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Chapter 237
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Two days later, the doctors discontinued the medication that kept Brack in a coma. My father showed up the morning after surgery and made me go home, shower, and change clothes. Brack's parents were staying in shifts. His mom promised she wouldn't leave his side until I returned. I hadn't really spoken to them. We stayed relatively quiet in Brack's room. I whispered encouragement and told him I was there. They gave us privacy, too. That's when I told him I loved him. Again and again, I whispered the words.My father and Senator Jacobs were cordial. Brack's mother treated my dad like a family friend. Apparently she'd been friends with my mom. I tried not to think about the ramifications of our two families tied together through me and Brack. It was too much to take right now.Brack still had the ventilator. The doctor reviewed best and worst case scenarios with us. I refused to listen to brain damage, paralysis, learning to walk and talk again, and so on. My focus was full recovery. I
Completion Chapter 239
I never returned to the hospital, which was entirely unfair of me. My anger at my father carried over to Brack. I was horrible. The man I loved hadn't fully recovered and I left him at the hospital alone. Okay, he had his parents and his team. But, bottom lineI was horrible and a coward. I ignored the calls from Brack and my father. Again- coward.I needed complete control of my life. It took me two weeks to come up with a plan. During those two weeks, I hired a new coach and trained until I could barely walk. I trained with a purpose. I'd had my own money. Not just from tennis but from my mother. I'd never used it. That was the way I punished her and myself. Now, for the first time, I paid for my own coach.I liked him. I could actually smile over the fact that my father paid for Jerry all those years while the two of them hated each other. Greg, my new coach, kicked my ass. I had no idea if I had a chance this season. But, winning the Grand Slam was in my peripheral vision and not
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I hid in Italy for three weeks. Greg came with me and kicked my ass on the court. He actually made a great practice partner. I was back to clean eating and drinking only water. It surprised me when Greg brought a bottle of wine to my room one night."What's this for?" I asked when he gave me one of his golly-gee smiles. Greg was cute. And, married to a lovely woman who worshipped him."I've been your coach for three months now and I have no idea what makes you tick. It's time for a come to daddy talk. Or in your case, come to coach. I figured the alcohol might make it easier.""You'll need more than one bottle," I told him. He came back to my room ten minutes later with two more bottles in his hands. "Does your wife know you're getting drunk with a slutty tennis star tonight?" I smiled to take the sting out of calling myself a slut."She suggested it. We've had many long conversations about you.""How romantic."He poured our first glasses and tilted the edge of his glass against
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PART ONEMy teeth ground together in frustration. I couldn't believe I let her talk me into coming to this party.My sister, I mean really- my sister!I watched as she physically entertained a professional football teamhalf-naked, drunk, behaving like a complete slut. I looked away, my eyes in need of disinfectant. No one should see their older sister having her nipples sucked. After a certain age, no one should see their sister's nipples period!The party was in full swing, players at the end of downtime blowing off pre-season steam. This involved plenty of women, booze, and rowdy celebration. Everything but an all-out gang bang- so far.I was hiding in the suite's small kitchen trying to think of a way out that included taking my sister with me. This wasn't the best spot, because it opened on both sides, but at the moment it was empty of partiers.A noise made me turn."Heys, babes." The low, drunken voice slurred, casting obnoxious alcohol breath into my nostrils. At the same
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He took my hand.Cripes, this man liked to touch.He escorted me out of the suite and then the hotel. A valet brought his car around. Not what I expected. No flashy sports car, but a BMW. He opened the door for me and I sank into the blissful leather."Buckle up." His hand was already pulling the strap across my chest and sliding it effortlessly into the clasp next to my hip.I gulped and prayed the sound was silent. Killian MacGregor was taking me home to my semi-rundown apartment, a mile from the state college. I took another breath.Him-the car smelled just like him. They could bottle this and make a fortune.Would leather show stains? I so needed a towel under my ass."Where to?" One confident hand held the steering wheel."The university."Even though I couldn't see them in the dark interior, I felt his eyes on me. His head dipped slightly. "Dancer?"My thighs slammed together."Runner."He didn't comment, just pulled around the long circular drive and headed out to th
Completion Chapter 3
The entire week after THE party, I spent every available minute on the Internet researching Killian like some obsessed fan. I couldn't help myself.Twenty-five years old, star quarterback in college, first-round draft pick when he turned pro at twenty-one. Two years ago, he took over the starting quarterback position for the Scorpions. One year ago, he was one of the country's most eligible bachelors. But, as always, there was a downsidehe was known to have a quick temper, use his fists when push came to shove, and for a non-thug position like quarterback, he had a thug reputation. And I couldn't forget- the face of an angel.I dug deeper. His single mom raised him along with one brother, but no other articles gave insight into his family. An in-depth feature about his high school years shed some light on his temper. He grew up in Richmond, California, and attended a predominately non-white high school. There, he learned to use his fists until his throwing arm caught the eye of the v
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What the hell did you wear to a football game in an indoor arena anyway? What did it matter? He probably wouldn't even see me or I him. I might just go, watch the game, and return to my apartment where Big Ben waited. I called Amanda."Really, Becca, there's no dress code. Be comfortablecomfortable shoes and a lightweight top will do. The stadium's cooled, but still gets warm when all the hot bodies pile in.""Okay, thanks." I hadn't told Amanda or Lyle, my prerequisite black, gay friend, as he called himself, how I got the tickets, just that I had them and they were invited. Amanda was great in that she didn't ask too many questions, because her mind was currently filled with finding a student-teaching position. But she did enjoy football and went to all the college's games. She also stood nine inches shorter than me and made me feel goliath. Lyle was two inches shorter than me, an arts major, and completely gay since before puberty. He really enjoyed football but only because o
Completion Chapter 5
Malory directed us to the front seats, which were to the right of the owner and his group, but separated by an aisle. "These are Killian's and he wants you sitting here," she said when I gave her a, "No I'd rather sit in the very back" look.Just as we took the proffered seats, the crowd started clapping and cheering. I looked down at the field and saw Killian, helmet dangling from his hand, leading the team onto the field at a steady jog.Oh my fucking my.In street clothes, he was a wet dream, but in pads, the number twenty jersey, and skin-tight football pants-totally cream-dream worthy. Damp hair hung just a little below his ears and was plastered to his head. He made the wet shaggy style look scrumptious. I continued to subconsciously drool as he sat on the grass, spread his legs, and stretched."Heart attack here. Where's the medic?" Amanda said in a low voice.Malory heard, laughed, and said too loudly, "We keep smelling salts on hand for just this purpose.""I need some o
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