Shit. I don’t want her taking the blame for this.
Tears stream down her face, and I hug her. She wraps around me like a koala bear. “Don’t cry, biscuit.” I kiss her temple. “I don’t regret hitting him. In fact, I enjoyed it. Maybe a little too much. My one regret is where it happened. If I was smart, I would’ve kicked his ass in a dark corner of campus.” I sigh. “But that sounds kinda psycho, and while I’m admittedly reckless sometimes, I’m not a total freak.”
She buries her face in my neck. “Thank you for defending me. No one has ever stood up for me like that before.” She hiccups. “Except that time you also stood up for me with Coach.”
The vulnerability in her voice hits me like a two-by-four. “I really…”Love you.The words get caught in my throat.
It’s a terrifying thought. Because I swore to myself I’d never get so wrapped up in a woman that I’d lose my shit, and yet that’s exactly what happened tonight. It feels like I’m floating on the open sea without a life jacket. I know fuck-all about healthy relationships. My father turned my mom into a shell of a person, and I seriously doubt he’s been faithful. What if I’m no better? What if, deep down, I’m the same kind of scum?
I blow out a breath. Roxy barely agreed to fake-date me, so I’m guessing she doesn’t want proclamations of love right now. Though, shit, I really didn’t need to get so emotionally involved in this situation with her. This is ten times more complicated than I ever expected it to be.
But would I do things any differently?
I consider that scenario. I wouldn’t be living with her now. Wouldn’t have her in my lap. Wouldn’t be able to kiss her whenever I wanted to. Wouldn’t be able to cuddle her at night. Wouldn’t be having the best sex of my life with a woman I’m crazy about. I’d be living like a heathen at the football house, fucking random chicks and waking up the next morning feeling numb.
So no, I wouldn’t do anything different, because now I need to see where this thing goes. I’m all fucking in with this woman. “I care about you, Roxy. I’ll always defend you.”
“I really care about you too.” She sniffles. “Maybe next time, though, don’t use your fist.”
I smile and squeeze her tight. “It’s a deal.”
My eye catches on the coffee table, where our phones keep lighting up with texts and calls. We both silenced our ringers on the way home.
“Guess I can’t shut out the world forever.” I scoot her to the couch and grab my cell.
Not surprisingly, Coach has called me three times. Fuck.
“Has your dad called you?” I ask. After she scans her phone, she bites her bottom lip, looking freaked out. “It’s okay, baby. Lay it on me.”
“He texted and said you’d better call him ASAP or you’re off the team.”
My heart drops. I knew Coach would be upset, but kicking me off the team seems excessive.
I pull up his number, but before I can hit call, his name lights up my screen.
Speak of the devil.
When I answer, he doesn’t give me a chance to say anything other than hello. “What the hell were you thinking, Babcock? Did you really punch the number one draft prospect in the middle of a bar?”
“Coach, don’t you want to know why I hit him?”
“There’s nothing you can say to justify your actions, not one damn thing, so don’t fucking try.” He starts yelling so loudly, I pull the phone away from my ear.
Roxy whispers, “Do you want me to talk to him?”
I shake my head. What kind of man would I be if I needed to hide behind my pint-sized girlfriend?
When I return the phone to my ear, he’s still shouting. “So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your ass to the field house at five a.m. You’re running the stadium stairs until I say stop.”
Click.
Shit. Coach is pissed.
31
ROXY
I can’t handle seeingBilly like this. He’s always such a force of nature, but right now, with his head in his hands, he looks defeated.
