False Start: A Fake Dating Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)

“Are you nervous?”

The question came out on a grunt as Braden pressed up from his squat, the barbell on his back loaded with weight. I stood a few feet behind him, close enough that I could help him if he needed a spot, but far enough away to give him space.

“About?”

“Camp,” he breathed as he lowered, and his face turned red with strain as he pushed the weight back up again.

“Two more,” I said, knowing he was close to failure, but he could push a little more.

Braden groaned, but determination slid over him as he gritted his teeth and sank down for another squat. He shook all the way back up to standing, hissing through his teeth when his legs locked.

“Last one,” I said.

He looked ready to throw in the towel, but he didn’t. He squatted low, and on the way up, his body started to stall. I stepped in just enough to give him the slightest bit of assist, and then with sweat dripping down his neck, he racked the barbell, hanging his hands on his hips.

“No,” I said as he rested, and I changed the weight up on the barbell, adding another twenty pounds to each side for me.

“No?”

I cocked a brow at him. “When have you ever known me to be nervous.”

He rolled his eyes at that, nodding for me to take his place in the torture chamber and get my squats in.

Braden and I had trained together relentlessly over the summer. Now, we were just a little over a week away from training camp starting.

I didn’t lie. I really wasn’t nervous.

But I was unprepared.

We were rookies. We had zero idea what to expect — no matter how we tried to watch tape, learn the playbook, and train until our bodies were weak. The truth of the matter was that we were young, and compared to the beasts who had been playing in the NFL for years, we were weak.

“Are you?” I asked when I got through my set. “Nervous, I mean.”

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he said. “I want a spot on this team so fucking bad, Kyle. I…” He shook his head, swiping his water bottle from the ground. “I can’t fail at camp. I just can’t.”

I knew without asking that he was thinking about his sister, his parents, about the weight of the world he’d always worn on his shoulders so they wouldn’t have to. He was quiet about it most of the time, but every now and then, he’d talk about his sister’s illness. I didn’t know everything, but I knew he’d been the responsible one in his family for years now. I knew he was the kid his parents didn’t have to worry about, that he took it on himself to care for them and for his sister, too.

I knew he had his reasons for not blowing through his signing bonus — no matter how much I loved to give him shit about it.

“You won’t,” I assured him, clapping his shoulder. “Especially because I’ll be there to push your ass.”

“Sure you won’t be distracted by a certain redheaded MILF we know?” Braden smirked.

I punched him hard enough in the arm to make him yelp. “Watch it.”

He laughed, holding up his hands. “I’m thinking things aren’t so fake anymore with that reaction.”

“It’s never been fake,” I admitted, sighing as we wiped down the squatting equipment and moved over to the bench press.

“Seems like things have gotten pretty serious since the wedding,” he assessed, taking his spot under the barbell. I was quiet as he pulsed out his first set, and when he sat back up, he cocked a brow at me, waiting for my response.

I sighed, sinking down onto a bench across from him. “Is it crazy if I admit that’s true?”

I knew my answer shocked Braden. His eyebrows slid up into his hairline, his jaw hinging open a bit.

“No, not crazy,” he finally said. “Fast, maybe, but…”

I groaned, sliding my hands back through my hair. “I know. It has been fast. But… only if you look at this summer. The truth is that I’ve been gone for that girl for fucking years, Braden. And the way I feel about her…”

The corner of Braden’s mouth quirked up. “Who are you and what have you done with the Kyle Robbins shithead I know?”

I scowled, winding up my sweat towel and snapping him with it before we traded places.

I pumped out ten quick reps before sitting up again.

“Why aren’t we ever having these conversations about you,” I asked, jabbing him in the chest with my finger.

Braden shrugged, though I didn’t miss how the question had sobered him. “You know how it is for me. Football and family — that’s where my focus is.”

“You know you can be a great athlete, take care of your family, and still have a little time for fun, right?”

He frowned. “It doesn’t feel fair.”

“What doesn’t?”

“For me to be able to have fun, to live a life so full when my sister…”

He swallowed, not finishing the sentence.

“She would want that for you,” I said. “She’d want you to live.”

Braden considered it for a moment before he was shooing me out of the way, lining himself up under the bar. He was quiet for his set, and then he sat up, wiping his face with his towel.

“I have my role to play,” he answered simply.

And with that, our conversation was over, all focus shifting to weights.

Madelyn

“It looks like a banana!”

I covered my smile as Sebastian stood on a stepstool next to Kyle, pointing at his pancake creation.

“That’s his mouth!” Kyle argued. “See? These two little pancakes are the eyes, and this is the smile.”

“It looks like a banana!”

Sebastian bit back his giggle, eyes cast up at Kyle, and Kyle stood there with his spatula hovering in the air and his eyes narrowing on my son.

“I see,” Kyle said. “You think you’re soooo funny, don’t you?”

Then, he proceeded to tickle Sebastian mercilessly, abandoning the griddle altogether when he picked Sebastian up and carried him over to the couch. Kyle lifted him high before dropping him into the cushions, and my son let out his signature gut-busting laugh when he hit them and bounced a full foot into the air.

It was my favorite sound in the world.

The summer was rushing to an end. Kyle had his first day of training camp on Monday, and though we’d seen each other as much as we could, it still felt like time was whizzing by.

We had yet to find him a house.

We also had yet to talk about what happens next.

It was like we slipped into a normal routine as if we didn’t even have anything to talk about, like it was all figured out for us. Kyle trained with Braden and some of his teammates when I was at work. We looked at every house that we could find with all his requirements — though I felt like he wasn’t seriously looking anymore. He’d pulled back from the hunt, always having some excuse for why a house didn’t work.

I spent every hour I could with Sebastian, soaking up the summer while we had it. But now, we had just a month until we’d start the mad dash of getting him ready to go back to school. And between sharing him with Marshall and letting him do camp like he’d begged me to, I knew the time would fly.

But this morning, on a warm Saturday in late July, it was just the three of us and smiley-face pancakes.

I sipped my tea as Kyle walked toward me, Sebastian pretending he was dead from the tickle attack on the couch. Kyle pressed a kiss to my hair that made my heart expand, his hand lingering on the small of my back as he passed by me and back into the kitchen.

In the past couple of weeks, this man had made so much food for us, I was surprised I even remembered how to cook now that he’d all but shoved me out of my own kitchen.

You take care of everyone else. Let me take care of you.

Those were the words he’d said to me when I tried to argue that it was my turn to cook dinner last week, and they’d been circling around my head like love-drunk birds ever since.

While pancakes were by far the simplest dish he made for us, they were always Sebastian’s favorite. I much preferred when Kyle whipped up bright, colorful dishes with more flavor in one bite than seemed possible — like his prawn and red cabbage summer rolls with cashew butter dipping sauce, or the melt in your mouth salmon he quickly found was my favorite.

Still, I smiled when he slid a blueberry pancake in front of me that looked like Mickey Mouse, complete with the ears, his eyes and mouth made out of fresh blueberries. The little thing had a hat made of whipped cream, and I smothered it with the compote Kyle made that was so delicious I wanted to take a bath in it.

Sebastian liked his pancakes a little more traditional — buttermilk style with syrup. Kyle always obliged him, but not without making crazy shapes with the batter. While smiley faces were always on the menu, today, he’d also added a dinosaur and a handful of little star-shaped pancakes, too.

We sat at my small dining table as we ate, Sebastian prattling on about how excited he was for camp while Kyle ran lazy circles over my knee under the tablecloth. When we finished, Sebastian took our plates to the sink before running back to get ready for the day, and Kyle swept me into his arms before I had the chance to start washing.

“I think it’s about time you let me take you on a proper date.”

My cheeks warmed. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm. I was thinking tonight.”

“Tonight?” I balked, but didn’t have any reason to argue other than I was surprised and couldn’t think of a thing I had to wear on a date. Sebastian would be with Marshall tonight and tomorrow before coming back home on Monday after camp. “What do you have in mind?”

“Do you want to pick, or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise,” I said instantly.

Kyle smiled like he already knew that would be my answer. “Tired of making decisions all day every day?”

“You have no idea.”

He chuckled, tilting my chin before his lips found mine. “I can imagine,” he murmured, and then my whole body was tingling, just like it always did when that man kissed me.

Suddenly, the front door banged open, the sound of the springs hitting their max rattling through the house.

And Marshall stormed in.

I jumped out of my skin at the commotion, heart galloping, but I didn’t even have time to process what was happening before Kyle had me behind him, his chest puffed and his gaze murderous on my ex-husband. Marshall stopped at the sight, sneering at us both like he’d caught us red-handed in an affair.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt breakfast?”

“As a matter of fact, you did,” Kyle said. “I think you should turn around and walk out that door and try again — with a knock this time.”

Marshall’s jaw popped, and he took a big step toward us, his thick finger pointing at Kyle. “Don’t you tell me what to do, you fucking punk. That’s my wife and child.”

“Ex-wife,” Kyle pointed out.

I ran a shaky hand gently over Kyle’s arm, stepping around him to face Marshall with my chin held high. Adrenaline was rushing through me, the memories of similar scenes with my ex’s wrath playing out in my mind like a highlight reel. But I held my chin tall, my back straight, shoulders back, eyes assuring Kyle as much as just having him there assured me.

I didn’t have to get close to Marshall to smell the alcohol on his breath.

Red beer. I remembered it well. It was his favorite way to start a morning.

“Marshall, you know you’re not allowed to show up here unannounced. And you sure as hell are not allowed to storm in like you own the place.”

“It was my money that bought it,” he shot back, which made me grit my teeth.

All of it was always his money when we got divorced, as if I did nothing in the marriage but take up oxygen and give him something to hit.

“And it’s my day with Sebastian,” he continued.

“Which means you can pick him up from camp, just like we discussed,” I said, keeping my voice calm and ignoring his attempts to goad me. “But only if you sober up. And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down.”

“I think I’ll keep it raised. Because in what universe did I agree to letting you have another man around my son?”

I tried to settle myself with a long breath. “Marshall, we are divorced. You do not get to dictate who I spend my time with.”

“But I get to dictate who my son is around. You’re not going to be some fucking whore with a train of men coming in and out of his life. I’ll—”

Kyle rushed him so fast he was a blur, and then Marshall was being shoved outside onto the front porch.

“Talk to her like that one more time, and you won’t have teeth to form the words,” I heard Kyle threaten as the glass door slammed shut behind them.

But then, I heard a door creak, and I whipped around to find Sebastian peeking out of his door at the end of the hallway.

“Hey, sweetie,” I said, hoping my smile was convincing that everything was okay. I glanced back out at where Marshall and Kyle were obviously in a heated argument on the lawn, but as much as I wanted to know what was being said, I wanted to make sure my son was okay more.

I made my way down the hall to him, and as soon as I made it to his door, Sebastian hugged my legs tight, burying his face in my stomach like he did when he was sick.

Or scared.

I sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Everything is okay,” I promised him.

“I don’t like when Daddy yells at you.”

My eyes shut, and I let out a long breath before replying, “I don’t like it either, baby.”

“Kyle never yells at us.”

Another squeeze of my heart. “No, he doesn’t.”

“He loves you.”

At that, I smirked, dropping down to his level and brushing his hair from his face. “I don’t know about that, but I know he cares about both of us.”

Sebastian nodded, looking down at his sneakers.

“You okay?” I asked him.

He nodded again, but then shook his head. “Sometimes I have a bad thought.”

I frowned. “Well, you can tell Mommy. There’s no judgment here. Remember?”

Sebastian swayed a bit side to side, his eyes on his shoes still, and I thought I heard the front door open and close somewhere behind us.

“Sometimes, I wish Kyle was my dad, instead.”

I covered my mouth, and when Sebastian looked at me, he seemed worried that I was upset. So, quickly, I smiled and grabbed his arms. “It’s okay to wish that,” I assured him. “But your dad loves you. And you have fun with him, don’t you? You always love going to his house, and when he takes you to get ice cream, or when he takes you to the cool baseball games downtown.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, but he grew quiet after that.

“You about ready?” I asked.

He nodded. “I just need to feed Titan.”

“Okay. You go feed Titan and then we’ll get you to camp, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Hey,” I said when he went to pull away. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he echoed. “Mommy?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to go to Dad’s tonight.”

Emotion strangled my next breath. Technically, he didn’t have a choice. Marshall and I had shared custody, and tonight was his night.

But he was already drinking, and if I knew my ex-husband well enough, he would continue drinking until he was passed out. I knew I could count on him not wanting to take on any responsibilities come this afternoon. I knew, if I waited and called him after camp, saying Sebastian wasn’t feeling well and wanted to come back here — Marshall wouldn’t argue.

He’d take the easy way out.

“Okay, baby.” I whispered. “You don’t have to go to Dad’s. I’ll get you after camp.”

When Sebastian dipped back inside his room, I made my way into the living room and found Kyle standing at the front door looking out at the front lawn. After confirming Marshall wasn’t still out there, I slid up behind him, wrapping my arms around his middle.

“Everything okay?”

Kyle’s jaw worked under the skin, and he covered my hands with his, angling his face toward mine.

“He threatened to take you to court again,” he said, his voice low so Sebastian wouldn’t hear. “He… he said he’ll go for full custody.”

All the blood drained from my face, my body running cold.

I stood there frozen as Kyle turned and pulled me into his arms, searching my gaze.

“He… he can’t,” I croaked, but even as I tried to convince myself, I knew damned well he could.

He’d threatened it before, but I’d always thought he’d be too lazy to actually do it.

But with Kyle in the picture, with him feeling threatened…

“Oh, God.”

I covered my mouth with both hands, eyes pricking with wet heat. Before a tear could fall, Kyle had his hands framing my face, and he lowered his gaze to be level with mine.

“No, he can’t,” he said. “He won’t.”

“But he can,” I said, arguing with myself. “He’s a well-respected vet. He has the money, the means to care for Sebastian. He knows how to spin a room. He can make anyone believe that he’s the good guy. He—”

“He will be fighting a losing battle if he goes through with this, and so help me God, I will hang him out to dry in front of any judge he dares to force you in front of.”

I shook my head. “Kyle, you wouldn’t be there. You—”

“Yes, I will be.” He swallowed, his eyes flicking between mine. “As long as you say yes.”

“Say… yes?”

He wet his lips, and then with a steady gaze and intent so pure I could feel it burning through his hands and into my very being, he dropped to one knee.

“Marry me.”