CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WALKER

Fucking hell. I’ve never seen Riley like this. Pale. Weak. Hopeless. She’s been living a life of lies the past few months, stringing me along, while also fighting the demons of the Bankes family and trying to keep Boston Strong afloat.

Whatever you’re thinking, she didn’t do anything wrong or out of malice.

Especially in her condition.

Jackson’s warning blazes its way into my head.

I was halfway back to Boston when I pulled over and texted him, ordering him to give me Riley’s address.

He responded in seconds with a follow up of the same warning he gave me outside the country club. The ninety-minute drive wasn’t long enough for me to figure out what I was going to say to her.

I planned on listening, letting her come clean about her betrayal and the pregnancy, if I decoded Jackson’s words correctly, but when she let me into her apartment without fucking checking to see who it was. That pissed me off.

The flash of boob told me she was naked under her robe, which I would have loved under any other condition. But that she let me in not knowing it was me pissed me the fuck off. Was she expecting someone else?

All rational thoughts fled the moment I saw her naked flesh. When her sad eyes greeted mine, I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless. It was when she spun it around and accused me of being secretive about my job that set me off.

Had I been evasive about my career? Fuck, yes. But not to hurt her. Being a professional football player in the NFL and signing an eight-million-dollar contract wasn’t relevant to our relationship.

Sexual. Friendly. Romantic. Whatever the fuck it was. It’s normal for a guy—or woman—in my position to want to keep their wealth a secret until trust is built with the partner. We were on the cusp of total truth. I’d planned on telling her everything Wednesday night after I made love to her in my hotel room, or back at her apartment. I wanted to share my excitement with her that night before she went away with friends.

I watch Riley take two small bites of her sandwich before she sets it down next to her on the couch.

“Finish it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“If that’s my child you’re carrying, you’re going to do what I say and eat the fucking sandwich.”

She jerks at my harsh words. This isn’t me. I don’t snap at women. I don’t swear at women. I’m not a possessive asshole, and I’m still not a hundred percent sure she's pregnant or if the baby is mine.

Sick and tired of the deception and lies by omission, I don’t beat around the bush.

“Are you pregnant?”

She doesn’t look at me and nods.

“What are the chances it’s my child? The one time we fucked without a condom you said the timing wasn’t right. How the hell could I get you pregnant then? Who else could it be?” I hate how aggressive I’m acting toward her. It’s not like me. But if what Jackson said is true, that it’s going to be hard for her to get pregnant, it means there’s less of a chance the baby is mine, and that pisses me off even more.

I don’t want kids. I’m not fit to raise them. But during my drive here, I thought about raising a child with Riley, and the thought didn’t make me recoil. What pisses me the fuck off is the possibility this child could be someone else’s.

That another man had his hands, his mouth, his fucking cock inside Riley.

“I’m not sure,” her voice is soft and shaky.

“You’re not sure how many other guys you’ve been with?” I jump to my feet and pace aggressively across her small apartment. I can’t handle the jealousy that rages inside my chest, which is fucking stupid.

“No. You’re the only one I’ve been with in over a year.”

“Explain it to me. You were willing to let me fuck you bare a few weeks ago. Why?”

Her shoulders lift as she takes in a huge breath. “I’m not sure why it was so easy for me to get pregnant with you.”

“I pulled out in your office.”

She quietly clears her throat. “I think I got pregnant in the, um, shower.”

The shower? Hell, we had sex in the shower once. The night we first met. Or rather, the morning after. She willingly let me fuck her without a condom, but I pulled out and came on her back.

Jackson’s parting words ring loud.

Riley wanted to get pregnant, and something tells me Jackson would have been okay with that. Fuck, Kendall practically pushed Riley on my dick that night. Was that her intent? To get knocked up by a stranger and she and Jackson raise it as their own? The next Bankes heir?

The feel of her tight, wet pussy gripping my bare cock was fucking euphoria. I’d only pumped inside her a few times before coming on her back, then on her stomach.

My dick twitches in my slacks. I didn’t even take the time to change before coming over here, which shows my desperation to get to Riley.

To get to the truth.

Fuck it. I was desperate to see her even if I was confused by the feelings I have. Hearing the baby is mine has me pausing in my steps. I can’t look at her yet. I’m afraid of what I’ll see.

Of the sadness that fills her face and wondering if she’s regretful I’m the father. Or regretful of the pregnancy. Or regretful she’s not married to Jackson who can give her financial stability.

I should tell her I can give her the same. And so much more. But I don’t want her to want me because I can take care of her. I don’t want her to want me for what I can do for her.

I wasn’t enough for Sebastian and Lydia to love. Even with the added zeros in my bank account now.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stare out the window at the industrial building across the street. This isn’t where I want my child to grow up. While it’s not the worst part of Boston, it’s not the safest either.

There’s so much we need to figure out, but right now I need some space to process the facts.

Riley isn’t marrying my brother.

Riley didn’t technically cheat on him or me.

Riley is pregnant with my child.

Riley is in financial need.

Riley is all I can think about.

Not ready to forgive her and worried I’ll say something more I’ll regret, I turn and point at the uneaten sandwich.

“Eat the damn sandwich.”

I storm out of her apartment and do all I can not to slam the door in my wake. As soon as I’m in my car, I open my phone and find the closest grocery store and load up the virtual shopping cart.

It’s too late for delivery, so I select the first opening in the morning to have them sent to Riley’s apartment. If she’s carrying my child, she’s not going to starve herself.

Tossing my cell on the passenger seat, I drive across town to my hotel, where sleep evades me.

W hen I’m finished with the weighted portion of my workout the following morning, I change the music on my phone from classic rock to rap and start my run on the treadmill. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see three missed texts from Riley.

PERFECTION: Thank you for the groceries. That was very kind of you.

PERFECTION: I’m sorry I hurt you, Walker.

PERFECTION: Thank you for making me a sandwich last night. I finished it after you left.

I respect her more for not making excuses. For not blaming me or Jackson or her finances for the choices she made. I pump my legs faster and push myself another two miles before slowing to a jog when my phone signals another incoming text.

JACKSON: Riley says you stopped by last night. You guys good?

ME: When did you find out?

I don’t elaborate. Jackson and I are barely on talking terms as it is. Our relationship is still new. I don’t even ask how he’s doing or what our father said to him. Most of me doesn’t give a rat’s ass. All I care about is Riley.

JACKSON: Two part question. Answer to the first part. I figured she was in deep with the guy she was seeing about a month ago. Part two: after golfing.

Shit. He didn’t have a clue I was the guy Riley was seeing until the night before his wedding. Or was he referring to her pregnancy? I don’t know why it matters, but I ask anyway.

ME : When did you learn she was pregnant?

JACKSON : Friday night.

ME : And about me?

JACKSON : Friday night. We good?

ME : I don’t know.

JACKSON : That’s fair. I’m on my way over to Riley’s. She didn’t say how your talk went. Anything I should know?

ME : I don’t know.

JACKSON : That’s fair. I’ve got a few days off. Love to get together before you go back to CA.

ME : Maybe.

He likes my texts and I drop my cell in the cup holder. Turning up the speed and incline of the treadmill, I pump out another two miles while I try to distract myself from my emotions with physical pain.

Thirty minutes in the sauna doesn’t help either. Nor does a long shower. Tomorrow’s a big day, one only a few know about, so I take advantage of one of my final days of semi-anonymity and take a self-guided tour of Boston.

I enjoyed it more when Riley showed me the sights, not that I paid much attention to them. So wrapped up in being with her, holding her hand, listening to her talk and laugh, stealing kisses when I could, I let Boston and its history pass by in a blur.

This time isn’t much different, except I’m alone. I walk the Freedom Trail, veering off it when my mind wanders, only to find myself near North Station. I walk along the oceanfront, check out the U.S.S. Constitution, walk along the Charles River to Chinatown, and make it back to my hotel room after seven.

I order room service, barely tasting my meal, and go to bed early. In the morning, I pump out another long workout, shower, then change into slacks and mentally prepare for another life-changing decision.

Well, the prior wasn’t a choice I’d been given.

Ben Vanesse, my agent since my senior year in college, meets me in the parking lot.

“Ready, Bankes?” He claps my shoulder and guides me into the building. I’ve seen my share of smarmy agents, but Ben is a good guy. Sure, he’s in it for the paycheck, but he cares about his players too.

“I guess.”

“Don’t tell me after all the favors you asked me to call in that you’ve had a change of heart.”

“No worries, Ben. I’ll sign the contract.”

“Three years and fifteen million isn’t enough to bring even half a grin to that ugly mug of yours?”

I cock a brow at him. “Since when have you known me to jump up and down and do cartwheels before signing a contract?”

“True.” He holds open a door for me. “But you never looked like you were facing death row either.”

Shit. That’s not the impression I want to give my new coach or my new team. I’ve always been the face and voice of reason. A leader on every team I’ve played on from high school to college and in Arizona and San Fran.

My teammates and coaches respect me because I keep drama and personal shit off the field and out of the locker room. Hell, I left all my personal shit in Rhode Island. The reality of the decision I made, the cut I took, and why, slaps me in the face.

“I’m fine.”

As we head down the corridor to the GM’s office, I tamp back my frustration at my life right now and take deep, calming breaths in an attempt to loosen the band around my chest.

Ben gives me a look over before opening the next set of doors. “Ready?”

I nod my head and we step into an impressive office lined with trophies, plaques, and pictures of the team with some of the city’s most famous athletes and stars.

“Best kept secret in football,” Shawn Saunders, the Revolutions’ GM, shakes my hand. “Can’t tell you how excited we are to have you in Boston.”

“Bankes. Good to see you again.” Coach Danny Hayes shakes my hand and tugs me in for a chest bump that turns into a one-arm hug.

He’s a few years past fifty and affectionate with his players. A hard ass on the field, but he’s not the kind of coach who is always on. He and his wife, who I met the last time I was in the city, are down to earth people who treat the players like their sons.

“Glad to be here.”

We make small talk, and I’m grateful for Ben’s dynamic personality. Part of what makes him one of the best agents is his ability to charm the stiffest of the tightwads into an amazing deal for his clients.

This time, his job was easy. I hadn’t been looking for an amazing deal. In a matter of forty-eight hours, my life has changed. I shouldn’t be surprised. It only took minutes after meeting Riley to experience the same life-changing feeling.

Although ten weeks ago, the changes were positive. Or so I thought. They were lies.

“Walker?” Ben nudges my elbow.

I blink over at him, realizing I’d completely zoned out. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Excuse me. Would you mind repeating that?”

“Jet lagged?” Coach laughs. “I asked if you were having second thoughts on taking the cut. Since we’re rebuilding the team, you’ll be a big fish in the pond, but we have a lot of weak areas on our defense we’re focusing on. Our running game’s been strong, but with Tozier and Pitts going through knee injury after knee injury, your speed and agility are needed. I only wish we could have offered you more.”

“Easy, Danny. We don’t want to talk Walker out of the deal before he signs the contract.” Saunders pushes the manilla folder across the conference table and Ben opens it, reading through the documents.

As he reads through each page, he passes it to me to read and sign. I trust him, and I don’t care about the money anyway. I pretend to read line by line, and when Ben passes me the next page, I sign where indicated and repeat until we’re done with the contract.

The four of us stand and shake hands.

“I don’t know why you’d settle for the cut, but we’re happy to have you here.”

I shake Danny’s hand. “Life isn’t about money, coach. It doesn’t buy happiness or make dreams come true. Besides, I have more than I can ever imagine spending in my lifetime.”

“No truer words have ever been spoken. Our program needs a guy like you. Welcome to Boston.”