Dirty Game:A Secret Baby Sports Romance(6)

"I'll tell him it isn't his." He snarled at me. "I'll make him hate you.  I'll make him despise you. I'll tell him that everyone has been talking  about how you slept with Johnson Davis."

"I did not. He knows I would never cheat on him."

He shrugged. "Maybe you did. Maybe Blake needs to hear what a lying slut you really are."

The tears mixed with my mascara and the burn was almost unbearable.

"Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Take the deal. Take my money. Get off the island by tomorrow. I'll keep  him so busy tonight he'll be too tired to call you. I've got sanding  that needs to be done."

"We could have the baby together." I tried to convince him. "Raise your grandchild like a family."

I looked around desperately for Blake's mother. She was my salvation.  The one chance I had of staying. She would never send away her first  grandchild-never.

He laughed. "Family? You don't even know who your parents are. You've been raised by some woman you think is your aunt."

The anger rammed through my lungs.

"Oh my God."

"Yep. So pack up. And don't communicate with my son. It's the only chance you have of saving any reputation you have."

"Martha will want to know," I pleaded.

I saw the man I had begun to despise choke back a sob. It was instinct,  but I rushed to his side. Carefully, I touched his shoulder.

His angry eyes peered at me.

"We haven't told Blake yet."

"Told him what?" I asked.

"She's seen two specialists. Martha has stage four … "

"Oh my God." I clasped his arm. "I'm so sorry. I-I can't believe it."

He straightened his shoulder and stepped out from my touch. "So your  timing couldn't be worse. Martha needs Blake now. She needs all of us."                       
       
           



       

"But the baby could give her something to fight for. Don't you think  that's powerful medicine?" I knew I was begging and pleading, but I was  fighting for my life and for the place this baby deserved in its own  family. Every time Mr. Wyatt opened his mouth I only fell deeper into  the abyss of the hopelessness he created.

"You're nothing but a scandal. Your shame is no one's medicine," he  snarled. "I have a dying wife. Can't you hear me? And I have a son who  has a future. You don't belong here. I have a family to take care of."  His legs stiffened. "Now go before Blake gets back."

He kept talking, but I couldn't listen to anymore. My body shut down. My emotions closed in on me.

He hated me. Actually despised me. And then he threw in the part about  my parents and Aunt Lindy. If he was trying to derail me, it worked.

I drove home in a fog.

I slowly climbed the stairs and packed all the clothing I had in my bag.

That night I stuffed them into the back of my Jeep and left the island for the last time.





8





Blake





I could still taste her on my lips. Hear her in my ears.

I turned onto the dirt drive that I had called home. The lights were off in the boat barn.

I didn't know if they'd ever be back on. I kept my head down as I passed  the double doors that led inside where my dad used to work. I never  went in there anymore. Cole had tried. My uncle had tried, but I kept  the doors locked.

They kept reminding me how valuable the tools and the wood were inside,  but I didn't give a shit about the price of juniper boards-nor did I  care about the two boats I kept hostage in there. I kept it sealed like a  tomb.

I stumbled into the house, throwing my keys onto the table. I should  pack up and head back to Orlando. There was enough to do for the team. I  had rookies to study. Routes to plan with my receivers. I could meet  with Coach. Work on my knee. I didn't need this shit.

I wasn't in the mood for a trip down memory lane. And yet, I was fucking  driving down it a hundred miles an hour on auto pilot. Hell.

And Sierra was a brick wall I was going to crash into head first,  sending me through the windshield with no seatbelt. I slammed my fist on  the table.

There was only one way to get her out of my system.

One way to put the past behind me.

One way to drown out the memories.

One way to wipe her from my thoughts.

I pulled the top off a bottle of bourbon and took a swig. It burned my  throat, but I didn't care. I swallowed again. Before I knew it, the  bottle was empty.

The glass hit the floor with a thud as I fell forward onto the couch. I  didn't know what time it was when I finally passed out, but the last  thing I saw was Sierra's lips. There wasn't enough alcohol on this  island to drink her out of my mind.



I reached for my head when the sun hit me in the face. Fuck. I walked to  the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice and ransacked the  cabinets looking for aspirin.

I popped the tablets in my mouth and chugged them down. The old phone my  parents had nailed to the wall was still attached. I couldn't forget  the number to Sierra's aunt's house if I wanted to. I tapped the digits  onto the keypad and waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" She sounded sleepy. It was barely sunrise.

"Hey. It's Blake."

"Oh."

"Look, about last night." I ran my hand over my neck. The hangover stemmed from somewhere in the lower part of my skull.

"It shouldn't have gone like that. I think we need a do-over."

"A what?" she squeaked.

I couldn't believe I was saying this shit. "A do-over. I'll pick you up at seven thirty."

"For what?" she questioned.

That was the question. Was I trying to prove to myself I was over her?  Or that I could take her? Use her like she had used me? Prove that I  could fuck her over and no longer needed her? Could I drive off this  island like she had and not give a fuck about her?

"Come on, Sierra. It's a date. I'll pick you up and we'll just pretend last night never happened."

"I don't understand. Last night wasn't the best reunion    . We haven't talked in years and now it's a date?"

"We're older now, aren't we?" Did she still know me so well that she could read through my bullshit reasons?

She paused. "I guess so."

"Then just go with it, darlin'. See you tonight."

I hung up before she could poke more holes in my sudden interest to see her.





9





Sierra





Promptly at seven thirty, the screen door to the kitchen screeched a  little as Blake knocked and pulled the weathered door open to enter Aunt  Lindy's house. He had left his truck rumbling in the gravel drive.                       
       
           



       

"You ready?" he called into the house.

"I'm ready." I had to stop myself from beaming at him.

Unlike the last time I'd seen him, he wasn't wearing a scowl. This was different. Very different.

When he'd called this morning I'd been hesitant. Skeptical really, but  here he was. Maybe he actually did want to forget the past.

His cologne wafted toward me and I tried not to let it intoxicate me. Everything about the man did. It always had.

I grabbed my bag and followed Blake to his truck.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

He looked over at me. "Thought we could take our own cruise. Just the two of us. Live music and drinks."

"Ok."

He helped me climb into the passenger side of his truck. It was a newer  version of the one he'd had in high school. I noticed it was like  driving a supped up computer system. I guessed AFA salaries could pay  for things like that. On the flip side, my anchor salary wasn't much. I  was happy with what I made, but it was a far cry from luxury.

We headed to the creek where he kept his boat.

I felt as if I needed to say something to break the ice. To bridge the  divide that had been between us, but I waited for his cues. The fact  that we were on a date had to be enough for now.

Once we pushed off from the rickety pier, we cruised under the bridge  and Blake pointed the vessel toward Oakton. Patches of marsh and  abandoned crab pots littered the channel to downtown. I hadn't been  there in years. It was the closest town to Gull Island, but the quickest  way to get there was by boat.

The sun was setting on Pelican Creek, and I was happy to get off the  island for the night. I had been going stir crazy at Aunt Lindy's.

Fifteen minutes later, the boat eased toward the small downtown  waterfront dotted with shops and restaurants. Before I could even see  it, I heard music from a live band.

"Is that Come Monday?" I asked.

He smiled. His teeth were perfect and straight. God, how many times had I fallen asleep thinking about his beautiful face?

"Yep. That's the Fin Notes. They are a popular Jimmy Buffet cover band around here."

I wasn't sure if it was a jab that I didn't know anything local anymore  or if he was really just letting me know what was popular.

"They're good," I commented.