Change Up (For the Love of the Game #5), page 1
Change Up
FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME SERIES
BOOK 5
BY: NADINE HUDSON
Copyright © 2021 Nadine Hudson
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Description
Quinn
Are you insane? You know this is going to end badly! You have zero business getting involved with him.
If being a hot freaking mess were an Olympic sport then bring on the gold because I would reign supreme in that category! Not only am I trapped being a victim of my unfortunate circumstances, but now the secrets keep piling up around me left and right, quicker than I can keep track of them. I am in no position to be falling for the campus baseball stud. No way! My predicament, my secrets, make it impossible for us to be happy together. This cannot happen.
Tucker
She can pretend not to be interested all she wants, but those stormy blue eyes already gave her away. I recognize the lust dancing behind them and I won’t stop until she finally admits it too. Her resistance only serves to peak my intrigue. After all, I do love a good game of hardball.
Another steamy read from her special Blackbox Collection, Nadine Hudson gives you more of what you love in this Second Chance, Secret Relationship, Sports Romance that has sizzling heat and the games you love, but you have never seen them played like this before! HEA Guaranteed!
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The Love of a Lieutenant
Table of Contents
One
Quinn
Sunday
Sweat beaded on my forehead as waves of heat repeatedly washed over my body. My eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror to see if Tucker was following us, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Mom. Are you okay?”
I peeked back at Bryson sitting in the backseat, confusion riddled his face.
“Yeah, bud. I’m fine. Why?”
“You don’t look so good.” He pointed out, tilting his head to one side to get a better view of me.
“Ahh… yeah. I’m okay. Just not feeling so well that’s all. I’ll be okay.”
I tried to offer a reassuring smile, but he didn’t seem to buy it. I was thankful when we finally pulled up outside of the ice cream shop. Bryson, now distracted by his friends, hopped out of the backseat and joined them in the small huddle outside of the ice cream shop. Trevor stood out among them, especially since he was two feet taller than everyone else. He offered me a slight wave and a smile and I nodded in response before finding a seat at one of the outdoor rod-iron tables.
Each of the players took their turns ordering their ice creams before filing out and sitting in a line on the curb outside of the ice cream shop. I sat back in my chair watching them all pump their little arms up and down everytime a car drove by. A long standing, small town tradition of trying to get cars to beep their horns. Everytime a driver would beep the kids would cheer and clap.
I found myself getting lost and mesmerized in how happy and content Bryson seemed. His life was not easy by any means. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it has been like for him growing up without a father, but at least his life was simple. Uncomplicated. Tears that were hidden behind my sunglasses began to shake in my eyes. His whole life is about to be turned upside down.
I bit down hard on my lip as I contemplated the message I was stalling to send. Finally, I pulled in a breath and slid my phone out of my pocket. There was a message from Chastity that I briefly breezed over.
Chastity: Hey Bitch! Thanks for telling me you were leaving. I thought we were making a day of this?
I scrolled passed her text and opened my messages from Tucker.
Quinn: Can you come over tonight? We need to talk.
Once the message was sent, I released the breath I had been holding. There. Done.
“Yanno, I’m gonna end up going broke if I have to keep taking the whole team every time I wanna take you on a date.” Trevor mentioned as he took a seat beside me at the table. He grinned broadly before taking a few licks of his own ice cream cone. His constant pursuits were starting to make me feel guilty. Afterall, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. His bright blue bedroom eyes were enough to make any woman swoon over him. And many did. I wasn’t blind to the jealous, judgemental eyes of all the other single mothers that were surrounding us.
Not to mention, he was kind and sweet. The hardest part about having to repeatedly turn him down was that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He said all the right things. He did all the right things. The problem was with me. Not him. But I couldn’t very well use the tired excuse, it’s not you, it’s me . Even if it was the truth.
I took another look around us at all the sideways glances and whispers before leaning into him and telling him quietly, “Trevor, believe me when I say, I am a mess. I’m sorry. So sorry. I think you’re a great guy, but I’m just not looking for a relationship right now. Please understand.” I tried to keep my voice as sincere and genuine as possible. Afterall, I didn’t want to hurt him.
Then my phone buzzed on the table and right away I checked to see who it was.
Tucker: I’ll be there at 6.
“I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go. Bryson! Are you ready, bud?”
Bryson hopped up from the curb and joined me at the table.
“Yep.”
I stood and began gathering our things then we both turned to leave.
“Ohh! Hold on, Mom,” Bryson called as he turned back around and ran up to Trevor. “Coach Trevor! We forgot our shake!”
I watched curiously as Bryson ran up to him holding out a hand. Trevor smiled brightly and held his hand out too. The two took turns high fiving each other, then tapping the backs of their hands together. They pounded fists and elbows and snapped their fingers. I felt my heart melt watching the two of them together. Trevor’s obvious affection for Bryson chipped away at the stone wall I’ve tried to build around my heart. I knew Trevor cared for Bryson, but this was so much more than I could handle today.
* * *
Tucker
“Hey pal. Hit me again!” I called out to the old bar keep at the other end, tapping my empty shot glass on the wooden countertop.
He took his time making it back down to me. His eyes never leaving mine, he poured me another double of American Honey. “Take it easy, son. That’s your third shot in the last five minutes,” he warned as he eyed me carefully. His voice was deep and throaty like he had smoked two packs a day for the last twenty years. His withered and deep wrinkled appearance only supported that suspicion.
I knew drinking wasn’t the way to handle this, but at that moment I simply didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t formulate a thought. I needed something to help me process.
“Was that my son? Could that be the baby she said she aborted all those years ago? Maybe he’s not mine. Maybe… maybe he’s somebody else’s.” I mumbled incoherently to myself as I sipped on my shot. The first few burned my throat as they went down, but the more I drank the easier they were to swallow. Not unlike the pill of possibly having a child out there that I didn’t know about, that I was trying to swallow. Who are you trying to kid? He was wearing your hat. He looked exactly like you.
“That was my kid. My baby. I held her hand when we first heard his heartbeat. I vowed to be there for them until the end. She chose to do this without me. Chose to do it alone. She kept him from me. Deprived me of the chance to be a father to my son. My son.” The more I ranted the angrier I became.
“Another!” I called out again to the bartender. This time I got questionable looks and whispers from the local patrons who were there enjoying an early afternoon lunch. And why wouldn’t they be looking at me like I was a fool? I was sitting at a hole-in-the-wall dive bar drinking myself into oblivion at eleven o’clock in the morning.
Suddenly, emotions rolled over me like a hurricane. The whiskey seemed to finally be taking its toll on me. “I loved her.” My eyes began to fill uncontrollably with tears until I had made the complete transformation into a blubbering idiot. “I fucking loved Quinn. How could she do this?” I sobbed into the bar, probably drawing a scene, but I didn’t care. I needed answers. I needed to understand, but no scenario that I could formulate in my mind made sense.
When I finally lifted my head there was a tall glass of water sitting in front of me. The bartender gave me a quick your-welcome smile then left again. I shakily drew in a few deep breaths, trying to control my meltdown. When I was finally able to compose myself I took a few swigs of water. Then my phone pinged on the bar beside me indicating a message had been received.
Quinn: Can you come over tonight? We need to talk.
My heart rate doubled as I read and reread her message. I thought seriously about getting another shot. Instead, I rubbed my hands up and down my face, hoping I could force myself back into sobriety. I was suddenly regretting the stupid decision to start drinking, but I honestly wasn’t expecting her to reach out to me at all, let alone twenty minutes after she ran out. My adrenaline was pumping through my body causing my hands to shake as I typed out my response.
Tucker: I’ll be there at 6.
Two
Tucker
I glanced at my washed up reflection in my rearview mirror. My eyes were rimmed red after spending the better half of the afternoon finishing my melt down in the privacy of my own home. I had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel from my nerves. My dark hair stood on end all over from repetitively running my hands through it. I tried to tame it down once I pulled into the driveway, but it didn’t do much good.
This is it.
I made my way toward the questionable concrete building. This time, I passed two people, a man and a woman, sitting outside on the staircase. They were clearly addicts. You could tell by their twitchy movements and the tracks covering their arms. I shook my head in disapproval, but didn’t linger. I kept my eyes down and kept moving until I was standing outside her door. I pulled in one last shaky breath before landing four slow, but solid knocks on her door. When it finally creaked open Quinn stepped out from behind the door, her expression matching my own. Solemn. Like someone had died.
Without looking at me, she held an arm out inviting me inside. “C’mon in. Have a seat,” she said, her tone was low and serious. Once inside I watched her make her way to the kitchen and open the refrigerator door. “Can I get you something?” she asked, this time trying to sound casual.
But I wasn’t here for a casual visit. I wasn’t here to chit chat. I was here for a very distinct purpose.
“Answers would be a good start.” I crossed my arms over my chest and formed a firm stance. She froze where she stood, but didn’t turn to face me. When she didn’t respond right away I just asked the obvious, “He’s mine, isn’t he, Quinn? He’s my son.”
She slowly turned to face me. At first her eyes were cast down at the floor and I had to fight the urge to yank her head up to look at me. It felt like an eternity had passed before she finally looked up and looked me in the eye. Every muscle in my body tensed in preparation for her response.
“Yes, Tucker. Bryson is your son.”
And with that, I suddenly felt weak, her words completely disarming me, though I couldn’t understand why. Deep down I already knew it. I didn’t need her to say it. I saw him with my own eyes. I knew in a second that he was my son. I tried to pull in a breath, but it was as if my lungs stopped working. I gasped for air, but I only managed to choke on it. Bending over I braced myself on the nearest surface, which ended up being the countertop in front of me.
“Tucker,” I heard her quiet cautious voice address me followed by her hand resting on my shoulder. I jerked away immediately. She put both hands up as if the gesture would make me relax. “I know you’re upset, but please, please let me explain.”
“Explain? You want the chance to explain?!” Her audacity fueled my anger to new heights. “What about my chance, Quinn? Huh? What about my chance to be a father to my son? You never gave me a chance, so why the fuck should I give you one?”
She stared back at me with pleading eyes. There was a time when that look was my undoing, but now it was the spark stoking the fire within me. You don’t get to look at me like that. My jaw and fists were clenched so tightly that it was painful. I was about to turn around and leave when she said something that stopped me in my tracks.
“Please don’t go! I did it for you, Tucker!” she cried and her words froze me in my tracks. I turned on my heels and closed the gap between us in an instant.
“How could this have possibly been for me?” I seethed.
“My parents…” she started, but I cut her off immediately.
“Your parents? Really, Quinn? You’re back to that? How many times are you going to use them as an excuse? You’re a grown woman. You chose to lie to me. You chose to keep my son hidden from me for eight fucking years. Not your parents. You! Take some fucking responsiblity for once.'' My tone was cold and rigid as I jerked my arm away from her hands that were desperately gripping it. Though I would never, the temptation to take a hold of her in that moment was growing rapidly. I can’t be here right now. I have to go. And with that, I turned around and stormed out the door, slamming it behind me. I could faintly hear her pleading from behind the closed door as I left.
* * *
Quinn
Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face with no sign of stopping as I slid to the floor. I sat there in the kitchen leaning against the cabinet door feeling completely defeated. I’ve lost him before, but never like this. My body was filled to the brim with regret, with anger. I reached up on the countertop and took a hold of the first thing I could wrap my hand around before whipping it across the room as I screamed into the air.
The drinking glass shattered as soon as it hit the wall. And I just sat there with no desire to get up, no desire to move, no desire to do anything. I’ve failed. I failed Tucker. I failed Bryson. I failed myself. The thoughts made my heart ache. Bryson.
I soon realized I didn’t have the luxury of being depressed. Bryson needed me and I needed to be there for him. I picked myself up off the floor and grabbed my phone from the counter.
Quinn: Hey Chast. He’s gone. Come back when the movie is over.
Chastity: How did it go?
Quinn: As expected. He hates me.
I wiped the last few lingering tears from my cheek and pulled in a breath to regain my composure. I checked the time on my phone and realized I had to be at work in a few hours, but I simply didn’t have the energy today. I unlocked my phone and dialed Gina who answered after three rings.
“Hey girl. You think you can cover my shift tonight? I’m not feeling so great,” I lied, but tried to strain my voice to make it believable.
“Are you serious, Quinn? I’ve got plans. What the hell is going on with you lately?”
“I know, I’m sorry for the last minute ask. I-I thought I could sleep it off, but I just woke up and I’m actually feeling worse than before I laid down.”
“Uggh,” she groaned into the phone. “Fine, but if I’m coming in to cover your ass again, I’m having a conversation with Ruth while I’m there,” she bit out snarkily before ending the call. Ruth was the Executive Manager of The Scene and would be considered my boss. Admittedly, I was a little worried about what that conversation was going to look like, but I simply didn’t have it in me to go to work tonight. I was a mess and I just needed some time to get myself together and sort things out.
I’d decided to grab a quick shower before Chastity and Bryson got back. I turned the water as hot as it would go and let it heat up while I undressed. I checked my phone repeatedly to make sure Tucker didn’t text me before climbing into the shower. I tipped my head back and let the water fall over me. The heat bit at my skin, but in the most soothing way.
I allowed myself to take this time to get lost in thought. I thought about Bryson. All those late nights I’d spent pacing the floor trying to get him to sleep when he was a baby. All those trips to the park and how obsessed he was with the slides. I must’ve caught him at the bottom at least three dozen times. His first day of Kindergarten, how brave he was walking into his classroom and glancing over his shoulder only long enough to blow me a kiss goodbye. His first ever baseball game when I watched him run out onto the field, pure joy painted on his face. That was when he looked the most like Tucker.
I looked back on all the choices I’ve made, the choices that have led me to where I am now. There was one thought that repeatedly took up residence in my mind— Did I do the right thing?
Three
Tucker
Monday
I sat back in the chair in silence. Staring at the floor, but watching my leg bounce uncontrollably as my foot hit the ground. The silence that hung in the air between us was so unnerving. Please just say something. Tell me what to do.
I wanted to look at him, prompt him to say something, to give me feedback, but I was too afraid. I was terrified of what his expression would reveal. My dad always had the right answers. He always knew exactly what to do no matter what problem I had placed at his feet, but in this circumstance, he was speechless. I knew I had just dropped a bomb on him so I was trying to be patient and give him a few minutes to process and catch up with me. So I sat there. In silence. Counting along with the only noise in the house which was the tic of the second hand of the grandfather clock that was set up in the next room.
