Loved by the Linebacker (7 page)

Turning up the radio, I try to block out thoughts
of Camila and Gregg. Luckily, it’s only an hour and a half drive to my mom’s
which goes pretty quickly. When I reach the city limits, I turn down the
volume, an eerie feeling washing over me. This town is a mix of good and bad
memories. Winning state championships, signing with Notre Dame University, only
to turn it down because of my mother’s demons. Blake was pissed at me, but he
didn’t experience our mother’s alcoholism the way I did.

After our father left us, Blake had been the male
figure for both my mom and me. Blake handled all of the house maintenance, made
sure the bills were paid on time, purchased all the groceries, checked my homework,
practiced football with me every night in our backyard, everything to keep our
house and family functioning. My mom depended on him more than either of them
realized and when he left, her true colors came out. As a sophomore in high
school, I was left to pick up the pieces of our mother yet again. Before I turn
on to the long road that leads to our dilapidated Victorian-style house that
our mother refuses to sale, I check my phone and grin when I see I have a text
from Camila. 

Too bad it was only a one-time thing…but you’re
not too bad yourself.

Shaking my head and chuckling, I start the quarter
of a mile drive. She says it was just a one-time deal, but she knows it’s so
much more than that. Tonight, I got much more than I expected from her which is
a start. I know I have to take things slow if I want more from her. My
throbbing cock reminds me of how much I do and I groan, rubbing it with my free
hand, hoping it shrinks before I get to my mother’s.

Reaching our driveway, all thoughts of everything
and everyone are pushed away. It’s almost midnight and every light in the house
is on while the front door is wide open. I throw the SUV into park and bolt
inside, the engine still running. Fearing the worst, I yell for my mom at the
top of my lungs.

“Ma! MA! Are you okay? Ma!” This house has no
security and Ma refuses to let me pay for any upkeep or security system. She
wants it exactly the way it was when our asshole father left. In her delusional
mind, she thinks he’s coming back one day.

I race from room to room, stumbling over piles of
junk scattered throughout the house. Beer bottles clutter the floors, a sure
sign that Ma’s fallen off the wagon. My only hope is that she’s been a lone
drinker, staying at home to get shitfaced and not going to the bar, bringing
home random men who could do who knows what to her. I clench my fist at that
image and shove a stack of magazines off the hall desk, walking into her
bedroom, the only place I haven’t checked yet.

I let out a long breath when I see my mother passed
out on the bed. Taking a seat beside her, I place my hand on her back and relax
slightly knowing that she’s breathing. She’s a tiny woman to begin with, how
the hell she gave birth to Blake and me I have no idea, but right now, she
looks so fragile. Her skin is pasty, the smell of beer hangs in the air, and I
can see every bone along her vertebrae through the thin shirt she’s wearing.

Her fingers still grip a bottle of beer, most of
it tipped over and soaking into the mattress by this time. Slowly, trying not
to wake her, I pluck it from her hand and she rolls over, mumbling as she does.
I pull the blanket over her and push her gray and blonde hair out of her face.

“Hey, Ma, it’s me, Evan,” I say softly instead of
screaming at her like I want to. I’ve been here and done that enough times to
know that I have to be calm and rational with her in times like this.

She tries to smile, hiccuping as she does. “Hey,
how’s my baby boy?” she asks, patting my leg.

I nod. “I’m fine. What about you? I thought you
quit drinking.” I look around the room and see half a bottle of vodka on the
nightstand, surrounded by empty beer cans.

“Well, you and Blakey’s season was over so I
didn’t have nothing better to do,” she slurs her words while she pats my face
adoringly.

Sighing, I shake my head. “That’s not the deal,
Ma. Sleep it off and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

I kiss her forehead and stand up. She rolls over,
falling right back to sleep like we hadn’t just had a conversation. Grabbing
the bottle of vodka, I start to unscrew the cap then stop. If I take a drink of
this then I’m no better than she is. Two more bottles of bourbon stare at me
from her dresser. Swiping them, I begin my routine run of the house, checking
for any and all forms of alcohol. Thirty minutes later, I’ve recovered five
more bottles of liquor, two bottles of cough syrup, and a skunky box of beer
sitting in the garage. I know all her favorite hiding places and I didn’t take
it easy. Turning a blind eye will help no one.

Bottle after bottle, I empty them down the kitchen
drain wondering how things got to the point. Ann Purser is the mother of two
starting NFL football players. We both make more than enough money to get her
out of this shithole and into a rehab program that could turn her life around,
but she refuses any help and Blake’s a fuckin’ idiot who pretends we have the
perfect home life in interviews.

The last bottle emptied, I turn around and hurl it
at the wall. Listening to it break into a million pieces, I slide down the
cabinets and lean my back against them. My elbows on my knees, I hang my head.
Blake’s always had the good life. When our father left, the asshole still sent
Blake birthday cards every year with a five dollar bill. I never so much as got
a card or phone call. Blake leaves for his division one college and Ma brags
about it to all her friends. I win three high school championships and wash the
puke out of her hair. Blake deserts our family for a beautiful, driven woman
that he could’ve had, and probably still could, if he wanted but never took the
opportunity. In turn, I fall for the same woman knowing she’s not available.
He’s the fuckin’ golden child and I’m no one.

I hear sobs but it takes a moment to figure out
they’re coming from me and that the wetness on my face are tears.
Fuck, I’m
falling apart.
I need someone to calm me, tell me it’ll be okay. I need
Camila. Without thinking, I press her number into my phone and hold it to my
ear. Her sleepy voice is even sexier than normal when she answers. I pinch my
nose, pressing my fingers against my eyelids in hopes that will stop the tears.

“Evan? Evan, are you okay? Talk to me,” Camila
says into the phone, panic filling her voice and I feel like a dick for causing
her to worry.

Swallowing the lump that’s formed, I clear my
throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. I—” And like that, I break down in front of a woman.
In front of her, Camila, the one I want to take care of. Her words are calm and
even as she tries to reassure me and then like a punch in the gut, I remember
who she’s with.

“Fuck, you’re with Gregg,” I mumble, ready to hang
up.

“No, I’m not,” Camila’s voice says over the line.

Shaking my head, trying to translate her words, I
repeat, “You’re not?”

“No, we had a drink at the hotel bar and he left,”
Camila explains, my heart beating louder, wondering the deeper meaning.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Ev, so I can fix it.” Her
voice is soft and tears tease my eyes again. Sure, it’s her job to keep her
clients out of trouble, help them however she can, but I know she’s not saying that
because of her obligation to me.

“My mom,” I choke out, trying not to cry again.

Camila’s voice is more alert when she asks if
she’s okay. Suddenly, I just start talking, spouting off everything on my mind.
“She’s drinking again. I can’t trust her on her own. The house is a disaster,
the door was wide open, anyone could have walked in and taken whatever they
wanted, or worse. I can’t leave her, Cami, I have to move back to Florida and
take care of her.”

“No, no, no!” Camila rebuttals, her voice unnerving.
“There are more options, Evan. You are not giving up.”

Camila’s voice is so confident, so reassuring that
I honestly believe her for a split second. A beer can falls from the counter
and clinks against the floor, rolling toward me and reality hits again. “What
am I supposed to do? I can’t leave her like this. She says she quit drinking
when our season ended, but from the looks of this place, she started well
before then.”

“Let’s move her to California. She’ll be closer to
all of us and we can get her into rehab.”

I scoff. “Ma isn’t leaving this place, Camila.”

There’s a long silence between us. A small part of
me wonders if I quit the NFL, if Camila and I could have a chance together.
It’s the only silver lining in this fucked-up situation that I call my life at
this point. Finally, Camila takes a deep breath before she speaks.

“I can hire a cleaning service to take care of her
house. I know a guy that owns a business not too far from there and we can
probably pay them extra to check on your mom, get rid of any alcohol in the
house, befriend her, keep her busy, and off the bottle. It’s a short-term
solution, so in the meantime, you and Blake will have to convince her to move
to California.”

I close my eyes, thinking about the idea Camila
just proposed. It could work, it’s not a perfect plan, but it’s better than
giving up on my dream of winning a Super Bowl and it keeps my mom safe.
Nodding, forgetting she can’t see me, I tell Camila it’s worth a shot and to
set it up.

“Evan, your mom is lucky to have a son like you,”
Camila says softly into the phone.

Tears prick my eyes once more and I shut them
tight. “I’m lucky to have you, Cami.”

Chapter 11

Camila

Whistling, I’m seriously whistling. And this grin
on my face? It won’t go away. I hug my knee to my chest as I scroll mindlessly
through my emails. Sitting in my hotel room in Chicago, I’m trying to relax
before the NFL draft this evening. Once I hit the lobby, I’ll be working until
the wee hours of the morning and there won’t be any time for rest as I’ll be
laughing, smiling, and networking with one coach, player, parent after another.
I should be taking a nap, but I’m expecting Evan to knock on my door at any
minute.

Since our first kiss, we’ve shared many more, each
increasing with passion and intensity. Every time his lips touch mine, I
hesitate for a split second, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this, but Evan pulls
me in and the thought melts away. For now, he doesn’t mind keeping our kisses
behind closed doors and he doesn’t pressure me for more, although we both want
it. I know the time will come when I have to make a decision, but I refuse to
think about it right now.

Two new emails pop up and my stomach churns. One
is from the San Diego Seawolves, the other from the Chicago Lancers, and both
have Evan’s name in the subject line. I knew his contract from the Seawolves
would be coming in any day, but I’m shocked about the Lancers, especially since
they’ve been chasing after Blake.

The Lancers can’t officially make an offer until
after July so they’re ahead of the game. Clicking open their email, I scan
through it quickly. Three year contract, typical. Legal stuff, publicity,
injury, compensation. Five million dollars. I shake my head, making sure that
I’m reading that correctly. Sure enough, the Chicago Lancers are planning to
offer Evan five million dollars for a three year contract. This is way more
than I expected, but Evan definitely proved himself on the field last season
and he’s worth every bit of that offer.

Without closing the email, I open the other one
from the Seawolves. If Chicago offered Evan five million then his own team’s
bid is probably even more. My fingers are shaking slightly as I scroll down the
email. When I see the compensation offer, my stomach sinks. A one-year contract
extension for one million dollars. It’s a slap in the face and there’s no way
I’ll let Evan take it. My negotiation skills will be put to use next week once
I have all the Netsports rookies signed and the Is dotted and the Ts crossed.
Knowing Evan’s temper, I don’t plan to tell him until negotiations are
finished.

Standing up, I stretch my arms over my head, even
more anxious to see Evan. There’s a knock on the door and I run to it, stopping
before I open it. I smooth out my navy, scoop neck, tank top that has a curved
side hemline. The blouse matches my navy and monochrome diamond and circle
pattern cigarette trousers with tapered ankles. I’m working in a man’s world,
hence the pants, but I do my best to add a little femininity to my outfit as
well.

My fingers fluff my hair, which is in a low
chignon on the back of my neck. While the hairstyle is supposed to look
effortless, I spent a long time working on it and hairsprayed it until it was
as hard as a football helmet. My heels were discarded the second I got to my
hotel room so I know the second I open the door, I’ll be standing almost a foot
shorter than Evan.

With a goofy grin on my face, I fling open the
door and see Evan wearing a matching expression, tattered blue jeans, and a
Seawolves t-shirt that clings to his chest and is almost busting at the seams
over his biceps. Without saying a word, he steps into the room, picking me up
and slamming the door behind him. Giggling, I wrap my legs around his waist as
his hands move under my backside, holding me up.

“Miss me?” he growls, walking us toward the bed.

Smirking, trying not to let my lips turn up too
much, I shake my head. “Nah,” I lie. It’s been almost two weeks since we’ve
seen each other. While we talk every day, there’s just something about hearing
his voice in person that excites me. My stomach flips at that thought, I’ve
never wanted a man around me every day… until now.

Evan tosses me on the bed, falling forward and
hovering over me. “No? Fine, then. I guess I’ll leave,” he says and starts to
lean back up.

“Hey!” I grab his shirt, pulling him to me. He
easily comes back and our lips touch but this time, I don’t hesitate. I close
my eyes, letting him take control, his hand slipping under my tank top, the
other in my hair. Our tongues roll together and I wrap my legs around his hips,
grinding against him. Despite the barriers of our pants, I can still feel his
growing excitement.

Evan pulls away, both of us breathing hard. His
finger moves to my collarbone, sliding it back and forth, sending both chills
and heat through my body. “Camila, I want you,” he whispers.

My body is saying yes, in fact, my hand slides
down his chest, but my brain stops it. “Evan,” I struggle to sit up underneath
him until he rolls to the side, facing me. “We can’t go any further.”

Evan rolls to his back, letting out a disgusted
sigh. “Then why the fuck are we doing this, Cami? Don’t deny that you have
feelings for me, that you don’t want this, too.”

I scramble out of bed, fighting the urge to scream
at him. Instead, in a calm voice, I explain, “You’re right, Evan. As much as I
don’t want to, I do have feelings for you. And more than anything, I want you
to have your fuckin’ way with me, but realistically, it can’t happen.”

Evan sits up quickly, pulling me between his legs,
my hands still on my hips. He lifts up my blouse and caresses my bare skin, my
legs immediately turning to jelly. His sky blue eyes look up at me. “Can’t or
won’t?”

His lips move to my stomach, teasing me with his
tongue and I’m so wound up that I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t come right
then. I close my eyes and tilt my head back. “Both, Evan…mmm,” I moan and shake
my head. “We should sto—”

“We should just let what happens happen and not
fight it. I guarantee that one night with me will convince you to change your
stupid rule,” Evan says confidently, his hand sliding between my legs, his
thumb rubbing over my pants.

My hands on his shoulder, I look down at him.
“You’ve never slept with a girl more than once.” There, I said it. More than my
rule, that’s the part that’s been scaring me just as much.

Evan’s hand moves to my cheek, stroking it gently
as he looks in my eyes. “Cami, if I sleep with you, I will never sleep with
another woman.”

Evan

Camila’s body goes rigid against mine, but it’s
true. Cami and I connect, we get each other. She doesn’t question my loyalty to
my mother although I’m sure she’s heard a completely different side of the
story from Blake. She’s seen me at my worse and hasn’t run yet. I want this
woman more than anything right now and I don’t just mean sexually.

“Say something.” I laugh nervously, wishing I knew
what was going through her mind. But she doesn’t speak. Instead, she leans down
and presses her lips against mine. Slowly, I fall back, taking her with me. The
excitement that we normally share with our kisses is still there, but this kiss
is completely different than any other one we’ve experienced. Our sexual desire
is pushed away briefly and on some other level, we’re connecting, giving in to
each other, and I’m hoping this is Camila saying she’ll give us a chance.

A knock on the door interrupts us and with one
small kiss, Camila sits up, patting my chest. Crawling off me, she walks to the
door and peeks her head out. I can hear my brother laughing on the other side
and he asks, “What the hell happened to your hair?”

Camila’s hand touches the hair knot that’s half up
and half down. Stammering, she ignores his question when she answers. “What do
you want?”

“Who’s in there, Cam? Gregg’s in K.C. so who are
you hooking up with?” Blake asks again, not dropping the topic. I sit up, part
of me thinking I should hide while the other half of me wants to throw open the
door and punch him in the face.

“I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.
Goodbye,” she says, slamming the door and turning around, leaning against it.

I ball up my fists, clenching my jaw as I speak.
“What the fuck? I can’t be seen with you at the draft, but Blake can? You’re
right, Cami, we need to just end this now.”

The cool, calm, confident Camila walks across the
room to where I’m still sitting on the bed. Her dainty hands grip my shoulders
and she gives me a shake. “You can’t expect me to say yes and immediately
change everything. Starting tonight, my hell week of work begins so let me get
through that and once I survive, we’ll start off with a weekend trip to
somewhere tropical.”

I scoff and shake my head. “So what? You can hide
us out of the country?”

Camila’s fingers move under my chin, making me
look up at her. “Baby steps, Evan. I’m going to be exhausted and beyond
stressed when I get back to the room tonight so you better be ready to help me
relax.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Relax? What did you have in
mind?” My sex drive takes over my thinking.

“Well, a nice hot bath then crawling in bed with you…naked.
Then I’ll let you take it from there. I want this, I want you, Evan, but it’s
going to take time for us to figure everything out.”

I nod and Camila kisses me softly before turning
to walk away. Still within my arm span, I reach out and slap her ass. “Fine,
but don’t expect to get any sleep.”

Laughing, she goes to the bathroom and comes out
ten minutes later, her hair and make-up perfect. I’m leaning against the
headboard, watching T.V. when she walks out. She shrugs on a navy blazer and
sits on the edge of the bed to put on her heels. I kiss her neck, nibbling on
her ear, and evoking the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard. She turns her head to
kiss me and I slide her hand over my cock.

“See what you do to me?” I mumble against her
lips.

Camila’s hand tightens around my engorged erection
and she whispers, “I’ll take care of it when I get back.”

She grins as she stands up and I pout like a
little kid not getting his way, but I know in time, sooner rather than later,
she’ll be mine, all mine. Once the door clicks shut, I jump in the shower to
relieve myself. I don’t want to ruin our first time together because of a
premature release.

Taking my time, I get ready, fully dressed in the
only suit I own, the same one I’ve had since high school. I’m much more muscular
now than I was back then and I can hear the thread stretching as I pull it over
my arms. Camila and I can shop for a new one, she has impeccable taste. I grin
at that thought, Camila and I and not just as agent and client, but as a
couple.

Joining the hundreds of potential football
players, their families, coaches, owners, managers, and a handful of fans that
snuck in, I make my rounds of the room, not letting Camila out of my sight.
Blake is at her side all night, his hand constantly in touch with her body. The
two appear to be the picture perfect couple. Anger boils in the pit of my
stomach and I force myself to look away.

I slam my drink and stare at the bottom of my
glass. Instantly, I feel like my mother. Drinking to push away something bad,
letting the alcohol cloud my judgment. I look across the room and Camila’s eyes
are locked on me. When our eyes meet, she gives me a wink before turning back
to the group of people around her. A smile comes to my lips, without even
talking, Cami knew I needed her. I slide the glass across the bar. If she
wanted Blake, she would’ve been with him by now. I have nothing to worry about,
she’s mine, or will be soon.

It’s after midnight and there’s still plenty more
action going on, but I’m not going to torture myself watching Camila and Blake.
Instead, I head back to our room to get ready for her return. An hour later,
there are rose petals scattered around the bathroom floor along with some fu-fu
bubble bath the front desk sent up. I’ve got champagne chilling in an ice
bucket and now I’m just hanging out on the bed, flipping channels, nodding my
head and trying not to doze off.

I’m watching the Magic Bullet infomercial for the
second time when her laptop dings. Glancing at it on the desk, I walk over,
fully planning on closing it so we aren’t interrupted later. My hand on the
lid, I look at the screen and see my name in the subject line of an email from
the Seawolves. Clicking it open, I skim through it, seeing their offer.

What the hell?
That’s not a fuckin’ offer,
that’s an insult. I had over a hundred tackles last season, including four
sacks. Another email catches my attention and I see it’s from the Lancers.
Fuck
that,
I’m not moving to Chicago.
I quickly read through that one,
shocked at their offer. My blood pressure boils and I’m wide awake now.