Cruel Start: A Dark College Sports Romance Novella (ebook)

Chapter One
Phoenix

“Move, Phoenix.” Tracey’s annoying voice interrupted my moment of peace, and clawlike fingers waved in front of my face.


Another group of people poured into the backyard, where brats and burgers still scented the air. The impromptu barbecue had turned into a full-blown party. 


“You’re blocking my sun.”


I tensed from the volume of Tracey’s shrill voice as she competed to be heard over the music and laughter. “You sure about that? If I do, you might burst into flames. Not unlike when you step foot in a church,” I snarled but scooted slightly out of her sun’s path, half wishing that she would spontaneously combust.


Her top lip peeled back, showing me her perfectly straight, clenched teeth. “If you weren’t Shane’s brother…”


They were all so whipped. My brother was almost as bad as Cole. All three of them—Cole, Damon, and Shane—had been snared. Not me. I wasn’t about to let some girl sidetrack me—which is exactly what Damon, Cole, and Shane all said before they got whipped. Idiots. My future had too much at stake, and a girl would only complicate things. It wasn’t like I didn’t like Riley, Skylar, and Tracey—well, Tracey not so much—but they changed everything and made me the odd man out.


“Finish the thought, Trace. What would you do?”


“Phoenix!” Shane yelled from across the yard. “We’re getting a game going. Come over here, and stop flirting with my girlfriend.”


I grimaced. I think I just threw up in my mouth at that end-of-day suggestion. Riley snorted, and I winked at her. She got my vibe about Tracey. 


“Want to play, Riles? Bet Cole and I could convince the guys to do flag instead of tackle.”


She flicked her long dark-brown hair over her shoulder, placing a hand on her hip. “Thanks, but no. Smith and Jameson are over there, and I don’t trust them to play by the rules.”


“Which ones are they?” I shielded my eyes as I scanned the group of guys near my brother.


“The mammoth tree-sized ones.”


“Ahh, gotcha.” I didn’t know those guys, and if something happened to Riley, I wouldn’t forgive myself. “Come cheer us on.”


She laughed but grabbed Skylar and followed until they found a spot on the grass to watch. Tracey trailed behind them at a leisurely pace, casting longing glances at the group around the firepit roasting marshmallows on skewers. She tossed her oversized bag on the ground before sitting a little ways away from the girls. 


The summer was almost halfway over. We’d spent most of our free time hanging out at the cove, surfing, training, and the occasional barbeque. 


I felt alive, exhilarated. Preseason football practice at the college would start soon. My brother and I were spending the weekend at our cousin Cole’s house near Thane University—which would soon be our home.


Putting the black-souled demon from my thoughts, I slapped my brother on the back. “We doin’ this?”


We lined up on the freshly mowed grass of Thane University’s football house. The back and side yard were big, relatively flat, and ideal for a pickup game. I lived and breathed football, had for as long as I could remember, and my dream to play in the NFL was almost within reach. It was the perfect “fuck you” to my dad, a mediocre tight end on Chicago’s team who had deserted our mom when she was pregnant with us. I was a better athlete than him. So was Shane. Revenge was almost in our grasp.


It was hot as hell out with the sun directly overhead, but that didn’t stop us. It took minutes to split up into teams and get the game underway. We played with a handful of Cole’s teammates who’d returned early, like he and Riley, who were both sophomores, had. And when they’d invited us for the weekend, my brother and Damon, Cole’s brother, had piled into a car and driven up.


Several girls had joined—Riley, Skylar, and Tracey, Shane’s steady girlfriend—to cheer us on. Riley and Skylar were sitting on the grass and talking while Tracey read a magazine, not bothering to be a part of the group. I blocked out all the distractions—girls—and focused on the game. 


Carter snapped the ball to me, setting the play in motion. The offense held back the defensive players that tried to rush me while I surveyed the field to target a receiver. The offense and defensive lines collided. Damon was open. I launched the ball, sidestepping Matt’s late tackle. Damon stretched out a hand, Evan on his heels, and grabbed the ball out of the air, tucking it into his side as he sprinted to our makeshift end zone. Evan tackled him, taking Damon to the ground. When Evan shifted off him, Damon popped back to his feet, dropping the football where he’d landed. 


The defensive line was stacked with several huge juniors, and I eyed them warily. The next play went off without a hitch. I threw the ball down the field, and we gained a first down, thanks to Cole’s catch and quick feet. 


We lined up. Carter snapped the ball. No one was open. I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet to sprint as the offensive line was overrun. The hit was blinding, and I crashed into the grass. One of the tree trunks, Jameson I think, rolled off me. He gained his feet, offering me a hand. I took it, shaking out the cobwebs. That was a hell of a hit. I rolled my shoulders and got back into position, ready to go again.


The ball was snapped. Our line held, and I found Shane. I threw for a long pass, a brick to his chest that he caught with ease—until Smith, a six-foot-three and two-hundred-seventy-five-pound linebacker, tackled him, and the ball bounced free. The loud pop when they collided echoed ominously through my soul. Then silence fell over the field. It had never sounded so loud, and I knew something terrible had happened.


Smith got up. Shane did not.


Cole and Damon got to him first. I sprinted to where my brother lay on the field, taking assurance that his eyes were open. He was conscious. It can’t be that bad, right? God, I hoped not. 


I should have spoken up when the debate for the game had ensued. While my cousins had agreed with Shane and me that it would be fine to play tackle, some of the other guys weren’t too sure. It was before the season. What if someone got hurt? I thought it would be okay. Why did we tempt fate?


I dropped to the grass beside my brother. His arm was at an awkward angle. Fuck. “How bad does it feel?” 


“Hurts like hell, but I’m fine.” Shane grimaced. 


“Gotta say, bro, I’m glad we don’t have that weird twin thing because it looks painful.”


“Piss off. Help me up.” 


That was my surly brother. A sliver of reassurance pushed the dread away as I reached for his good arm to help him up. Cole supported Shane’s right arm as he rolled onto his feet. His injured limb dangled by his side, even with Cole’s aid. 


“That doesn’t look good.” I hated to say it for many reasons, one being that our mom would find out and panic. 


As an ER nurse, she hadn’t been crazy about us coming up to blow off some steam before we officially moved. She’d said she had a bad feeling about it. She was right. 


“You know we’ll have to go to the hospital.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “And Mom will hear about it.”


Shane scowled, some of the pain obscured by his frown lines. “You call her.”


I didn’t bother arguing with him as we slowly walked to where I’d parked. Sky and Riley rushed over, Tracey not far behind. 


“We’re going with,” Sky said.


She slid into the car with Damon while I helped Shane into the passenger seat.


Cole tapped the roof of my SUV after I got Shane settled. “Riley and I’ll meet you there. We can take Tracey.” He glanced to where she’d hung back with Smith and a few other guys.


“No”—Tracey’s half smile was weak—“I’ll grab a ride. I can talk to Shane later.”


I shoved the anger at her response deep into my gut. I bet she would find a ride, and it would be with one of the guys we’d played with. I’d caught her flirting more than once, but Shane was oblivious. God, I hated her.


Shane’s grimace jerked me back to how much pain he was in. The urgency I’d felt since he’d hit the ground came back in a rush. I pulled onto the street and took the shortest route to the hospital. Cole followed. 


By the time we got there, parked, and waited for our turn, an hour had passed before we saw a doctor. He looked close to retirement with white hair and a bushy mustache that seemed to have a personality of its own, a stoic one. 


“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Mathews.” His caterpillar eyebrows climbed his forehead. “There’s an awful lot of you. How about some wait in the—oh.” Recognition sparked in his faded-blue eyes as he paused on Cole. “I know you. You made that interception and ran the field last homecoming. Damn good player. Keep that up, and you have a promising career ahead of you.”


“Thank you, sir.” 


Cole nodded then shifted his gaze pointedly to Shane, whose frown only deepened the longer he sat immobile on the stark-white hospital bed.


“I’ll go out on a limb here and guess this is a football injury?” the doc inquired.


Shane mumbled a response then clenched his teeth against the poking and prodding as the doctor examined him. I shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the amount of pain bracketing his mouth.


“Your shoulder is dislocated. I will pop it back in.” The doc’s bushy mustache barely moved as his lips formed each word. “You’ll be in a sling for a few weeks then PT, but you should be fine to play after that.”


The nurse ushered everyone out as they got ready to set Shane’s dislocated shoulder back into its socket. I refused to go.


The doc maneuvered Shane’s arm into a ninety-degree position by holding his wrist, guiding the bone back into the shoulder socket. It gave a small pop. I shivered at the sound and Shane’s audible grunt of discomfort. They fastened a sling around his neck and arm and pressed ice against his shoulder. Once finished, the doctor left, and the nurse said she would be back with the discharge paperwork, physical therapy orders, and instructions. 


I slumped into the chair by his bed when it was just us. One look at his drawn face, and I knew how much it weighed on him that Tracey wasn’t by his side. I would never understand how my idiot brother couldn’t see what she was all about.


“Hey”—I leaned forward, elbows to knees—“if you have to sit out a few games, it’s no big deal.” 


“That’s bullshit, and you know it.

”
Yeah, it was, but I kept my mouth shut. We had four years, but to both of us, not playing was like getting a limb cut off. 


“I better not lose Tracey over this.”


My brother had a one-track mind. The bitch still wasn’t there yet. But Shane’s words gave me an idea. “I’m gonna make that call to Mom.”


“Better you than me.” Shane shot me a sinister grin.


I left the room and headed toward the stairs, pushing aside the call I said I would make to Mom. I needed to intercept Tracey. 


A little white lie just might be the thing to extract her teeth from my brother.


Ebooks are delivered instantly by link in your confirmation email (and as a backup, also by email from our delivery partner, BookFunnel).

You can read your new ebooks on any eReader (Amazon, Kobo, Nook), tablet, phone, computer, and/or in the free BookFunnel app.