Foolish Games(73)

“You’re a maniac, you know that!” Chris yelled. “I’ve got all this on my iPhone video and when the public sees it, you won’t play another down in the NFL!”

Will slammed the door on him, throwing the deadbolt closed. When he turned around, a wide-eyed Julianne stood at the base of the stairs clutching Owen, who was wailing loudly.

“He said he was your friend,” she whispered.

“Damn it, Julianne,” he yelled at her. “They’re gonna say a lot of things to get in front of me. Especially now. You can’t be so gullible. If I told you once, I told you twice, you’ve got to think first! “

He realized his mistake as soon as her eyes narrowed to slits. The last thing he needed to do was take this out on her. Everything was spinning out of control. He thought he could keep the story at bay as long as he remained in Chances Inlet. But if one reporter was ballsy enough to venture to town, others would follow. None of it, though, was her fault. He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“Julianne.” He opened his eyes and reached for her.

She recoiled, gripping Owen closer. “Don’t you touch me, Will Connelly.” She turned on her heel and scampered up the stairs.

“Julianne!” he bellowed, which accomplished nothing but to make her angrier. The door to the nursery slammed. Will swore. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Damn it, Roscoe, there was a reporter in my house!” he roared into the phone.

• • •

The storm was in full swing, wind and rain battering the windows. Owen had cried himself to sleep, his little head sweaty under Julianne’s touch. She covered him with a blanket and dimmed the lamp. Tense and rattled from the events of the afternoon coupled with the relentless thunder shaking the house, she longed for the safety of Will’s body.

She settled for a blanket instead, wrapping it around her as she sank into the big chair in her room. Her brother’s words echoed around in her head. Stephen had warned her that Will was capable of harm. That he was aggressive by nature. But Julianne hadn’t believed him. She still didn’t. The stupid reporter had duped her. Will was right, she had been gullible. But Will’s reaction had been over-the-top, too. She wasn’t frightened of him; she was scared of whatever he was hiding, though. Clearly, her brother knew more than she did. Why else would he call her every day? Julianne sighed. Will knew all her secrets. Why was it taking him so long to share his with her?

The door from the hallway eased open. Will slipped in carrying a glass of wine. She curled up further in the chair, clutching the blanket tighter. He ignored her “keep out” posture and placed the wineglass on the table beside her. Silently, he made his way into the nursery, presumably to check on Owen.

Julianne took a fortifying swallow of the cabernet sauvignon, its rich flavor warming her as it slid down her throat. When she looked up, Will was leaning against the door frame, his hands shoved into his pockets. His Blaze hoodie was dotted with wet spots and his hair was damp as if he’d been wandering out in the storm. He looked tense and unsure of himself, more like the wayward youth he’d once been rather than the composed role model he’d become. Julianne was encouraged by this glimpse of his vulnerability.

“I owe you an apology.” His voice was gritty and soft, as if he were trying to convince himself he wasn’t angry anymore.

“No.” Julianne’s heart went out to him, but she couldn’t let him off that easily. “You owe me an explanation.”

Will sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, further mussing it up and making him look way too sexy for the small room. She loosened the grip on the blanket, in need of cooler air. His eyes darted everywhere except her face.

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, well, I might not have gone to an Ivy League school like you, but give me some credit for having survived the school of hard knocks.”

He looked at her then, his eyes unreadable. “That wasn’t meant to be a put-down.”

Julianne nodded. They were about to cross that invisible line—she felt it—and she didn’t want to halt their progress by speaking.

Will slumped down on the floor, his back resting against the chair so that he faced away from her. Obviously, he didn’t want her to see his eyes as he revealed his tale. An involuntary shiver raced through her body. She wanted to touch him, but that could derail them, too, so she reached for the wine instead.

He was silent for a few minutes, and she began to wonder if he’d ever get the story out when he finally spoke.

“Gavin and the rest of the McAlisters were big athletes. Donald, their dad, played minor league baseball once. I did whatever they did. When we were in high school, Gavin was the one everybody thought would be a pro football player. Our team won the state championship twice. We both dreamed of playing together at NC State, but it turned out I was too small.”