Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2)

by Christina C Jones

  Nate scoffed. “But I love Cole. Tell him you feel loved,” he said to me.

  “I feel loved, so very, very loved,” I deadpanned. “Seriously daddy, what’s going on?”

  He sighed, then turned his gaze to Mel before he reached for her hand over the tabletop. A sinking feeling rang in the pit of my stomach as their fingers entwined.

  “Well…” he squeezed her hand. “Dinner wasn’t the only reason we wanted the two of you over here together. We wanted you two to be the first to know that we are…” he glanced over at a smiling Mel.

  “We’re going to have a baby,” she finished, and her words were like cold water splashed over my face. That dry ass steak was suddenly a lead weight in my stomach.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Nate and I asked, in unison. Normally, that phenomenon annoyed the shit out of me, but in this moment? I was just glad I wasn’t alone in thinking this was crazy.

  “If everything works out… works fast, in about a year or so, the two of you are probably going to have a baby brother or sister. Surprise!”

  Mel’s smile was sweet, but the thoughts running through my head were definitely not. More than once over the years, I’d wondered if her intentions with my dad were pure, but it really wasn’t my business. He was happy, so I let it be, but a damned baby, ten years into their marriage? Was this an attempt to save their relationship? Was the ticking of their biological clocks getting too loud? Was Mel insuring her future income with a billionaire’s baby?

  “Neither of us were getting any younger,” my father said, attempting to move the conversation forward, since Nate and I were both speechless. “Mel has never been secretive about wanting a child of her own, so we decided to make it happen before it was too late.”

  Nate shook his head. “Wow. Wow. If I decide to have kids, they’ll be damn near the same age as their aunt or uncle. Or maybe if I move quick enough, I can beat you…”

  I kicked Nate under the table.

  “It’s obvious that you two are very happy about this, so congratulations. Babies are a blessing,” I said, unfolding my napkin from my lap, and putting it beside my plate before I stood. “Thank you for a lovely meal, Mel.”

  “Wait, are you leaving?” My father stood too, Mel’s hand still clasped in his.

  I nodded. “Yes, I am, because I have run out of nice things to say, so I think it would be wise to leave. Before I say any of the other things. I love you guys.”

  I pushed my chair in, and gave everyone a wave and a tight smile as I headed for the door.

  “Now you hold on a minute,” my father called after me, and I walked faster.

  “Let her go, Eli. Just give her a minute, it’s big news,” I heard Mel say, and mentally thanked her for it. I didn’t stop moving. I got the hell out of there, and it wasn’t until I got to my car that I was able to take an easy breath.

  A goddamned baby?

  I didn’t know why I was so bothered. I couldn’t quite understand why I felt so sick, so… hell, I couldn’t even place the emotion. I just knew that I was baffled at the idea of my father having a child, and now all of a sudden, wanting to change the dynamic between me and Nate. Was it because he felt like his child with Mel would deserve something better?

  Someone better?

  Were we not good enough now?

  I shook my head and started my car.

  I didn’t really know how I felt about this news, other than a blanket “I don’t like it”, but I did know that until I figured it out… I was staying the hell away from it.

  Four.

  “Just relax, Tyler. You wouldn’t be starting tomorrow if the coaches and the team didn’t believe in you. Get out of your head, and make me proud. Okay?”

  Tyler Sanchez sucked in a deep breath, then pushed it out as he shook his head. He wouldn’t even look at me – he was looking past me, at his teammates gathered around the huge table in the middle of the room.

  We were in the team cafeteria, partaking in one of many changes my father had made in the past year to the way the Kings operated and engaged with their players. One of those things was a team dinner the night before the game, and all players were encouraged, but not required, to attend. Most of the rookies – Tyler included – had been to every one, through training camp and pre-season, up to now.

  There was a well-stocked buffet set up on one side of the room, where the players were loading their plates before joining the chaos in the middle. It was loud, and some of the language flying around would have made many women blush, but there was no denying that the energy was electric. They were having fun, which was a good sign in relation to the team morale, but there was still an underlying anxious vibe. They were hungry for a win, which was good.

  We needed it.

  “Tyler,” I said, touching his shoulder to get him to look at me. He was young – barely out of the draft, and subsequently released from the team who’d chosen him, due to some controversy with weed. We’d picked him up as a free agent, because the kid was a damned good running back. And, for all his faults, my father loved a good second chance story. The risk paid off, and Tyler was making waves in the league, even though his playing time was usually reduced to when our first string was getting fatigued. Now, his hard work had gained him an opportunity to start.

  I’d only intended to poke my head into the cafeteria to see which of my players were here. I wanted them doing things with the team, building relationships, and staying out of trouble, especially the night before a game. Tyler had pulled me to the side as soon as he saw me, quietly freaking out about his readiness for the game.

  “Listen to me,” I continued, when he finally met my eyes. “Go get yourself something to eat, bond with these guys, and then go home to your fiancée. Tomorrow, you’re going to kick ass.”

  He just looked at me.

  “Come onnn, Tyler,” I laughed. “Give me something here.”

  “Man, I’m sorry Cole,” he sighed. “I just don’t want to fuck this up. We need this win.”

  I nodded. “I know. And we’ll get it. But it’s not just up to you, so you can’t take on all this pressure for yourself. Relax. Don’t tell the coaches I said this, but…” I looked around, making sure we were out of earshot, “Get some ass. Relax.” Tyler shook his head, and I smiled at the grin that spread over his face. “There we go, there’s that beautiful smile,” I teased, making him blush. “You good?”

  He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his head, but I noticed that his shoulders seemed considerably lighter. “For now… yeah.”

  Before either of us could say anything else, a commotion erupted from the group of players behind us. I turned to look at the source of disruption, and my eyes went wide at the sight of Jordan sauntering into the cafeteria like it was no big deal.

  It was a big deal.

  No matter how much I’d “encouraged” it – meaning did everything short of threatening him and physically dragging him there myself – Jordan had never, not even once, shared in one of these dinners. Lunch on practice days? Sure. Celebratory dinners after a win? If he wasn’t nose-deep in debauchery, he was there.

  But these dinners? The ones that were for team building, and promoting camaraderie? He just wasn’t interested.

  Until today, apparently.

  His teammates were excited to see him. Even though he’d kind of – somewhat deservedly – thrown them under the bus, these guys loved Jordan, and it was easy to see why. As arrogant as he was, he was also charming. For all his bravado, he usually backed it up with actual skill. He liked having a good time, making people laugh. The kind of personality people flocked to. As a player, Jordan was a success.

  If only he weren’t so damned committed to living his personal life as a stereotype.

  He was dressed down, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of simple sweats, a deep royal blue “Kings” shirt stretched across his chest, and matching hat pulled backwards on his head. My first thought was of how delicious he looked, completely casual and unfazed while ever
yone else was excited. Hell, even my heart was racing.

  But I quickly brushed that away.

  I said a few more encouraging words to Tyler before I sent him off to join the team, and then I stood on the fringes to look around for my other players. I managed to count eight, now that Jordan was here.

  Too bad increasing my head count wasn’t the only thing he’d done. Now I wished this was a task I’d sent Presley to complete, but this environment was too casual. These guys were already looking at me like I was on the menu. No way would it have been a good idea to toss Presley to the proverbial wolves like this.

  I’d done a marvelous job of staying out of Jordan’s presence since he’d seen fit to show me his dick. I wasn’t offended by it, I just didn’t need my mind running down that path if I could help it. And I could help it – by staying the hell away.

  Which was apparently how I dealt with lots of things - I’d been avoiding my father too.

  I pulled out my phone to jot down a few notes to myself, with things I needed to work on in the following week. The social media seminar, the football frenzy event for the local kids, and it was time to start looking at what – and who – we would be able to afford contract wise going into the next season. I frowned as a shadow came over me, blocking the fluorescent lights overhead and messing up my view of my phone.

  “If I’d known you came to these things yourself, I may have been more inclined to show up before now.”

  My heart stuck in my throat at the warm rumble of Jordan’s voice, and I looked up to see him standing over me with a smile. I took a step back, slipping my phone into my pocket before I crossed my arms.

  “And what made you show up today?” I asked, trying not to let myself be affected by the heat of his gaze. He was close enough that the clean, spicy scent of his cologne was sexually harassing me, and that was bad enough without him looking right at me.

  He shrugged at my question, mercifully looking away to glance around the room before his eyes came back to me, bright and alert and completely engaged. “Feeling social, I guess.”

  “Your socializing usually involves women in rhinestone covered nipple pasties.”

  “Don’t insult the performers like that. They wear Swarovski crystal for me.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. I can get you some if you’d like. Show you how to put them on… play audience for you. I’m excellent at applause, making it rain, all of that.”

  I bit the inside of my lip to keep from smiling at his silliness, then shook my head, keeping my outward expression devoid of laughter. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. What’s your real reason for showing up?”

  He pulled his lip between his teeth, staring at me for several seconds, expression unreadable, before he shrugged again. “Isn’t this what y’all are always on me about? Being a team player? Acting like I’m responsible for the team’s energy? Well here I am.”

  Oh.

  I could safely assume that “y’all” included me, the people above me, and the coaching staff. And he was right – we had been on him. Maybe unfairly so, but we were all under pressure to pull off a successful season. Jordan was a key component to that.

  “Good,” I nodded. “Glad to see that you found something I said worth implementing.”

  Jordan rolled his eyes. “Here you go with that bullshit. You act like I just don’t listen.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You do?’

  “Me not doing as you say doesn’t mean I don’t hear you saying it. I just may not agree.”

  “But you realize I do what I do as a profession, right?”

  “And everybody knows you know your shit. That doesn’t automatically mean it works for me.”

  I thought about arguing, then decided against it. The fact that he was here was progress enough for the day. “Understood,” I said, conceding – for now. “I’m going to let you enjoy your dinner.”

  “I am enjoying it. Right now.”

  His gaze was intense – pointed right at me, waiting for me to respond. My cheeks grew hot as the meaning of his words settled over me, and I swallowed hard.

  “You should spend this time with your team. Good luck tomorrow.”

  A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he nodded. “Thanks.”

  I returned his nod awkwardly, and then headed off, forcing myself to use a normal pace as I switched to my default coping mechanism – getting the hell away.

  There used to be a time where that nervous shit didn’t happen to me. I was good before a game. Cool, collected. Nothing ruffled me, because I knew I was going to get out on the field and cause a problem for the other team, just like I always did.

  It wasn’t like that anymore.

  The team had changed, so I had changed, and just being completely honest with myself… the change hadn’t been for the better. Coaches and front office caught up in scandals, and then the shit with Trent. Everything kind of fell apart all at once, and the Kings’ ability to have a winning season fell with it. The staff shakeup was something we could have recovered from pretty easily. Losing our quarterback was not.

  But that was two years ago. Two seasons down the toilet, and a third from the way things were going. And as much as I wanted to say I was doing all I could, that the rest of the team needed to step up, that wasn’t quite accurate. The Kings went through a massive change that touched every part of our organization, and I kept doing the same things. I hadn’t adapted, and that was my bad. I’d been so focused on being able to say I hadn’t changed, that I was still the same JJ, that I hadn’t realized it was a problem.

  Until Nicki pointed it out that day in her office.

  But I was working on it. I watched the game film, I collaborated in practice, I even went to the damn dinner with the team. Talking shit about being blameless wasn’t doing anything, but making adjustment to my own actions might. And at least then, I could truthfully say I’d done everything I could.

  “Yo, it’s time,” one of my teammates said, smacking me on the shoulder. I was already dressed, just waiting for the moment it was time to jog down that tunnel and into the open stadium. I could already hear the roar of the crowd. Deafening, exciting, and… fucking terrifying.

  It was perfect.

  I stood up just as our quarterback, Mayfair, was heading into the lineup to get on the field. I smacked the back of his helmet, and he looked at me, apparently surprised.

  “Let’s make this shit happen, aiight?” was all I said, but Mayfair’s eyes were still wide as he nodded, and extended his hand to me.

  “Hell yeah. Let’s do it.”

  He moved on, but glanced back at me again, confusion still in his eyes. Guilt pricked my chest – I hadn’t been exactly social with him like I was with Trent, because he and I weren’t friends, but for him to be this caught off guard by pre-game shit talking… Yeah. I had room to do better.

  And it started tonight.

  It was time.

  “… sure the mood is probably somber in the Kings’ Locker room right now. Not a pleasant way to end a game. That last play wasn’t pretty.”

  “Not at all. The way Mayfair’s knee twisted when he took that hit… I think it’s fair to assume we may not see him for the next few games. He seemed to be hurting pretty bad when they took him off the field.”

  “Hopefully it’s just a few games, instead of the season. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that, in all the years I’ve been watching this game.”

  “And you can’t help but feel for the team as well, wondering what Mayfair’s absence will do to the team, especially after the controversy last month around Todd Browning.”

  “A stressful situation indeed. They’re going to have to pin their hopes on their third backup, who’s had some controversy of his own. If Trent Bailey isn’t ready to play, he’s going to have to get that way soon.”

  “Trent Bailey has been waiting on a chance for a comeback. He was one of the best this league has ever seen,
and if he can pull it together, his could be the jolt of electricity this team needs after the way they’ve been playing this season.”

  “But it hasn’t been all bad. I’m sure that somewhere, if he’s not pumped full of painkillers right now, Mayfair is grateful for a gem like Jordan Johnson, who was able to get across the field and save the pass Mayfair made right before he got knocked down.”

  “And he didn’t just catch it – Johnson ran the hell out of it. A thirty-six yard touchdown to end the game with a win, before anybody realized Mayfair was hurt.”

  They were right.

  Even though we’d managed to pull off a win, our locker room was subdued. Obviously we were happy about the win, but when your quarterback goes down in the last play of the game, it’s hard to move past that moment, while you’re waiting for information.

  While we waited, we got dressed, letting the commentary blaring from the TV serve as background noise. The coaches and other staff tried to drum up some excitement, probably to get our minds off of Mayfair, but it wasn’t working. We just wanted to know what was going to happen.

  Trent was quiet. Probably wondering what was going to happen next, and I was too. I’d be a bald-faced lie if I said having Trent back as the primary quarterback wouldn’t be nice. I’d played with him since I started on this team – hell, since I started in the league – and that combination had proved to be like magic. We were homeboys off the field, so we automatically had a certain level of camaraderie. On the field, our communication was so on point it was damn near telekinetic. There was no doubt in my mind that me and Trent could win games, and I was ready to make the shit happen.

  Our head coach, Coach Lou, stepped into the locker room, the expression on his face impassive. He got Trent’s attention, signaling that he wanted to speak to him in his office. Immediately, Trent’s eyes scanned the room and met mine. I nodded as he stood up, swinging the strap of his bag onto his shoulder to follow.