False Start: A Football Romance (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Callum

Straight to voicemail.

This is not like her.

I draw in a deep breath and dial again, carefully selecting each number as if my life depends on it.

“Hi, this is Amelia. Leave a message at the tone and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Fuck,” I growl, slamming the phone down on the bar. Why is she so damn stubborn? I told her I would handle this shit. I told her it was all a mistake, but did she believe me?

Hell no.

She’s pushing me away.

Again.

I tried to go to the hospital after my fucked up come to Jesus meeting with the owner of the team and Coach, only to be told that I was temporarily banned from Carson’s room. She fucking banned me. Never in a million years did I think she would go so far as to keep me away from him, but I guess I was wrong about a lot of things here lately.

I sit there, swiveling in an uneven barstool, inhaling the stale fumes of cigars and spilled beer, thinking, planning my next move. I don’t have many options. The league has me on a short as fuck leash, which is complete bullshit, if you ask me. I don’t ever go out and party. I don’t cause any problems like some of the other guys who are always in trouble for fighting or whoring around town. I keep to myself.

I’m a loner.

All I want is my family and my career.

Closing my eyes against the burn of cigarette smoke in the dim bar air, I simmer in the anger building inside me. Why the fuck won’t she answer my calls? Why is she ignoring me now? It’s just not like her.

An hour passes as I sit there sipping my beer, staring at my phone, willing it to ring. The bar is starting to fill with the happy hour crowd. The grill is fired up, and the televisions are turned on. It’s time for me to head out of here.

Damn it.

My anger has faded completely, and now in its place, concern is setting in. I just want to know what the hell is going is on. Is that too much to ask? I stand, slapping a twenty on the bar beside my half-drank beer and walk to the doors. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to do, but there is one person who may know something, or at the very least, be able to help me.

“Mr. Goins? Callum Johnson here.”

“Oh hi, Mr. Johnson. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, its fine. I was actually calling to see if you could help me with something.”

“Okay. Lay it on me and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I need help locating my girlfriend. I’ve been trying to call her, but she isn’t answering, and now I’m starting to worry.”

“Sure, sure. What’s the name?”

“Amelia Hart.”

“Okay, give me a few and I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“Thank you.”

I hang up the phone and head back to my house. It’s been over forty-eight hours since I’ve bathed, and if I don’t get something to eat soon, I may be sick. I don’t even make it a block before my cell rings. Mr. Goins’s number flashes across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Callum? Mr. Goins here. Listen, I found Amelia. She has been booked into County.”

“She what?” I bellow into the phone.

“She was arrested this morning.”

“For what?” I ask, my anger growing with every second.

“Let me see here. Ah, one count of conspiracy, one count of trafficking, and one count of possession of a controlled substance.”

“I want her out. I want her out now. I don’t give a flying fuck what it takes to make it happen. You get down there and get her. NOW!”

“Yes, sir. I’ll see what I can do.”

When the call disconnects, my hand is gripping the phone so tight, I worry I may break it in half.  I can’t believe this fucked up town actually arrested her. They have no evidence against me, much less her, and now my pregnant soon to be wife is locked behind bars in the filthiest jail known to mankind.

Every single emotion I’ve felt for the last two days rushes through me. They bombard me, filling me with anger, resentment, and hatred. I throw my hands in the air and scream as load as I can. I have to let it out. I can’t leave it all in anymore.

“Fuuuuck!” I yell into the streets. The few people out stop and look my way, curious as to why I am screaming, but they quickly decide not to get involved. I’m sure I don’t look very approachable at the moment. I damn sure don’t feel very approachable. I feel like biting someone’s head off. I’m sure the league would love that.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Amelia

The walls of this cell are closing in around me. I need to get out of here. I need to be at the hospital with Carson, far, far away from this wretched place.

Everyone keeps staring at me, watching me, wondering what my story is. I don’t have a story. It was all a mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. I need to get out of here.

The buzzer on the door sounds, and then several women dressed in white walk in, carrying trays of food and pitchers of what looks like tea. I don’t want to eat. I’m not the least bit hungry.

“Come on, honey, you need to feed that baby,” an elderly lady in the bunk next to me says, her gravelly voice sending chills down my spine. She sounds like she spent the last twenty years or so smoking at least a pack a day, if not more.

“I’m not hungry.” I reply, rolling over.

“That don’t really matter to that baby, now does it? He’s hungry, whether you are or not.”

“She,” I say, sitting up on the bed.

“A girl? Well then, let’s feed that little girl before those pigs eat all the scraps.”

I stand and let the woman pull me to the tables set up in the center of the room, ignoring all the stares around me as we go. The closer I get to the table, the more of the food I can smell. My stomach lets out a low rumble as I sit down at the table.

All conversation has stopped around the table while I sit there watching and waiting for some type of direction. I’ve never been to jail before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and what I’m not supposed to do. All I know is what I’ve seen on television, and right now, I’m really hoping that stuff isn’t true, because I don’t want to be shanked or raped, and I damn sure don’t want to join a gang to survive.

“What the hell you waiting on, Sue? Pass the girl a plate.” The elderly lady speaks first, and I jump then try to cover it up by rubbing my hands along my arms.

“Yes ma’am, Momma,” the girl named Sue replies and then passes me a plate. As soon as the plate is set in front of me, the room comes back to life, like a switch has been flicked. It’s almost like I’ve been tried and weighed and found worthy and now I’m welcome here. I don’t feel like an outcast anymore, awaiting my hanging. I feel comfortable. It’s not home, but at least the muscles in my back are relaxing, and I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that I won’t be murdered in my sleep.

“Thank you,” I whisper to my rescuer.

“Anytime. I was once a newbie like you. It was so long ago that I can barely remember it.”

“This isn’t your first time?”

“Lord heavens, no.” She laughs, and it sounds like the earth has been ripped open, harsh and rough. “I practically live here, dear.”

“Why?” I ask and then immediately apologize.

“Don’t apologize, dear. I’ve made my choices in life, both good and bad, and I live by them. Now why don’t you tell me what brought you here?”

For some reason, I feel the need to open up to her. I want someone to talk to about the shit storm I’ve been flung into the last twenty-four hours. Or better yet, the last week since I ran into Cal. I need an outsider’s opinion. So I pour it all out. I spill every single detail to her, and then I sit there on the palms of my hands, rocking back and forth while I wait for her to say something.

Anything.

“Sounds like you have some pretty hard decisions to make really quickly.”

“That’s it? That all you have to say?”

“Well, what did you want me to say? Only you know your heart, and only you know what’s best for you and your family. I can’t tell you what to do. You already know what to do. The hard part is doing it.”

When she finishes, she stands and takes her tray to the bin by the door and dumps it. Then she walks back to her bunk and crawls in the bed, pulling the cover up tight. She rolls over and closes her eyes, leaving me alone to ponder her words and the meaning behind them.

Do I already know the right thing to do? It seems like my life has been nothing but complete chaos since Cal re-entered it, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the easiest thing to do would be to push him out. Look at everything that has happened because of him. I’m sitting in freaking jail, for Christ’s sake, and if that detective can be believed, then I’m just one court date away from losing custody of Carson.

I can’t let him be raised in the system, and my mother isn’t going to be any help at all. I need to put as much distance between me and Callum Johnson as possible.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Callum

My nerves are shot. It’s been three days since I spoke to Amelia. Three days that she has been sitting in jail because of some stupid ass trumped up charges. My lawyer has been working nonstop to get her and Griffin out, but the judge won’t assign a bail to her until after her first court hearing, which is this morning, and Griffin has to wait until his preliminary hearing.

Unfortunately, I won’t even be able to be there for her.

Part of the deal with my immediate release was that I stayed out of trouble and I showed up for each and every game and played the best I could. Fucking bullshit, if you ask me. My boy is laid up in the hospital, and I’m forced to travel with the fucking team across the country to play ball? Yeah, that makes sense.

I still don’t know how Carson is doing. The hospital won’t let me in to see him and won’t give me any information on him, but Mr. Goins has paperwork being processed right now to revoke that. I can’t imagine how scared he is right now, not having anyone there with him. I hate fucking red tape.

I just want my family.

“Ready, Breezy?” Coach asks, shaking the shoulder pads, pulling me from my thoughts. I need to get my head in the here and now before I end up on the ground again.

“Sure, Coach, let’s do this.” At least while I’m on the field, my mind is on something else other than my fucked up life.

I run out on the field with the rest of the team, and the stadium goes wild. It feels good. I belong here. In the middle of the field, I gather in the huddle with the team and brace for the first play of the game.

“Breezy. I know this is hard on you, but let’s wipe the field with these ass wipes and then we will go take care of Carson. Okay?”

I nod, surprised when the rest of the team yell their agreement.

“Split screen left on two.”

“Break.” We all yell and then take our places on the field. For the first time since this shit began, I don’t feel completely alone. I should have known I could count on my team to be there. We are more than just a team. We are brothers brought together by the love of football.

The ball snaps, and I go long. Tonight is my night. I can feel it. The stars have aligned, and my mojo is flowing. It’s time to wipe the field with these ass wipes. They aren’t going to know what—or who—hit them.

I go deep, and I see the ball in the air. This corner can't stay with me as I run under the ball, snapping it out of the air with ease. I roll into the end zone, free and clear, and then stand and spike the ball, throwing my hands in the air. Touchdown!!!

The crowd screams with both joy and outrage all mingled together to fuel my soul. Their cries feed me, lifting me up. I missed this feeling. I needed this. I’m not letting up.

Defense holds them to a three and out. No score for the ass wipes today. I throw my hand in the air and wave it around, telling the coach to keep feeding me the ball. He nods. I think he knows I need this as much as I do. I’m on fire tonight. I’m channeling every emotion running through me and pushing it out onto the field tonight. I’m faster than I’ve ever been. More accurate, better.

We run the ball. First play, I crack back down on the linebacker. Howard, our tail backer, breaks it outside for a twelve-yard gain.

I want the fucking ball.

I need it.

Coach calls a Z out pass. I line up wide right. Double coverage. They can't stick me. Balls snaps, and I cut toward the middle and then back out toward the back of the end zone. Bitches can't stick me. I'm three yards behind them as I catch the ball. You can't teach speed.

I'm out!!!

Touchdown number two, and we aren’t even six minutes into the game.

Cody celebrates in the end zone with us. I grab his face mask and look him in the eye. “Keep the balls coming to me, and I will make you fucking famous tonight.”

“Fuck yeah, man. Let’s do this shit.”

Again, our defense holds. We are getting the ball back for the third time in the first quarter. Cody is gonna break the teams passing record for yards in a game if he just keeps throwing me the ball.

Nobody on this field can stick me.

I line up slot right. The ball’s snapped, and I step back for the screen. Time to show that I'm not all speed! I catch the ball and juke the first defender. I head to the edge and am met by the linebacker. I lower my shoulder and flatten him like a train hitting a bicycle going seventy miles per hour. As I get around the edge, I pick up eleven yards.

First down.

The crowd has become my own personal cheering squad. My name is chanted over and over and over.

It's my night. Nobody can stop me.

Coach calls a run play next, but we don’t have time for that cheap shit tonight. Go big or go home. We are already up by fourteen in the first quarter.

“Fuck that, give me the ball,” I tell Cody. “Let’s do this right.”

He calls fly right and I smile. “See you in the end zone. Get ready to celebrate again, boys.” Ball’s in the air, and I'm already gone.

Touchdown number three, all in the first quarter. We are unstoppable. Shit, we are untouchable. The team owner wanted me to show and play hard, and by God, I am doing just that, but if he wants this to continue, then I’m going to have a few conditions for him after the game.

First things first. I want my girl out of the nasty ass jail cell.

Now.