Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)

We lost.

We fucking lost.

I lost.

It wasn’t the first time. Definitely wouldn’t be the last. But something about our game today had felt off. This loss hit harder than others from the past couple of years.

Maybe because this was Coach Ellis’s first year. We’d surpassed anyone’s expectations for the team, and most of us were working our tails off not to let him down. The Wildcats were kicking ass and showing our fans and donors that we weren’t defined by last spring’s scandal.

We should have won today. We could have won against the Idaho Vandals. But we’d lost and that was on me.

I’d played like shit too. I’d thrown one pick-six and fumbled a snap. I’d been sacked twice. I should have been able to outrun both the linebacker and defensive end who’d tackled me, but I’d been slow in the pocket and unfocused. Like my head was in the clouds and my feet were running in sand. Everything had just been . . . delayed. Each time I made a decision, it was two seconds too late.

Granted, the Vandals had been on fire. They’d done everything right while we’d done everything wrong. Their defense against our secondary had shut down our passing game. The running game hadn’t been much better. And our defense had run out of gas because they’d been on the field for too long.

I hadn’t given them enough chances to rest by keeping the offense playing. I hadn’t done my job.

Final score: twenty-one to three. We’d gotten our asses handed to us.

The flight home had been silent. No one had made eye contact. I hadn’t been the only one who’d played like shit.

But by the time we’d landed and gotten on the buses to drive us back to the fieldhouse, some of the guys were talking. Voices were low but the mourning period was lifting.

Maybe for them.

“You want to talk?” Maverick asked in his seat beside mine.

I kept my gaze out the window, staring at the dark streets of Mission. “No.”

He sighed, and before he’d even opened his mouth, I knew what was coming.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s Faye.”

My jaw clenched, my molars grinding. This was not the time or place to get into an argument with Mav.

I was still upset about that stunt he’d pulled with the brunette, giving her the key to our house. He’d apologized, so I’d dropped it, but that bullshit couldn’t happen again. Sooner rather than later, my kid was going to be in that house. We didn’t need random strangers coming and going.

“Look, man, I know you’ve got a lot to sort out with her and the baby,” he said. “All I’m saying is that you’re distracted. Your focus is off. And it’s been that way ever since you moved her into the house.”

“Let it go.”

“There’s a lot of shit happening. Maybe you need some space from each⁠—”

“Fucking drop it!” My voice was so loud that everyone on the bus turned toward my seat.

Coach Greely rose out of his seat in the front row, glancing toward us near the back. He arched his eyebrows, and I held up a hand to let him know it was all good.

“Sorry, Coach.” I flipped the hood on my sweatshirt over my head and leaned against the window.

“I’m trying to be your friend, Rush.”

“Right,” I muttered.

The hell of it was, I believed him. He saw me spiraling because I was spiraling. I wasn’t sure what was up or down, left or right. My personal life was impacting the game and that couldn’t happen.

“She’s in my life,” I told him. “There’s no changing that. I need her to be under the same roof. Until we can think this out, make a plan, I need her at the house. I feel helpless, and I don’t want . . .”

My throat closed up. Because what I was about to say was about me, not Faye, yet I wasn’t sure if Maverick would understand the nuance.

“What?” He nudged my elbow with his. “Talk to me.”

Had he gone through any of this with his sister when she’d been pregnant? Had he witnessed her struggles?

The person I wanted to talk to about this was Mom, but I couldn’t call her until later. Talking to Maverick was at least better than letting it fester inside.

“Faye’s guarded.” I sighed. “She’s used to doing everything on her own. It’s her body that’s changing. It’s her making the bigger sacrifices. I’m worried she’s going to realize that she doesn’t actually need me. I’m worried that I’m irrelevant.”

His hum faded beneath the whir of tires on asphalt. “You’re not irrelevant. And I don’t think Faye believes that either. She won’t cut you out, Rush. You’ll be a good dad. We all know that. And she does too.”

It was the first time he’d said anything decent about her. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” He nodded as we pulled up to the fieldhouse. “I’m not coming home tonight. I’m going to head over to Mom and Dad’s place. Crash there. Mom hasn’t been feeling great this week. Figured I’d hang with her tomorrow. Spend some time on the couch watching movies with her.”

“All right. Tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

There were days when I wanted to strangle Mav. When I thought he couldn’t be more of a dickhead. But the guy loved his mom the way I loved mine. He was close with his dad, sister and nephew too. It was hard to stay annoyed with him because despite his complete lack of filter, his heart was usually in the right place.

We shuffled off the bus and went our separate ways. When I got home, the house was dark and quiet. It smelled like Faye. Crisp, green apples and fresh soap.

I toed off my shoes and hauled my bag upstairs, the exhaustion from the game and travel making my legs heavy and steps sluggish. The hallway was dark except for a sliver of yellow light coming from beneath Faye’s door. The air felt humid and smelled like her shampoo. She liked to take showers when she got home from the diner, probably to wash out the smell of grease and food.

Go to bed, Rush. Just leave her alone and go to bed.

I set my bag down in my room.

Then went to Faye’s.

Why was knocking on her door so damn hard? It took all of my strength to lift a hand and tap it against the white surface.

My heart hammered as I waited, four beats, five, six, seven, eight . . .

The knob turned on nine.

“Hi.” She gave me a sad smile.

“Hey.”

She was wearing a pair of oversized, navy sweats. Her hair was wet and matted in thick, uncombed ropes. There was a white towel in her hands. She shifted to the side and waved me inside. “Sorry about your game.”

“You watched?” Great. I swallowed a grumble as I stepped into her room. She’d never mentioned a game before. Why was today’s the one she’d decided to watch?

“Mike likes football. He had the game on today.”

“Mike?”

“Dusty’s boyfriend. Or sometimes boyfriend. Their relationship is strange. He comes in to cook sometimes and give her a break.”

“Ah.” I went to her bed and sat on the edge.

She came to sit beside me, reaching for the brush she’d left on the mattress.

Before she could pick it up, I snatched it out of her hand.

“What?” she asked.

I twirled the brush in the air. “Turn sideways.”

“You’re going to brush my hair?”

“Why not?”

She studied me for a long moment but finally turned, shifting sideways on the mattress. “If you must.”

I started with the ends, gently pulling the brush through the strands until they were smooth against her back. “When I was eleven, I decided that I wanted to grow my hair out long. To this day I’m surprised my dad let it happen.”

“Why?”

“Dad’s pretty traditional. He gets a trim the second his hair starts to touch his ears. But when I was a kid, they were good about giving me some easy freedoms. If I wanted to wear shorts in the dead of winter, that was my choice. My hairstyle was my choice too.”

She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing away from her ears as I worked the brush across her scalp.

“I grew it out until it touched my shoulders. Kept it that way until my junior year of high school.”

“I can’t picture you with long hair.”

“I’ll get Mom to text me a picture.”

She breathed, her head lolling to the side as I kept brushing. Over and over and over again until that pretty reddish-blond hair was smooth and sleek. “I can’t remember the last time anyone brushed my hair. My mother, I guess. When I was a little kid.”

“What about when you go to the salon?”

“Salons are expensive. I just have Dusty take scissors to the ends when they get scraggly.”

My mom lived for her hair appointments. She went every three weeks to cover up her grays and because she loved being pampered by someone else.

If Faye would let me, I’d brush out her hair every night.

When I set the brush aside, she turned around, this time sitting sideways to face me. “Are you okay?”

“Today sucked.” It was the game that I’d replay over and over and over again, regretting every move and every mistake for weeks.

“You don’t like to lose,” she said.

“Does anyone?”

“No, I guess not.”

I leaned forward, elbows to knees. “I’m tired of fighting, Faye.”

“Me too.”

“I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

She clasped her fingers in her lap. “Neither am I.”

Well, that was something. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Rally, right? Isn’t that what you said? We just need to rally.”

“Yeah, sweets.” I turned to face her and let myself drown in those caramel eyes. “We need to rally.”

Today hadn’t been the best day, but right now, just being with her, was a better end than I’d expected.

My gaze shifted down the line of her cute nose to her soft, peach lips. That mouth was a magnet and before I’d even realized I’d leaned in close, I was a breath away from another kiss.

“Rush?” she whispered.

I froze. “Faye?”

“Don’t kiss me.”

Damn. So much for turning this day around.

I leaned back, about to leave, when her hand shot out. She fisted the fabric of my shirt, keeping me close as she shut her eyes.

“I want you to kiss me. But everything spins upside down when you do, and right now, I need to stand straight. Does that make sense?”

Perfect fucking sense. But that didn’t mean I still wasn’t disappointed.

“I’ve never initiated a kiss before.” Her voice dropped so low it was almost hard to hear. Was she embarrassed about that? She didn’t need to be. Any man in his right mind would want to kiss her. No one had probably ever given her a chance to take the lead.

Wait. That was it, wasn’t it? She needed to take charge. She needed to be in control.

Fuck my life. I should have clued in to that ages ago. All I had to do was be there when she was ready.

“Kiss me anytime you want.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Pink colored her cheeks.

I brushed a knuckle over the blush. “Welcome.”

She let go of my shirt, smoothing out the wrinkle with her fingers. “Rush?”

“Faye?”

“Thank you for brushing my hair.”

I hauled her into my arms, resting my face on top of her head and breathing her in. She wrapped her arms around my waist as we sagged into each other.

We stayed like that, locked, for so long that her hair was halfway dry when I finally let go.

“We can do this, right?” she asked. “With Squish?”

“Squish?” I chuckled. That’s what she called the baby? I liked it. A lot.

“Yep.” A smile stretched across her mouth, blinding white and so beautiful my heart stopped. Faye splayed both hands over her belly.

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. Instead, I covered her hands with my own. “Hey, Squish.”