Page 26 of Mr. Irrelevant
“You’re wrong,” I say, lifting my chin confidently. “I meanteverythingI said and did. I put one hundred percent of myself into our relationship. I understood and respected your job, and spent so many lonely nights while you were on the road without so much as a phone call to say you missed me. You didn’t listen to the things I wanted, but I stayed anyway because I thought I loved you. I don’t even blame you for the way we ended, since I willingly put us there by not leaving the minute you started trying to mold me into someone I could never be. But I know better now, Deacon. I have someone who shows me every day that my opinions matter and that I have so much to offer. He likesme—the real me—and he’s never once asked me to tone it down. If I belong with anyone, it’s him, not you. So, no. I don’t want totry again.”
By the time my rant is over, my chest is heaving as my heart pounds like a drum inside my rib cage. I don’t even realize the words I just vomited all over the place until Deacon’s brows pull tight in confusion, the vein in his forehead visible as his fists clench at his sides.
“You’re seeing someone? Who is it?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
In an instant, I go from not even being aware of the things flying out of my mouth to being hyperaware ofeverything—including the fact that I answered the door wearing only Maddox’s team-issued hoodie. I swiped it from his house earlier because I didn’t want to wear my own clothes home, and I kept it on because it smells like him. He’s over a foot taller than me, so I’m covered almost to my knees, which I’m thankful for because thelast thing I need is for my ex to see me half naked. But what I’m not hiding well is the bright purple number thirteen embroidered right above the wrist cuff…in plain sight. Immediately, I go on high alert, bringing my arm around my back to keep him from noticing it. He probably wouldn’t have, but that doesn’t stop my intrusive thoughts from telling me I’m already busted.
“It’s…nobody,” I rush out. “You don’t know him. Plus, it’s none of your business. You shouldn’t have come here, Deacon.” I reach out, wrapping my fingers around the edge of the door and pushing it into him, but my efforts are thwarted when my phone begins vibrating across the table next to us. I turn my head, watching in horror as MADDOX DANE flashes across the screen in big, bright letters.
My blood runs cold, and I whip my head toward Deacon, eyes as big as saucers. I know I’m fucked, but the irrational corner of my brain is still hoping that by some chance, he either became nearsighted or illiterate within the last five minutes. I swallow thickly, the lump in my throat feeling like a tennis ball as his face twists in bewilderment. “Why the fuck is Maddox Dane FaceTiming you at eleven o’clock at night?” I try to come up with something, but I’m a terrible liar, unable to think on my feet. There’s no logical reason he would be calling meat all, let alone right before midnight the evening before a game. Nothing I could say would make him any less suspicious, so I decide not to give him any type of explanation, real or otherwise.
“You need to leave,” I say firmly, pushing against the door as hard as I can. He protests loudly, butthankfully, backs away, allowing me to close him out in the hallway as the automatic lock engages with a softclick. I turn, pressing my back against the hard wood and dropping my face into my hands. Every bad scenario plays over in my head, hoping Deacon doesn’t run his mouth about the fact that Maddox and I are obviously more than just a player and his owner’s daughter. I don’t necessarily think my dad would be irate with me about our friendship, but if he found out that I’ve been secretly coaching Maddox multiple times a week—which could be seen as me undermining his staff—that wouldn’t go over well.
What started as a desperate grab for a few wins has grown into something much larger, both personally and professionally. I have no idea what will happen next with me and Maddox, but I can imagine my ex won’t stay quiet about what he saw—especially since I rejected him two minutes earlier, then all but slammed the door in his face.
Well done, Livvy. What a nice little mess you’ve made for everyone around you.
TWENTY-FIVE
MADDOX
“Trips right,twenty-two smash on three. Got it?” I ask my teammates as we stand in the first huddle of the day. We won the coin toss, sending the Impact’s offense out first, which resulted in a quick punt. Now it’s our turn to put some points on the board. We always do better when we get the momentum rolling early, instead of having to play catch-up in the second half. So, I’m hoping this drive has a good result.
They all nod in agreement, responding with one single, sharp clap as we take our places at the line of scrimmage. I look around, scanning the defense and calling out to my line so they know to watch for the blitz. The home crowd cheers loudly, their deafening wails making it nearly impossible for my guys to hear me, but I do my best to project my voice as I crouch down and yell the cadence.
“Red seventeen! Red seventeen! Hut, hut, hut!” Boomer snaps the ball into my waiting hands, and I roll back, watching as my three receivers take off on theirroutes. This play is designed to have all my targets off to the right, so my attention is focused in that direction when I’m hit from my blind side…hard. I barely even have time to protect the ball, somehow managing to tuck it into my chest just before I drop to the ground violently. A large body crashes down on top of me, forcing all the air from my lungs as whistles sound from every direction. I wait for the defender to get up since the play was blown dead, but he just lies there, pressing me down with his full weight before speaking quietly into the ear hole of my helmet. I immediately recognize Underwood’s stupid-ass voice, his words putting me on high alert as soon as they leave his mouth.
“You can have my sloppy seconds, but it’s going to cost you. All day long, bitch.”
What’s that supposed to mean? Does heknow?
No. How would he?
I’ve been dreading this game for weeks. Not because I’m scared of him, but because I want to act on my instinct to protect Livvy. He treated her like shit—made her feel like she wasn’t worthy of him—and he deserves to have his ass beat for it. But I wouldn’t be able to do that without getting thrown out of the game and possibly outing that she and I have secretly been seeing each other, so I can’t. And now that he’s acting like he knows more than he should, I’m not sure what to do. I guess my only choice is to deny it, at least until she and I can talk.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I grunt, twisting my body in an attempt to break free. He forces my head into the grass, but I do my best to staycalm, rolling out from under him. He follows as I push to my feet, getting right in my face. I don’t back down, pressing my chest protector into his as a dark, condescending smile stretches across his face
“Oh, I think you do,” he says on an arrogant laugh, shoving me back. Before I can even think to retaliate, he’s pulled away by several teammates, who probably just assume we’re having the type of scuffle that often happens between plays. The fans already have us pegged as division rivals because of our comparable records, so it wouldn’t be surprising to them if things got a little heated on the field. But depending on how much Deacon knows, this may have just gotten personal.
“What the hell was that?” Jett says as I return to the huddle, where everyone waits for me to tell them what we’re doing next. I try to shake off everything that just happened, knowing I can’t let him get in my head. Livvy and I have worked too fucking hard for me to get rattled and blow an important division game, so I lock in, listening as the play comes through the speaker in my helmet.
I ignore the question, not wanting to break my focus. “Thirty-eight, crack toss on two. Let’s open a nice little hole for Rhodes, alright?” It’s a fairly simple run play, as long as my linemen hit their blocks, which will create a path for our running back. Wesley Rhodes is built like a Mack truck, with the kind of speed that seems almost unnatural for a man with thighs as big as tree trunks. If he has an opening and can get throughthe Impact linebackers, this play will certainly pick up the yards we just lost on the sack.
The huddle disperses, and we set up the play, Wes readying himself for the handoff behind me. My eyes slide over to Deacon as I try to read the defense, and I’m immediately annoyed by the way he’s staring at me with that same shit-eating grin on his face. Whatever he knows about me and Livvy is probably bullshit anyway, since the only time we’ve spent together has either been at my place or the practice field, out of the view of any security cameras. For all I know, he could just be bluffing because I play for the team her dad owns. I’ve heard at least half of my teammates talk about how hot Liv and her sister are, so it wouldn’t be dumb of him to assume I would feel the same way. Which I do, but unlike them, I actually get to have her every night.
With a new air of confidence at the thought, I shout out the cadence, signaling for the snap. In an instant, the ball is in Wes’ hands, and he pauses for a split second, pushing through a hole as the line does their job. I watch as he jukes the first defender, gaining about fifteen yards before the safety finally brings him down. Cheering loudly, I celebrate the first down before signaling to my guys that we’re going with a hurry-up offense. Bypassing the huddle while the clock continues to run sends the Impact defense into a tizzy as they struggle to coordinate and settle into their formation. I take that as the perfect opportunity to make the call, letting the offense know what we’re running. It’s a play-action pass, so as soon as Boomer snaps the ball, I make a fakehandoff to Rhodes. It has the intended effect, throwing everyone off for a split second, which is just enough time for Emmett to run his route and find an open lane.
I don’t waste another second, sending a deep pass downfield. It’s an absolute beauty, thanks to Livvy noticing all the issues with my form and helping me fix them. Before her, I struggled with my long ball, but now I feel like it’s become second nature. Once again, her instruction pays off, because Emmett makes an effortless catch, pulling a quick spin move past the free safety and breaking the plane into the end zone. The stadium erupts as Renegades fans go absolutely wild, their deafening screams cutting through the cool, crisp Lake Erie air. I bet people driving along the interstate can hear, and I fucking love it.
“Fuck yeah, Hayes!” I shout through cupped hands as I head toward where my teammates are already celebrating. But before I can even move, a heavy fist wraps around the collar of my shoulder pads, catching me off guard.
“Hey, man,” Deacon says, a cocky grin plastered across his face. “Sorry Liv couldn’t answer your call last night. She was a little busy.” My blood freezes in my veins, my heart dropping into my stomach as soon as her name leaves his mouth. How the fuck does he know I called her…and that she didn’t answer? As far as I know, she was headed to bed when we hung up, but I had the overwhelming urge to see her one last time before I fell asleep. I assumed she was already out, so I sent her a text that said I’d talk to her after the game, and we haven’t spoken since. But the way he’s talking has me thinking she had a different reason for not picking up.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I grit through clenched teeth. I’m vaguely aware of Coach Hendricks yelling at me to get to the sideline as the field goal unit sets up for the extra point, but I’m frozen, my entire body wound tight with tension as I wait for him to answer.
He throws his head back, laughing loudly. The sound has me ready to crawl out of my own skin, the tips of my ears going hot as anger flows through me. “I dropped by her apartment last night to say hello. Let’s just say we made up for lost time.” He pauses, lifting his chin. “Pussy was a little used up, but it got the job done.”
