Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) (32 page)

I started coughing – not even faking it – and scowled up at the ceiling. “She already knows. She sent a
get well soon
text with a hospital mask emoji.”

“Oooh,” Cin said, sucking in a breath. “That’s harsh. Well… bye. Get well soon.”

Did she really just hang up on me
?

The home screen, rather than call screen, indicated that she definitely had, and I shook my head, then draped my arm over my eyes to block the seemingly harsh influx of light. I’d gone to bed early the night before, not feeling that hot, and woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck.

A
big
truck.

As it did often, my mind went to Nicki.

I already knew her stance on “take care of me when I’m sick” was, so I wasn’t really pissed about her response – or lack of. That was her thing, and had always been, with
everybody
. On more than one occasion, she’d stayed with me in my off-campus apartment because her roommate was sick, and she wouldn’t go back until she’d followed a damn near CDC level disinfection protocol. That was just
her
.

Still… would be dope to get my damn back rubbed, or
something.

I was getting ready to just call Kendrick’s big ass to go get something for me – I really wasn’t concerned about the security aspect, at all – when my phone rang, flashing Tariq’s name and number across the screen.

“What up?” I asked, putting my arm back over my eyes once I’d raised the phone to my ear. Instead of holding it, I just propped it against my head, in an attempt to save whatever energy I had left.

“Damn… you okay? You sound bad.”

I groaned. “Just a sinus thing, or a cold or something.”

“Ahhh. Kora suffers with that too.”

“
What are you saying about me?
”

In the background, Kora spoke up, letting me know she was in the room, wherever Tariq was.

“I was telling JJ how you get all snotty and shit a couple times a year too,” Tariq chuckled. “Speaking of Kora, she’s listening because she insisted I call and get an update on you and Cole Richardson. You didn’t let me know how it went, so I could pass it to my nosy wife.”

“
Don’t call me nosy, you wanted to know too!
”

I let out something between a laugh, snort, and a sneeze. “My bad, man. I took your advice and it…we managed to work it out. We’re good.”

“Good. She coming to help you out with your… whatever has you sounding like somebody is holding a pillow over your face?”

I sighed. “Uh.. man, it’s the middle of the day. She’s busy at work.”

“Ah. Well, write this recipe down man. My grandmother’s chicken soup. Always gets Kora back on her feet.”

I listened – and pretended I was actually writing down – Tariq’s long-winded ass instructions that non-domestic Nicki was never going to attempt to make. He was, I hoped, coming to the end when my doorbell rang.

Internally this time, I groaned again.

With Tariq still droning on about that damn soup, I dragged myself out of the bed to answer the door. The doorbell rang again when I was halfway there, and I had half a mind not to answer just for that reason.

Dropping by my house unannounced, ringing my fucking doorbell, getting on my fucking nerves.

I didn’t bother checking the peephole – nobody was getting up here with authorization at the desk first. Few people had that kind of access to me. A few homeboys, Kendrick, Jess, my mother— “
Nicki
?” I grumbled, surprised to see her on the other side of the door. “Tariq, I’ll call you back,” I said, then hung up the phone to give Nicki my attention. “
Hey
.”

“Hey yourself,” she said, stepping past me into the door. She was in a coat and heels, which didn’t surprise me since it was early in the afternoon. What
did
surprise me were the bags in her hand. “I knew you had to be feeling pretty bad to miss practice today, so I brought you some soup and stuff, to make sure you eat. And I didn’t remember your medicine cabinet being particularly well stocked, so I brought some of that too… why are you looking at me like that?”

I raised my aching shoulders to shrug. “No reason, I guess. I just…
shit
.” I scratched my head. “I honestly wasn’t expecting to see you while I was sick. You know how you were back in the day, with your quarantine protocols, and all of that.”

Nicki laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I was a little crazy with that. I moved some meetings around, finished up a few things early, so I could come see about you. When you know better, you do better, and I know I want you feeling better. Not to mention, back on the field. Plus… the whole
best girlfriend ever
thing, you know. Can’t exactly leave you hanging, can I?” she teased, with a smile that was like a shot of adrenaline.

“You’re a trip,” I chuckled, setting off a rattle in my chest. I moved to pull her into my arms, but she quickly ducked out of reach, eyes wide. I frowned, confused, and she held up a finger for me to wait a second. I watched as she dug through one of the bags in her hand and produced a hospital mask. She put it on, then put down her bags and unbuttoned her coat.

My eyes went wide when I saw what was under it.

She was in a short, fitted white nurse’s costume that her cleavage was spilling out of, barely contained by the bright red lace bra peeking from underneath. She dropped the coat to the ground, then stretched her arms toward me.

“Now come here. Nurse Nicki is going to make you
all
better.”

“Wow. So you
are
alive.”

I rolled my eyes, racked the weights I was holding, but didn’t bother looking in the direction of those snide words before I moved to the next station, hoping to do so alone.  Even though I knew those chances were slim, I still sighed when no such thing happened.

“You see, I was getting a little concerned,” my father continued, hovering close by as I positioned myself for tricep extensions. “I saw somebody they
claimed
was Jordan Johnson out there on the field, and giving interviews after games. But
I
hadn’t heard from my only son in what… months now?”

“I called on Thanksgiving,” I said, gritting my teeth against the heavy weight.

My father sneered. “From your mother’s home. I don’t accept calls from there – she made her bed, she can lie in it.”

“I was in her boyfriend’s house, but I called from my cell, so you can cut that. And you know damn well mama don’t want you back, so kill that fantasy too.”

He scoffed. “I see. You’ve been talking to your mother and think you know the real deal. Is that it?”

“Nah.” I shook my head. “I saw what I saw, with my own eyes, and I’m not ignoring it. What do you want, man? I’m trying to focus.”

After missing practice from being sick, I called myself catching up. The rest of the team was gone for the night, except a few stragglers like me, trying to get in a little something extra in the weight room. I couldn’t just miss and let it go. When I was out there on the field, I wanted to be on equal footing.
Better
footing. I didn’t need this dude messing with my head when I had a game in three days.

“You know, you’ve always had a weakness towards the women in your life. Your mother, your sister, Cole Richardson back in college – and hell,
now
. And whoever has your nose so wide open now that your field performance has been subpar for months now.”

I dropped the weights, moving to get in his face. “Yo, what are you even talking about? The Kings have been putting up Ws left and right and it damn sure didn’t happen because I’ve been “subpar”.”

He laughed, and didn’t back down. “You’re right. Those wins happened because your team has been carrying your ass. Bailey is probably somewhere exhausted from all the balls he had to run
himself
because you weren’t in position.”

“TB runs the ball when that’s the play he called,” I said, frowning. “You’re in here talking this shit, but you don’t even know what you’re talking about. If I was a problem for anybody on the field except the other team, my teammate, coaches, and hell,
management
would’ve had something to say about it. I’m not about to listen to this shit from you.”

My father shook his head. “Of course they’re all handling you with kid gloves, trying to keep you on this team. I bet pretty little Cole Richardson has already been buttering you up about a contract. But the sports reporters aren’t beholden to you, son. Just last week, that San Diego game.
Zone Report
was—”

“Ah, hell,” I interrupted.
Zone Report
was Cedrick’s show. “I don’t take that shit seriously. I’ll be damned if I let him or any other sports personality dictate anything for me. I’m good.”

He let out a dry laugh. “I see you’re stubborn like your old man.”

“Yo, I’m
nothing
like you, old man.”

“You are
exactly
like I was, son. Down to the arrogance, attitude, and acting out. Down to the fact that you’re about to let chasing behind some woman cost you your chance at a championship. I see how you’re running around, stars in your eyes. It’s the same look I had the year your mother cost me my last ring.”

I sucked my teeth. “Oh, it’s mama’s fault, huh?”

“Damn right it is! I had everything in place for her to have everything she needed, but she wanted to run around putting on parties for folks. Had folks thinking I couldn’t take care of my house, men sniffing up behind her. She had one job – take care of home, so I could focus on the field. She couldn’t even do that.”

“You are
so
full of shit!” I shook my head, turning away from him to pick up the weight I’d dropped, to put back on the rack. “Again, I saw with my own eyes. She was a good mother. A good wife. And good at the career she needed to keep her mind off the fact that your ass was never at home when you should be. You can tell your version all you want – I know the real deal. You’re pathetic.”

“There it is,” he laughed. “That weakness. But you go on, son. Ignore your sloppy catches, clumsy feet. With the way this team started out, the best you can hope for is a wildcard slot to get you in those playoffs. And if you want it, you’re gonna have to win. And you can’t guarantee a win because you’re worried about how soon you can get to your woman. I’ve seen it countless times. I want to see you get this ring. Want you to succeed. But you come talk to me when you lose it cause you were too busy being “in love”. You think this fool Eli really cares about you? You were a means to an end, son. You think it was coincidence that he assigned his daughter to you, knowing your history? He’s using her to get to you. So he can use you too.”

“Man, you can…” I shook my head, sighing as I moved through the weight room. I was stopping just short of telling him to kiss my ass, but was trying to hold on the last vestiges of respect. Times like this, I wondered why I looked for the same from him.

Instead of congratulations for the way the team had turned around since the beginning of the season, he was in here playing mind games. Trying to get me to what… be alone so I could “focus on the game”?

“Be miserable by yourself,” I said, looking him right in the eyes. “I don’t need your advice, or your help. I’ve got this.”

My father smirked, and lifted his hands in defeat. “Whatever you say.”

When he was gone, I dropped my head into my hands, trying to get his words out of my mind.
You’re just like your old man. You’re gonna lose because you’re not focused. She’s gonna cost you that ring. They’re using you. She’s using you.

It was all bullshit, and I
knew
that, but it didn’t make it easier to brush the shit off. And he
knew
that. I’d watched him practice and perfect emotional manipulation with my mother, guilting her into acting the way he wanted her to act… until she broke free.

And that’s what he’s still so pissed about now.

She’d left, and moved on with her life, leaving him with two kids that except for his dimples, looked just like her. He piled his miserable bullshit on us because she was no longer in his reach, and then turned around and tried to make us hate her for leaving. But his lack of value for her made him underestimate the value she held for
us
. We were young, but saw that leaving him saved her from falling into the same perpetual unhappiness that surrounded him.