Quarterback Keeper (Fall Lake Ballers #1)

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

GIA

K ylian’s words to his mom about me being “the one” hadn’t been real. My fingers shook as I clicked my seat belt into place. Light shone through the windows from the streetlights’ soft glow, which illuminated rows of parked cars along the street. As we left his mom’s place after dinner, Kylian seemed to be in a mood. I was conflicted and, as he pulled away from the curb, taking turns faster than I was comfortable with, agitated.

The stereo’s bass reverberated through the back of my seat and into my chest. “Where are we going?” My hands curled around the door handle as Kylian wove in and out of traffic, making me nervous as his foot pressed the gas harder. As I tracked the street names and landmarks, I realized we weren’t driving to the marina. “Hey!” My voice pierced through the loud music as I pressed my body against the door. My heart pounded in my chest, but I refused to paint Kylian in the same light as my ex. He hadn’t done anything, and I was stronger than that. “I asked you a question.”

“Relax. We’re going to my place to talk.”

“Are you for real? Relax? Did you want to get into a fight?” Idiot. I embraced anger over fear. Because really… telling me to relax? And I was ignoring how I’d told him the same thing when we stood in front of his mom’s apartment door. Totally different. “This could be our first argument as a fake couple.”

We stopped at a light, and he rubbed his eyes with his fingers, his weariness tangible. “Wrong word choice. I thought it would be good for you to see where I lived and maybe meet my roommates so you’re not blindsided by questions in the future.”

The brewing urge to fight with Kylian left me. I eased back in my seat, uncurling stiff fingers from the door handle. “Fine.” I couldn’t lie. I was a little curious about where Mr. Hotshot Football Star lived—mainly because I loved watching the sport. I had fond memories of watching weekend games on the TV and a feast I cooked with my uncle for every single one. When Dayton came around, he barely contained his disdain for football. I’d given up too much for Dayton—the tradition of food and football I’d had with my uncle was one thing among many.

We drove in silence until we pulled into an underground parking lot beneath a beautiful, nine-story building. I took note of the doorman. And were those reporters? I quickly turned my head away and raised my hand to block their view, worried they’d taken a picture of us as we’d pulled in. A camera had been angled toward the SUV, and a flash had gone off. Kylian parked, and I shoved the worry away. I was probably mistaken and overly paranoid.

As I got out of his SUV, his hand rested on the small of my back, and the same jolt of unwanted electricity from the last time he’d touched me shot through my body. I eased away and, instead, latched onto the annoyance from tilting my head so much just to glare at him. “No one’s here. You don’t get to touch me when it’s not for show.”

It wasn’t being touched that bothered me. It was how it happened. I wasn’t scared of men, or sex, but I was terrified of violence. I’d had enough time to lessen my reactions around people unless someone moved fast and in just the right way. It was a trigger, one I hoped I would heal from and escape.

“If my touch makes you pull away, then we need to do it more. It’s not a big deal.”

It was a big deal. I was too aware of him. I didn’t want to feel any sort of attraction. And how my body reacted to his—that alone was dangerous because my mind wasn’t ready. I didn’t trust him, not yet.

“These little things make us look comfortable together. Right now, we aren’t, so I’ll keep doing things like that or holding your hand. And before you try to deny it, my mom picked up on it.”

He stabbed at the elevator button, then his hand brushed against my back again. A shiver climbed my spine, and I bit my lip to stop from telling him to back off. His hand fell away as we stepped inside and turned to face the doors that closed with a quiet whoosh. He was on the top floor and had to use some card in front of the scanner to propel the elevator into motion.

Why am I not surprised by all this?

Dayton had money. Loads of it. More than he knew what to do with, and he threw it around to control situations that didn’t go his way—including me. Trust-fund kids. What’s that life even like? I had a taste of it with him until he soured my palate with his controlling ways. I’d lost too much of myself just to please him. Nothing was worth putting up with how he’d treated me. Making a run for it was the best decision I’d made from the moment I’d agreed to go on a date with him, a few months after my uncle had passed away.

I shook my head, dislodging the memories, and focused on what Kylian would show me instead. The doors opened to a hallway with only two doors on either end. We went left, and after he opened it, we stepped into a small foyer that led into the living room. From their spots on the couch, two huge guys played a video game on a large TV.

One glanced in our direction, his eyes widening when they landed on me. “Hey, Kyl. How’s your mom doing?”

“Tired but good.”

He grabbed my hand, and I let him lead me into the living room. A gorgeous kitchen sat to our right, and I got caught up in the Viking appliances and quartz countertops. I wanted to cook in there so badly. It’d been too long, and the boat didn’t count with its smaller galley and sparce pots and pans.

I stumbled, and his hand tightened around mine. Heat climbed my cheeks, and I ignored the kitchen, paying attention to where we were going. We stopped to the side of where his roommates sat.

“Gia, this is Ares and Liam,” Kylian introduced us after they paused the game.

“Hi.” I took in their wide shoulders and athletic builds. Their smiles were friendly, and I sensed nothing malicious behind their relaxed mannerisms.

“Nice to meet you.” The one I thought was Ares was the bigger of the two and wore a faded gray-and-blue Fall Lake football T-shirt.

The tension between my shoulder blades eased. He had a chill vibe for the most part. And bonus, he kept his kind topaz eyes on my face. I liked him immediately.

“Hey.” Liam’s voice was smooth and deep as his green eyes traveled from the top of my head to my toes then back up again. A slow, sexy smile curved his chiseled face. He, too, was gorgeous. And the scar on his cheekbone only enhanced his appeal—not to me, of course. But I imagined women in general would find him irresistible.

Heartbreaker. I pegged him as a womanizer. But maybe a harmless one? My instincts didn’t scream at me to make a run for it.

“We ordered out,” Ares said. “Leftovers are in the fridge if you guys are still hungry. But I imagine not after Evalyn cooked dinner. Man, I miss going with you.”

“Thanks, but we’re good.” Kylian nudged me toward one of the doors. “We’ve got a few things to talk about.”

“I bet you do,” Liam said quietly, but the sound traveled.

Kylian shut the door behind us. “Ignore them.”

“Planned on it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and took in his room. It was larger than I expected. I could see a little of the en suite bathroom but not enough. I wanted to explore everything. The room had white walls and dark-gray accents from the bedspread. A desk, computer, and dresser made up the rest of the furniture. It was surprisingly clean and didn’t smell like a sweaty guy, which shocked me. Aren’t all college athletes slobs? In my limited experience, they were.

I eyed the choices warily, crossed the room to the desk chair, and sat.

He took the bed. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his lips twitched.

I wasn’t there for his amusement. It was time I reminded him. “Let’s get this over with. I want to get out of here.”

“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’t avoid 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.

He won’t find me. I’m safe. I silently repeated the mantra until I believed it, and the tension slowly drained out of me.

“How ya doing, sweetheart?”

I smiled at Val, the waitress who’d filled my coffee twice already. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Want anything else? Or just more coffee?”

“One more.”

“You stay here as long as you want, darling.”

I smiled, grateful as she filled my cup to the brim. I added creamer and stirred until the coffee was a caramel color. Calm down. He won’t find me.