bit.”

  He was going down the hallway, and he stepped inside the bedroom just as my door swung open.

  Melanie burst into the room, and I could smell the booze in her backdraft. “You’re fucked. I’m fucked. We’re all fucked.”

  I opened my mouth… and nothing. I had nothing.

  I closed it and waited.

  Melanie went to my fridge, opened it, and stared for thirty full seconds. “You have no booze.”

  She rotated, her head turning to stare at me. Her fingers were curled over the top of the fridge door. “Why don’t you have any booze?”

  “I went back on my meds, remember?”

  “Right.” She closed the door and went to my sugar container. Lifting the lid, she pulled out a container of tequila.

  My mouth dropped. “You had that there this whole time?”

  She snorted, going back to the fridge and pulling out a container of orange juice. “You don’t eat sugar. It’s my own personal stash.”

  I watched, feeling like I should be dumbfounded, but not being dumbfounded at all. I was more impressed, as she poured a hefty amount of tequila into a glass. The OJ was next, and she swished it before popping some ice in the glass. Once done, she turned, hitched her hip to the counter and gave me a head tilt.