Kickin’ It Page 8
She shook her head.
“Does anyone know?”
She just shrugged.
“Okay, so apparently we aren’t talking about dark corners and peppermint gum, not today. But one day, you’re going to need to trust someone enough to tell them so that the nightmares stop, so that the lashing out stops, so that you take control of your life again.”
“Control.” She laughed like it was funny. “It’s not real, is it?”
“You decide that,” I said softly. “And make me one promise.”
Our eyes locked.
Off-limits. She’s off-limits.
I just never realized how much.
“Don’t yell at me. Talk to me, like your agent, like your coach, like your friend.”
She smiled at that.
“Use your words nicely, so I know how to make sure you succeed, alright?”
“I thought you weren’t my friend.”
Silence settled between us as I thought about the times she’d lashed out. It wasn’t anger talking—it was fear. Protectiveness crashed over me hard and fast.
“Things change,” I said as I stood, wanting to do nothing more than wrap my arms around her and ask who hurt her so I could hurt them. “I think you need a friend who isn’t Willow.”
Her laugh made me smile. “She’s a good friend.”
“She’s manipulative.”
“In the best of ways.” Parker beamed up at me. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you.”
“You can’t say things like that to me. I don’t know what to do when you’re being nice.”
“Likewise.”
We stared for a few more minutes, me trying to figure her out, and her probably trying to decide if she really could trust me.
A knock sounded at the door, and Willow poked her head in. “Everything okay after that yelling match?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Yup,” Parker agreed. “I’m just going to go to bed.”
“Okay.” Willow sent me a seething glare as I followed her out, and just as I was about to turn off the light, I reached for the lamp, turned it on, then turned off the master light.
From her expression, you’d think I’d just given her gold.
Parker mouthed “Thank you.”
I shut the door behind me and suddenly felt older than my thirty years.
On one hand she was this courageous, talented woman; on the other hand, she seemed like she’d jump if she saw her own shadow.
I felt her relax when we talked.
Saw it on her face.
I wanted her to see herself the way the world would see her: talented, beautiful.
With a sigh I ran my hands through my hair again and wondered how I could save her when she refused to be the girl who needed saving.
She had lifeboats surrounding her and yet she was still drowning. I could try to be one of those lifeboats . . . or I could end up sinking right along with her.
Chapter Twelve
PARKER
I woke up and got dressed in my workout gear then nearly tripped over something left in front of my door.
It was a stuffed dinosaur.
The note pinned to it said To chase the darkness away. —Matt
I smiled so big you’d think someone had just given me a million dollars. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept with a stuffed animal. My throat closed up as I set it on top of my made bed with a smile, ready to take a picture and send it to Willow to brag that someone had given me something so wonderful.
Except what would I say?
Your brother got me a dinosaur because I opened up to him about some fears, no big deal?
She’d pry.
And she already knew that I refused to speak about that day. Would she be hurt to know that I opened up even just a little to Matt?
If you had told me a week ago I would talk to him about anything, I would have laughed my ass off.
Now I felt . . . freer, like saying the words didn’t damn me as much as I thought they would. Instead, we’d shared a smile, and I’d stupidly thought about his smile all night, and the way he touched my leg, not like he was ready to pounce but like he genuinely wanted to make sure that I was okay.
It had been a long time since I’d been touched out of care.
And I liked it a lot.
Amazing what human kindness does to someone with so many scars.
I shut my door quietly and made my way into the bathroom. The light was on, the door open.
And as luck would have it, Matt was shirtless, brushing his teeth like it was normal for me to walk in on him without him yelling profanities or using all the hot water.
I stopped in the doorway.
He narrowed his eyes.
I narrowed mine and crossed my arms.
And then he spit into the sink and rinsed it down, wiped his mouth with the towel, and turned toward me. I saw nothing but muscled abs and a tan that looked way too real to be anything but.
With a twitch of his lips, he grabbed my toothbrush, sauntered toward me, then stopped. My breath stalled in my lungs as he held it out to me.
“Be ready in five.”
I nodded dumbly as I took it from his hands then stupidly called after his retreating back, “Thanks for the dinosaur!”
He stopped walking, shook his head, and then kept going.
When I turned to look in the mirror, my face was flushed like I’d just run drills for five hours, and my hand shook as I tried to put toothpaste on the bristles.
And when I looked back in the mirror.
I smiled.
Thanks for the dinosaur?
Good one, Parker. Good one.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Matt yelled as I ran another lap then hit the cones, dribbling between them before hitting the ball in his direction in order to score.
“Just.” I sucked in a breath. “Imagining.” Make it through the cones, and last one, break out. “Strangling you.” Aim. Kick. Goal! “In your sleep!”
“Again.” He grinned, tossing me the ball.
“See?” I went through that same drill another ten times, until he had every move in my arsenal memorized, meaning basically no more goals on my end and more running instead.
He blew his whistle.
“Oh, thank God.” I bent over and tried to suck in air while I watched his cleats walk past me as he grabbed a few more balls. “Wait, what are you doing? We’ve been at this for three hours.”
“One-on-one,” he answered.
I held in my groan and made my way over to him, my legs wobbly and tired, so sore and heavy I wanted to take a long nap on the cool green turf. Instead, I had five balls in front of me and an evil coach with a red whistle that I was going to flush down the toilet later.
Sweat dripped down my face, and I wiped my eyes with my sleeves.
“Got a little something right here.” He pointed at the sweat on my chin.
I gave him a middle finger.
“Ah, that’s the spirit,” he chuckled. “Alright, beat me and you can go home.”
“Wait, that’s it? I just have to beat you?”
“You’re warm, I’m not.”
“You played pro. I’m trying to get in.” I bent over and examined the goal, his posture, the way he looked at me, and down at the balls. “You’re calculating.”
“You’re studying me.” He grinned. “Won’t make it easier.”
“Injury,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Which knee was it?”
“Not telling.” He kicked the ball to me, and I stopped it with my foot. “Besides, I knew I couldn’t cut it, not like the other guys. Some of us have it, others are better on the sidelines.”
“I’ve got it,” I said confidently.
“Then show me.” His gaze was unwavering. I’d never actually had a coach challenge me. I was their star player, and they just wanted points up on the board. They wanted to fill the stadium’s seats.
And I did that, did it and more.
“Hey.” Matt clapped his hands twice. “Focus or I’m pulling out the whistle again.”
I growled, which only made him laugh.
I dribbled left, right, through his feet, and thought I was home free until he kicked the ball from behind me, tangling me up in his legs and sending me slamming down to the ground. He stuck out a hand to help me up. “Four more left.”
“What happens after four?”
He smirked. “You don’t want to know.”
Shit!
I dribbled toward him this time, aggressively going to the left before I faked right and kicked. I missed the goal, but at least he didn’t steal the ball from me this time.
“Three,” he said like I couldn’t count.
I hesitated and watched his face as I started the third run toward him, and when I faked, I went back to the same side. This time he caught me, and I slammed into his chest, taking us both to the ground.
Sweat dripped from my chin onto his. I grinned and touched the place it splashed. “Got a little something right here.”
“Smart-ass.” He didn’t move. “Two balls left.”
“You’ll let me know the feeling of only having one, right?” I looked down just as he shoved me off him then stood and begrudgingly helped me to my feet.
“I could do a hell of a lot with one, trust me.”
I gasped.
“One soccer ball,” he clarified, hitting me with his shoulder as he walked past and took his stance.
I rolled my eyes and chased after him, then stared at the ball, then at him again. He was expecting me to dribble toward him.
Not to just kick the ball.
He was standing a few feet away.
I frowned.
He grinned like he knew where my head was at.
So I took a few steps, faked a kick, dribbled to the right, and kicked a perfect goal that went sailing into the net.
His applause mixed with my joy that I did it with one ball left. Without thinking, I ran full speed at him and jumped into his arms.
He swung me around like he expected it.
Then, as if he realized he was holding me, he quickly dropped me to my feet and held up his hand for a high five. “Good read, Parker. You finally saw the play. You don’t have to dribble every time. Sometimes it’s just as easy as kicking the ball.”
I put my hands on my hips as I contemplated what he said. “You were far enough away, I was just making it harder on myself.”
“You were thinking here.” He tapped my temple. “Instead of here.” He tapped my chest. It was just one finger, but I felt it. Man, did I feel it all the way down to my toes.
Every coach I’d had . . . had babied me.
He made me want to find a sharp object and aim for his man parts.
There was something to be said about a coach earning your respect, and he’d just earned mine. Big time.
“Thanks.” I looked down.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up. No way am I letting you in that SUV all sweaty.”
“Hey!”
“Hey nothing, you’re hitting the showers and then maybe I’ll feed you.”
“Best coach ever,” I grumbled. “And agent.”
“I kind of like being both.”
“Because you like torturing people?” I joked as we grabbed the extra bag of balls and walked toward the locker rooms.
He grinned over at me. “Only you, it seems.”
I handed him the balls. “Obviously.” I pushed the metal door open. “Give me ten minutes?”
“Sure.” He didn’t look back. I just shrugged and went into the women’s lockers, imagining the day I could put my gear in the shiny wood cupboards and sit in those cushy seats. When I’d see my name above one of the lockers.
It finally felt like it could happen.
That maybe I could escape my past.
I dropped my gear onto the ground and turned on one of the showers, kicked off my cleats, pulled off my shin guards and socks, then stripped, all before diving under the hot water.
It felt amazing.
I rubbed the water down my body, then quickly went over to my bag to grab one of my spare towels and soap. I always kept shower stuff in my duffel just in case. I didn’t have nice shampoo, mostly travel gear, but it was enough to get the smell of sweat out of my skull and off my body.
I wanted to stay there forever.
Probably would have been tempted.
But the lights flickered.
And then turned completely off.
Panic hit me so hard I tripped over my own feet and landed on my ass in an effort to hurl myself into the corner.
“Matt!” I yelled, my voice weak and fearful like I was too afraid to even scream. “Matt!”
Frantic, I tried standing, but my sore legs gave out on me as I wrapped my arms around them and rested my trembling chin on my knees.
“Parker?” Matt’s voice sounded worried. “Are you okay? Parker?”
“Here,” I whispered and then louder: “Here.”
The shower was still on. I was afraid to turn it off, afraid to move.
It was dark, so dark.
I rocked back and forth, teeth chattering, and not just because of the cold water.
“Parker?” His voice was closer as a body rounded the corner, cell phone high in the air. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
“Yeah.”
“The power’s out because of the rain. Are you done showering?”
“Yes.” Teeth chattering, I tried to stand on unsteady legs and fell down. “Ouch!”
“Are you hurt?” His voice was more frantic this time.
“Only my ass. My pride. And my body from my masochistic coach,” I mumbled under my breath as I heard the water cut off and then saw sandals and jogger pants appear in front of me. It was too dark to see anything else, and I was afraid to look up.
Without warning, I was being helped to my feet and wrapped in the towel I had set down on the bench. “You’re okay.”
How had he known I wasn’t?
I clung to him, wet from the shower, towel barely covering my body, my mind at war with itself. Why did I trust him? I shouldn’t. He was dangerous. But he showed me that he cared. And I respected him.
Another chill wracked my body. He wrung out my wet hair and then pried my hands from him and wrapped the towel tightly around my body. “I’ll turn around while you get dressed, okay? Just tell me if you need more light.” He handed me his cell.
He didn’t even look at me.
Not like last time.
Last time he’d looked at me like he wanted to punish me.
This time, his voice was raspy.
With a bit of concern.
And something else that I wasn’t sure I could identify.
Which in turn made me shake as I dressed quickly and then handed his cell phone back. “Ready.”
“Good.” He wrapped an arm around me and guided me out of the still-dark building. Rain pounded over both of us as we ran to his SUV.
“Guess I didn’t need that shower,” I joked once we were inside with the smell of expensive leather filling the air.
He stared at me as he pressed the ignition. His gaze raked over me slowly, warming me from the inside out. “Guess not.”
And that was it. We drove home in silence.
And when we walked into the house, I didn’t miss the fact that he had his hand on my lower back the entire way.
And I’d bet money he didn’t even realize he’d been doing it.
Chapter Thirteen
MATT
I had a shit day ahead of me, ending with more practice that evening with Parker. I hated to admit it, but I looked forward to our time together, and the worst part was she wasn’t just off-limits because of who I was, she was off-limits because of something that had happened to her, something bad.
I replayed images of the terror on her face i
n the locker room and felt even more like a jackass that I’d treated her so horribly.
Irony reared its ugly head. How many times had I told Slade not to be a jackass when Mack worked for him? How many times did I send flowers on his behalf? And this was what I learned? To go the jackass route like he had? To forget that I was dealing with another human being with their own thoughts and feelings?
Great.
I glanced around my office. Light flooded in through the sliding glass door, spotlighting my bookcase, pictures of me at the ESPYs with Slade and Jagger on the top shelf, and awards right below it. So many awards, medals, things, and yet there I sat, soccer ball in hand, wondering what the hell I was going to do about Parker. About the fear. I wanted to help, to shove it away, to pull her into my arms, and there it was again.
I wanted to touch her.
But touching her was off-limits. The woman was petrified of the dark, would she have the same reaction to me?
I tossed the soccer ball in the air again just as the door to my office flew open. “Guess what!” Willow clapped her hands and then dragged Parker in behind her. Parker had a can of potato chips open and was currently licking her fingers. Disgusting. Alluring. Sexy as hell. Damn it!
I nodded to the chips and then reached into my desk and tossed her a packet of whey protein.
She handed me the chips with a pissed-off look and scrunched up her nose at the protein pack. Peanut butter. Yum. I knew firsthand it was the worst flavor, and apparently she did too.
“What?” I finally said, acknowledging my sister, who was still able to bounce from stiletto to stiletto without spraining an ankle. She was wearing black leggings and a tank, making workout leisure look a hell of a lot more leisure. I’d be shocked if she could dribble a ball.
“So the LA team, whatever their name is, tried to reach you.” I sighed in annoyance. “Whatever, I’ll learn the names of all the teams, and balls, and yay, sports! Anyways, I was just too excited. Apparently they caught wind of Parker’s tryout for the Seattle Reign and said they’d be interested in a meeting. They heard something about an attitude transformation and wanted to see if it was true.”
“Attitude transformation?” Parker huffed. “I have a great personality.”
“When you’re not sticking your foot up people’s asses, some might say shining.” I winked.