Page 16 of Striker's Foul
She’s quiet for a moment before continuing in a soft voice. “I wanted to look for you, but in the beginning, I was just focused on settling in and finishing school. I wasn’t going to tie you down if you wanted out.”
“I didn’t want out.” I turn toward her. “Your father said you’d accused me of raping you. I never took any money from him.”
She bolts upright, then groans from the sudden movement.
“I never accused you of anything.”
“I never wanted out. I have a feeling dear Harold played us against each other. Was your mother involved in breaking us up too?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She lies back down. “In her suicide letter, she said one of her regrets was not knowing what Haroldhad planned. She wished she could have spared both of us. I didn’t understand what she meant until now.”
“So your father fucked us both over.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever sleep with Julian?” I ask, needing to know.
“No. We were just friends. He’s only ever hugged me, that’s all.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to kill him after he saved my life numerous times.”
She coughs out a chuckle. “I find it so weird. I’d heard stories about all of you from time to time, but never any names or real details. Like the one about the guy who spit milk out his nose when the girl on your team said she had bigger balls than her partner.”
I smirk, remembering that moment. “Rogue said she had bigger balls than Gambit, and Deere shot milk out his nose at me. That was a good time. It was before Deere was killed.”
“I heard about that, and how the team was disbanded. My papa was a Vietnam veteran. He talked to Julian about his time in service. It was Julian who helped him get medical care for his chemical exposures during the war and got him to see specialists. He knew how much I loved my papa.”
“Did you ever date?” I ask the next question weighing on my mind.
“No. Jude has been my sole focus, him and finishing my degree. Besides, after you, no one could compare. I had an Olympic soccer player who was going to the Cup. How do I top that?” She laughs and rolls to her back again.
“I never went. The sheriff was going to charge me with rape. I was given the choice of prison or the military.”
“That’s what he meant last week when he said he never should have given you a choice.”
“Your dad—” I start, but she huffs. “I mean, Harold really hates me. I don’t know why.”
“I don’t either, but I’m sure the man who attacked me tonight was sent by him.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice growing quieter.
She sets the ice pack on her nightstand, and soon, her soft snores follow. I should get up and go to the spare bedroom, but instead, I fall asleep next to my angel.
Asound wakes me, and my body goes on alert. Then I hear it again. A soft moan. I turn toward Amelia and see my angel writhing on the bed, her legs scissoring under the covers. I can’t stop myself even if I wanted to. I roll over her body and kiss her cheek. She moans louder, then her eyes pop open.
“You need something, angel?” Even to my ears, my voice sounds rougher than normal.
She tries to roll away, but I press the lower half of my body onto hers, trapping her, careful not to put any weight on her ribs or chest.
“It’s nothing.” She tries to squirm from under me.
“Angel, if you need something, all you have to do is ask me. I won’t deny you.”
She turns her head toward me. “Please,” she says softly. “I ache so much for you. It’s only ever been you.”
“Thank fuck,” I growl as I rise up and rip the blankets from between us.
