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Now, I have to figure a way around Mickey’s rules. Because, when I get home, I want to take my girl on a proper date without having to hide our relationship.
Coach
My nightmares are worse without Alex here. Since he left with the team, I wake up, calling out for my father in my sleep, drenched in sweat that mats my hair in chunks to my forehead. Even my skin is sticking to my sheets, the fabric encasing my body like plastic wrap. A scream dies off in my throat once I open my eyes and realize I’m in my bedroom. I blink a few times to make sure.
This is definitely my apartment and not the crummy, run-down housing development where I grew up. The walls are bright white, without a trace of graffiti, and my floors are free of clutter, no syringes, crack pipes, or rolled up pieces of tinfoil left behind from another wild night of partying. To this day, when I see old men smoking a pipe or food packaged in foil, a chill runs through me. Ever since I decided to help Alex, I have relived some of those painful memories each night.
I suck in a deep breath and let it out, trying to focus on getting myself under control. It took me years of therapy and learning how to cope with the loss of my parents to move on with my life and figure out how to start over. For years, I did exactly that and eventually found my place among my peers while I played for Villanova. Basketball was the breath of fresh air I needed after years of life knocking me down, only to have my dreams slip away from me in an instant. A few seconds is all it takes to change a life forever.
I wipe the tears from my eyes, but they keep coming, refusing to let up, as I grip my pillow in my hands and scream into it. Everything hurts. My stomach is in knots. The knives digging into my skull continue to stab harder and faster as I bawl my eyes out. Without Alex here to hold me and take my mind off the past, I doubt it will ever end. I need him, and that scares me almost as much as my dreams.
Moonlight shines through the crack in the curtains behind my bed, providing enough light that I don’t have to feel my way in the dark as I reach over to turn on the lamp on my nightstand. Sitting up, I peel the comforter from my legs and throw it on the floor, still mildly hyperventilating from the jolt of adrenaline running through me, making my heart feel as though it’s jumping out of my chest as my blood pumps faster.
Coach doesn’t need people, but Charlotte does, and right now, that little girl is alone and terrified and missing the shit out of Alex Parker.
How did I let this happen between us?
The clock on the table reads five in the morning, which is better than calling him in the middle of the night, something I’ve refused to do while he’s been away. He needs his rest and focus for the game even though I know he’d sit up with me all night if he had to.
Fumbling for my cell phone, I finally get a grip on it and slide my finger across the screen to open my Contacts. He not only found his way into my heart, but he also made it into my list of Favorites in just a few weeks.
The line rings three times before Alex answers, his voice hoarse and low but also with a hint of concern. “Charlotte, are you okay, sweetheart?”
“I needed to hear your voice,” I whisper as I sink back into the stack of pillows behind me, unable to stop myself from crying. “I miss you, Alex,” I choke out.
“I know, baby. I miss you, too. I’ll be home in two days.”
“I wish you were here.” Using my pillowcase, I dab my eyes and then rest my head on the cotton. “I feel so weak to admit that I need help. This was under control for so long—”
He sighs loudly into the phone, and I can hear him shifting his weight in bed. “I thought the same thing for a long time, Charlotte, but look at what you’ve done for me. Even the best head coaches need a good assistant coach, and the same thing goes for players. Do you think Michael Jordan would’ve accomplished half of what he did without an assist from Scottie Pippen or good defense from Dennis Rodman? Let me be your wingman, Charlotte.”
He always knows how to cheer me up, and working basketball into this conversation just gave him at least another ten more points in my scorebook.
A broad smile tugs at my mouth, and my heart swells from the overwhelming emotion that washes over me. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. I’m actually surprised that you didn’t use Gretzky and McSorley. I have to say, I’m impressed with your basketball knowledge. You know that wouldn’t work on most girls.”
He laughs. “That’s because you’re better than most girls. You’re my girl.”
I am Alex Parker’s girlfriend. The idea excites me, yet at the same time, I’m equal parts nervous because Mickey will never approve, and no one can know about us.
Alex
“Thank you for a wonderful dinner,” Charlotte says, her smile so wide, she’s practically glowing. “It’s a good thing you’re sort of famous because even Mickey’s connections couldn’t get us a reservation at Luciano’s on a Saturday night on two hours’ notice.”
“Sort of famous.” I laugh as the elevator doors open to our floor, and I slide my hand behind her back, guiding her off the elevator.
She flashes me a smile, her body pressed against mine, as we walk down the hallway and toward her apartment. “Well, it wasn’t your good looks and winning charm that got us that table, Parker.”
“Watch it, Coach,” I joke. “You’re on thin ice tonight.”
Once we reach her apartment, she sticks the key into the lock and pushes the door open before turning around to face me. “Is that so? What got me in trouble this time?” Placing her hands on her hips, she flashes me a knowing look. Taking a deep breath, she speaks, “Was it my dirty mouth?” She glances down at her tight black dress that is more conservative than what some girls would wear, the hem stopping an inch above her knees. But the top is cut low, her cleavage on perfect display. She pulls her bottom lip down with her finger, locking eyes with me. “Maybe you need to teach Coach a lesson.”
“Jesus, woman.” I step forward, closing the space between us, our bodies only inches apart, the heat radiating off us in waves that prick my skin. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, your pussy—”
Before I can continue, her lips crash against mine, her kisses eager and hungry, and she slips her tongue into my mouth with an animalistic passion I haven’t seen from her before.
Her apartment is already open, so I reach down and grab her ass in my hands, lifting her onto my rock-hard erection as she wraps her long legs around my back. After almost two weeks on the road, I had to get off on the thought of her legs in this very position.
Charlotte hooks her arms around my neck, threading her fingers together, neither of us coming up for air. I want to explore every part of her body, take my time and make her beg me to come, but when I slow down, she speeds up, her kisses becoming angry and more violent. If that’s what she wants, then I have no problem giving it to her.
