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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Also by K.A. Berg

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by K.A. Berg

  Unrestricted

  K.A. Berg

  Copyright © 2015 K.A. Berg

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

  * * *

  The following book contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual content. It is intended for mature audiences only.

  * * *

  ISBN-13: 978-1976590900

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  Editor—Devon Burke

  Cover Design—T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Interior Formatting—T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  To all those who have royally screwed up, it’s never too late to right your wrongs. Everyone deserves a second chance, you just have to earn it. And for those who have been hurt, no one is perfect not even you. Don’t live life holding grudges. It’s too short.

  Prologue

  Ashley

  “Everything will be just fine, Sweets,” Quinn says, squeezing my hand.

  “I know,” I agree, giving her a small smile because it’s all I can manage at the moment. The butterflies in my belly feel more like dragons. I can’t remember the last time I was this anxious or nervous.

  A knock on the door grabs our attention, and the bubbly blonde technician from earlier wheels in a huge cart holding what looks like an old-style computer, like the machine in Dr. Marcus’ office, only bigger. There’s a keyboard with a big rolling ball in the middle. There’s also a slot in the side that holds a bunch of wands.

  “This is the machine we’ll be using,” she says, showcasing the ultrasound machine like Vanna White. “And I’ll be the one doing your scan today.” She smiles brightly. She must really love her job. “This is what is commonly referred to as your first trimester scan. It will take about half an hour, and when I’m all done, I’ll send over my findings to your doctor. He’ll go over everything at your next appointment.”

  Her bright pink scrubs with dancing kittens make it impossible not to smile back at her, so I do, while nodding to acknowledge my comprehension of what she just said.

  “Okay, I’m going to hit the lights. I just need you to roll down your pants and push your shirt up a little bit,” she tells me as she stands from her little wheeled stool.

  I do as she asks, and when she sits back down, she squirts some jelly on my stomach. The coldness causes me to jump.

  “Sorry, I should have warned you,” she says apologetically.

  “It’s okay.”

  She presses a bunch of buttons on the keyboard and shows me the monitor, asking if everything has been spelled correctly before grabbing one of the wands from the holder. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I didn’t ask earlier. Are we waiting for the father to join us?”

  “No,” I reply in a nasty tone she really doesn’t deserve. “There is no father.”

  Her smile fades. “Okay, let’s get started then.”

  Chapter One

  Tanner

  “You’re running like you just robbed a bank and cops are chasing you, son.”

  “Something like that, Coach,” I huff out, breathless.

  He doesn’t leave, and I know some kind of lecture is coming. I slow down the speed of my treadmill. I’ve been maintaining a decent speed over the last hour. I’m kind of annoyed with his interruption.

  “You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard lately. Be careful, would you? It’d cripple this team to lose you over something stupid like overtraining,” Coach says in the stern voice he always uses when he’s trying to get a point across. He uses it a lot with the rookies when they need to be knocked down a peg or two. I always get a kick out of watching him hand them their asses during training camp.

  “It’s either training or drinking, Coach. Which do you think would be more beneficial?” I ask sarcastically, focusing on adjusting to the new pace.

  He leans over the side of the treadmill to look at the display, shakes his head, and then returns his attention to me. “Well, Tanner, you’re at sixteen miles already, and it looks to me like you have no intention of stopping anytime soon. I’m starting to think drinking may have less of an effect on your body.”

  “You telling me to drink my problems away instead?” I ask, stunned the suggestion has even left his mouth.

  “What I’m trying to tell you is I’ve watched you push yourself ridiculously hard for the last two weeks, and it’s going to wind up biting you in the ass sooner or later. You can’t run yourself into the ground. The team needs you. You know it’s an important time of the season. We can’t afford any stupid mistakes. I don’t want you to go down because you’re pushing yourself too hard. You can’t train away whatever it is that’s bothering you, son. If you need to keep yourself busy to avoid whatever it is that has you all wound up, find more than one vice. I’d rather you go out and tie one on once a week if it means you’ll take a day off from running yourself ragged in here. Everything is fine in moderation. Just make sure whatever you do, it’s on the right side of legal, please. This team won’t stand for any stupid scandals.” He doesn’t wait for a response from me, just turns and walks away.

  Is he for real? He’d rather see me go out and get shitfaced than be in here training? I mean, sure, I’ve been here a lot lately, but it hasn’t been too bad. Like I told Coach, it’s either this or drinking myself into oblivion the way I did the first few days after Ashley dropped her bomb destroying everything. I spent as much time as I could completely wasted over her betrayal, and it showed in my game that weekend. Thank God the defense picked my sorry ass up because if not for them, the game would have been a complete massacre. I was sacked more in that one game than I’ve been all season, and I felt each and every one of those hits for two days afterward, but at least we didn’t lose. Ashley has ruined a lot of shit for me with her little stunt; I’m not going to let her take football from me too. That’ll be the only time she affects my game.

  I used to fuck away my frustrations, and it worked for years, but now it’s one of the many things ruined for me, thanks to Ashley. I haven’t been able to think about sex without freaking out since I left her. I wish I could. Maybe I could if I got drunk enough. Maybe then I’d be able to stop thinking about all the ways a chick could screw me over
the minute I put my dick in her. I’ve even considered the possibility of double bagging it. You’d think weeks later, I’d be over her. I haven’t heard a word from her since, so I don’t really know why I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. It’s really fucking annoying.

  Glancing down at the treadmill display, I notice I’ve run another five miles since getting lost in my thoughts. I really should call it a day. At least all this training has improved my long-distance stamina. I used to only be able to handle around ten to twelve miles but not anymore.

  Grabbing my towel, I start wiping away all the sweat dripping from everywhere. Coach might have a point about pushing myself too hard because I’m feeling pretty beat down and I’m dying of thirst. A nice, long shower sounds like heaven after a workout like that. My once light gray shirt is completely soaked with sweat, and my basketball shorts are sticking to my legs, causing my boxers to stick to my balls.

  I roll my cold bottle of water along the back of my neck as I head toward my locker. The coldness against my overheated skin makes me break out in goosebumps and shiver. I probably look like I’m having a bunch of muscle spasms as my body shakes involuntarily. Thank God no one else is in here now. Stopping at my locker, I chug the rest of my water and grab my shower bag, my thoughts now strictly on getting into the shower to cool off and figuring out how to distract myself for the rest of the day.

  After showering and throwing on clean clothes, I go to the projection room and start going over the game film from last week. I’m almost embarrassed to say that’s me out there on the field. Unable to watch myself get my ass kicked for very long, I switch over to watching films of Buffalo’s defense to prep for this week’s game. By the time I’m done, I think I can honestly say I know every play their defense has called this season. Having watched each play over and over, I can now tell which ones are going to be blitzes just from reading the linebacker’s face. With their defense down, I start reviewing our new plays one by one until I’m sure I could recite them in my sleep.

  How has my life come down to keeping myself distracted from a woman’s deception? I’d had everything down to a science, and I’d been content with the way things were. Why did I have to go and fall for her and convince myself I could have something so pure? I should’ve learned from my mistakes by now, but I guess I’m as hard-headed as they come. I shake off those thoughts and decide I just need to suck it up and move on. I may never fully understand the ‘what’s and ‘why’s and ‘how’s of this mess, but it’s time to man up and get over it. I’m Tanner Garrison. When did I become such a pussy?

  Enough of this shit. Time to pull my head out of my ass. I stare at the new passing scheme another few minutes before deciding it’s time to call it a night. It’s time to get out of here and clear my head. As I close my playbook, my phone rings. It’s Melissa. She’s a perfect distraction. The call is like a sign directly from above that I’m ready to move past all this nonsense with Ashley.

  “Hey, Melissa,” I answer, trying for a cheery tone.

  “Well, you sound awfully happy for a change.”

  “Yup, I’ve decided it’s time to move on and stop feeding into the shit with Ashley,” I inform her, but the resolve is missing from my voice.

  “Oh yeah? Good. I was wondering how long you were going to mope around about that tramp.” There’s a snarky bite to her voice that can’t be missed. I don’t really know why Melissa is so hostile toward Ashley. It’s nothing I need to worry about anymore, even if it still rubs me the wrong way.

  “You can retract the claws. She’s not a part of my life anymore… Well, unless the kid is mine, but I doubt it.”

  “I have to say, I wasn’t all too impressed with her to begin with. I mean, she’s very plain. And what kind of girl doesn’t like to go shopping?” she asks, sounding incredulous. Melissa’s whole life revolves around shopping and looking like a runway model, and she can’t understand someone who doesn’t enjoy the same things.

  “Melissa, you need to be a little more open-minded. Not everyone loves to shop like you. Could you imagine if I didn’t like anyone who didn’t have the same passion for football as me? My social circle would be very limited.” I laugh a little, shutting off the light in the projection room. As I make my way to the door, I’m trying to figure out why— even though I just made myself a promise to move on—I still don’t like Melissa trashing Ashley. The fact I still care grates on my nerves.

  “Your social circle is barely a circle as it is, Tag. Anyway, I called because I’m worried about you and this funk you’re in. I wanted to go to dinner. What do you think? Say, like, an hour?” Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to have noticed my slight irritation at her comments about Ashley. Or maybe she’s just smart enough to pretend she hasn’t.

  “Sure, why not? Where did you have in mind, and are we meeting there?” I could use a night out of the house and some interaction with people outside of a football field.

  “How about Dina and Harrison’s? You love it there,” she suggests. Damn, this woman really does know me well.

  Why didn’t I stick with the arrangement we’d had when it had been working for years? I haven’t been to Dina’s since the last time I took Ash to dinner there. But I’ve had many dinners there with Melissa over the years, I’m hoping that’ll be my saving grace and the restaurant won’t be tarnished by memories of Ashley.

  “Perfect. Meet me there?” I push thoughts of Ashley back out of my mind. Even with my total disgust for her, she still finds ways to creep into my head every damn chance she gets.

  “I’m near your house. How about I just meet you at home and we can go to dinner together?” she offers up. It has been a while since Melissa was over… since before I started seeing Ashley and fucked her on my kitchen counter.

  “Sure. Were you at your parents’?” Her mom and dad live about fifteen minutes from me on the outskirts of Paramus—much closer to me than Melissa’s place in the city.

  “Yeah.” She sighs. “Now you know why I can totally use a drink.”

  “You can tell me all about it at dinner. See you soon,” I tell her, heading out of the locker room.

  “You know you always order the same thing whenever we come here,” Melissa points out with a smirk.

  “I like it. It’s hard to find a good steak these days. I didn’t realize you’d been cataloging my dinner choices over the years.” I give her a smirk of my own as I tip my wine glass toward her.

  I look around the restaurant as our waitress delivers our salads and find myself thankful Dina’s is quiet for a Thursday night. I’d needed to get out, but I really hadn’t wanted to be in a crowded place where there was the possibility of unwanted attention. The last thing I need is for some overzealous sports fan with a camera phone to see us out and assume something scandalous is going on, and I definitely don’t need anyone posting pictures of Melissa and I together. Then people would start asking questions—questions that would lead to talk about me and Ashley, which would lead to people tracking down Ashley and asking her questions. I don’t need to give her the opportunity to spew her lies for the public to read. I don’t know if she would do that, but it’s apparent my judgment isn’t always the best when it comes to women. Well, with the exception of the woman sitting across from me who’s currently bitching about her parents.

  “I mean, how many times are they going to harp on this? It’s been four years!” she says with angry exasperation in her voice, her fork stopped midway to her mouth as if her point is too important to wait until after she had a bite. “It’s not my fault I’m his only child and he has no one else to pass his legacy onto—his words, not mine.”

  “I can see where he’s coming from though, Melissa. Think about it from his perspective. He’s worked his whole life building the company from the ground up. He wants to pass it on to you, give you something that means the world to him. Is that so bad? I know he’s not always very eloquent in his way of trying to persuade you to change your mind, but there are always worse th
ings,” I tell her and take a sip of my wine as I give her a think about it look.

  “Damn you, Tag. No wonder Daddy loves you. Maybe you should take over the company then, if you think it’s so great. Lord knows it would probably make Daddy happy. You can’t play football forever, and you’re like the son he always wanted.” She pushes her plate aside and rests her forearms on the table, awaiting my response.

  “I doubt he’d love that. He wants you to have it. Maybe your future husband will have an interest in it. Then you can have your dad teach him all about it, and he’d still be leaving it to you.” It’s a good suggestion, if I do say so myself.

  A mischievous look overtakes Melissa’s features, and she smiles a smile that’s nothing but trouble. “Maybe, Tanner. Just maybe.” That’s all she says on the subject before changing gears. “You have anything else going on with the kids?”

  We haven’t talked about the work I’ve been doing with the underprivileged kids lately. I spent Thanksgiving going from boys’ home to boys’ home for the majority of the day. I was more than happy to spend my day with them. I love giving back and making those kids feel important to someone—especially on a day when we’re all supposed to be thankful. Unfortunately, most of those kids have a hard time finding something to be thankful for, so I was glad I could give them something to smile about. Spending time there also kept me away from Ma’s for most of the day, which was important because I wasn’t ready to tell them all about what had happened with Ashley. I got to my parents late enough I was able to tell Ma Ashley had gone to her parents’ house after spending the day with me, and she didn’t question it.