“For today?”
He doesn’t need me to spell it out for him, but I do. With a shake of my head, I murmur, “No. I’m done for good.”
Ignoring his quick intake of air, I charge down the corridor, not the least bit concerned when my tornado-like speed has me careening past a grinning Lillian.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Presley
Fans huddled around the entrance of the stadium clear a path for me when I kick a waste receptacle in anger. Tonight was my worst game on record. The difference in the figures on the scoreboard leaves no doubt of this. The pain zooming through my shoulder isn’t to blame either. I fucked up long before Willow popped it back into place.
My head hasn’t been inanygame the past forty-eight hours, much less the one I just played. Lillian’s return to my life has been as toxic as always. Just being around her reminds me of why I drank so much when we were together. She does my head in, but instead of putting her in her place as Willow suggested, I have to cozy up with her to film infomercials.
They’re not even real fucking commercials! They’re going to be shown on those TV shows that pry people’s hard-earned money from their grasps at 3 AM when they’re as high as a kite or wanting their lives to end prematurely. Then, after embarrassing myself on national TV, I have to wear their company logo on a cap, shirt, and pants during the live broadcast before the preliminary final.
That’s their money-maker. Advertising firms pay upwards of five point one million dollars for a thirty-second slot during breaks during the final game, but they’ll get my ass sitting in a chair for thirty minutes at the greatly discounted rate of ten million dollars only a week before.
I got short-changed—in more ways than one.
Hoping to get things wrapped up quickly, I’ve been working my ass off from sunup to sundown the past two days. I figured the quicker I got this part of my career over, the faster I could return to my post-Lillian life.
If I still have one after what Willow saw.
What Willow witnessed earlier today wasn’t as it seemed. Lillian and I were rehearsing a scene the advertising executives want filmed tonight before I spend the next three weeks on the road for away games. Since Delilah had a prior arrangement, she wanted to check our placements to ensure we understood her “vision.” She stepped out to take a call a mere minute before Willow arrived.
The look Willow gave me just before she entered the locker room was exactly how my insides were feeling. Every time Lillian touched me, I honestly felt ill. That’s why I’ve been such an asshole the past two days. My temptation to drink is at its highest; I’ve not had a single minute to speak to Willow, and my opponents seem to have telepathic powers to read my subliminal thoughts. Tonight, they knew every move before I even decided which one to make.
Stopping by my locker, I run a towel over my sweat-drenched head before heading for Willow’s cubicle. I’m not a fan of rubdowns after a match, especially not from Willow, but with my shoulder still aching like a bitch, I’m willing to face the embarrassment if she gives me a boner. Furthermore, any excuse to have her hands on me is the right excuse.
I halt midstride when Danny unexpectedly steps in front of me. I really wish he’d stop doing that.
“Amara is waiting for you upstairs.” His tone is clipped and firm, nothing like I’ve heard it before.
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
When I sidestep him, he darts back into my path. I’d shove him out of my way, but with my right arm needed to hold together my left arm, I’m not willing to risk it.
“What’s going on with you today? You’re not yourself.”
Air rushes out of Danny’s nose in a hurry as the sternness on his face grows. “I could ask you the same thing.” He holds nothing back when he slaps me across the chest. “When I find out what you did to make her leave, I’m going to. . .to. . .” His nostrils flare as he struggles to think of a threat worthy of his anger. He finds one two seconds later: “Release the images of you dancing with me at Mardi Gras to the media!”
“So? I was there as your support person, and I wasn’t the only celebrity there.” I quit arguing when the entirety of his reply smacks into me. “My pissy attitude worked? Lillian got the hint we’renevergetting back together?”
“What? No! I’m talking about Willow. Coach James asked me to drive her home after she left here in near tears.”
My brows furrow, certain I heard him wrong. It’s only after the movie of my night rolls to our exchange after she popped my shoulder back in does the truth smack into me.
Fuck!
I snatch my gym bag out of my locker before hightailing it out of the room. My heart is thumping as hard as my cleat-covered feet.
“You have that final scene to shoot tonight.”
Danny’s confession doesn’t slow me down in the slightest. “This is more important.”
It could be my raging heart wreaking havoc with my hearing, but I swear I hear someone shout, “Damn straight, it is!” seconds before I break into a sprint down the hall.
The fans I scared earlier part like a river when I race toward them, but one isn’t as eager to get out of my way. The fear on Lillian’s face when I continue charging for her standing firm halfway down the corridor increases my speed. I’d never hurt a woman, but I have no issues showing them how good my skills are.
