False Start: A Football Romance

by Saylor Bliss

  FALSE START

  A Football Romance

  TENLEY BENNET

  and

  SAYLOR BLISS

  COPYRIGHT 2016 Prism Heart Press

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher or author. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or received an advanced copy directly from the author, this book has been pirated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  DEDICATION

  To my loving Frenchman, Benoit – All my love, Saylor

  To my wonderful and supportive father, Leroy. Always pushing me towards the stars. – I love you, Tenley

  DESCRIPTION

  Callum

  As the best wide receiver in the NFL, I can catch anything thrown my way.

  But the one thing I want the most, I can't hold on to.

  When Amelia Hart walked out of my life, I didn't run after her.

  I let her go.

  I had to.

  But when she split, she took my heart with her.

  Running into her again took my breath away.

  One look and I knew the girl from my past was my future too.

  This time, I'm not fumbling the ball.

  I'm going to hold on for dear life.

  Our life.

  Together.

  Because one thing I know, a false start always gets a second chance.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  BONUS BOOK BALLER’S BABY

  BONUS BOOK PITCHER’S BABY

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Chapter One

  Amelia

  Lying beneath the thick blanket of stars, I force myself to relax and breathe in the warm summer air, while enjoying the flickering of lightning bugs across the darkening sky and Cal’s arms wrapped tightly around me.

  For days and days, my stomach has been in knots, worrying to no end like something tragic was about to happen and I was just a lonely bystander waiting for the last shoe to drop, but no more. I refuse to let my wild imagination and years of silly Jamaican superstitions ruin any more of my days with false ideas of doom.

  “I love you,” Cal whispers into my thick mess of hair. I tried to straighten it again today, but the humidity in the hot June air refused to let it stay that way. My natural dark curls were now flaming around my head like Medusa’s wig of live venomous snakes. I turn my face up toward his, kissing along the scrappy stubble of hair he leaves along his chin just for me, knowing how much I love him with a five o’clock shadow.

  “I love you more,” I tease back.

  “Not possible,” he says, turning to me and extending his arm beneath my head so that it doesn’t hit the hard bed of his fire red pick-up truck. “I love you more than anything else in this world.”

  “Hmm… more than cheese fries?” I pick at him, naming his favorite snack.

  “Definitely” He says, tucking a stray curl behind my ear and kissing me on the tip of my nose.

  “More than Reese’s Pieces?”

  “Oh, now I don’t know about that.” I stab him in the ribs with my finger, tickling him until he caves in. “Okay, Okay… more than Reese’s Pieces too.”

  “More than football?” I ask, repeating the same question I have asked him a thousand times before. We’ve always teased back and forth like this, picking with each other over who loves whom the most and why. Only this time, he doesn’t reply with the same carefree laugh that usually follows my question. My body tenses, expecting the worst but never imagining what follows.

  He sighs, and everything I have felt over the last few days floods my veins, causing my blood to run cold. That isn’t a normal sigh. That is an I need to tell you something sigh, and right now, I’m pretty sure I want to hear anything other than what he needs to tell me.

  “You know there were scouts out all this year watching the team,” he says, leaning up on his elbows and pulling me up beside him.

  Of course I know the scouts were here. I was in the stands cheering him on during every game, both home and away. I saw them watching, talking between themselves at times, and jotting down notes in their little yellow pads to study later. I especially saw how their eyes followed Callum everywhere he went.

  I nod my head and wait for him to go on. Already, I can feel the bile bubbling in my stomach, racing for a chance to explode up my throat and out of my mouth. I should have paid more attention to what I was feeling these past weeks. I should have listened to those age old wives’ tales my G passed down instead of just nodding along and pretending to have something else to do, but when your family is as crazy as mine, you tend to take ninety percent of what you’re told with a grain of salt.

  Shoulda.

  Coulda.

  But . . . didn’t.

  “One of those team scouts contacted me. They offered me a sweet deal, but I would have to leave immediately. I told them no.”

  “What?” I scream, jumping from my spot in his arms and landing on the ground in front of the tailgate, my naked breasts bouncing around wildly.

  “What do you mean you said no? This is your dream. This is what you have worked your whole life for, and you're just going to throw it away? For what?” I yell into the still night sky until I’m blue in the face from lack of oxygen. My hands are flailing in every direction, my feet stomping in the dusty field, causing a smoky cloud to billow up around us.

  “Us. You. I told them no for you. I made a promise, Amie, and I won't be breaking it… not now, not ever.”

  “What the hell, Cal. Screw the promise. I release you from the promise. I’ll be fine. Just go. Follow your dream.”

  “No.”

  “No?” What the ever loving hell does he mean no?

  “No. I’m not taking the offer. I’m not leaving you when you need me the most. I’m not walking away from my whole world, my whole life, to follow a simple dream. Dreams can wait. I will be here for you, dammit.” Sliding to the edge of the tailgate, he lowers himself until his legs are dangling freely, and then he pulls on my limp, motionless arm, dragging me toward him. I can’t fight him now. I don’t have any fight left in me.

  I don’t know what to say. It’s clear he’s made up his mind, and like so many other people before me have found out, when Callum Johnson makes up his mind about something, he’s about as immovable as a mountain.

  I don’t know what to do . . . what to say.
I let him pull me back into his lap, and I kiss him with all the love and frustration of the moment. I kiss him with everything I have inside me, pushing every ounce of love I feel into him.

  He can’t stay in Fair Grove and be a professional football player. I can’t leave Fair Grove to be with him. It could be weeks or months until the judge approves my guardianship request for my younger brother, whom my mother has abandoned. I’m not naive enough to believe that either of us would be able to make a long distance relationship work. I know in this moment that in order for him to follow his dreams, he’s going to have to give up on me. There is only one way to make him do that. I have no choice.

  I have to let him go.

  Chapter Two

  Callum

  I hate the way we left things last night. I never intended to upset Amelia and I know hearing my decision did just that. Tonight I plan to make it up to her. Earlier today, I called Miss Nancy, her neighbor and the only person Amelia trusts with Carson, Amelia’s little brother, to ask if she would mind watching him for us this evening.

  Much to my surprise, Amelia had already asked her, which was great. At least that meant that she planned on going out and I wouldn’t have to convince her again. She hated leaving Carson on most nights, and I didn’t blame her. After the scare of almost losing him, I’d want to stay as close to him as possible too.

  I can’t wait to see her tonight. I want to make this night everything that I failed to make last night. In my mind, she was supposed to be happy that I wanted to stay here and help her raise Carson. At least, I thought she would have been.

  I know it wasn’t easy for her to take on the responsibility of a two-year-old toddler when her mother decided to bail, especially when Amelia was still trying to go to school, but she dropped her classes and stepped up to the plate like a real mother. She’s the type of mother I wish Carson had, but unfortunately, he was gifted with a mom who was as selfish as they come.

  When Carson was diagnosed with leukemia, his real mother lasted about a week, and then she conveniently got offered a job out of town. A job that refused to let her have any kids around. We both knew the truth. A new man had caught her interest, and instead of sticking around for her family when they needed her the most, she bailed, running into the arms of this month’s true love.

  I hated it.

  I hate her.

  Carson is one of those one in a million kids. He lights up a room when he walks in, and no matter what mood you’re in, he is sure to brighten you up. He always has a carefree laugh ready to burst from deep inside his tiny little body. He deserves so much more. Thankfully, Amelia was old enough to apply for guardianship and hopefully will win custody of him. Otherwise, he would have ended up in the foster care system, and for a child with a serious illness, that is no place to be.

  Three years of chemo and lengthy hospital stays later, and they were both still going strong. For a while, it looked like he might not pull through, but he did, and now two years later, he is a healthy seven-year-old boy. Of course, we still have to go to the chemo clinic every few months for testing to make sure everything is still in remission, but it’s a hell of an improvement over two years ago.

  Sliding my feet into a pair of worn out cowboy boots, I grab a baseball hat from the table by the door and yell a goodbye to my mom before heading out to find Amelia.

  God, I hope she isn’t still mad at me for telling the scout no. I can’t stand her being angry with me. She is my life. My entire universe revolves around her and Carson. I just need her to realize that. She thinks I need football to be happy, and maybe I did for a while, but not now. Now, the only thing I need in life is to see her smile and know that I put it on her beautiful face. No amount of touchdowns or interceptions could ever compare to that.

  Chapter Three

  Amelia

  My body tenses when he walks into the room. I can feel him right there, but I refuse to look that way. If I look, everything will be ruined and I would have put up with Tom’s clammy hands all over me for the last thirty minutes for absolutely nothing.

  I can see his silhouette by the door out of my peripheral vision. He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he is watching my every move trying to figure it out. I can almost hear his mind trying to process what his eyes are seeing. It’s go time.

  Time to break my heart . . . and his.

  I turn my body toward Tom just enough so that I can see his face. He still doesn’t know Cal is here.

  Idiot.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull his head close to mine. He thinks I want to kiss him.

  I’d rather die.

  Leaning down, I place my lips on his neck and trail a few kisses up to his jaw. His hands slide around to grab my ass, just like I knew they would. He makes this way too easy.

  I hate using Tom to push Cal away. I was honest with him upfront and told him in no way possible did this mean he was getting laid or anything else. He said he was cool with that, but I know guys, and right now, I can feel his little friend waking up beneath me.

  Tom tugs on my hair, trying to pull my head back so he can have access to my mouth. I can’t let him do that. There is no way I can fake my way through an actual kiss. Not with Cal standing there, watching this entire scene play out in front of him. Not while my heart shatters in my chest.

  I try to picture Cal in my mind and pretend I’m sitting on his lap with his hands on me. Tom is squeezing way too hard, and I can feel a bruise forming already. Cal would never bruise me. He worshipped every inch of my body. Picturing Cal isn’t working. I try to completely remove my mind from this charade, taking myself somewhere else, letting the pain consume me so that I can’t think about what I am doing or with whom I am doing it.

  It works.

  One minute, I’m on Tom’s lap pretending to make out with him, and the next, I am flying through the air. Strong hands grip me under the arms, lifting me from his lap and swinging me around to place me on my feet directly across from Tom. Cal turns his back to me, and then all I hear is screaming.

  Tom’s chair is tossed to the side of the room, forgotten while Cal holds Tom with one hand by the throat, shaking him violently. Blood pours from Tom’s nose and one eye is already swelling. His face is turning blue now from lack of oxygen as I watch in horror.

  “Callum Lee Johnson! Stop right this second.” I scream at him, hitting him as hard as I can across his back, arms and neck. It doesn’t even faze him. I might as well be a fly swarming around his head. All he sees right now is red.

  Blood red.

  Vengeance.

  “You’re gonna kill him,” I cry, screaming over and over at him. Not out of fear for Tom. No, that would make me a decent person. I’m afraid if he kills him, then I would have just spent thirty minutes in hell for no reason. Cal would be carted off to prison, and I would be stuck here in nowhere Missouri, all alone.

  “I should. He deserves it.” The rage in his tone terrifies me, makes me want to run and hide from him even though I know he would never hurt me. He drops Tom to the ground, where he then lays choking in mouthfuls of air.

  “Outside. Now.” Cal demands, turning toward me as he waits for me to exit the room in front of him. He doesn’t want to leave me in there with Tom. He doesn’t want me to be the one to care for him right now, even though it’s my fault he’s in this predicament.

  We step outside to the cool, muggy air and I wait, shaking with fear. This is what I wanted. I wanted him to get angry. I wanted him to leave me. He deserves so much more than my fucked up life and this sad, pathetic town. He’s going places, big places, but only if I can convince him to leave me.

  It takes everything in me not to turn to him and rush into his arms and beg forgiveness.

  “Why, Amelia?” he asks, his voice broken and ragged. My body bows in on itself when I hear the pain reflected in his voice. I can’t believe that I caused it. That I chose to hurt him so much.

  “Why what?” I pretend to be cool and composed as I die
on the inside.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice breaking halfway through.

  “God, Callum, can’t you see that I don't want you? It was great. Honestly, it was, but our time is over now.” I hate myself in this moment. I hate the person I am, and I hope he hates me too.

  “Is this because of the offer? I already told you I wasn't taking it. I don't want it. Football means nothing to me . . . nothing means anything to me but you.” Even after seeing me in the arms of another man, he still wants me. He still loves me. He still believes in me. I don’t deserve this man. I have never deserved him. He is beautiful inside and out and he should be happy and away from all the craziness that is me and my screwed up life.

  “Stop. Just stop. Listen to me. I. Do. Not. Want. You.” I pronounce each word carefully, stabbing my finger into his chest like a knife with each word spoken. “It was fun, but I’ve moved on. It’s time you do the same.”

  Chapter Four

  Callum

  I can’t believe what I am seeing. Each time I open and close my eyes, the scene is the same. She is still in his arms. They are still wrapped tightly around each other. How can she do this? Did the last five years mean nothing to her? Nothing at all?

  I can’t stand to be here a moment longer. Everyone is hiding behind half-empty bottles of beer whispering to their neighbors about poor Cal.

  Fuck that.

  I’ve got places to be.

  People to see.

  When I walk in the front door at home I bypass the kitchen and go straight up the stairs to my room. I’m not wanting to see my mom just yet. I’ll tell her goodbye on the way out the door. Pulling the cell phone from my pocket, I dial the number on the front of the stark white business card I chucked in the trash yesterday afternoon.