Page 20 of Under My Skin

“Yeah. Um, any one of the upstairs bedrooms is fine.”

“Perfect. Thanks,” she said with a smile, then turned to me. “Just shoot me a text when you’re done and I’ll come back down.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Morgan disappeared up the stairs, and I turned back to Braden, who gave me an uncomfortable smile. After a few seconds of painful silence, he finally spoke.

“Well, this is awkward,” he chuckled.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. He hadnoidea how awkward it was. Because he had no idea who I was. The asshole had literally fucked so many women that he didn’t remember their names or anything else about them. Like, say, who their sisters were.

“Come on. Let’s head to the living room so we can talk,” he said, leading me further into the house. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, water, Gatorade?”

I snorted. “Gatorade? Really?”

“What? I’m an athlete,” he teased.

“Coffee would actually be amazing,” I sighed as I sank down onto a soft couch that made me feel like I was sitting on a cloud. “I’m pretty much a perpetually exhausted zombie these days.”

“With a baby to take care of and a full class load, I can only imagine.” He gave me a smile that almost looked…sympathetic? Was that right?

No, it couldn’t have been right. Because he wasn’t capable of sympathy. Any kindness he was showing me right now was just that: a show. Because he was trying to play a part with me, the same as he was with the media.

“I’ll go throw a couple of cups in the Keurig. I’ll be right back,” he said, shooting me another smile before heading out of the room.

I heard the clinking of ceramic and the sound of running water that told me he was making coffee, and I took a deep breath to try to calm myself down as I looked around the room. It was nicely decorated – modern, but with a sort of art deco type of flair – but it didn’t have any kind of personality to it. It looked more like he’d paid an interior designer to do it. An artificial dwelling to match an artificial personality.

“I lease the house.”

“Ohmygod!” I yelped as I jumped halfway out of my seat.

“Sorry,” he chuckled as he set a mug of coffee in front of me and took a seat next to me. “I didn’t mean to scare you. That’s why I don’t have a whole lot of personal stuff here yet. I’m leasing. Since I’m a new player, I figured it was probably better to lease for a couple of years until I knew where I was going to settle down.”

I managed a small smile. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Um, I forgot to ask how you like your coffee, so I made it with cream and sugar. I hope that’s okay,” he mumbled uncomfortably.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” I said quickly as I picked up the mug and took a sip, letting the warm liquid calm my jittery nerves.

“So, I swear to God, I’m not an asshole,” he sighed.

Right. Of course he wasn’t. He just gave girls his publicist’s phone number instead of his own because he didn’t want to deal with them after he’d had his way with them.

“Why are we here, then?” I bit out before I could stop myself. “Sorry. I didn’t?—”

“It’s okay. It’s a fair question. I, um...I don’t know how much you pay attention to the news, but I got arrested a few weeks ago because I started a bar fight. It was a guy I’d known since high school, and he started talking shit about one of my best friends. She was assaulted by three football players in our high school, and the fuckers who hurt her started a bunch of rumors about her afterward to keep her quiet. Dude started talking about those rumors, and I just snapped. It was stupid – I knew that even at the time – but I’d had a shitty day already. I’d just found out my publicist got a call from my cousin on my old phone number, which I’d had forwarded to her at the beginning of the season so she could field interview requests, and she never bothered to pass on the message that my uncle died or give my cousin my new number.”

Wait a second. Was he…was he serious? He and Amara had spent that week together a few weeks before training camp had started last year. If he’d given her his old phone number, then…

No. There was no way his publicist hadn’t passed onthatmany calls and messages to him. One message, I could buy, as horrible as that was. And I actually did feel bad for him. No one deserved to miss a family member’s funeral because someone hadn’t bothered to pass on a message that they’d died. I couldn’t even imagine having missed my parents’ funeral or my sister’s funeral over something like that.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I just lost my sister, and my parents died a little over a year ago, so I know a little bit about what that’s like. Not exactly, but still.”

“I heard. AndI’msorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine dealing with everything you’ve had thrown at you in the past month. I hope you don’t mind, but Mal and Morgan told me a little about your situation. That’s why I wanted to meet with you. I figure if I have to pretend to date someone just so my damn publicist will let me support the charities I want to support, at least maybe I can help someone out who needs it at the same time.”

“What do you mean, let you support the charities you want to support?” I asked, confused.

“I met with Vicki about a week ago, and she wants to try to improve my image a little in the press. Between my arrest and…well, the fact that I don’t really do the relationship thing, I’m kind of the guy everyone loves to hate right now. She wanted me to pick a few charities to show my support for, and because of two of my friends, Kyler and Melissa, I really want to find some charities that help survivors of domestic abuse and sexual assault.”

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