Seeing Red: A New Adult Sports Romance (NE University Book 2)

by Hannah Gray

  She only wants what’s best for me. I know that much.

  “Ugh, I know. I just don’t want to set this baby up to have her heart broken.”

  “You mean, like you had yours broken?” she questions while raising one eyebrow.

  Too damn proud to admit that Mason King shattered my entire world, I laugh it off. “Pfft … no. Shut up.”

  We chat for a bit longer, mostly about when she’s coming out for a visit and all the good food we’re going to eat when she does. Then, we hang up. Her words linger in my head all evening though. I can’t help but wonder, What if I am starting to forgive him? And … does he even deserve it?

  Mason

  “What the fuck are you doing out there, King? Catch that fucking ball!” Coach yells for the third time since practice started.

  I’m not the player who usually needs a fire lit under my ass to show up and play. But fuck if everything with Anna and having a baby on the way isn’t completely fucking my game up. Not to mention, my dad called this morning, saying he and his drunk of a wife are coming out to New York this weekend to watch my game and want to get together the night before. I’ve been really fucking lucky since moving to New York that I haven’t had to suffer through one stuffy-as-fuck meal with him and his wife. And thank fuck I haven’t seen Maverick since the day he pulled some shit, telling me if I didn’t cut ties with Anna, I’d ruin her life. What a crock of shit that was. I can’t believe I fucking believed him.

  But I will see him. And when I do, he’ll know how much he fucked up. I just need to figure out the next time he’s coming home to see my father and stepmother. He’s going to understand how much he shouldn’t have pulled the shit he did.

  Shaking my head at my actions, I spray my water bottle over my face. “Sorry, Coach. I’ll get my head straight by this weekend. You can count on me.”

  “You’d better. We can’t afford to lose another game. Losing to the Patriots fucking sucked. Get it together. I’m watching you. Something isn’t right.” He studies me intensely. As if trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me. If only he knew.

  Plastering on my Mason King charm, I grin. “I’m all good, Coach. You can count on me.”

  He mumbles under his breath and stalks off the field. Over his shoulder, he yells the next play to run.

  This time, I clear my head of all the shit inside of it, and I play. And I fucking deliver.

  forty-one

  Mason

  Me: Can I stop in for a bit?

  Anna: Probably not. I’m exhausted. I finished three clients’ projects today, and I’m wiped.

  Me: I have Chinese food.

  Anna: You could have led with that.

  Her response makes me laugh out loud.

  Me: Using me for my food?

  She doesn’t respond. So, after three minutes, I send another.

  Me: Be there in twenty.

  She sends me back the emoji I hate most. The fucking thumbs-up. If there were ever an emoji that said, Hey, fuck you, it would be the thumbs-up emoji. But she’s pregnant and hormonal, so I’ll let it go. This time.

  I arrive eighteen minutes later, and surprisingly, she lets me right inside. She’s in an oversize gray crewneck sweatshirt that says, Indoorsy, with matching sweatpants. Her hair is down today. It has grown since last year. I can’t get over how adorable she looks while pregnant.

  Holy fuck, did I just say adorable? What the fuck is wrong with me?

  But honestly, when I look at her digging plates out because she’s so amped for Chinese food, she is adorable.

  She also seems to be getting around a little better on her crutches. Not so shaky and awkward. Which gives me the tiniest flutter of relief.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, treading lightly, not wanting to light a match by pissing her off, saying the wrong thing.

  Taking the bag from me and rifling through it, she shrugs. “Fine. Besides, hungry, tired, oh, and fat … very, very fat.”

  “You aren’t fat; you’re pregnant. And you look beautiful,” I answer honestly.

  She physically flinches at my comment, and seeing that is like a punch to the gut.

  The question running through my mind: How did we get here—to a spot where I can’t even give her a compliment without making her want to run away from me?

  You got here from abandoning her after having the best weekend of your life, you fucking moron.

  I cringe at my own thoughts. Yes. That’ll certainly do it. I have no one to blame but myself for her coldness.

  She slides me a plate and then begins loading up her own. And I’m not exaggerating, but she’s got it piled as high as Mount Washington. Though I know not to point that out to her. She’d probably stab me.

  Just like the other night, we eat in silence. Only tonight, there seems to be a little more tension in the air. It’s like we know we need to talk eventually.

  I clear our plates and load the dishwasher as I tell her to go lie on the couch. I can’t believe my eyes when she actually listens. Part of me worries when she does though because that shows how truly exhausted she must be.

  After I finish cleaning up, I sit down in the love seat across from her. She’s watching some Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey movie, lying on her side with her hand resting on her belly.

  I watch a few minutes, but then I decide I need to try to talk to her. “So, you never told me what your due date is.”

  Her eyes never leave the screen. “February 5.”

  I grin. “You’re shitting me, right?”

  That causes her to look my way. “Why would I be shitting you?” she snaps.

  I hold my hands up. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just … my birthday is February 4.”

  I swear the corners of her lips briefly turn up the slightest bit—that is, until she comes back to reality and frowns.

  “Really?”

  I nod. “Yeah. That would be fucking sweet if she and I shared a birthday.”

  She rolls her eyes and looks back at the TV. She’s silent until the movie ends. Once again, I’m the one who needs to initiate the conversation.

  “You’re so quiet. You sure you’re feeling all right?”

  The Red I knew never shut up. This girl is so silent.

  Flipping the channel onto that show about doctors or nurses or whatever the fuck it is—Grey’s something. I can’t remember—she watches the screen mindlessly. “I’m fine, Mason. It isn’t how it used to be. We aren’t best buds, kidding around anymore. I have real-life shit to deal with now.”

  “I know that. I obviously do too.”

  Her head snaps up at me. “Why are you here? And how long will this last before you take off again? Because you’re wasting my time.”

  My forehead creases as I shake my head. Making my way over in front of her, I kneel down. “Anna, I’m not going anywhere. I told you that.”

  “I. Don’t. Trust. You,” she says through gritted teeth. Green eyes burning a hole into my being as she glares at me.

  My head nods, and I place my hand on her cheek. “I know. But you will, I promise.”

  She tries to seem unaffected by the fact that our skin is touching. But judging by how I feel, there’s no way she feels nothing.

  Keeping her voice steady, she breathes, “I doubt it.”

  I’m unable to stop my gaze from wandering down to her pretty pink lips; she’s so fucking stunning. “Just give me time, Red. Time is all I need.”

  “Well”—she signals to her very round stomach—“as you can see, time is running out.”

  This is going to be a lot harder than I thought. She’s so … different now. Cold even. And it’s all because of me. Well, me and her parents. She’s so used to being left. Slowly but surely, all of these abandonments have chipped away at her, each time taking away her sweetness, leaving her bitter. But I won’t give up.

  Not only is my daughter worth fighting for, but so is her mother. I’ll make this up to her. To both of them.

&nb
sp; forty-two

  Anna

  Monday afternoon, Mason arrives with bag after bag filled with groceries. I hobble behind him after letting him into my apartment and follow him to the kitchen.

  “What’s all this?” I bark out.

  “Groceries,” he answers me wryly.

  I roll my eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. Why?”

  “Because you’re now”—he pulls his phone out of his pocket, and after hitting the screen a few times, he turns it toward me, pointing to what looks to be the same pregnancy app that I have on my phone—“thirty-two weeks pregnant, with a broken ankle—”

  “Which is healing,” I interrupt.

  Holding his hand up, he continues, “Yes, but still broken nonetheless, and if I’m not mistaken…” He grins, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

  Knowing he’s about to say something annoying, I groan, cutting him off before he can finish his obnoxious sentence, “What? Get it over with.”

  “Refresh my brain. How’d you bust that beautiful ankle to begin with?” He smirks and awaits my answer.

  I made the mistake of telling him I had fallen down, carrying groceries up the god-awful stairs. I’m not about to admit it again. No way.

  So, instead, I just roll my eyes. “Fine. I get it. Don’t gloat. It’s obnoxious.”

  He begins unpacking some things that I must admit look damn delicious. My food situation has sucked lately. I’ll never say it to him, but it is tough getting around the store these days.

  “Glad you see it my way, Grace.” That’s his obnoxious, new nickname for me after my fall. Making fun of my apparently accident-prone, clumsy body.

  I swat his arm. “Hey, shut it. You try carrying around a basketball in your stomach and see how it affects you, asswipe.”

  He thoughtfully rubs the stubble on his chin. Stubble that’s still just as sexy as it ever was to me. Tilting his head to the side, he dares to say, “More like a watermelon.”

  I’m about to smack him until I look up and see his shoulders shaking with laughter. I can’t help myself, and a smile crosses my face before I can stop it. I flick him off though.

  He comes closer, running a hand through my hair and looking into my eyes. “There’s that smile that I love. Where’s it been, Red?”

  At his words, I stiffen, pulling away slightly. “I’ve had a lot going on.”

  “I know you have, but I want to see that smile more often. I’ve missed it.”

  He glances down at my lips for a moment, and I almost think he might kiss me. The air suddenly feels thicker. Breathing becomes more difficult. And even though I shouldn’t, my entire body awaits his kiss. He has that effect on me, even after everything he’s put me through.

  Suddenly, his trance is broken, and he turns and goes back to finishing putting away things. The worst part is? Part of me is sad. The minute he moves away from me, my body misses him being so close. It almost feels like I could collapse in a pile on the floor.

  Wiping down the counters for me, he calls over his shoulder, “I bet you haven’t been out to dinner since that graceful fall. What do you say? Mom-and-dad date? Before the Titty Monster is here with us, screaming for you to feed her in the middle of dinner.”

  I laugh. Going out to dinner sounds perfect. I have been a little stir-crazy in this apartment. I nod. “Sounds great.”

  Mason

  Even very pregnant and with a boot on her ankle, she’s still the sexiest creature I have ever laid eyes on. Honestly.

  I help her into my truck and run around to the other side. Looking over, I see her rubbing her hands together, obviously cold.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry. I should have started my truck a while ago and let it warm up for you.” I reach over and take her hand in mine. Feeling like a dick when her hand is like an icicle.

  She smiles softly and shrugs. “It’s okay. Before I switched to working at home, I was always running too late for work to start my Jeep. So, I’m used to it.”

  It’s December in New York, and a cold front has come in the past few weeks. Taking the temperatures down into the single digits some evenings.

  “So, where are we going on our mom-and-dad date? You know, before the Titty Monster comes out.”

  I burst out laughing at her name for our kid. “I read the reviews on this Italian joint, and it looked good. Does that sound all right?”

  “Pasta? Hell yes. I didn’t get this figure from avoiding carbs.” She rubs her belly.

  I grin. Happy that she seems to be relaxing around me. “Pasta it is then.”

  I could get used to this. These dates with her. My only hope is, I can show her that we can make this work and that she can trust me again.

  We’re sitting in the small Italian restaurant, which smells fucking delicious. I still ordered steak though. I’m a steak guy; what can I say? Anna ordered chicken Alfredo, and with every bite, she closes her eyes for a moment and lets out a small moan, sending a jolt right down to my boxers.

  “This”—she points to her plate with her fork—“is freaking amazing.”

  I’m thrilled with her answer. For some reason, it’s been my mission lately to just provide her with any happiness that I can. I nod. “I’m glad you like it. We will have to come back soon. Maybe we can even bring the baby here one day.”

  Her face grows serious for a split second, but she recovers fast. “Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

  We finish our meals, and she pushes her plate away from her. She props her elbows on the table and rests her head in her hands. “Can I ask you something?”

  I take a sip of my water. “Of course.”

  “Are you, um … well, are you still seeing that girl? The one you were with at the hospital.”

  I can tell she’s so uncomfortable, asking.

  Before I can answer, she says, “You know, it’s just that, now that we’re going to have a kid, I want to know who will be around her. That’s all.” She averts her eyes to the table.

  I reach across the table and rest my hand on her forearm, gazing into her fierce green eyes when she finally looks up at me. “No, I’m not.”

  Her cheeks turn a shade of crimson. Clearing her throat, she asks weakly, “But you were?”

  I nod, watching her flinch at my confession. “I was. It wasn’t serious, and she knew that. I made it very clear that I wasn’t interested in anything heavy. But the company was nice, and so, yes, we did see each other.”

  Her head bobs up and down. “And what happened? Why did you stop? She was gorgeous.”

  “She was. And she was nice too. But she wasn’t you.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You expect me to believe that?”

  I shrug. “I guess not. But it’s the truth. And when she saw you that night in the hospital, she knew right then that I wasn’t in it when it came to her and I. Once she put a face to your name, I think she knew it wasn’t going to work.”

  “You mean, you talked about me to her?” she blurts out.

  “Well, not purposely.” Now, I’m the one blushing like a little bitch.

  Her eyebrows pull in. “What do you mean by that?”

  “This is fucking embarrassing. Apparently … I, er … talk in my sleep.”

  Recognition flashes across her face, and her lips turn up at the corners slightly. “Oh, I see.”

  The need to change the subject hits. “So, when’s your next appointment?”

  “Uh … Wednesday afternoon.”

  “As in the day after tomorrow?”

  She nods.

  “I have practice in the morning and then am done for the day. Can I come?”

  She looks thoughtful for a moment and then nods. “Sure. Why not?”

  forty-three

  Anna

  Mason’s leg taps uncontrollably as the ultrasound tech gets everything set up.

  She smiles at both of us before double-glancing at Mason. Her eyes are suddenly wide. “Oh my God. Mason King? Oh my goodness. Wow. I am so sorry to put you on the spot; it’s just that my fiancé i
s a huge fan. Good thing I can’t tell him who my patients are; he’d never believe me anyway,” she gushes.

  He smiles politely, though I can tell it’s forced and not his real smile. Today’s the first time he gets to see his baby girl. I’m sure he doesn’t want to deal with fans. It must be weird, always having to put on a show for the world. I’d hate to be under a microscope all the time.

  I change the subject for him. “So, this is just a standard ultrasound, right?”

  She nods. “Right. Usually, they’d wait a few more weeks, but with the fall you took, they just want to check in on everything and see how little miss is doing.”

  She glides the camera across my abdomen. I glance at the screen and see my sweet girl’s face.

  The tech smiles. “There she is.”

  I look at Mason and see him in complete awe. Watching the screen like his next breath depends on it. His knee has stopped bouncing, and he’s as still as a statue. His eyes gloss over as he stares at the screen.

  This is a big moment for him. This is the moment that makes it real. That makes her real. And right now, looking at him, I have to admit, he seems like a man who is all in. I just hope I’m right.

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  Mason

  I drive home after dropping Anna off back at her apartment. I tried to get her to stay with me, but of course, her stubborn ass said no. That’s not going to fly when she’s closer to her due date. She’ll either be moving in with me or I’ll be staying with her. Ideally, I’d like to have her move in with me. I have more space, and it’s safer. Plus, it’s closer to the stadium. But I know I have no say right now. I need to play by her rules.

  I can’t believe I saw her today. I saw my baby girl. She wiggled around and had her fingers in her mouth on the screen. I don’t need a DNA test to know she’s mine. I just know it. Partly because I know Anna wouldn’t lie. And also because in my gut, I just feel it.