Page 13 of Quarterback Keeper

“Lots to do tonight?”

I frowned, not liking his tone. “Yep. You’re not my keeper.” Because he needed me to give his mother her wish, I was his, though. It made me want to laugh until the weight of my situation crashed back into my thoughts. He sort of had the upper hand, and I didn’t like it. Nor would I let him think that. “You’re the one who needs my help. So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leaned over the bedside table and withdrew a small black box. When he opened it and took out a ring, I froze.

“Here.” Gently, he took my left hand and slid the large solitaire emerald cut diamond set in a white gold band on my finger. I was too shocked to do or say anything.

“We need to publicly announce our engagement to show my parents we’re serious.”

“Wait.” I leaned back, words filling my head once more. “There’s no reason to go to extremes. We told your mom. We’ll keep playing that game. She’ll buy into it.” I purposely ignored the heavy weight on my hand. “And what’s this parents thing? We only talked about convincing your mom we were serious.”

“My dad is a problem that needs to be contained. My mom is skeptical, and our deal was to ensure she’s happy and secure that my future is what she’s hoping it’ll be. She wants to see me happy.” He gestured to the ring. “That’ll help. Please wear it.”

Tension rolled off him in waves. He looked miserable, and I got it after meeting his mom and seeing how close they were. She was dying. It was her last wish, and he wanted to do whatever he could to give it to her, even if it wasn’t real. And that was the kicker—I had to help sell it so she would have peace. That meant the ring stayed. I didn’t like it, but I would deal.

I wasn’t immune to his plight. I wished I’d had more time with my mom, with my uncle. Kylian’s time with his mom was finite, and what she wanted wasn’t a bad thing. Even the game he and I were playing was out of love.

“Look, I get it. And I’ll do my part by allowing a bare minimum of touching to convince her we’re the real deal. But that’s it. Flag on the play, QB1. We aren’t announcing our engagement publicly.”

“We have to.” Elbows on his knees, he ran his fingers through his hair, looking all kinds of tortured. “My mom wasn’t exaggerating. Ever since that stupid fucking hundred-most-eligible-bachelors article came out, I’m newsworthy. We can’tavoid the reporters. It’ll get out. Better that we control the press than it controls us.”

“You posed for that picture in the magazine. It isn’t like you’ve exactly shied away from it. But I don’t have to be a part of the publicity drive.”And I won’t let him risk my safety and peace of mind so he can stay in the spotlight.

“I’ll give you ten thousand more to announce our engagement publicly.”

“No.” I would rather die than put a picture in the paper or online, which would lead Dayton right to my doorstep—or Kylian’s doorstep, as it were. I came to Chicago to hide. To get lost in the chaos of the population, to be invisible. I couldn’t do a widely viewed photo shoot with him, and since he was pretty much a guaranteed first-round draft pick, it would be national news. “No fucking way.”

“Fine. Twenty thousand.”

“Nope.” I didn’t even twitch.But he did, right around his sexy—I mean stubborn—mouth.

He narrowed his eyes. “Thirty.”

Something slammed, or dropped, outside of Kylian’s room, and I started, my body trembling. I took a deep breath, willing myself to regain control, doing my best to ignore Kylian’s narrowed eyes. Yeah, he caught my reaction. It wouldn’t take long for him to realize I wasn’t quite right. Pushing that worry away, I dealt with the more pressing one as I tried to hide my internal response.

I looked at my nails, desperately trying to ignore the icky feeling of panic crawling up my spine from the loud noise and, even worse, from him using money to get me to do something. “Not happening.”

He stood, seething, fists clenched by his sides. “Why the fuck not?”

“Oh, hell no.” I motioned between us. I didn’t like how he’d moved or the frustration that pinched his lips. “We’re not doing this.”

“Fifty K.”

I launched myself out of the chair, anxious about the way he was tossing money around—just like Dayton—and carefully skirted around him. Then I stormed out of his condo. My finger punched the elevator button repeatedly as I cursed about not knowing where the stairs were. I could feel him approaching behind me, but I heard one of his roommates get up, stop him, and ask what was happening. It endeared me to the roommate in ways he would never know because I wouldn’t tell him. But I needed someone on my side, and in that moment, he was—I was pretty sure it was Ares.

The elevator doors opened, and I hit the close button until they slid shut. Kylian’s heated gaze burned into me the entire time. A cold sweat covered my forehead, and I wiped it away with shaky fingers as I sagged against the back wall. Kylian hadn’t made me nervous. It was the thought of the press taking my picture. Dayton would find me, and no level of security on that boat would keep me safe. I’d already broken in once. I wasn’t confident his fear of water would stop him from coming for me if he found out I was dating someone else. And when he found me…

On the sidewalk, beneath a streetlamp, my vision tunneled. The blackness grew in my peripheral vision, and my airway restricted as my breath sawed in and out. I’d had enough panic attacks toward the end of my time with Dayton to recognize what it was. My thoughts spun, and with frantic, jerky movements, I spied a diner ahead.

Keep going.I had to make it to a booth, fall into it, and order a coffee. They would leave me alone for a while. I could get myself under control then.

Where will I go if the option to stay on the boat is gone?I had a crap phone and only a small bag with the few things I’d managed to grab while escaping Dayton.

Time crawled and sped forward weirdly as I pushed through the diner’s entrance. Once in a booth, I ordered coffee then sat with my hands curled around the mug, absorbing the warmth. It was September and not as hot as it had been earlier in the evening. Still, I was freezing. I counted each breath, focusing on slowing it down.

Then, when I felt like I could draw in air without hyperventilating, I counted five things I could see, touch, smell, and taste. The condiments in the metal container at the edge of my table—ketchup, mustard, salt, pepper, and a smaller container with jams and sugars. Silverware clinked against plates while people ate. Conversation buzzed around me. The waitress’s shoes squeaked. The noises helped ground me. The bell jingled as someone left or entered. The mug felt warm and comforting in my hands, and the bitter taste of the coffee hit my tongue as I sipped the hot liquid.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, but with each minute that ticked by, the world around me settled as I convinced myself I was safe. Dayton wouldn’t find me. Kylian hadn’t reached for me in anger. He couldn’t make me tell the press. There would be no pictures, no alerts sent to Dayton’s phone.

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