Adrenaline runs through my veins and my heart pounds as I stare around the locker room. Four weeks of standing on the sidelines, fingers itching, legs twitching to get out on the field is over for me. I’m so damn ready to play.

“Liam, a quick word.”

“Sure,” I answer, take up residence next to the female reporter with no hesitation. I know the drill, and so does she. The ones who stand outside of the locker rooms or on the field are top of the line. They talk about the game and nothing else.

“You missed an entire season with your injury. How does it feel to be suited up again?”

“Beats sitting on the couch, I can tell you that. A little over a year ago, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand before a sold-out stadium and show the fans what I was blessed with in my blood. I wasn’t even certain I’d play again. I’m honored to be wearing the Diamonds uniform, blessed to be playing with every one of these men. We have some of the best coaches, best players in the league. This afternoon, the team showed our fans and San Diego that we’re here to play. We’re ready to take on Florida next week. They aren’t the team everyone is talking about anymore. Our team is.” I nod at the reporter, answering the rest of her questions before she has a chance to ask them, and weave my way through the chaos in the hallway to where Justice is waiting with my family.

I’m high off this win. Ready to see Justice smile. See the pride in my parents, and even listen to my sister prod me with all the errors the team made. There isn’t a thing I could think of that would bring me down.

The team was geared up and ready to go this afternoon, the loss to New England last week already forgotten. Now, it’s time to get ready for the real action. I’m pumped and ready to play the first regular game of the season next Sunday.

We just won the last preseason game, and even though every win is better than the last, this one came with an extra slash in the column for me personally. God, the look on Carson Harrington’s face when the clock ticked down to zero and the crowd roared like thunder made me want to look at him and wink. Filthy fucking player that he is.

And Justice, she looked more put together today than the other night when I brought up how shaky she was after I saw her sitting in her car the morning after we first had sex. Her face was as white as a ghost. About flipped my shit thinking something bad had occurred between the time I’d left her and when she’d sped into the parking lot and stopped before she hit the coach’s car. Then my head shifted gears wondering if she regretted our night together. That is until she asked me to kiss her. Still have a nagging feeling she’s keeping something from me.

Every time I ask her about it, she claims to be stressing out over the season. Not saying she isn’t, but there’s something else going on in that pretty little head of hers, and for the life of me I can’t figure out what.

As the general manager of this team, she is everywhere. Eyes and ears to her family. Staff meetings, coaches meetings, and fuck all if I know what else she does or how she does it all, but she does. The woman is possessed with making this team a success, but tonight I’m breaking her down. She isn’t leaving my house until she tells me what the hell she’s hiding from me.

I told her no more keeping things bottled inside, and I’ve let it go on long enough.

“Hey, Blake. Got a sec?” I grit my teeth at the sound of his voice, the man himself, Carson. The person who has come along and knocked me off my high.

I’d love nothing more than to tell him that I don’t have a sec, but I have a year of pent-up anger that would much rather land my fist right into his fucking face.

I close my eyes, slow my steps. The visual of him sideswiping me with an illegal hit will haunt me forever. My shoulder would have given out on me one way or the other; it was the way the son of a bitch taunted me afterward that nicked the hole to allow the hatred to pour out of me.

“Even a rookie knows not to step out on the field injured. That’s how you get taken out,” he had said, pointed to his temple, and left me there in the worst physical pain I had felt in my life.

He’s right. I shouldn’t have played. But for him to toss it in my face was unethical, unprofessional, and would have earned him a trip to the hospital instead of me if I hadn’t been in such agony I couldn’t see straight.

“Come on, man, let’s talk.” Fuck! I internally roar.

I stop in my tracks, open my eyes. The sound of that voice has me wanting to slink out of my skin. I’m hesitant to keep walking and ignore the little prick. Never did like him, on or off the field. He’s reckless, worn out, and doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.

“You have a good team. How the hell did you beg them to take you on? You jumped on your ex, started fucking the little mafia princess to win this job over others who deserved this position, didn’t you?” Carson positions himself in front of me, jerks his chin, while my entire body goes rigid and stiff.

“You did not just say that to me, you slimy sack of shit.”

One of the things Justice and I talked about over the past few weeks was us coming out to the world. We did it last Monday after I flew home from Massachusetts. The loss was still fresh in my mind. She grabbed my hand, pulled me in for a kiss right in front of everyone at the airport. About blew my load in front of my dad and team. Our picture was front and center on every tabloid, and people have been talking about it since. Most of them are happy for us. This sad excuse for a human isn’t one of them. He has jealousy crawling out of his pores.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I tell everyone else when they ask about my private life; you have a question regarding football, then I’ll answer it. Otherwise, you can fuck off with the rest.” I sling my bag over my shoulder without looking at him any more than necessary, slide around him, and take two steps before he speaks again. This time, his words have me pivoting toward him and pinning him to the wall with my stare.

“I see how it is. No one wanted you, so you went to work for the fucking mob. Taking money from innocent people and turning it dirty. Tell me this, does she control you in bed? Hold a knife to your throat and threaten you?” His jealous vibes are glued to him like a gold digging whore.

My father’s face flashes briefly before my eyes. His voice is telling me to walk away. They skip right down the hall. I drop my bag and thump my chest to his. I do not give a flying fuck if anyone sees us. Justice being my girlfriend or not, he will not talk about a woman like that in front of me.

“You know, a good man would walk away from a piece of shit like you. I’m not that man. You disrespected a woman. A woman who would wipe your ass with this floor. The thing is, that’s the kind of man you’ve always been, Carson. The man who pushes women around. I don’t have time for your jealous bullshit. Everyone knows your time is up. If you speak her name or even look her way, you’ll be the one with a knife to his throat, and trust me, it won’t be her who uses it.” I am so pissed off that the red on his uniform bleeds blood.

“Threatening another is cause for suspension, Blake. I wonder what the press would say.”

I scoff at the lack of confidence in his voice alone.

“Tell them, and we shall see, won’t we?”

I’m done with this worn-out man who will be lucky to see ten minutes of play time the entire year, yet he keeps pushing.

“Saw the photo of her walking out of a lingerie shop. Tell me, does she still love to wear black lace?”

He’s goading me; that sweet cling to desperation stirs in his eyes. Fucking shit stirrer that he is. He wants me to believe he knows her intimately, and he possibly could. Jesus, no, he couldn’t. I won’t allow him to achieve his mission.

Unease settles in my gut and my stare shifts from his to the people walking toward us.

The bastard chuckles, places his hand on my shoulder, and has the nerve to place his other hand on his crotch, grabbing it. “Bitch was amazing in bed.”

The red I see blinds me. Last poke to an angry bear. I push forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and throwing him up against the wall. I make sure to slam his back into the brick wall extra hard, causing his eyes to go wide and a snarl curl on his lip.

“One more word out of your mouth about her, and it doesn’t stop here. I’ll find you when the season is done, and we’ll fight like real men. Not like a little bitch, which is your style. Shut your fucking mouth, lick your wounds, and face the facts that you’ll never be me.”

With that, I leave him with one swift elbow to the ribs. I see my dad heading toward us out of the corner of my eye. He probably thinks a fight has just broken out. I drill my eyes into Carson, letting him know he just started a fucking war. Can’t wait to see the crybaby in the regular season. I’ll be having a little talk with my defensive about a dirt nap and Carson. That is if he even plays.

“Everything alright here?” Dad asks as they stop a few feet away. My parents exchange frowning looks, while Rowe stands there tapping her pom poms on her thighs. They all know how much I can’t stand Carson, but none of them know the real reason why. No one does but him and me. I’m not a goddamn nark. Keep shit I can handle to myself. We all have enemies in this profession. Rivals that piss us off. Players who pull a dirty trick behind the ref’s back. Me included. This time, though, Carson crossed a line that can never be forgiven.

Hell no. He’s a dick who lit a match under my ass. I’d like to say.

“Yeah, he was actually congratulating us, believe it or not,” I lie. Doubt anyone of them believes me. Especially my parents. I give my dad a look that says not here, not now, and grab Justice’s hand.

With that, I guide us down the hall, out the door, and promise my mom we’ll be over for dinner this week before saying good-bye.

Carson’s words brew inside me. Black lace has always been my favorite on her. He's had her. She's been keeping something from me for a while. Now everything is falling into place.

We rode here together in my Range Rover, and once both doors slam, I grip the steering wheel fighting to settle myself down. It's all worthless. I blow.

“Was Carson a good fuck?” I tilt my head, gaze locking angrily on her face. Her startled expression doesn’t come close to the value of shock and anger in my possession right now. I’m tipped over the edge, ready for answers, and she’s gaping at me like I’ve raised my hand to her.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Her voice wavers and she turns five shades of fuming red. I’ve seen this look on her before. She’s angry. Good, I’m boiling with a side of pissed off, and she best start talking.

“I asked you a question. I’d appreciate an answer.”

Guilt pounds through me as I turn away from her and crank over the engine. I peel out faster than necessary. The only sound is our heavy breathing.

“You going to answer me?” I give her a side glance.

She looks disappointed, and honestly, I can’t blame her. I did tell her our pasts needed to remain there. Sure, how she went about breaking it off with me was wrong, but it was years ago, and I should be executing my vow of leaving it buried. Can’t do it. I’m clawing my way through the dirt.

The issue at hand is, if she slept with the only man I don’t get along with, we have a big fucking problem. There isn’t a chance in hell I’ll be able to swallow that one down.

Exhaustion alleviates my frame of mind. Jesus Christ, what the hell am I thinking? She didn’t sleep with him; I know she didn’t. It’s his words that have tripped me up. I shouldn’t have let what he said get to me. I’m doing what the man wanted. Fighting with her and creating a wedge that will affect my performance. Son of a bitch.  

The remainder of our drive is done in uncomfortable silence. Her anger toward me unleashes the second I come to a stop outside her house and cut the engine.

“How dare you ask me a question like that? I’ve never spoken to Carson in my life, and if I did, it wouldn’t be a concern to you. Whatever he said to you back there was a lie. A lie I don’t give a shit about. What I do care about is, you proved to me you don’t trust me, and that hurts, Liam. So, in regards to your question, no, I didn’t fuck him.” She whips open her door, her blonde hair whirling around to where half of it lands on her face. “Does that make you happy?”

I’m gutted. Knife to the chest.

I don’t have a response. I’ve just tarnished and ruined everything we’ve built in the past month. I allowed him to take me out of my head. In a warped and fucked-up fashion it only pisses me off more. No reason in sight.

“And for you fucking information, Liam, I’ve never fucked an NFL player except you, so next time a rival tries to rile you up, don’t take it out on me.”

“Justice.” I go to grab her thigh, but she’s faster than me.

“Don’t.” She leans down, pointing a shaky finger at me. “Don’t you dare. You’ve made your point clear. With one brutal jab to my heart. I hope you are happy.”

I speak with a solid fist straight into the dashboard. I don’t feel a goddamn thing besides utter regret on the inside. A sorry right now would only be salt in an open wound. Justice grabs her bag from the backseat and then sets her glare on me.

“Liam Blake, you can go fuck yourself.” She places her hand on the door, ready to slam it. “You are the biggest player of all baiting me back into this relationship only to take me down. Are we even now? Did you accomplish what you came here to do by showing me you can break my heart? I hope you're proud of yourself.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she slams the door and strides to her front door. I don’t move until her figure disappears behind closed doors. I roar in frustration to nobody and everyone at the same time. I’ve never balanced a relationship while playing the pros. Never had to hear opponents taunt me with the woman I love, and what do I do? Throw it right in her fucking face the first chance I get.

A flash of vibrant hot pink catches my eye when I go to back out. There are two huge potted plants on both sides of her door that weren’t there before. She loves hot pink roses. I’ll buy every single fucking one in the Boise Valley if that’s what I have to do.

Cranking the wheel, I peel out, all the while knowing I could buy her anything and it wouldn’t come close to an acceptable apology. There are no excuses besides me being a complete asshole. I’m no better than the man who put these thoughts in my head.