Playing for Keeps (Texas Scoundrels), page 20
He gave her a withering look. “And what do you suggest I do for a living?”
“You could work as a commentator,” she said. “Austin always watches the pre-game shows every week with those old football players, Terry Bradshaw and Howie Long. They don’t look as if they’re starving.”
“Old football players?” He cocked a brow. “Thanks a lot, Sister.”
She curled her feet beneath her and clutched the coffee mug in her hands. “You know what I mean. Retired pros.”
He turned away, unable to face her, the truth, or his own fear. He didn't know which, or maybe he just wanted to continue to avoid the inevitable. He paced to the fireplace and propped his foot on the hearth, resting his injured arm on his upraised knee. “What if I don’t want to retire?”
But he had been thinking about it. A lot. Hadn’t that been part of the reason he’d spent three days in Dallas in meeting after meeting? He didn’t have to continue with the game. He didn’t need the money. But he didn’t want to give it all up, either. Or was it the fame he wasn’t willing to let go?
“Can you honestly compete to the best of your ability?”
“I don’t know any more,” he said.
She stood and came to stand beside him. “I’ve seen you play, Jed. It’s impossible not to since Austin never misses a game. Can you still create that same magic, or whatever it is you do out there on the football field?”
He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t bear to see the truth in her eyes. Hearing it in her words was hard enough for him to face. “What if someone told you that you could no longer do what you wanted?”
She laughed, a caustic little sound that had him looking at her. The expression in her eyes was chilling in its intensity. “I just lost my business, remember? I know what you’re feeling. You don’t know what you’re going to do with your life. I have skills to fall back on. Surely you majored in something useful in college.”
He ignored her sarcasm and straightened. “I made sure I earned my degree. I have a bachelors in history with a teaching credential.”
She propped her slender backside against the Queen Anne desk and wrapped her long slim fingers around the edge. “What had you planned on doing before you went pro?”
“Get my master’s, maybe my Ph.D., and teach.”
Her eyes widened in surprise and he tried not to take offense.
“Then do it,” she said.
She made it sound so easy. Only it wasn’t. “It’s a little late to be starting a new career.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Griff, I’m thirty-five years old.”
“Wait, I’ll alert the nursing home.”
He really didn’t appreciate her sass, but he got the point. There older than average college students embarking on new career fields, especially in the current economic climate. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been considering retirement. “I don’t know.”
She pushed off the desk and crossed the room to pick up her mug. “What can you do now? Can you stay involved somehow?” she asked before taking a sip of coffee.
“I can coach and work the sidelines, or ride the bench until my existing contract ends in two years,” he said, wondering where she was headed. She should have been a lawyer. She had interrogation down to an art. “They want me to train the new draft pick.”
“Training is teaching,” she said, moving back to the desk to sit in the chair. “Even working the sidelines would put you—”
“No,” he said more sharply than he intended. “If I go anywhere near a stadium, it's going to be leading my team.”
She set her mug on the desk. “And if you can’t?”
“Then to hell with all of them,” he said. “Let the advertisers sue me, I no longer give a damn. The owners can go to hell, too.” He felt like a jerk for raising his voice and yelling at her. This was not her fault, but dammit, she was probing an open wound. And using a damned sharp stick.
“Jed, that’s not true.” Her voice was calm, reasonable and understanding, and set his teeth on edge. “You do care,” she said. “You care too much. This has been your life. I know how hard it is to give up something you love so much.”
“Love?” He gave a bitter laugh. “It’s all I know. Believe me, it’s not all fame and glory, either. They’ll suck every bit of life out of you, then toss you aside when you’re so broken you can’t even hold the ball in your hands.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know that.”
“The hell I don’t,” he countered. “Remember Linc Monroe? We were drafted together.”
At her nod, he continued. “The sport bled him dry. Sucked the life right out of him. Used him until there was nothing left for him to give.”
Memories rushed in, and there was nothing Jed could do to stop them, or from telling Griffen his most painful secret. He dropped onto the stone hearth, propped his elbows on his knees and looked at her.
“He had a pretty bad knee injury early in his career that flared up from time to time. In taking the edge off the constant pain, he’d gotten addicted to painkillers. It got to the point where he thought he couldn’t function without them. When his knee finally did blow, you know what the owners did for him? They cut him loose. They dumped Linc Monroe like he was some nobody walk-on. He was the best fucking wide receiver who ever played the game, and they treated him like he was nothing.”
He shifted his gaze away from her. He remembered the doctors shaking their heads, the solemnity that had surrounded the locker room that horrible day. The whispers, the rumors, and finally the truth. Linc’s career was over.
“Where is he now?” she asked.
“New Orleans, Louisiana—in the Monroe family crypt.”
More memories. Linc’s fiancée crying softly, each tear a twist to his gut. The pain on Linc’s father’s face and his mother’s quiet tears. Most of the team had gathered beneath the sweltering heat of the bayou sun. Even the head coach had been there, but no sign of the owners.
“What happened?” she asked.
He turned his attention back to Griffen. “I killed him.”
She stood and came to sit beside him on the hearth. “You’re not serious,” she said, resting her hand on his arm.
Oh, yeah, he was serious. Dead serious. “Linc was broke. I wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t take my money. His damned pride wouldn’t let him. He knew he needed to retire, but he was getting married. His future bride was two months pregnant. One last season, that’s all he wanted. Marilee was good for him and she’d helped him get clean. But his knee was hurting and he begged me to get him something for the pain, so I did.”
He looked down at Griffen, at the patience and understanding in her gaze. In another minute, she’d have nothing but contempt for him. “Don’t go getting any noble ideas about me. I didn’t do it because he was my friend. I did it because he made me look good. No matter where I threw the ball, Linc could pull it out of the sky and put it in the end zone. Maitland to Monroe. We were one hell of a combination.”
“But the pills didn’t kill him.”
“No, they didn’t,” he said. “But he’d had taken a bad hit in the third quarter and never said a word to anyone about being hurt. Halfway through the fourth quarter, he could barely walk. The damage to his knee could be repaired, but he’d never play again. They could’ve placed him on injured reserve, but instead, the bastards cut him.”
“How is that your fault?”
“Linc was desperate. If I hadn’t give him those goddamn pills, he would have recognized his limits and stopped before so much damage had been done.”
Griffen shook her head, trying to make sense out of what Jed was telling her. “His injury wasn’t life threatening,” she said. “I don’t understand.”
Pain filled his gaze. “He swallowed the barrel of a .45,” he said quietly.
Jed was not responsible, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. Somehow she had to make him realize the truth.
“Ever hear about a paternity suit I settled out of court?” he asked.
Of course she’d heard about the suit. Anyone who was even in the same room as a television during the playoffs that year had heard about the paternity action he’d settled. The night she’d questioned him on his other exploits in the press, she’d purposely avoided the paternity issue because she didn’t want him to misconstrue her curiosity with the belief she’d contacted him because of money.
“She’s not my daughter. She’s Linc’s,” he said. “Steve Rafferty and I convinced Marilee to leave Linc’s name off the birth certificate, then to file the paternity suit against me. A lot of people thought that was why Linc had shot himself. It didn’t help the feeding frenzy, either.”
“So you let everyone believe you were the father of Marilee’s baby because you felt responsible for Linc’s suicide?”
“I did what I had to do to make sure that Linc’s kid and Marilee were taken care of. They weren’t married, so she got nothing.” There was a note of defiance in his voice, as well as a subtle challenge.
She stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him. The look in his eyes dared her to question his motives. “You took responsibility for something that was not your fault.”
He shoved his hand through his hair. “I gave him the goddamn pills.”
His glare burned through her, but she wasn’t going to give up. She had to make him realize that Linc made the choice to end his life, and Jed had nothing to do with that. “If you hadn’t, someone else would have.”
“You don’t know that.”
She took hold of his hands and held them tight. “Neither do you,” she said gently. “No one does.”
Moving closer, she slipped her arms around his middle and rested her head against his chest, hoping to offer him the comfort she knew he’d never ask for. She didn’t question why she cared, she only knew that she did. He tensed, but he didn’t push her away. “I think what you did for Marilee is wonderful, even if you did it for the wrong reasons.”
He grabbed her shoulders and set her away, but didn’t remove his hands. “Wrong reasons?” he asked incredulously, his strong grip biting into her flesh. “I took away his last chance to find happiness.”
She shook her head. “No, Jed. Linc did that himself when he took his own life.” Lifting her hand, she cupped his cheek in her palm. “I know you admired him, but what he did was selfish. You can’t take responsibility for that.”
She wanted to ease his pain, to help him put the hurtful memories to rest. He was kinder than he wanted anyone to know. When he could have sued the press numerous times for their false reports, especially surrounding the paternity suit, he hadn’t, setting more value on Linc’s child and the woman his friend had been engaged to marry. No. What Jed had done was selfless and admirable.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said again.
He pulled her against him and held her tight. She slipped her arms around him, hoping the love she felt for him could heal his old wounds.
Love?
The thought was staggering, but yes, she did love him. She hadn’t wanted to fall in love with him, but somewhere along the way, she had. Without even trying, he’d gotten under her skin and into her heart. Something happened between them, and she could no longer deny her feelings for him.
He was a complicated man, with many layers to his personality. There was the public figure, the legend, who drew attention where ever he went. And then there was the man. A man who carefully explained the concepts of algebra to his son, never losing his patience when Austin had difficulty grasping the theory. The man who held her tenderly in his arms while she cried, the man who gently wiped her tears. The man who set her soul on fire.
With Jed, passion didn’t begin to express their coming together. Wild would be a more appropriate term. He was a demanding lover, giving pleasure as well as taking in return. Her body heated just thinking about it.
The only doubts she harbored belonged to uncertainty and her own insecurities. She had no idea where their relationship was headed. But was she willing to take the risk to discover if they could have something more than just an affair. She didn’t know what his feelings were, but one thing she was certain of—she’d fallen hard for Jed Maitland.
*
Hours later, Griffen still hadn’t told Jed what was in her heart, despite spending the day alone with him. In and out of bed. She still hadn’t worked up enough courage, and by the time they’d driven to her dad’s for Sunday supper and to pick up Austin, she figured she’d just wait until they were alone again.
At home in her own dining room, she pulled items from the china cabinet and wrapped them in newspaper for the move. She still couldn’t decide whether keeping her feelings to herself was selfless or selfish. Jed had some tough career decisions ahead of him, and the demons he wrestled were old and powerful. If she told him she’d fallen in love with him, she worried she might cloud the issues for him, more than he’d already done himself. But self perseverance was also at work. If she didn’t tell him, he couldn’t hurt her.
“Mom?” Austin called to her from the family room. “Mom, you better come here.”
The anxious note in Austin’s voice had her climbing down the ladder. She rounded the doorway into the great room just in time to hear Jed's ripe swear.
Dread tightened her chest. “What’s going on?”
Austin pointed toward the television. “You’re not going to believe this. We’re gonna be on the news.”
Jed swore again and stood. Griffen moved to his side and looked up at him. Anger, clear and vivid, glittered in his dark eyes. Alarm coursed through her. Since Dani’s journal had been delivered to her, her life had turned into a roller coaster. She’d be the first to admit she wasn’t cut out for the slow climbs, swift drops and last minute turns.
Austin’s face lit with excitement. Jed stood with his hands braced on his hips, his body tense when the familiar face of the newscaster returned.
“West Texas Nightly News has this late breaking story,” Vince Rawlins said. A publicity photo of Jed highlighted the upper corner of the screen and Griffen’s heart sank.
“Dallas’s favorite bad boy, Texas Wrangler quarterback, Jed Maitland, has been nursing more than injuries in the off-season,” Rawlins continued. “Sources tell us Maitland the Maniac ordered his attorney last week to set up a trust fund in an undisclosed amount for an illegitimate son; thirteen-year-old, Austin Hart Somerfield of Hart, Texas. Lindsey Jackson has more on this story.”
“So cool.” Austin scooted closer to the set. “They said my name on T.V.”
Griffen stared in shock as the camera zoomed to a large Spanish style home surrounded by greenery while the sultry voice of the field reporter named a few of Rafferty’s more high profile clientele, Jed included. “Mr. Rafferty failed to comment on the situation, however this reporter has learned that Maitland is now residing in Hart near his son.”
“How can they get away with this?” Griffen asked. He wasn’t residing in Hart, he was staying at the Lakeside Motel. She looked up at him, but he kept his attention locked on the television screen. The muscles in his jaw clenched and the look in his eyes was pure murder.
Vince Rawlins came back on screen, the local sportscaster seated beside him at the news desk. “Glen, you spoke to Maitland’s agent this afternoon, right?”
“Yes, Vince.” Glen Behrmann faced the camera, his perfectly coiffed hair gleaming under the studio lights. “Head Coach Deacon Rizzo confirmed his office hasn't heard from Maitland for the past two weeks. I’m sure everyone will recall the event that experts say ended Maitland’s career.”
A film rolled of Jed inside the pocket, arm poised to send the ball deep when a player from the opposing team broke away from the guard and slammed into Jed, knocking him to the ground. The last clip showed Jed being carted off the field on a stretcher.
Griffen slowly sat on the edge of the sofa, her heart in her throat. She felt far away, as if this were all happening to someone else. This wasn’t something she’d seen coming, and she’d been a fool to not have even considered the possibility. Jed wasn’t anonymous. He was a world class athlete, one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever grace the game.
The next clip rolled. A bevy of reporters waited outside of a Dallas high rise as Deacon Rizzo exited the building.
Glen Behrmann thrust a microphone at Rizzo, trotting to keep up with the coach’s long strides. “Is it true that Maitland is refusing to show up at training camp? What about the medical appointments he’s missed? Will that keep him off the roster next season?”
Rizzo stopped and looked directly into the camera. “That’s up to Maitland.”
“You bastard,” Jed said, his tone vehement.
“What about this kid he’s claiming?” another reporter asked. “Rumor says he had an affair that ended when he turned pro.”
Griffen looked over at Jed. “How do they know this stuff?”
He gave her his attention, the fury in his eyes unmistakable. “What they don’t know, they’re going to make up.”
The cordless phone resting on the desk rang and she stood.
“Don’t answer it,” he said.
She ignored him and answered it anyway. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Somerfield?”
“Yes.”
“This is Wayne Woodley from the Dallas Tribune. Would you care to make a statement?”
“A statement?” How had they found them so quickly?
Jed took the phone from her and brought it to his ear. Now that word had spread about Austin, he knew it wouldn’t take the bastards long to find him. He just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. “No comment,” he said, then punched the button to disconnect the call.
The phone jangled again. He gave her a look filled with frustration and anger. He punched the button and waited.
“Is Austin there?”
“Who is this?” he demanded.
“Jimmy Packard.”
He let out a breath filled with frustration. The old anger had come back, that deep ugly rage he’d kept just below the surface since he’d left the hospital. He wanted a drink, but was afraid if he started, he wouldn’t stop. Instead, he tried to focus on Austin and Griffen. They needed him right now, sober, not swimming in the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels. “He’ll call you back,” he said and disconnected the call.
