Fuck. This is not how I wanted this night to go.
“Go after her, man,” Owen urges, and I stand, but I’m immediately stopped with a hand on my shoulder.
I turn to see my coach had stood with me. “You need to stay here because we need to talk. It’s out, Tatum. Officially.”
With those words, my blood runs cold.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bria
The dinner with his team could not have gone worse. I will admit Tatum was right to keep me away from Mitch. I didn’t get the best vibes from him, but he could’ve warned me about the rest of his teammates. I knew about his past playboy antics, but to hear it rubbed in my face stung.
I’m just another girl who deep down hoped to change the guy.
I’m just another freaking idiot.
Then, for him to let me leave by myself…
God. I had the Uber driver from hell and it cost a fortune. If I had the capability and funds I would Uber all the way back to campus, but I bet that’s out of their scope of service. Not to mention I’m a poor college student.
Once in my hotel room, I draw myself a long bath. As the tub fills with water and bubbles, I check the minibar and grab a couple of bottles at random. Tatum’s paying anyway.
I set my phone up on its stand on the ledge of the tub, putting on an audiobook to relax. Beside it are the bottles of liquor I snagged and once I’m neck-deep in the suds, I open one of the bottles and take a long swig. I cringe as the alcohol burns my throat on the way down, but I suck it up. The buzz will be worth it.
As soon as the first bottle is empty and the book gets to a steamy scene, there’s a knock at my door.
“Go away,” I yell in hopes the person will listen. I know who it has to be on the other side of the door, and I really don’t want to see him.
“Bria, let me in. We need to talk.”
Nothing good has ever come from hearing those words, yet he thinks they’ll get me to open the door? No, thank you.
I ignore him, still hoping he’ll go away. A few seconds pass and he knocks on the door again. “Please, Bria.”
With a groan, I push out of the tub, sloshing water over the ledge as I swing my leg over. I grab the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and put it on, cinching the waist with the belt.
I throw open the door with a huff and stand in front of Tatum with my hands on my waist.
“You wanted to talk. Speak.”
“Maybe you should get dressed.” He swallows thickly and his Adam’s apple bobs as he drags his gaze over my body.
“Nope, I’m good. This won’t take long.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It’s already mussed, like he’s been messing with it all night.
“I need to tell you why I was really kicked off my team before you hear it from someone else.” Those are the last words I was expecting him to say.
It throws me off guard and my arms fall to my sides. Taking a step back, I tilt my head in a silent gesture to invite him inside. His expression is grateful as he steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him.
I pop back into the bathroom to drain the tub and when I come back out, he’s pacing the floor and shaking his head. I climb on the bed and sit back on my knees, making sure the robe keeps everything underneath covered.
He keeps glancing at me and I want to say something to help him or push him along, but I don’t know what to say. My nerves are using my body like a bounce house, jumping around inside me and making me nauseous.
“Tatum, you’re starting to freak me out here.” The sound of my voice snaps him out of it and he collapses onto the edge of the bed. His legs are wide and his head is hung between his shoulders, his hands laced behind his neck. He drags his hands back up through his hair on a sigh and leans down to rest his forearms on his knees.
He can’t settle and it’s putting me on edge. I wish I hadn’t left my tiny liquor bottles in the bathroom because I could use a drink right about now. And I think he could too.
“Whatever it is, it’s fine. Spit it out already,” I urge him despite not believing what I’m telling him. Truth be told, I can only imagine the reasons he might’ve gotten kicked off his team. It would take a lot and it scares me.
“I know there are two sides to every story, but I promise you, what I’m about to tell you is the truth.”
I swallow and nod, even though he can’t see me. “Okay,” I whisper.
“After playoffs last season, the whole team, for the most part, celebrated. We threw a huge party at one of the houses and it was packed with people. I think there had to be five girls for every one of us on the team. It was insane. Bigger than usual.” He sighs again and I play with the belt of my robe. I’m as fidgety as he is.
This doesn’t surprise me. I read all about his epic parties and there’s a reason he was the playboy king of the LA Elite. He’s had no shortage of hookups, well, ever, and I can’t blame him or the girls who throw themselves at him. Hell, I’m one of them.
“A few of my teammates are good men. They’re married and they like to celebrate, but they don’t hang around too late or get mixed up with the chicks at these places. Most of them don’t, anyway.” His voice rumbles with anger.
I climb off the bed and go to sit next to him. I don’t want to be staring at his back anymore. He looks like he needs comfort and I want to be supportive. “What does that mean?” I know what it means, but for some reason, I have to hear him say it.
“Some of them don’t care if they have a wife or family at home. They want to live the experience as if they’re still rookies getting laid by a different girl every week.” He grimaces and risks a glance my way. “Sorry.” I shake it off. “Anyway, this particular party was no different. Mitch rents a house in LA for the season and for the most part, his family stays home in Ohio. He’s the worst of all. He has two daughters home with his wife who deserves better than him.
“It was late. We were both drunk and there were a couple chicks still there. They were all over us. The girl I was with, Amanda, kept pushing me to go to bed. She finally stood up and offered her hand. We were both drunk, but I took it. We slept together and by the time I woke up, she was gone and I never heard from her again. Not directly anyway.”
“What does that mean?” I’m a broken record. I pull on the hem of my robe, not wanting to look him in the eye as he tells me about his past sexual encounters. Even though he and I haven’t slept together and it’s not like we’re dating, I still have feelings for him. With the few things he and I have already done, he’s gotten under my skin.
“She went to the media. Claimed I assaulted her.”
“What?” Before my brain catches up to me, I notice I’m clutching my robe closed tighter around me. I’m closing myself off to him and he notices. His nod is sad, dejected, but rooted in understanding.
“Exactly. With the climate surrounding these accusations, it had to be investigated and taken seriously. And it should be. I’m not arguing that. But…fuck. I won’t lie and say I’m not fucking frustrated by it. It’s complete bullshit. It was consensual and this has cost me my career.”
“Why don’t you come out with your side of what happened?” Even if he does, I don’t know if anyone would believe him at this rate.