Face Off (D.C. Stars, #1)

by Chelsea Curto

A smile—the tiniest, faintest smile I’ve ever seen—pulls at her lips, and I’m the proudest motherfucker in the world. I want to set off a confetti cannon. Hang a banner from the rafters of the Civic Center that says I MADE EMERSON HARTWELL SMILE. Put it on a T-shirt and wear it around town.

That earns me another half smile from her, and I want to collect them all. Shove them in my pocket and keep them for myself.

I’m willing to bet she doesn’t give out personal information willingly, and, just like with her smiles, I’m fucking greedy for more.

I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but there’s something so goddamn sexy about a man in a backwards hat that has me ready to drop to my knees for the patriarchy.

“You sweet man. You’re the furthest thing from a horrible person. You have a gentle soul that’s been beaten up and broken through no fault of your own. I’m so sorry anyone’s ever made you feel like you weren’t worth keeping for more than a night. You are and you’re wonderful and… and one day, when you want to settle down, you’re going to make someone really happy, and they’re never going to leave. You know why?” “Why?” I ask, keeping my face hidden. I’m afraid to look at her. To show her this stripped-down and broken side of myself I’ve never let anyone else see. Not even Hudson or Dallas or Reid have cracked open this part of my shell. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Emerson’s the person to do it; she’s heard so many of my secrets, this is just another we’re adding to the pile. “Because you love everyone fiercely. You put your whole being into the people you care about, and a woman is going to come along who sees that. Who knows what a gift you are, and it will be an honor for her to fall in love with you. She’ll protect your heart, and it’s going to be okay.”

I never really felt like I had a home. But with Emmy next to me, I think home is wherever she is. A place I’d like to stay forever.

She’s mine now, motherfucker, and I’m not going to let you disrespect her anymore.”

I don’t want her as a teammate or someone I fuck multiple times a week. I want her as so much more—a partner. A girlfriend. My best friend. I don’t know if we lose the game or not. I really don’t fucking care, because I’ve already won. I have her, and she’s the greatest prize of all.

“You would sit out a game just so you could spend time with my dad?” I whisper. “Why would you ever do that?” “It’s important to you. I know how much it would mean to you if he were there. It would make you happy, and if we’re being honest, I really want to meet the man who helped bring my favorite spitfire girl into the world.”

“I’ll retire if that’s what it takes to be with you,” he says. I laugh even though it’s not funny. He’d never do that. “Why would you give up the sport you love?” “Because I love you more!” he shouts, and my mouth parts. His chest heaves and he closes his eyes. Surely I didn’t hear him right. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell, but you need to hear it. I love you. I love every part of you, and that won’t change whether you’re here or there. I told you early on I’d find a way to track you down, and I would. I will, baby, because I fucking love you. I’m going to be on a plane to see you every day I can. I’ll buy a place up there so I can have somewhere to stay without invading the life you create for yourself. We’ll figure the rest out as we go. I know we will, because I. Love. You.”

“Come on.” He sticks out his bottom lip and I reach out, pulling it down with my thumb. “I’ll beg.” “You know I like you on your knees.”