Page 40 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)

Dex

Another day. Another practice. I don’t give a shit about anything. And it shows. My offensive line coach hands me my ass after

my shitty footwork and slow reaction time letting yet another defensive end get to my QB.

If it was a game, I’d be riding the bench. As it is, I’m relegated to the sidelines to run ladder drills. I’m thankful for

it. Practicing complicated footwork keeps my mind occupied, my body moving. I keep at it until I’m the only one left on the

field. Push myself until my body feels like warm Jell-O.

There’s a void threatening to open up and consume me if I stop to think. Fi.

I fucked up. I shouldn’t have told her all that on FaceTime like some dumb asshole. I hurt her instead of convincing her it

was the safest thing to do for now. I should’ve waited, told her in person when I could hold her, show her I was only thinking

about her happiness.

Only that’s all bullshit. I smashed her happiness just as effectively as if I’d taken a fist to her face. I saw her smiling face crumple with pain. I did that. To her. To my girl.

And it guts me. I have to make it right. Only I’m afraid I’ve done permanent damage.

A groan leaves me as I lean against the shower stall after practice, the water pummeling my skull. I’ve always wanted a girlfriend.

Someone who was mine and mine alone. But the truth is, I have no fucking clue what to do when it comes to relationships.

When I finally trudge out of the showers, the locker room is almost empty, just a few guys left getting dressed, and none

of them paying attention to me. Devon, a safety, is bitching about losing his favorite Grinch socks and how it’s affecting

his mojo. Ryder is explaining to Morgan how to make a proper bread pudding, which apparently involves a dozen eggs and a shitload

of cream.

I step away when he starts waxing poetic about types of bread to use.

I don’t notice Finn until he gives me a slap on the shoulder. “What’s doin’, Big D? You played like shit today.”

“Master at stating the obvious, aren’t you?”

He grins like a smarmy dick. “It was obvious to you too? Good. For a second there, I wondered if you had your head totally

up your ass.”

I rub a towel over my hair and toss it down. I’m tempted to tell him to fuck off, but he’s stating the truth, and something

worse comes out instead.

“Are all men clueless when it comes to handling women? Or am I just gifted at being a spectacular fuckup?”

Finn blinks as if I’ve told him I have genital warts. I think I might be wincing too; I do not need the entire locker room

knowing my business.

“Well, hell,” he says finally. “I don’t know. Isn’t it our job to fuck up?”

From across the way, Ryder snorts. “First of all, you never handle a woman. She handles you. Your job—” he points at the both of us “—is to hold on tight, go along for the ride and pray you

don’t fuck it up.”

“What makes you an expert?” Finn asks. “Last time I checked, you haven’t been with the same girl for more than one night for,

like... ever.”

“Four sisters, asshole,” Ryder answers as he looks in the little mirror he has attached to his cubby. He runs his hand through

his damp hair. “And raised by my mom. I know women.” He catches my eye in the mirror. “What did you do?”

Running my fingers through my beard, I debate telling him, but I’ve already said too much to back out now. “I told Fi we should

keep things on the down-low until all of this bullshit blows over.”

Every guy in the locker room groans as one. Fuck, I should’ve known they’d be eavesdropping. Nosy bastards.

“Dude,” says Ryder, “were you aiming for the most bonehead thing to say? Because you fucking nailed it.”

“Yeah,” says Jones, a defensive end who’s pulling on his sweats. “The only thing worse would be if you pulled out the it’s not you line.”

“I told her it wasn’t—”

Another round of groans, even more pained, rumbles though the locker room.

“Bad play, man.”

“Way to go, knucklehead.”

“Send her flowers.”

“Hell, no. That’s fucking cliché. Stand outside her window and hold up one of those old-time boom boxes.”

“As she calls the cops on your ass.”

I roll my eyes at them. “Next thing you’ll tell me is that you’re all single by choice.”

I don’t know if they get the movie reference, but someone chucks a sweaty sock at me. I think it’s Ryder but can’t be sure.

I glare around the room, as the horrible sinking feeling within grows worse.

“Dex,” Finn drawls with a shake of his head. “You’re the guy we expect to have all the answers. What the fuck, man?”

With a grunt, I let my forehead slam against the edge of my locker. The pain feels good. “I don’t know.”

He’s right. I’m the one they come to for advice, not some dickhead who gets it all wrong.

Life lesson that sucks? Giving advice is way easier than living your own life. Life lesson that sucks worse? Realizing this

after you’ve severely fucked up.

“I just want to protect her.” It comes out as feeble as it sounds. And I’m really not talking to the guys, anyway. I was protecting Fi, but I was also protecting myself.

Because I’m embarrassed. This whole situation makes me feel like I’m the butt of a joke, something I’ve tried to avoid my

whole life. And I don’t want Fi to see that up-close and personal. I don’t want her to see me as something less than.

Now I’ve gone and hurt her.

A nudge at my shoulder has me lifting my head. Finn’s expression is neutral. “Ry and I are going out for crawfish and oysters

by the lakefront. Come on out with us. Have a beer and forget all this media shit for a while.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I try to perk up, at least give the semblance of a guy who isn’t losing it. Doesn’t work.

“Thanks. Maybe next time.”

Right now, I’ve got an airline ticket to buy and a shit-ton of groveling to plan. It’s dark by the time I get home.

I haul my ass upstairs. My left knee throbs and my back feels like a hot iron rod has been shoved up my spine. That’s just the top of my list of various aches and pains. I’m twenty-four years old and am hobbling like a senior citizen on his way to a four o’clock dinner.

Old before my time , I think as I open my front door, toss my keys on the side table and step into an empty house.

For one dark second, loneliness swamps me and I can’t breathe. It takes my air and weighs down my chest. I stare at the floor

as my hand fumbles to find my phone in my pocket.

I need to hear Fi’s voice. Now. God, I need to see and touch her so badly I grind my teeth with want. But her voice will have

to do.

Then it hits me, a certain warmth, the scent of coffee and the underlying fragrance of fresh flowers. I feel her . Here.

Fi is here.

My bag hits the floor with a thud, and I practically run into the main room. She’s pouring herself a cup of coffee, her hair

gleaming pale gold under the kitchen light. She looks up at my arrival, a nervous smile drawing tight over her delicate features.

“Hey.”

I stop on the other side of the massive marble-covered island, pressing my hands against the cold slab to ground me. “Tell

me you’re really here.”

Her smile grows warmer, more real. “You think you’re hallucinating, Big Guy?”

“Could be. I dream about this a lot.” Every fucking day.

She sets the cup down with a clink of porcelain and rounds the island. I watch her approach, her hips swaying beneath one

of those flirty little skirts she favors. My chest contracts when her slim hands slide up, drawing little shivers in her wake.

Her thumb runs over the edge of my beard, then along my lower lip. It’s all I can do not to bite that thumb, suck it into

my mouth.

“Feel real enough to you?” Her voice is husky.

I breathe in the scent of Fi, lean into her. “Not sure. I think I need more.”

I need everything. All of her.

She knows this. With a gentle tug, she pulls me down to her. I go willingly. Her sweet, soft mouth finds mine, and everything

within me sighs with relief.

I don’t know how long I kiss her, but it isn’t long enough. Too soon, she’s pulling back, but she keeps her arms around my

neck, and I hold her close. It’s only then that I realize her body is tense, her gaze hesitant.

“I’ve decided,” she says, “you don’t get to choose our fate without consulting me.”

“Agreed.”

My instant answer seems to give her pause, her head cocking back as if she doesn’t understand. Her voice comes out unsteady

but strong. “Good. You pissed me off, Ethan.”

“I know.” I should be more contrite, but I’m so fucking happy she’s here. I can’t keep back my smile, can’t stop touching

her cheek.

She bats my hand away. “I’m serious. You... You hurt me. If you don’t want me, just say it now. Don’t hide behind some

ridiculous claim of trying to protect me, because—”

I cup her smooth cheek and kiss her. Fi’s mouth moves against mine, shaping words—probably trying to tell me off. I keep kissing

her soft and slow until she relaxes with a sigh. My fingers thread through her hair as I look down at her.

“You’re right. I was a dumbass. I’m sorry.” I nuzzle her cheek. “I was on my way to see you. To apologize.” To beg for another chance.

Her nose wrinkles in a dubious look. I kiss the tip of it, but she doesn’t relent. “I mean, how could you do that? And over

FaceTime, Ethan!”

“I’m an asshole.” I keep my eyes steady on hers. “I was embarrassed, Fi. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Her voice is soft. “Like what?”

My skin goes uncomfortably tight, and my insides plummet like there’s a lead weight falling through me. But I owe her the

words. “All these women coming after me for the money. With pity in their eyes and dollar signs dancing in their heads.”

She’s quiet for a second. “I’m glad they don’t know what they’re missing,” she says low and fierce. “It means I have you all

to myself.”

Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against the top of her head. “No one else ever stood a chance against you, Cherry.” Holding

her close eases all the tight spaces inside me. “I panicked, and it hurt you. You have no idea how sorry I am for that.”

“Okay, then.” Her hand smooths down my shirt. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

I can’t help giving her another quick kiss. It feels too good, even if I’m in the doghouse. “Can we get to the make-up sex

now?” I ask, wanting to make her laugh. “I’ve heard good things.”

Thankfully, Fi laughs and gives my pec a little punch. “Yeah, I bet.” Her smile falls fast. “I need to tell you something

first.”

Honestly, she could tell me she robbed a bank, and I’d say fine by me. But I keep my expression neutral, trying manfully not

to grin like a fool. She’s here. She’s still mine. That’s all that matters.

“All right. Tell me what you did, Cherry.”

As soon as she gets whatever it is off her chest, I’m going to fuck her until my dick gives out on me.