Page 5 of Ruthless Deliverance

“There are ways to beg with more than just your words.” His face lowers, moving just a few inches from mine.

“Get out of my way. Now.”

“Make me.” His words sound teasing, like a dare, and I’m prepared to do just that. But fuck, surely I’ll get kicked out of this school if I injure two dickheads in the same day.

“I will. So, it’s your decision. Get out of my way or join your buddy with a bruised ego.”

A low laugh rises from his chest, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “I’m not so easily handled. I have one question for you, then you can be on your way.”

It’s worth a shot to hope he’ll back off. “What is it?” And please don’t be a question that I’m not ready to answer.

“Who taught you that move?”

“What?” I ask, shaking my head once I realize what he’s talking about the move that resulted in his friend’s bloody nose. “Why? Want to learn it in case someone grabs your ass?”

“Who was it?” His tone is a bit stern, less teasing this time.

For once, I can tell the truth. “My dad. Happy now?”

“Hm.” Is all he says, but of course he doesn’t back away after receiving the answer to his question. Instead, he adds, “Daddy’s girl.”

“No.” Not in the slightest.

Apparently, my answer reveals more than it should as he says, “Ah. Daddy issues,” in the understatement of the year. But it’s something I’d rather not discuss—especially with Creed of all people.

“Move out of my way.” I don’t think he’s going to listen, so I’m both shocked and relieved when he lets loose of the chair and backs away, resuming a relaxed position with his ass on the side of the desk. Snatching my bag, I pull the strap onto my shoulder and hurriedly stand before walking towards the door.

His question stops me in my tracks when he asks, “So, is there a pitiful chump somewhere out there thinking you’re his girl?”

Slowly turning, I look at him in disbelief. Surely this isn’t his approach to dating. I know things might have changed a little in the five years since I graduated, but I’m doubtful it’s changed all that much. “What does it matter to you?”

He pushes off the desk, strolling across the office to stop in front of me. “It doesn’t. Because whether you have some fuckboy or not, you’re mine now.”

“Yours?” I ask, pushing away a nervous laugh as I look head-on at the delusional asshat.

Leaning forward, his lips are nearly touching mine as he says, “Every jagged piece.” He reaches up, his thumb gently swiping along my jawline before he steps around me, opens the door, and walks away. It all went down so quickly, I’m left standing in a daze wondering what the hell just happened. The only thing I know is everyone at this school is on some good shit because they’re all out of their minds. Hopefully, my time in this building won’t have the same effect.

5

CREED

“Kincaid, get your ass over here,” Coach Walker calls from across the field.

I don’t have to guess what he’s pissy about when I turn to look. Beau stands next to him, flapping his arms in the air, his yell carrying across the field. “Ask him. I’m fine. It was nothing.” Beau points to his bandaged nose.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Coach states, and I have to agree. Now that I’m getting a full-on look at the damage, it’s a little gnarly. The bruising around his eyes trails down, disappearing under the medical tape until it pops out again to join the redness all around his nose.

“Damn. She really did a number on you.”

Coach appears slightly in the dark but doesn’t ask questions. “I need a clearance confirmation, not reassurance from your pal that you can play. You’re on the bench until you hand me a doctor’s release form.”

“This is bullshit.” Beau throws his arm in the air, shouting as he winces a bit. Obviously still in some pain, he finally concedes and plops his ass on the bench, throwing his helmet to the ground.

Coach looks to me. “And you. Your face is intact, but your arm has been shit all afternoon.”

Can’t argue with his assessment. I’ve felt it more often than not lately, but today it’s reached a low. The lowest, I hope. I’ve gotta turn it around.

Coach doesn’t pause for an excuse. He knows he won’t get one from me. I’ll fix the problem. Only, I’ve been trying to fix this problem all summer. “If the shoulder’s still bothering you, I need to know now, not next week or when we get our ass kicked at the game.”