Resisting Roots (Lotus House Book 1) (19 page)

I rubbed my gut and patted it. “Too long.”

Clay grinned. “All those holiday meals, eh? I was beginning to wonder why you rescheduled our training for the last few weeks. Glad to have you back, man, and see you looking good. Actually”—he stopped, rubbed at his chin and tilted his head—“something’s different.”

“Yeah, the ten extra pounds of turkey, prime rib, Ma’s desserts, and Genevieve’s homemade meals are sticking to the ribs, making me soft.” I pulled off my sweatshirt, leaving on my standard white tank and a pair of basketball shorts.

Clay shook his head. “Nah, man, it’s something else. You look good. Really good. No bags under the eyes.” He pulled at the skin of my forearm. “Skin seems nice and elastic, hydrated, and you don’t have that scowl on your face.” He chuckled and huffed out a fast breath. “Not sad to see that sour face go, that’s for sure.”

I got on the treadmill, and Clay set the pace. I wasn’t having any trouble with the leg, so he pumped it up and raised the incline.

He assessed the machine and pressed more buttons. “Your leg is doing great, man. You’re far beyond where I thought you’d be at the first part of January. I hoped, but since you’d canceled with me, I figured you were wallowing in your own self-pity. Doesn’t seem that’s the case.”

I swished some water around my mouth and swallowed. “Nope. Everything’s good, man, really good.”

“Now
that
I can see. What have you been up to? Different chick every night?” He waggled his eyebrows.

I sighed and scowled.

“Ah, there’s the frown. It’s back. Sorry, man, didn’t mean to piss you off. What’s the deal?” Clay’s blue eyes softened as he leaned against the treadmill.

“I’m only seeing one woman. Committed to her, actually.”

Clay looked at me as if I’d just told him I quit the league. “You? In a relationship?”

“Yeah, me. What’s it to ya?”

He shook his head and grinned. “Is she pregnant?”

“No!” I said too quickly, instantly remembering a couple weeks after Thanksgiving when we thought she might be. She said she’d gotten her period, and that was that. I didn’t want to admit to him that a part of me wished she had been. I could definitely see a little mini Trent or Genevieve running around.

“Then what gives?”

“Genevieve is something else, man. She’s beautiful, a yoga teacher.” I grinned. “Takes care of her family, works hard, doesn’t ask for jack shit, and for some crazy reason, she loves me.”

Hitting a few buttons, I stopped the treadmill and wiped the sweat off my face and neck. Clay led me over to the weight machines. I sat down on the bench.

He rubbed at his hair and looked around. “Good for you. I’m happy for you. But is one woman really going to be enough? I mean, you’ve got a horde of fans and groupies, not to mention the line of broken hearts already.” Clay adjusted the weights.

I pulled down the weight bar to work on my back. “Genevieve is more than enough. Seriously, she’s the reason I’m doing so well. No offense.”

Clay laughed. “None taken. I figured when you said yoga instructor you actually went to the classes.”

I nodded. “Every last one. That shit is no joke. It’s much easier to lift weights and run on a treadmill. But yoga? That is not for the weak.”

“You like the class offerings?”

“I like her offering.” I smirked.

He shook his head, covering a smile.

“They have tons of them, and believe it or not, most of the classes have about thirty to forty percent men, which I hadn’t expected. I’d always thought yoga was for women, but there are a lot of guys teaching and taking classes. You should check it out.”

Clay fiddled with the weights, adding more. “I’ll do that. I’ve been looking for something to change things up. Personal training is great, and the money is killer with the celebrity clientele, but sometimes I just want to chill, you know? Mentally escape.”

I followed Clay to the ab machine. “I totally get it. At first, I thought it was going to be easy, but yoga pushes you physically and mentally. Stretches me out good. Of course, I get private lessons from Genevieve so there is that.” I grinned and licked my lips.

“You suck, man.” Clay scowled this time.

“What? Have you ever thought about settling down?” I took in Clay’s form.

He took care of himself and it showed. He didn’t seem to have much in the way of fat, and women gravitated toward him naturally. Usually, that meant a guy had a nice face, too, but I’d never thought much about it either way. I typically had the same response from the opposite sex. When the two of us were out, step back. The ladies came in droves.

“Is that what you’re doing?” He smirked.

I tipped my chin. “Yeah, man, I am. Genevieve is it for me. No bullshit. I just gotta get through the away games and keep my shit in check. You?”

Clay shrugged and flipped a towel over his broad shoulders. The black Chinese letters that ran down the outside of his left arm were slick with a mist of sweat that glinted off the overhead lights. He’d probably worked out before I arrived.

He inhaled and let out a slow breath. “I’d love to settle down, start a family, but I’ve been there once before, and look how shitty that turned out. Not sure I could trust so easily for a second round in the love department.” He ran his hand through his spiked blond hair.

“I hear ya.” I stood and gripped him on the shoulder. “If you do want to give it a shot, let me know. Genevieve works with a host of hotties over at Lotus House Yoga Center. Seriously man, they are bangin’, and all of them are sweet as cherry pie.”

Clay groaned. “Now you just sound like an asshole again. Come on, let’s work off that layer of cake over your gut and get you ready for spring training. We still on for personal training in between?”

“Hell, yes. I need to stay in prime shape. I’ve got a contract to secure and a woman to keep satisfied.”

T
he nurse practitioner
entered the all-white room and shook my hand. “I’m Tammy, and I’ll be giving you your annual exam.” The tall brunette smiled and washed her hands. She was taller than I, around five feet eight. Her hair was brown and cropped close to the nape. A cool pair of blown-glass earrings dangled from her ears. The hues and tones in the glass perfectly matched the purple-rimmed glasses she had perched on her small button nose. “You mentioned on your form that you were interested in some contraception? Are you using anything now?”

“Just condoms. I haven’t had the need for anything consistent until recently.”

“And you’re looking at the birth control pill?”

I nodded and swung my bare legs. Sitting naked in the doctor’s office with only a weird paper vest and a paper drape over my lower half while the nurse and I communicated about contraception was uncomfortable. I wish she’d chatted about this before or after my exam. I could hardly focus on anything but the fact that she was going to be up close and personal with my hoo-hah.

“When was your last period?”

“I should be due anytime.” I glanced at the calendar across the room. “Actually, I’m normally pretty regular. I should have gotten it two days ago, but that’s not unusual right? I was a week late last month, which was scary because my boyfriend and I had been reckless.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “So you were a week late last month and are late again? Do you normally have unprotected sex?”

My entire body got tight. “No. Not at all. I’ve actually only recently started having sex again after a three-year dry spell. My boyfriend and I only had a day of slipups, but it worked out. I had a light period, even though it was late.”

“Did you take a pregnancy test?”

I held the vest together more tightly against my chest, shook my head, and bit my lip. “No, because I had my period.”

“Hmmm. Well, let’s take a look.”

After about five minutes of a most annoying experience, the nurse finally pulled off her gloves and tapped my knee.

“Just as I thought.” She bit her lip and stood.

I looked around the room while she washed her hands and leaned against the counter.

“Genevieve, you are most definitely pregnant. If what you say is true about your period, I’m going to guess around eight weeks, but we’ll need to take you over to the other room to be sure. I’ll give you a moment to gather yourself, and I’ll meet you over in room two. Okay?” Her eyes were kind as she patted my knee once more.

“Pregnant,” I whispered.

She stopped with her hand on the door.

“But I had my period. It doesn’t make sense.” The edges of my vision started to darken and narrow. My heart became a steady throb banging against my chest like a bass drum. A fine mist of sweat broke out across my hairline, and I worried I’d faint. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. I shook my head, tears distorting my vision and then falling down my cheeks.

“A lot of women have a period the first month or two. It could also have been implantation taking place. We’ll know more when we do the ultrasound.”

Tears ran down my face. I wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or sad tears. They were definitely freaked-the-heck-out tears. What would Trent say? Last month was the first time we’d admitted our feelings. We’d had all of three months together, and now a life growing was inside me—a piece of him and a piece of me. Oh God. I held my hand over my mouth as the sobs released.

A
rmed
with a handful of ultrasound pictures of my six-week-and-four-day-old baby, a bag full of pamphlets for a new expectant mother, and the first month of prenatal vitamins, I walked down the chilly Berkeley street. Aimless. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. The only thing I could think about was how Trent was going to take this information. Would he be happy? Angry? When it had happened, he said we’d deal with the outcome together and that we’d be parents, but that was what any guy would say when he just put a woman at risk. Did he really mean it?

My phone beeped in my pocket.

Albatross. Boy, did that name fit the current problem in our lives, even though he was none the wiser. Picking up the pace, I made my way home to cook dinner for the family and figure out what and how I was going to tell Trent about the baby.

T
he table swayed
as Clay and I slammed down our third shot of Patrón Silver. Empty beer mugs littered the booth where we sat. So far, we were head-to-head with the drink even though he’d sworn he could drink me under the table any day of the week. I accepted that challenge and upped it by betting cash on it. A Benjamin each, and the loser owned the title of lightweight.

Several of the guys from the team sauntered in. We played pool, drank a beer, took a shot, and repeated. We were four beers and four shots apiece in, and I was feeling mighty fine.

“Hey, Foxy, been a while since I’ve seen you out and about,” a husky voice said from behind me.

Before I could turn, DawnMarie had her arm around my shoulders and her hand on my thigh creeping up my leg.

DawnMarie was tall and thin with a giant pair of fake titties that looked mighty fine on her. I’m sure she’d paid a pretty penny getting those suckers to look so good. I’d seen a few in my day, and hers were solid. DawnMarie—all one word, all one name. I knew this because she’d made me write it across my abs in black marker one night when we’d had some fun. As a matter of fact, we’d had several nights of fun over the years. She was a team groupie. Followed us from place to place, bedding whichever player suited her fancy at the time. She was a damn good lay, very attentive, and her dick sucking skills were top-notch.

“Hi, DawnMarie, mind moving that hand?” I slurred and frowned.

“Why would I do a silly think like that? If I remember correctly, you loved the things this hand could do.”

I snickered drunkenly and looked down. Her bright red nails were like talons digging into the meat of my thigh, reminding me that they were not the soft lily-white hands of my gumdrop—the woman who would be right pissed if she saw this chick hanging all over her man.

“Sorry, darlin’, I’m a one-woman man, and I’m keeping it that way.”

DawnMarie scoffed, leaned her fake tits against my chest, and licked up the side of my neck. I couldn’t help it. My dick responded, hardening painfully in my jeans.

She nibbled on my ear. “Betcha I could change that one woman rule to one woman at a time.” She bit down and tugged.

It felt good, but not as good as the way my girl touched and kissed me there.

The liquor swirled heavily in my gut as I blinked.

Just as I was about to tell DawnMarie to take a hike, I turned my head and zeroed in on the most beautiful woman in the world. And then I couldn’t see her anymore because a sticky pair of lips covered mine, and I was being kissed by a woman who tasted like apple beer. I tried to shove her away, but DawnMarie held on tight. Damn, the bitch was strong. I shook my head, but she took that as her opportunity to swing a leg over mine and hop into my lap.

“I can’t believe you!”

Genevieve’s words hit my ears right before a deluge of ice-cold beer slithered right over my head and down into the collar of my shirt, my chest, and all over DawnMarie, who jumped off me so quick, I could barely catch the blur of color as she screamed.

“You lying, cheating piece of work! And here I was worried about you! I waited up all night, needing to talk to you even though I have to teach in the morning. And here you are at a quarter to two with your mouth on this…this…bimbo!”

“Gumdrop, please. Listen.” My words sounded strange and came out of my mouth like I had to speak around a mouthful of marbles.

“No, don’t you call me that. I’m nothing to you. Nothing but the woman whose heart you broke. The woman whose life you tore apart. And the woman who’s pregnant with your baby!” Her voice cracked.

Another cold bucket of liquid sprayed all over me as her words hit their target. Chills rippled up my arms, and my stomach tightened painfully.

“I’m going to throw up,” I mumbled, not able to move. I couldn’t even form the words to reply to what she said. The beers and tequila I’d pounded back on an empty stomach after working out were vying for attention.

The last thing I saw was Clay holding up his hands toward my fiery little blond goddess.

“You don’t understand. DawnMarie was just playing around…”

Clay tried but failed to get Genevieve to see reason. Probably because he was as drunk as I was, only he’d tossed back a full meal when we arrived, and I’d forgone the meal to shoot the shit with my teammates. Bad decision. Coming here instead of going home to my woman was bad. Fuck. I was fucking everything up.

“Get your hands off me. And you”—Genevieve pointed at DawnMarie—“can have him!” She sucked in a breath as tears poured down her face, and she turned and stormed out of the bar.

I tried to go after her, but my shoes were filled with concrete. Every step felt heavier and harder than the next.

“Genevieve!” I roared as I fell forward, knocking into the table and hitting something hard and wet that smelled like stale beer.

“
G
enevieve
, I’m coming in!”

At first, I flinched, thinking it would be Trent banging down my door, but it wasn’t. It was Amber, my best friend in the whole world. Thank God. She entered the room and scrunched up her nose. I sat up and ran my forearm under my nose to wipe up any remaining snot.

She sat next to me, her face solemn and kind.

The last time I’d been this far gone into an emotional tailspin was when my parents died. This wasn’t like that, but it was a death. The death of a relationship and a future I’d wanted more than anything. And worse, I had the proof of that potential future nestled safely within my womb.

I tried to be strong. Tried to look at her like it was just another day, one where I hadn’t spent the evening crying my eyes out so hard my nose burned and my throat was raw, but I couldn’t be that person. Not now. Not with what I knew, and definitely not in front of my best friend.

My body shook and my lip trembled. The tears raced down my cheeks and coated Trent’s hoodie I’d wrapped myself in last night for my cryfest.

“Jesus, Viv, what’s wrong? Is it Trent?”

I choked out a garbled version of yes.

“Yes, it’s about Trent?”

I could barely breathe, so I just nodded and let the tears fall. My nose ran, and I sopped up the tears and snot once again as I tried to suck in air. Sorrow and anger were two walls crumbling in on me as I tried to take a breath.

“Oh, no, did he break up with you?”

I shook my head and cried harder, the sobs turning into full-body heaves. I pulled my legs up to my chest and hugged them, planting my head on my knees where I’d have a cubbyhole to hide in.

Amber petted my head, running her fingers through the dingy strands of my hair. “Did you break up with him?” Her tone was soft and lilting—the most comforting voice in all the world now that my mother was gone.

I nodded. “Yeah.” I coughed and cried some more, planting my head down and letting it all out.

For a few minutes, she let me cry, continuing to comfort me and whisper soft words of encouragement. Eventually, she needed more information.

“Okay. So then, why are you like this?” Slowly she lifted a hand and covered her mouth. “Oh, no!”

My bottom lip puffed out almost as if programmed. I nodded.

“He cheated?” she gasped.

I nodded again. My lip trembled, and I swallowed profusely, trying not to lose it, the “it” being my mind and my meager lunch from yesterday. As it was, my stomach churned and revolted against the lack of food.

“That low-down dirty dog! I can’t believe he did that. I’m sorry. Thank God you found out now, only a few months in, and not a year down the road. Or worse, after you married and had kids with the loser.” She shook her head and frowned.

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Just stared at her sweet face, her long brown hair and kind green eyes.

A knowing glint hit her eyes and she tilted her head. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Licking my lips, I sat up and pushed my dirty hair out of my eyes. “I found out yesterday that…” I couldn’t even form the words. God, this was harder than I thought it would be.