“I’m sorry, Finley,” he says, although his tone is anything but. He sounds like he’s just trying to wrap this thing up so he can move on and ruin someone else’s life. “We’ll deposit your final paycheck by the end of the week. Good luck with everything.”
Defeated, I nod, standing from the chair. My legs feel like Jell-O, weak and feeble, but I do my best to ignore it so I can get the hell out of here. I’m on autopilot, thankful that my brain somehow remembers that I actually brought some belongings with me as I robotically leave the room and head toward the lockers. I change out of my uniform, leaving it on the bench because there’s no way they’re docking me for it. I can’tafford my rent as it is. I’ll need every bit of money I can get until I find a new job.
As soon as I rush out the doors, the warm sun beats against my already heated skin, and a sense of dread washes over me. I officially have no job, no money saved, and no way to cover the remainder of my rent that’s due tomorrow. Tonight’s tips would’ve been enough, but now, I have no idea what I’m going to do.
Tears pool in my eyes as I turn left, heading in the direction of the public library. Cee and Phoebe are both home right now, and I’m way too emotional to answer any questions about why I’m not at work when I should be. I’m sure it won’t take long for the gossip to make its way around, so they’ll have all the details very soon—including those of my pregnancy now that I’ve put them out there. Even though we aren’t close, I expect them to question me about the baby’s father and my plans for the future. They love to party, so I doubt they’ll want a newborn in the house, preventing them from living their lives.
I’m completely fucked, and now I have no idea how I’m going to care for myself or my child.
TWO
THEO
“I’m sorry, Mr. Calloway,”the boarding facility owner says, her high-pitched voice bleeding through the speakers of my truck. “Boner is a wonderful dog. Very friendly. But his behavior last weekend was a bit much. He knocked over two of our employees and dug three giant holes in the yard. We thought Mrs. Emory’s Pomeranian was lost for fifteen minutes before we found her at the bottom of one of them. Unfortunately, we aren’t able to offer our services anymore.”
Fucking fuck.
I drag my hand down my face, frustration bubbling to the surface as I use the other to grip the steering wheel. This is the fifth place that has given my dog the boot, and I fear that he’s out of options. She’s not wrong, though. Boner is wild when he’s excited, unable to hear a word as he’s jumping and running into things. He doesn’t bite, and he’s never aggressive, but he struggles with listening to commands when he’s aroundpeople. He immediately wants to play, not knowing his own strength as he attempts to cover them in kisses. I love the dude, but he’s…a lot. And now, I have nobody to watch him while I’m away for road games.
“I understand,” I groan, having already been through this several times. They have to protect their workers and the other pets in their care, even though Boner means well. “Thank you for letting me know. And please give my apologies to Mrs. Emory’s Pomeranian.”
“I will,” she replies. “I think your dog may do better in a one-on-one situation. Rescues like him often need more attention, so it may be a better fit for you to hire a sitter who can come to your place while you’re out of town. He’ll do much better with someone he’s familiar with.”
We end the call, worry swirling around in my gut as I consider my options. My family lives in Georgia, so I can’t just have them swing by every other weekend. The only friends I’ve really made in Cleveland since being drafted to the Renegades last season are my teammates and their significant others, who I doubt would want to dog sit for me when we’re not around. They’re building their own lives. They don’t have time to deal with mine, which isn’t exactly off to the best start.
Since I was a kid, all I’ve ever wanted was the kind of family I grew up in. Two loving parents, a sibling who was my best friend, a giant dog with floppy ears, and a big house with a white picket fence. At twenty-six years old, all I have so far is a dog who loses his shit every time he hears the doorbell and the money pit Icall home, which seems to be more of a problem than I ever expected. After last year’s pipe-bursting fiasco that caused the entire first floor to flood, it’s been one thing after another. I’ve had my roof replaced, a new hot water heater installed, and most recently, a reinforced back deck after I almost fell through the last one. Between the dog, the house, and my job as cornerback for Cleveland’s second-year expansion team, my hands are full.
I make my way through the city streets, my mind going a million miles a minute as I try to devise a plan. Our second preseason game is this Sunday, which leaves me with just a few days to find someone. People stroll along the sidewalks, unbeknownst to the fact that I’m up Shit Creek without a paddle while they’re enjoying an ordinary day. A man and woman walk hand-in-hand, laughing as they talk. A mom with two small children points up at a tall skyscraper, making their eyes go wide with curiosity. But when I see a very familiar head of long, auburn hair, and the beautiful green eyes that I lose my mind over at least once a week full of sadness, I can’t stop myself from slamming on the brakes to get a better look. Cars honk their horns behind me, one man flipping me off as he pulls around, but I don’t give a fuck. Because Finley Bolton is upset—and I need to know why.
I check the rearview mirror, whipping my vehicle into the nearest parking spot when the coast is clear. Hopping out as fast as I can, I keep my eyes on her as she continues down the sidewalk, my heart pounding in my chest as I close the space between us. Hergorgeous red curls sweep over her back with every step, shining in the sunlight in a way that I’m not used to seeing inside the dark club.
Normally, I struggle to even think of an icebreaker when it comes to Finley because the sheer beauty of her short-circuits my brain, but my awkwardness is taking a backseat to whatever kind of unexplained desperation I have to make sure she’s okay as I gain on her. Right now, I’m not the guy who’s had a crush since the second he laid eyes on her, and who has been pining from afar for over a year. I’m someone else entirely—a man who will do anything to make her smile, because she’s far too special to be crying alone in the middle of the city.
“Finley!” I shout, thankfully catching her attention right away. She turns abruptly, her red-rimmed eyes narrowing as she tries to figure out who called for her. As soon as her gaze lands on me, she freezes, confusion washing over her expression.
“Theo?” she questions, her delicate fingers swatting away the tears on her cheeks. She sniffles, attempting to appear as though she wasn’t just crying ten seconds ago by plastering a fake smile across her face. Even if I hadn’t been watching the whole time, I’d know it was forced by the way it doesn’t reach her eyes. They’re sad—somehow glassy, dull, and painfully beautiful all at once. I want to fix it. “What are you doing here so early?”
The question catches me off guard for a moment because I work about five minutes from here. I’m in the city almost every morning by eight, sometimes evenbefore then if we have a game. But then I remember that Finley doesn’t know me as anything more than just another athlete she serves at the club. To her, I’m just another guy who comes into her life at nine p.m. a couple of nights every week and leaves before the place closes down—which is mainly a selfish move on my part because it only took watching her leave with Eric Moss once to make me realize that ignorance is bliss. Even from afar, I know he doesn’t cherish her the way she deserves.
The way I would.
My heart twists in my chest at the thought, my eyes widening when I remember that she asked me a question. I’ve never had a problem talking to women. I’m normally confident and unhesitating, but for some reason, I just can’t get my shit together around her. Last month, I met Bella Simon, the world’s biggest pop star, and Istilldidn’t go as brainless as I do around Finley.
“I’m, uhhh…” I rasp, pushing back the nerves that are threatening to rise to the surface. She’s clearly struggling with something, and whatever it is, I want to make it all better. But I can’t do that if I’m tripping over my words like a bumbling idiot. “I was driving home from the practice facility. Are you okay? You were crying.”
She winces, her teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip. I want to reach out and pull it free, so she doesn’t hurt herself, but I refrain, rubbing the pads of my thumbs and pointer fingers against each other to rid them of the urge.
“I’m fine. Just not having a great day so far.” Heremerald eyes well up again, glistening with unshed tears. I try to stay calm, not wanting to distress her any further, but my blood is simmering in my veins at the thought of someone making her sad like this. I’m honestly not a violent guy, but the anguish in her expression and tightness in her words have me ready to burn the entire world straight to the ground.
I take a breath, centering myself because I need to keep a level head if I want to help her. She doesn’t know me from any of the other patrons that come into Club Tilt each week, but I want her to. I want her to know I’m here, and that I’ll do whatever I can to make her smile.
Leaning close so only she can hear, I soften my gaze. “Did someone hurt you, Finley?” I ask gently. “You can tell me.” My initial thought was that Moss had something to do with this, but my instincts are telling me that there’s more to it. I don’t know exactly what has her out here walking the city streets like she’s lost, butfuck. I can’t stand it.
“It’s…” she begins, but thinks better of it, shaking her head as a group of women in business attire walk past. “No. Nobody hurt me, Theo. I’m okay.” The words are barely a choked whisper. She sniffles again, blinking rapidly in an attempt to combat the tears that are threatening to fall. Her nose twitches, and I lock onto the motion, hating the fact that she’s holding back. I despise the idea of her crying, but what’s worse is that she’s suppressing it. I need to get her off this sidewalk and bring her somewhere where she can feel whatever is going on inside her without judgment.
“Can I give you a lift?” I ask, tossing a thumb over my shoulder to where my truck is parked. “It’s really no big deal. I can bring you home, or wherever you were headed.” Her shoulders droop, eyes falling to the pavement as she focuses on a small rock, pushing it with the toe of her shoe. I watch as a single tear rolls down her pink cheek, my eyes catching on her hand as she lays it over her stomach.
“I don’t want to go home right now,” she replies quietly, swiping the moisture away. “My roommates think I’m at work, so I was going to hang at the library for a bit. I just…don’t want them to ask questions.” I have a million questions of my own, and absolutely no right to ask a single one of them, since we barely know each other. She has no idea that I’ve longed to feel her in my arms, her soft skin warm against mine as she slept peacefully. How I’ve wished to be the object of her stolen glances and smiles at the club, ready to give her everything he doesn’t. I may not know every personal detail of her life, but there’s something about Finley that draws me in—something I can’t seem to shake, even though I’ve tried. I want to give her everything. To be the reason she wakes up in the morning without a care in the world, because she knows she’s adored.
