Once Upon A Half-Time 1(71)

“Yeah!” Sebastian launched at me. “You were the best!”

For a little guy, he packed a decent punch. Then again, he had run full speed at my kidneys. A shock of pain burst through my body. I shouted.

“Christ! Watch it, Bast!”

The kid jumped back, eyes wide. “Sorry!”

“I told you I was sore!”

“I’m sorry!” His eyes widened.

I never saw him go completely motionless, but I’d never really yelled at him before. Elle cleared her throat, a quiet sound.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m peachy fucking keen.”

Goddamn it. I was usually careful with my words, but the language came naturally in the stadium. Elle rolled her eyes. Sebastian thought it was the greatest thing he’d ever heard.

“Wow! You said a bad word.” He grinned at me. “Mom’s gonna be mad.”

“Don’t repeat it.”

He did it to challenge me, just to have some fun. “Peachy fuc—”

“Sebastian!”

My voice echoed through the hall—loud, sharp, and absolutely the wrong tone to take with him. My teammates stopped to look. The couple reporters went silent.

Sebastian didn’t know what to do.

He stared at me, stunned, lip quivering like he was about to cry.

Oh, Christ. I couldn’t handle that. Not now.

“Lachlan.” Elle took Sebastian’s hand. She was like a natural with him. “I think you need to calm down. I know you’re disappointed about the game.”

“You have no idea.”

“So tell me. Talk to me. If you need help…”

I wasn’t having this conversation. “I’m tired. I’m sore. I just want to go home and ice my body.”

Elle understood—somewhat. “Want some company?”

“No.”

She frowned.

Fuck. Did I piss her off too? I didn’t have the energy or patience to explain how I felt. I just wanted to sleep it off and deal with the shit tomorrow.

“Not tonight.” I mussed Sebastian’s hair. He flinched away. Damn it. “Take him to my mom. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Even the Tinkerbell bag hurt my shoulders. I carried it gently, unwilling to let Elle or Bast see the pain.

Sebastian hadn’t mastered the art of the whisper. His voice echoed through the tunnel.

Heart-broken.

“Did…did I make him mad?”

Elle softened her voice. “Oh no. He didn’t mean it. He had a really tough game. He’s just tired.”

“I thought he did awesome.”

“Me too. Let’s go find your momma.”

I made it out of the stadium and to the team bus without collapsing. It was a short ride to the practice facility, but I had to drag my ass to my car.

It wasn’t adrenaline that kept me moving.

It was fear.

I stared at my brand new Lexis. I’d bought two new cars, two houses, new phones and computers and everything else that would spoil me, Mom, and Sebastian.

But now, it worried me. I’d played my second exhibition game, and all I had to show for it was a handful of pissed off coaches, a traitorous media, and skeptical teammates.

My once-in-a-lifetime opportunity faded. Everything I worked for—almost gone.

It wasn’t my sacrifices that hurt the most. It was Mom’s. Everything she’d done to help me. The schools. The travel. The personal trainers.

Sebastian.

It didn’t matter what happened to me. I had to make sure they were taken care of. I had to put the family first.

All of my family.

Including Elle.

I could see a future with her. Playing with Sebastian. Cuddling with me on the couch. Rock climbing in the spring. Sweaty sex every night.

She was so much fucking more than a mistaken elopement.

I knew I loved her, but admitting it to myself drove the air from my lungs like a hit from a linebacker. She was my everything now. A tease. A friend. A lover.

A wife.

This game wasn’t about me anymore. I’d work my ass off so I could provide for everyone I loved.

Mom. Sebastian.

And the woman I’d love for the rest of my life.





17





Elle





I was out of time.

The interns and videographers running around the office didn’t notice Peter’s fake smile.

He closed my laptop and summoned me with a curled finger.

“Elle, Coach Thompson and I wanted to speak with you. Got a minute?”

I was used to getting queasy now, but this wasn’t because the baby was using my stomach as an in-utero trampoline.

I picked up my camera. Peter shook his head.

“Don’t worry about that.” He stopped me before I reach for my cell phone. “This won’t take long. Leave your phone.”

He didn’t want me recording the conversation.