Page 94 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
And I hate it. I hate it so fucking much.
“It’s one headline man, don’t let it get to you.”
I snap out of it when I hear Maddox and feel him slap me on the shoulder. “Oh. Yeah. It’s bullshit. I talked to Coach. He knows it’s bullshit too.”
Maddox takes a seat in front of his locker, which is just a little down from mine, but we’re the only two still here besides the coaches and a few players working out with the physical therapists.
“Do you know why he wrote it?”
“No fucking clue,” I say. “It’s not so much that. The thing that’s bugging me is that the writer kept saying that everything was coming from a someone close to me. But I have no idea who the hell that is, and if they are, why they’re trying to do me like this?”
“Damn, really?” Maddox shakes his head a little. “Is it anyone from the team?”
“Not that I can think of,” I say. “Wyatt is the only one who really knows everything about my past. You know the next amount, but I don’t think it was everything that was written. And the only one who has it out bad enough for me to plant that shit is Rockwell, but again, he’d have to be working with someone to find out about some of those things that happened almost fifteen years ago.”
The reporter did his homework. He described a fight I got in at school where I bashed a kid’s head into the pavement. I was thirteen. What he left out was that it was the first day of school after my parents died, and the kid called me an orphan. I snapped. But again, no one knows that part. Hell, only a few knew about that fight. Whoever his source was, they know every one of my skeletons. Even ones I thought were buried.
Shit, are there more that I’ve forgotten about? I’m not a paranoid guy, but I can’t help but feel it right now.
“Well, we all have your back,” Maddox says. “I know if any one of the guys here are asked about you, they’re going to tell the truth—that you’re a hell of a teammate and the past is the past.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I just hope they don’t ask Rockwell.”
Maddox waves my comment off. “Fuck that guy. I hope the rumors are true, and he gets traded. He’s a cancer in the locker room. Plus, he doesn’t have the karaoke voice you have.”
I laugh at Maddox’s successful attempt to turn my mood around. “That was a crazy night.”
“It was,” he says. “Speaking of, how is Miss Ainsley?”
“Good. Really good,” I say as I start gathering my things into my duffel bag. “Actually heading to the hospital now to see her.”
“Really? Mind if I tag along?” Maddox asks as he grabs his bag from his locker. “And I’m not trying to kill your vibe; I just like to go do some impromptu visits every now and then.”
“For real?”
He shrugs it off like it’s not a big deal as we make our way out of the locker room. “I hate seeing those kids like that. Most days, what they have to look forward to is hopefully not getting worse. If I can swing in and brighten some spirits? It’s the least I can do.”
This man is a fucking enigma. One minute he’s bedding half of Nashville and the next he’s making secrets visits to a children’s hospital. He’s the one columnists should be writing about, but instead of his football prowess, they should be talking about what the hell goes on in his head.
“That’s fucking awesome,” I say patting him on the back. “I usually take dinner to her and we eat on her break. If you don’t mind making a stop for food, you’re more than welcome. And maybe I can do some visits after?”
“Hell, yeah,” he says. “And did I hear dinner? What are we getting?”
I laugh as we get our bags and make our way out of the locker room. “She wants Mexican. Specifically queso.”
“Fuck, yeah, I want Mexican,” he says. “Grab me a steak quesadilla. But I’ll eat it later. I’d hate to interrupt date night.”
“It’s not date night,” I say as I pull my phone out of my pocket and find the closest Mexican restaurant to the hospital so I can put in our order and pick it up on the way. “It’s just what we do on Mondays.”
“Yes. Exactly. Monday night date night. It’s quite adorable.”
“You’re an ass,” I say, taking a second to make sure I order my entree, the largest order of queso possible, salsa in case shewants it but forgot to tell me, extra chips because that feels like the safe move, and a taco. Except she didn’t tell me what kind. Better get a chicken and a beef, just to be safe.
“So how are things going with you two?” Maddox asks as we get into my car.
“All good. We’re getting into a groove. You know, with football season and all.”
“And is this still a fake relationship, or are you two actually dating?”
