Chapter Twenty-Six

Maverick’s Playbook

Watch your blind spot!

“Later, Mav. See you tomorrow,” Brent said, walking out to their cars after meeting with coach.

“Yeah, get some rest. Big game coming up.”

His phone vibrated, and he read the text from Gigi. She and her roommate, Mandy, were staying at his house tonight because their condo was being fumigated tomorrow morning. She’d mentioned it last week, but he’d forgotten. Hell, he had a shit ton on his mind and wasn’t in the mood for thirty questions about the logistics. He sent her a quick response letting her know it was fine, he’d stay at Elle’s. Gigi had a key and could let herself in.

The next text was from Elle, asking him to get there soon because she needed to talk to him. After the fucked-up way things went down last night, he’d expected it. He hadn’t gone to her place last night because he didn’t want to hash it out when he was pissed. His event went off without a hitch, until Ben, one of his teammates, sent him a screenshot of a photo of Elle with Count Asshat. Ben’s girlfriend, Mia, worked in marketing for a local newspaper. She saw the photo on a table of lead stories to possibly run. Mia encouraged her editor to kill the story. The asshole’s arms were wrapped around Peaches’ shoulders. She didn’t look comfortable in the picture, and she wasn’t smiling, but he had his hands on her again. He’d asked her to stay the fuck away from the guy. It was a simple goddamn request.

Maverick saw red. And from there, the rest of the night went to shit. He called her to see what the fuck was going on, and the douchebag actually answered her phone. Her fucking phone. He offered no explanation as to why he had it. His exact words, “You’ll have to ask her yourself.” Maverick wanted to drive over there and rip his fucking head off, but he had a speech to give. He put on a fake ass smile and took the stage.

When the event ended, there was a text from Elle asking him to come to her place because Dani was drunk. He didn’t respond because he didn’t trust what he’d say. He’d never been pissed at her. Not like this. He cooled down a little before driving over to her place with his goddamn goldendoodle sprawled across the passenger seat fighting to climb on his lap. When he pulled in front of her building, Edward Efant’s goddamn car pulled out of her fucking building. He’d seen the ridiculous limo a few times, and there was no question whose car it was because the arrogant prick had his last name splattered across his license plate. Maverick turned his ass around and drove home. He’d been jerked around enough for one night. He couldn’t think of a rational explanation for any of it.

Was the asshole in her condo? No fucking way. She’d asked Maverick to come over. But Edward had obviously taken her home. She clearly ignored his request. He’d been tolerant of Edward’s bullshit and was at a breaking point. Was more going on than he knew? He’d walked in on the guy grabbing her arm, and yeah, she’d pushed him off, but how many times had it happened when he wasn’t there? Was she being fucking honest with him?

He let out a breath and made his way into her building. He came to a halt, trying hard to rein his anger in.

“Mr. Wallace, are you ready for Monday’s game?” Bernie, the doorman asked. The dude had to be pushing seventy-five, but he never missed a beat.

“Yeah, we’re ready to get after it,” he said to the older gentlemen, but his gaze never left the asshole talking on his phone in the corner of the lobby.

Edward fucking Efant.

“Good luck, we’re all rooting for you.”

Maverick patted Bernie on the shoulder before making a beeline across the lobby. “Is it possible for you to find your own fucking woman?” he growled.

The cocky bastard dropped his phone in his coat pocket and smiled. “Well, technically, she was mine before she was yours.”

He wanted to crush his smug face. His slicked back hair and navy suit with a floral pocket square pissed him off even more. Douchebag.

“She was never yours, and she sure as shit ain’t yours now. I’m going to tell you one more time, and I’ll say it nice and slow. You need to hear me because this is the last fucking time I’m going to say it. Stay. The. Fuck. Away. From. Her.”

“When she asks me to, I will. Until then, if she invites me over, which she does often—you’ll probably see me again soon.” He smirked, tucking his hand into his pocket.

“No fucking way she invited you here. Not now, and not ever. Not since we’ve been together. You’re hanging out in her lobby like a goddamn stalker.”

“Am I? I believe you’re threatened by me, Maverick. And you have good reason to be. Because what we had never really ended. She was confused, yes, but the feelings are still there. We both know I’m a whole lot more likely to ride in on a white horse, while you’re out there kicking a ball around a field with your friends. It bothers you, doesn’t it? Knowing I’m better suited for her. You and I both know it, and Elle knows it too.”

“If you’re so good for her, then why’d she dump your ass, you selfish, arrogant prick? This isn’t a conversation about who’s better for her—she’s with me. End of story. I don’t give a fuck what you think.”

“Yes, Elle and I hit a bump in the road as every couple does. You were a rebound until she comes to her senses. We’ve talked about a future together. About marriage and children. Have you? You’ve been with her for a few months and now she and her mother don’t speak. You don’t think it bothers her, do you? Well, it does. Then you come to my workplace calling out orders for me to stay away from her knowing it will reflect poorly on her professionally. What do you think she called me over to talk about today? I’ll let you ponder the thought.”

“You think you can get inside my head? I’m a fucking professional football player. I don’t do head games—you manipulative fuck. Don’t you already have children? Ah, yes, they’re only a few years younger than Elle. Maybe you should put your energy there, old man. Now I’m going upstairs to spend the rest of the night with my girl. You can see yourself out, and I promise you this is the last time you’re going to set foot in this building.”

“Again, don’t make promises you can’t keep, Maverick. She invited me here. You can’t stop me from accepting the invitation,” he said in his haughty French accent, turned and headed for the door.

Maverick’s blood boiled. He stepped in the elevator, replaying the conversation. Did she invite him here? He did see the guy’s car here last night, along with the photo and the phone. Fuck, this wasn’t good. But he knew her. She wouldn’t fuck around on him, would she? Count Asshat sure seemed confident saying things never really ended with them. Maverick used his best poker face when he said the dude’s head games weren’t working. Nothing was further from the truth because right now, he didn’t know which way was up. Running a hand through his hair he tried to get it together. He wanted to punch a wall. Kick something. Preferably a cocky French Count. The man’s words replayed over and over.

What do you think she called me over to talk about today?

We’ve discussed marriage and children.

We both know I’m a whole lot more likely to ride in on the white horse.

Was he right? Edward did fit into her world better than Maverick. Was she calling him to vent about her problems? Planning a future with both of them behind his back?

He put the key in the door, anger radiating from every cell.

“Finally. I’ve been waiting,” she said, her face puffy and red. Was she crying? Had she cried to the Count earlier?

“Give me a minute,” he growled, walking right past her and into the bathroom. He locked the door, which he’d never done, and bent over the sink.

Pull your shit together, man.

She looked dumbfounded when he moved past her. Seeing her upset nearly broke him.

Nearly.

But then he remembered he wasn’t the first one to comfort her. He splashed water on his face before hitting his phone hard on the counter. His anger palpable. Unfortunately, his phone took the brunt of it. It crashed into the wall before landing in the garbage can. Normally he’d gloat about his impressive shot, but not today.

“Maverick. Are you okay?” she called from the other side of the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said, his irritation impossible to miss. He reached for his phone, noting the only other thing in the garbage can in the tidy bathroom.

What the hell is this? A white stick.

A motherfucking pregnancy test.

He bent down and pulled it from the trash can, and every muscle in his body tensed. His shoulders went stick straight. He barreled out of the bathroom with his cracked phone and the white stick in hand.

“What the fuck is this?” he said, his voice loud and angry. He flailed the goddamn thing in her face.

She blinked several times. Speechless. This was a first. It also spoke volumes. He’d never seen her at a loss for words.

Her gaze hardened. “What are you doing? Get that out of my face.”

“I think we can jump ahead in this conversation. Is this why you’re crying? You thought you were pregnant with someone else’s fucking baby?” he said, his voice louder than intended. Everything bottled up was now at the surface, like a dam at its limits.

She crossed her arms, her face red and furious.

“Please, do me the honor of telling me who I’ve been impregnated by. Last I checked, you were the only man I’m sleeping with.”

“But I’m not the one you called first to discuss this with, am I? And it sounds like your sidepiece doesn’t wear a condom because you sure as shit make sure I do. Let me guess, you want to get pregnant by a fucking royal. Is this part of your fucked up fairy-tale?” It felt good to let it all out. He was done checking himself. She’d fucked him over, and he was damn well going out in a blaze.

Her glossy wounded gaze locked with his. He didn’t miss the devastation. It almost made him stop his rant.

Almost.

But she’d cut him to the core, and he’d damn well have his say. He’d put up with this Edward bullshit for too long, and the whole time he’d been getting played.

“You think I’m sleeping with someone else? You’re kidding, right?” It came out more like a squeak. Her voice broke, and tears streamed down her face. She still wouldn’t own her shit.

“You bet on the wrong horse, Peaches. Your prince is an old douchebag. Probably can’t even get it up. I don’t think you’re going to have any luck getting pregnant. I guess karma’s a bitch, huh?”

“Get out,” she said, and her voice trembled. Good. He wanted to hurt her the way she’d hurt him.

“My pleasure. We’re done. Thanks for nothing.” Bitterness rolled off his tongue with ease. Even he was shocked by his coolness.

“That’s the first thing we’ve agreed on today.” She held the door open for him to leave. His gaze locked with hers and something in his chest tightened. She looked sad. Broken. Why the fuck was she upset? She did this. This was on her. Where was the remorse?

“Have a nice life, Peaches.” His tone laced with disgust.

She didn’t respond, just slammed the door behind him. As the elevator moved down toward the lobby a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. They were done. She didn’t make any effort to explain herself, defend why she’d been meeting with Edward behind his back, or tell him why the fuck she had a pregnancy test in her bathroom. He sat in his truck and leaned his head back against the seat. She’d fucking crushed him, and he never saw it coming. He knew better than to fully trust someone this way. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He’d bought a fucking engagement ring for her. Planned a future with her. Christ, she’d agreed to move in with him, all the while carrying on with another man behind his back.

He pulled in his driveway and slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

Mandy’s car was in front of the house. She and Gigi were already here. Jesus. He sure as shit didn’t need his sister grilling him right now, and he wouldn’t stay at his house with them there. The way this day was going, he’d more than likely have a goddamn nightmare tonight. Betrayal had a way of dredging up bad memories.

“Mav, I thought you were staying at Elle’s?” Gigi said, setting out enough Chinese food containers on the counter to last her a week.

“Yeah, just grabbing a bag. Do you mind feeding Daisy tonight and tomorrow?”

“Of course, no problem,” she said, giving him a side hug when he walked past.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, are you okay?” She studied his features as her roommate came walking out from the bathroom.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Hey, Maverick,” Mandy said. “Thanks for letting us crash here tonight.”

“No problem.”

He ran upstairs and threw practice clothes and toiletries in a bag and made a quick reservation at a hotel up the street. He used the back door to avoid his sister’s inquisition, and yelled out for them to have a good night.

Driving to the hotel he made a conscious decision. No more distractions. Agonizing over why the woman he loved betrayed him included. Time to pull his head out of his ass and finish his season strong. He’d been caught up in a bullshit fairy-tale, and he knew better.

But why the fuck did it feel like someone cut his heart from his body and stomped it?

Maybe, because she did.