Betting Bad Page 3

“You can’t deny that it’s timely either, can you?” she asks as her bangles jangle. She’s a believer in signs and all things psychic. To her, Caleb suddenly showing up like this means the universe is trying to tell me something.

  And what exactly might that be?

  Caleb had asked me out for coffee a few times after I finished his course, but I always declined. Why? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe somewhere deep inside me I was hanging on to the idea of Tyler and what we had. But honest to God, for the last nine years I haven’t been living. I’ve been existing—barely surviving. Maybe I need to start walking among the living again. If Tyler’s return taught me one thing, it’s that we’re different people now, and I need to find a way to escape what’s still between us. Maybe dating someone else is the only way I can get out from beneath his pull, and find some semblance of happiness in this incredibly messed up life I’m faltering through.

  3

  Tyler

  A hot burst of need burns through me, and I try to keep my cool and not run after Sara as she bolts from her father’s office. Sara. Sweet Sara Ramsey who I’d hurt so deeply, who now looks at me with fear and loathing in her eyes. But underneath that hate, in the darkest depths of her eyes, I spotted need and longing—nine long, hard years in the making.

  I fist my hands and clench my jaw hard enough to break bone. I fucking hate myself for the pain I put her through. But I couldn’t let Lucas run those guns. He was young and impressionable and likely would have gotten his ass shot off, or find himself in deeper with the Phantoms.

  I chose to do it instead. No one held a weapon to my head, forcing me to load my trunk. Nope, I did that all on my own, and was fully prepared to do an out of state delivery. It didn’t matter whether I was doing it for my brother, or not once I was caught. I committed a crime and it was my actions that put our future in jeopardy. After my arrest, I hoped that with my impeccable record, I’d never have to do time on the inside. Instead I got fifteen years, out in eight for good behavior, and one spent on parole in South Illinois.

  Talk about betting bad.

  “What can I do for you, Tyler?” Coach Ramsey asks, the coldness in his tone pulling me back to the present. He gestures for me to sit and I lower myself into the chair Sara just abandoned. The seat feels warm from her body and her scent still hangs in the air. I hadn’t expected to walk in on Sara and her father. Then again, maybe I had. Even though I swore to stay away from her, maybe deep down I’m a goddamn masochist.

  But now that I’ve seen her in person, it only made that raw ache of need inside me that much worse. Fuck, man. I hated the wide-open and vulnerable look in those haunted brown eyes of hers. It was all I could do not to pull her into my arms and confess. But if she ever found out the truth, she’d only hate me more.

  “Coach,” I say, forcing my attention to the matter at hand. Coach scrubs his hand over his chin, his scruff more silver than black now as he waits, somewhat impatiently, to see what I’m doing here. I’m sure I’m the last person he and his daughter wanted or expected to see today. “How’s the team?”

  His eyes are murderous, his lips compressed as he taps a pen against his playbook. “Been better.”

  I clear my throat, and chose my next words carefully. “I was wondering if you’d like some help on the field. I’d be happy to volunteer.”

  He sits forward, braces his elbows on his table. “Is this a part of your rehabilitation program?”

  “No, sir.”

  He angles his head, and I feel like a bug under a microscope. His examination shouldn’t bother me so much. Fuck, in prison I’d been stripped bare in more ways than one as guards and psychologists violated every part of me. But I never let them in, never let anyone other than the five of us guys who banded together, get too close.

  “After what you did to my daughter, you’ve got some fucking nerve coming in here and asking for a job.”

  I didn’t just hurt his daughter. I hurt him, too. We both know that. He was the father I never had, and I betrayed his trust. I swallow the bile punching into my throat. On the field Coach can be a real hard-ass, but off the field he’s a kind man who cares about others, and would die for his family. There was a point where he cared about me too, and that’s why I’m here. He picks up his playbook, rolls it and slaps it against his hand.

  “Fucking nerve,” he whispers under his breath.

  He’s right, of course. It took all my nerve to face off against him. But I’ve faced off against worse and when I came back to town, I wasn’t expecting a welcome home parade. It takes a big fucking set of balls to get your life back in order and try to find your way after being incarcerated.

  “Yeah, I know. But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t looking to turn my life around. I’m just looking for a chance to prove myself.”

  “If this has anything to do with Sara—”

  “It doesn’t.” I try not to flinch at the sound of her name. I gesture with a nod to the rolled-up book in his hand. “That looks like the same playbook we used to use back in the day.”

  His hand stills mid air, and his eyes narrow into a hard glare. “What of it?”

  Whoa, I clearly hit a soft spot. Okay, good. Maybe I can use it to my advantage. I shrug. “We could work on some new plays together.”

  He leans toward me, his eyes hard. “What do you want, Tyler? What exactly are you doing here?”

  “I want to give back, sir. I bet the two of us can do great things.”

  “Are you a betting man?”

  I shake my head, my gut twisting. “No, not anymore.”

  He goes quiet as we glare at each other—like a goddamn Mexican standoff. I’ve gotten pretty good at this shit over the years, so he’s in for one hell of a long staring contest.

  Seconds turn into minutes, and I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head. He finally exhales loudly. “You really want to help?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “We practice five times a week—”

  “I know the drill.”

  “Only problem is, the school board won’t take kindly to a criminal on the field. You’ll never pass the background checks.”

  “I thought about that. I know how to get around it.”

  He scoffs. “I bet you do.”

  “If I’m on the field, standing on the sidelines, they can’t say much about that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I mean, it’s no different than anyone watching, giving pointers. Parents do it all the time.”

  He gives a shake of his head and frowns. “That they do.”

  “I’m sure the parents won’t complain. They want to beat Lincoln as much as we do, right?”

  He nods, and turns to look out over the field. “They’ve been giving me hell.”

  “So do we have a deal?”

  He turns back to me and I stand, my arm outstretched. Coach pushes from his chair and eyes me for a minute.

  “One condition, Tyler.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay away from Sara. She’s been through enough.”

  I swallow, and nod. “I have every intention of doing just that,” I say.

  “Good.” He takes my hand in his and gives me a firm shake. “See you tomorrow.”

  As I leave his office, the school bell rings, the sound taking me back to happier times. Students rush about, heading to their lockers to grab their books for their next class and longing rips though me. I liked being a student. For me, football was just a means to an end.

  I step out into the warm afternoon, and look up and down the street, searching for signs of Sara, even though seeing her again will only fillet me. I make my way to my bike, and find a few students admiring it. They back off quickly when I approach, and I take a moment to see me through their eyes. A hardened criminal. Yeah, I’d back the fuck off if I were them too. I throw my leg over my seat, fasten my helmet and pull into traffic.

  I cut down the side streets until I come to Mr. Johnson’s service bay. My bike rumbles to a st
op as I idle it down. I sit there for a moment, and when the rumbling sound of a dozen or so bikes gains my attention, I turn my head toward the sound in time to see the Phantoms drive by. Their clubhouse isn’t too far from here, but I don’t like they way they’re looking at me, sizing me up. I’m sure word has gotten around that I’m back, and while Deacon let me know that if I needed any help on the outside, that he had people poised to help me, when it comes right down to it, if these guys are looking for trouble, there isn’t jack-shit Deacon can do to help me, at least not in a timely manner. But I can’t imagine any of them want to take on Deacon. He’d take them out in a heartbeat.

  They pass by, and I throw my leg over the seat and walk to the shop. The bell over the door jingles as I make my way inside. My boots thud against the floor, and from the bay to the right of the office, I hear, “I’ll be right with you.”

  I glance around at the empty office. Everyone must still be on their lunch break. I follow the sound of my brother’s voice and see his legs sticking out from beneath the car he’s working on.

  When I don’t hear noise, I ask, “Are you napping under there?”

  I hear a thump—what I can only assume is his head hitting on something solid.

  “Fuck,” he curses and the wheels on the dolly squeal as he rolls out from beneath the car. I grab his hand to help him up.

  “Is that any way to greet your big brother?” I ask.

  Lucas stands slowly, his shoulders hunched as he takes a good long time brushing grease-stained hands on his coveralls, like he’s stalling, trying to think of where we begin again. He was up and gone from the house before I was out of bed this morning. Had he done that on purpose? So he didn’t have to face me?

  “Lucas.”

  “Ty,” he says and throws his arms around me. His hug is hard, and tight, and at first I stiffen at the unexpected display of affection. In prison, a guy’s first lesson is not to show emotion, but I’m not in prison anymore and this is my brother. I pull him in, fist my hands in his coveralls and hold him harder. “It’s good to have you back,” he murmurs.

  I break the hug, and inch back. He averts his gaze, but I won’t have any of that.

  “Lucas,” I say and his eyes shift. Looking everywhere and anywhere but at me. I harden my voice and say, “What’s done is done.”

  I hear his throat work as he swallows. “I’m sorry, Ty.”

  “I know.” I pull him back in for another hug. I grip his hair and my heart pounds as I hold him. “You good?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Then we’re good.”

  He nods and I say, “Catch a drink tonight?”

  “We’ll hit Lou’s for pool and beer. On me.”

  “Damn right it’s on you,” I say and we both laugh, the tension easing around us. In that instant, I know Lucas and I are going to be okay.

  He winks. “Maybe I can hook you up with a friend. Get you laid. You look like you could use it.”

  Yeah, there’s no question that I could use a soft body and a hard fuck. I hadn’t touched a woman since Sara, and maybe it’s damn well time I did. Maybe that will help me get my mind off her and move on.

  “You think I need you to get girls for me?” I ask.

  Lucas leans against the hood of the car, his boyish smile fading. “Do you have any jobs lined up?” He nods to the office. “I could probably talk to Mr. Johnson.”

  “Got work lined up at the BSA.”

  “Blind Service Association? Where Gracie goes?”

  “Yeah.”

  His head rears back. “Really? What can you do there?”

  I hold my fingers up. “Braille transcriber. My trade in prison. I’m certified through the Library of Congress.”

  “No fucking way. That’s cool, man.” He scrubs his chin, and leaves a streak of grease on his too pretty face. “Have you seen Gracie yet?”

  “No, she was gone to school before I was up. I’m heading to see her now.”

  The bell over the shop door rings, and I push away from Lucas. “I’ll let you get back at it. We’ll catch up tonight, okay?”

  I turn to leave, but stop at the sound of Lucas’s voice. “Ty…”

  “Yeah.”

  “I love you, brother.”

  “Love you too, bro.”

  I hop back on my bike, and make my way across town, to the private school for the visually impaired. But instead of turning left, I head right, to take the long way. Why? Oh because it leads past the high school again, and there is some part of me hoping to catch another glimpse of Sara, even though it goes against our best interests. Yeah, I’m definitely a fucking masochist.

  Across the street from the school, outside the bank, I catch a glimpse of Sara talking to some douchebag in a suit. Normally I’d say he was the kind of guy she should be with, but I instantly dislike him. Sara is gorgeous, easy to look at, but I fucking hate the way he’s glaring at her like she’s nothing more than a quick lay. I pull over to the curb, idle my bike down and balance the beast between my legs as I flatten my feet on the ground.

  I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be stalking her like this. I should be home suffering in silence—even though I have no idea what or where home is anymore. The truth is, Sara and I have no future, but fuck man, I can’t seem to drag my sorry ass away, and if that guy so much as lays a hand on her… She laughs at something douchebag says, and I go battle ready, my entire body tensing, eager to fight for what’s mine. But Sara isn’t mine, and I swore to her father I’d stay away.

  As if sensing my presence, her head turns my way, and her mouth falls open when our eyes clash, hold too long. The man she’s with looks over his shoulder to see what, or who, has drawn her focus. She touches his arm to bring his attention back to her, and I take a deep breath to get my shit together, when all I want to do is cross the street and beat the fuck out of the guy. Torn between loyalty and love I sit on my bike and watch from afar, knowing better than to act on the hot burst of possessiveness curdling my blood. Sara doesn’t deserve that from me and when it comes right down to it, I’m here to get my life in order, not find myself back behind bars again.

  But how the fuck am I ever going to live in a world that Sara isn’t a part of?

  4

  Sara

  I’ve been on edge, completely jittery since running into Tyler at Dad’s office last week, and then again later on the sidewalk outside of the bank. God, he looked like he was in attack mode and ready to shred Caleb to pieces simply because he was talking to me. But he has no claims on me, just as I have none on him. After those run-ins, he’s been avoiding me, making himself scarce after early morning football practice when I stop in to see Dad before work. And that can only be for the best. Any more time spent around him will be emotional suicide at best.

  I check the time and hurry around my apartment. It’s not much of a place, just a one-bedroom not too far from work, but it’s all I can afford with my current income. Soon enough though, when I finish my education and step into the position of financial analyst, I’m hoping to save enough and purchase one of those cute townhouses I’ve been eyeing for months. The original plan had been to get out of Middletown altogether, now though, it’s apparent I’m setting down roots and settling in for the long haul. Mom and Dad would love to leave here when Dad retires. They always used to talk about getting a big piece of land, and raising chickens. But if I stay here, they’ll never leave, and I feel pretty crappy about that, but this is my life now. I’ve talked to them about moving, and living out their retirement years on a farm, and I’m hoping one day, when they see I’m doing a-okay, they’ll follow their dreams. Which makes getting the advance all that much more important to me.

  My cell rings, and I nearly jump two feet in the air. Honest to God, Tyler’s return has made a complete mess out of me. I shouldn’t be so jumpy. I have nothing to fear from him. Heck, how many times can a man break a girl’s heart, right? But still the thoughts of him texting me, or running into him again, feels like I�
�m on a collision course, rushing down the highway at breakneck speed with a severed brake line. When I see it’s Dad calling, I slide my finger across the screen.

  “Hey Dad,” I say, and inject a lightness into my voice that I don’t really feel. Tonight I’m going on my first date with Caleb—my first date since Tyler.

  “How’s my girl?”

  “Good, just getting ready. Caleb is going to be picking me up any second now.”

  I can just visualize the smile on my Dad’s face. He worries about me, of that I’m certain, and Caleb is a white-collar professor, which means he’s already pre-approved in Dad’s book.

  “Where is he taking you?”

  I hear Mom in the background, saying hello to me.

  “Tell Mom I said hi,” I say. “And I’m not sure where we’re going.” I walk into my bedroom, stand before the long swivel mirror and examine the little black dress hugging my curves. It makes me feel a little vulnerable, exposed, like I’m sending a message that I’m ready for this, when I’m not sure I am. But since I had nothing decent for a date, my wardrobe full of yoga pants and pencil skirts, Kaitlyn dragged me out after work and insisted I buy this. Of course, I also can’t forget the box of condoms she stuffed into the top drawer of my nightstand.

  As Dad says something to Mom, I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder and cup my breasts, readjusting them in my new Victoria’s Secret push-up bra, another item Kaitlyn insisted I buy. When it comes to men, she obviously knows what she’s doing, seeing as she has a different one in her bed every week.

  Will I sleep with Caleb?

  My heart speeds up at the thought. The only man I’ve ever been in bed with was Tyler. He was my first…my everything. But what he can’t be is my last. I need to move on, and forget about him once and for all. Seeing him last week only cemented that fact. We are different people now, with different lives, and we can never, ever get back what we had.

  “Well, have fun,” Dad says pulling my thoughts back. “Shoot me a text when you get home.”