Warning Track: The Callahan Family, Book One Read online

  Those big brown eyes blink, registering the words I’ve just said. “You love me?”

  I wasn’t been expecting to tell her tonight, or even this soon. We still haven’t had a real conversation about what happens next, though we both know things are serious between us. I just kind of blurted it out, because she deserves to know how much room she takes up in my heart. She deserves for someone to tell her every day how worthy and cherished she is.

  “So much. I’m in love with you, stupidly so. I’ve never felt this way about another person, Colleen. And it’s both a twisted decision by the universe, since things for us will never be simple, but I wouldn’t take easy if it meant I didn’t get you.”

  “I choose difficult. For you, I’d choose it every time.” Colleen swings around to straddle me, rubbing herself on my quickly hardening cock as our lips lock in a slow, passionate embrace.

  And when she sinks down onto me a few moments later, it’s with a breathed, “I love you.”

  The world melts away, and it is only us.

  30

  Colleen

  Two days after Hayes and I exchange those three huge words, the Pistons clinch the division series and move onto the league championships.

  I’m in my office, on the phone with our head PR rep, giving my statements on the win for media coverage that will be blasted everywhere tonight and tomorrow, when Hayes slides through my doorway and shuts the door. I hold up a finger, signaling for him to wait, but good golly he’s way too hot not to soak up with my full gaze.

  He’s got on suit pants and a button down, but over his crisp navy shirt is a white T-shirt that reads “2020 Division Champions” with a Pistons logo square in the middle. It’s tradition to have them printed up beforehand, which I know is a waste if a team loses, but I’m glad Hayes gets to don one now.

  I’m freaking out of my mind that the whole team gets to wear one, considering where we started this season. It was a long shot that we’d even come together as a team, much less make the playoffs or move onto the league championships. It’s a testament to how hard the players have worked, how well the coaches have coped, and I can pat myself on the back and take a tiny bit of credit for holding the ship together. Not that I’d ever say anything like that to a reporter or the PR rep I just hung up with.

  “I’m so proud of you!” I squeal like a school girl, hopping over to him once I’m off the phone.

  As a general manager, but more as a girlfriend, I’m so happy Hayes and the team won. He played like the champion he is tonight, and we’re onto the next round. All in all, this is a pretty perfect night. And it’s capped off by being one of the nights we’re allowing ourselves to spend at my house together. Hayes will sneak over long after the celebratory drinks and debauchery with the team, but I’ll wait up in giddy anticipation. He’s always raring to go after a victory.

  No one is up here, but someone could venture this way soon. It feels too euphoric not to kiss him though, so I wrap my arms around Hayes’ neck. His hands come to my hips, and the last thing I see before my eyes flutter closed into the kiss is the cocky smirk he wears.

  Our tongues tangle in a tantric, deep dance. He grinds himself against me, and I feel the bulge begin to grow in his suit pants. He smells like the showers, like Dove soap and the manly-scented lotion he keeps in his locker, and a little of the champagne that I’m sure is soaking through the carpets down there right now.

  I could lose myself in him, right here, but I’m far too needy and it’s far too risky. The park is still crawling with fans, players, coaches, and media, and we’re playing a dangerous game. Still, he loves me and I love him and it feels so right to be able to kiss him in celebration right now.

  “What the fuck?”

  Hayes and I whirl around, with sheer panic coating my throat and stomach instantly. I could bend over and get sick all over Hayes’ dress shoes right now, until I glimpse who just caught us mid lip-lock.

  Walker stands at the entrance to my office, and I must have been too involved in the kiss to hear him either knock or open the door uninvited. Either way, this is the last thing he thought he’d ever see me doing in here, and it shows all over his face.

  “Walker, wait … I, um …” I can’t find the words to explain this away, or make it right, or do something.

  Hayes holds up a hand, trying to defuse this bomb of a situation. “Walker, man, calm down. We can explain.”

  In two seconds flat, all the glee and excitement this night holds pops like a rotten bubble, drenching everything in reality and shock.

  “You … I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Or you!” He points an angry finger at Hayes.

  The hurt and disappointment in his voice hits me square in the chest, and I want to sob. I’ve been keeping this secret from everyone; not just the media and those who could ruin our careers, but from people who truly matter and love me.

  “This is wrong. Do you know how much trouble you could get her in?” He accuses Hayes, as if I’ve had no part in this relationship.

  That comment makes my temper flare. “Don’t act like we’re not both consenting adults, Walker. I’m not a child. You have no idea what you’re talking about when it comes to Hayes and me.”

  “And I thought you weren’t your father, Col.” Walker shakes his head glumly, and that’s the one thing he could have said that feels like taking a bullet.

  It dawns on me then, as Walker backs out with a strange, hurt expression on his face, that we’re in seriously over our heads. Hayes and I have been traipsing around with rose-colored glasses, basking in the honeymoon phase of our relationship and keeping to our own little bubble. I’m reminded of just how many people we could hurt, just how much damage we could do to the team and to ourselves if our relationship is discovered.

  One second before being discovered, being in Hayes’ arms felt like the most secure, wonderful place in this world. Suddenly, in the aftermath of Walker’s words, they feel like anything but.

  31

  Hayes

  “Charlie.”

  I greet my agent a little coldly as I pick up his call, and he can tell.

  Things have been extremely strained between us since the entire Jimmy Callahan scandal. While I don’t exactly blame Charlie, though I should, for getting me into this predicament … it is kind of his fault. He got caught having an affair on his wife of thirteen years, and Jimmy is the one who had the proof. He held it over Charlie’s head, manipulated him, made him move chess pieces like me around the board so that Jimmy could assemble a championship team and make a shitload of money on the side.

  Charlie is lucky he didn’t go to jail, but promising to testify fully and put Jimmy away got him immunity. What it didn’t do, however, was save his marriage or more than three-fourths of his clients. His wife, Janet, left him and took her half of the money in the divorce. A number of players on his roster fired him, and at first I was planning to do the same. But up until the Jimmy scandal, Charlie had worked his ass off for me. He protected an eighteen-year-old kid who had no clue what he was doing, and until that point had never steered me wrong. He’s not a bad guy, he’d simply been caught up in a very bad situation. There are only so many people in my life that I allow in my inner circle, and something in me told me not to give up on Charlie just yet.

  “Hey, man. How you doing? Your playing looks awesome, congrats on game one of the league series.” His voice is cheery but subdued, which is how it sounds every time I talk to him now.

  “I’m good, thanks. And yeah, it’s a good time to be hitting our stride. What’s up?” I want to get right to the point.

  I know he’s calling for a reason, because our relationship doesn’t include the casual chats it used to. Which is sad, but Charlie is the one who made it this way.

  “Just got the initial offer paperwork from the organization. I can have it sent over to your email, but the numbers look … well, they look pretty damn good, Hayes. I think the Pistons want to make up for what Jimmy did, and they aren
’t pulling punches. We could negotiate for more, but this is the highest contract I think you’ve ever been offered. No, I mean, I know it is.”

  Oh. He’s talking about next year’s signing details. In the flurry of playoffs, time with Colleen, and keeping myself in the best possible physical and mental shape for the next round of games, I’ve kind of forgotten about the drama of my free agency.

  Charlie interrupts my thoughts before I can answer him. “Or we could try your luck on the open market. There are any number of teams who have expressed interest already, LA being one of them. I have phone calls and messages coming left and right, Hayes. It’s your apple to pick, and there are a lot of juicy ones waiting.”

  I chew my lip, never having had to make this big of a decision in my life. Since the day I turned eighteen, the flow of my career has been as smooth as a lazy river, floating from one step to the next and one easy contract to a bigger one to a bigger one. This will be the first time I am really tasked with looking at all the options and weighing which one would be best for what could be my final years in the league.

  “Can you have some of them sent over to my email? I just … it’s a big decision, Charlie.” I say it sincerely, because even if my agent screwed me over in the past, he knows how tough this is going to be.

  When I arrived here, it was the last place I wanted to be. I was angry about how I’d been cheated, furious that I had to play for an organization and a family who had betrayed the game I love. But as time passed, I saw that the only stain here had been Jimmy Callahan. Everyone else in the Pistons’ organization, not to mention the Callahan family, is hard-working, fair, and puts the players’ needs almost above their own most of the time. That is a rare thing to come across in baseball, or sports in general.

  I swore that the first thing I would do once my one-year bullshit deal was up was hightail it out of here. But now, I don’t know. It doesn’t hurt that we’re a couple games out of the World Series. This team is hitting a hot streak at the most opportune of times, and it has that magical feel that some of my teams have had when they’ve made it all the way. It would be a fucking miracle, the story to end all stories, if we won a ring after all that we’ve gone through.

  The first thing I should be thinking about is my game; what team should I select to give me the best opportunity to ride out the rest of my career both competitively and comfortably. But of course, that isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. It’s a factor, obviously, but Colleen’s face pops into my head.

  We’ve been so good. Almost perfect, which sounds cliché, but it’s true. Aside from having to keep our entire dating life a secret, and sneaking around to be alone, it’s the first relationship I’ve had that’s actually serious. I’ve never felt this way for any other woman I’ve dated, and I already told her I’m in love with her.

  That is, until the Walker discovery blew everything up in our faces. It’s been a few days since he walked in on us in Colleen’s office, and things have been tense. And that’s putting it mildly.

  Not only will Walker not return my texts, look my way at practice, or acknowledge me whatsoever, but Colleen is distant and worried. We were walking on fragile ground before, not that either of us wanted to acknowledge it. But now that we’ve been found out, and Walker had taken that cheap shot about her turning into her father, she’s been aloof and I can feel her floating away. We haven’t spent a night together since, and she keeps making excuses for why she can’t see me.

  She’s spooked and I don’t blame her, but the worst endings have been playing out in my head. And I love this woman, more than anything. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says she can’t do this anymore.

  I’m not sure how this will work if I stay. Would we have to remain a secret until I retire? When would I feel ready to do that? Could I ask Colleen to hide for me, possibly for years? What would happen if we did come out? Hasn’t she already been put through enough scrutiny and media attention with her father?

  These questions haunt me daily, and they feel like a giant storm cloud hanging dangerously low over our heads.

  Then there is the issue of Los Angeles. It’s where I played most of my career, and I love the team and organization. They would welcome me back with open arms, my trade becoming a mistake on the ledger that we could erase. I could retire with them, it’s what I’ve always wanted.

  But is it still?

  Charlie’s voice crackles through the phone. “Of course I can. Take your time, read through everything. We don’t have to make the decision for a while, you have a few more weeks at least. I know how big this is, Hayes. I want you to be confident, I want to set you up for the kind of future you want.”

  When he drops the word future into the conversation, the only thing I can think of is Colleen.

  And how, no matter what I choose, we might not even have one.

  32

  Colleen

  It’s been coming like a train whose way I can’t get out of, but I’m still not prepared for it.

  This morning, I woke to a dozen text messages, twenty missed calls, and more than a hundred emails. Google alerts and news article sent to me by our public relations staff. Reporter questions and insiders looking for a quote for their piece. Even one journalist that I’m fairly close with decided to reach out and see if I’d like to come onto her program to discuss the anniversary.

  Today is one year since my father’s arrest and the subsequent FBI case was made public. One year since I was blindsided in my old office inside the Pistons ballpark. One year since everything I knew crumbled around me, leaving me on permanently shaky ground to clean up a mess I never caused by myself.

  I decided to take the day off, and thank God the team doesn’t have a scheduled playoff game today. I’m not sure I could have faced the media at a postgame conference, or even be inside the stadium today. Instead, I’ve spent the day with the TV off, my phone thrown under a pillow on my couch, and stress-baking my butt off.

  Hayes finds me elbow deep in brownie batter, even though various containers of muffins, cookies, and cupcakes already line my kitchen counters.

  “Are you preparing for a bake sale?” he quips, but I read the sympathy in his tone.

  I keep stirring, ignoring him. I told him not to come. In fact, it’s the first time we’ve been alone in each other’s presence in a week and a half. After Walker found out about us, I couldn’t bring myself to sneak around. It feels like the entire relationship we built is a lie, and I can’t get past the mental block consuming my mind.

  Not only will Walker not talk to me, he’s refused every attempt I’ve made, but I’m not sure where to put Hayes now. I love him … so much that I almost jeopardized everything in my life. I lied and snuck around, kept things from the people who have been there for me most. Walker was right; I’m the spitting image of my father.

  “You didn’t have to come over,” I grumble, not taking my eyes off of the goopy brown liquid in the bowl.

  The next time Hayes speaks, his warm breath is fluttering over the back of my neck. “You’ve been shrugging me off for a week. I’m not letting you do it anymore. Especially today.”

  It shouldn’t surprise me that he knows the significance of today’s date, but then again, you could turn on any news channel right now and hear about the anniversary.

  There is also a secret I haven’t told a soul since it happened. As if the night Walker found Hayes and me in my office wasn’t bad enough, my phone had a missed call when I finally fished it out of my purse when I got home.

  A voicemail introduction with “You have a call from a Florida State inmate” was all I heard before I deleted it. The night the Pistons won the division series, my father called to talk. It has been months since I’ve heard from him, since he’s made an overt attempt to reach me. The letter he wrote me the week he went to jail is still sitting in the last drawer on the right of this kitchen island, and I want to rip it to shreds.

  “I’ve told you before, I’m not a damsel. I don’
t need you to save me,” I snap, throwing my wooden spoon into the sink.

  By the time I look up, Hayes’ green eyes are full of pity and determination. “I’m not saving you, I’m supporting you. That’s what you do for the people you love. Now, can we please sit down and talk about it? Or at least let me hold you?”

  There are so many things we have to talk about, but I’m afraid that if I start, only the worst will come out. Since Walker caught us, I can’t help feeling like this is the moment the other shoe drops.

  “I just wanted to be alone tonight. Why couldn’t you respect that?”

  He throws his hands up. “Because you’ve been saying that for a week, and I knew you’d be messed up tonight. Have you talked to your family? Or—”

  “Or what?” My tongue is a whip.

  “Have you talked to your father?” He dares to ask it.

  My chuckle is sardonic as hell. “What, have you finally gotten Walker to talk to you? Because that sounds like it’s coming from him.”

  Hayes shakes his head in confusion. “What? No. But, and I say this as someone who vehemently loathes Jimmy Callahan, it might make you feel better if you do. You’ve been running from the confrontation since the whole thing happened. I can’t even get you to open up about it with me. The man isn’t Voldemort, and the more power you give to not addressing him or refusing to talk about the fucked-up things he did that affected your life … well, the more power you give him over you.”

  I suck in my cheeks stubbornly, pissed off that he’s poking at a sore spot on the day I need it the least. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Hayes comes toward me like he might embrace me, but then stops short. “Because you won’t let me have an idea! You might not have a nuclear family, but I never did either. It’s not about the people who raise us, Col, or the lack thereof. Or the ones who do stick around and follow their own complexes and egos instead of giving us the love we deserve. You get to choose who you let into your life, and who gets to love you. I think you’ve got some damn good people around you, and you’re lucky that they are blood. You’re lucky to know where you came from. I was bitter for a long time that I was alone in this world, and then Bryant and Ronnie came along. And then you did, too. Let me love you. Let me be here for you.”