Red flags passion player.., p.26
Red Flags (Passion Players), page 26
“I don’t know. I worked really hard with the team, and they’re playing . . .”
“Oh, the FOMO is real. I know, all Shane is doing is grumbling about missing it while watching TV, and we’re here for his interview,” Ayanna laughed.
“Yeah . . .” Charlotte trailed off and crossed her legs. She blew on the steam from her coffee before taking a sip. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that I would care as much. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Well, you have a good heart, Charlotte. Your ambition doesn’t change that. You made some great friends here. One thing that I learned about the Irish is if you get into their heart, they’ll cherish you and always welcome you back.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”
“Umm . . .”
“Yaya?”
“I’m just playing, girl. I’m wishing you luck for sure, but if they are flying you all the way there, then they really want you. You got this, boo.”
“Thanks, friend.”
A gasp came from the crowd on the screen and in the airport.
“Hang on, Yaya. Something is happening.”
Passengers made their way toward the TV, and there was chatter about them. For a New Yorker, hearing gasps in the airport set off a bunch of alarms and flashbacks. Charlotte didn’t know when she’d leaped to her feet, but she had, and she moved closer to the TV.
“What’s happening?” Yaya asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’m trying to find out,” Charlotte said. She was only slightly relieved when there wasn’t a special news report splashed across the screen and the soccer game still played. That was, until the announcer started to speak.
“Oh no . . . O’Farrell is down. This is disturbing, since he’s only been back for a short while since his ACL injury and rehabilitation in America. Could this be another season-ending injury for him? Tough break. Really tough break. Let’s listen in.”
Charlotte wiggled her way closer to the screen through the crowd that had started to gather to watch the game. She wished that somehow the appliance would turn into a teleportation device. The players surrounded Eoghan, their backs to the activity of the trainers behind them. Her heart pounded, deafening any other information coming from the announcers.
“It’s Eoghan,” Charlotte choked into her earpiece. “Get up, Eoghan,” she whispered.
“Charlotte? Shane says Eoghan is down.”
“He’s not getting up.” Charlotte could hear the panic in her voice. Too much time had passed, and not knowing what Eoghan’s status was made her nauseous. She felt for him and all the challenges he’d been through, the choices he’d made, the changes he’d made to be better. He’d been through so much. Being injured again was what he feared the most. And there he was on the ground alone. Was he breathing? Was he in terrible pain? The acid reflux from the Irish coffee told her that she wouldn’t be okay until she knew the extent of his injuries.
“Yaya, I gotta go.” Charlotte disconnected the call. She grabbed her overnight bag and fled from the airport, grabbed a taxi, and took it to Aviva Stadium.
The leveled stiff blades of grass prickled Eoghan’s back like acupressure points. He’d gone down shadowing Lars, a defender on the Liechtenstein team. The fall had knocked the wind right out of him. Fear about his leg should have risen to the surface, but it didn’t. If he wanted to play his best, he had to feel the fear and move past it. The game was dangerous. Players got hurt. Some even lost their careers, but not him and not today. Instead, he listened to the sound of the crowd as they rooted for him to be okay, some even praying. He embraced the emotion surrounding him as they sang.
“We have O’Farrell . . .”
“Rest time is over, you lazy hole.” Pippin gripped his hand. “The fans are in bits for ya.”
“I fucking love these boots,” Eoghan said. He just wished that Charlotte were here to see him play.
“Stop flaffin’ about. Leg it!” Pippin clapped his gloved hands hard and fast.
Eoghan jumped to his feet and shook his limbs to regain his circulation. The crowd roared and cheered. He’d never thought he’d be excited to get tripped up, banged around, and scuffed up. He knew he meant a lot to his teammates and the fans, and he wanted to play his best game and make them proud.
He felt back to his old self, better, as he ran the ball aggressively and used his speed, agility, and footwork to dart around players and stretch his body to pass the ball. There’d be a lot more scrapes, bumps, and bruises to come.
I’m back.
Charlotte had played a big role in quelling his neurosis and dependence on one element of his uniform to make him feel like he hadn’t lost his talent and skill for football. His lack of confidence had been the illness that had tainted his play, and Charlotte had helped build him back up, one event at a time. She was gone. He should have stopped her. Should have told her he loved her. Would it have made a difference? In the end, she’d done what she had told him she would do. She’d confirmed who she was, and he couldn’t fault her for that, only for breaking his heart.
Focus. He did what he could control at the moment: focus on the match and bring home the win for Ireland. He dribbled the ball up the middle. He passed the ball and stuck to the player who his instincts told him would get the ball. They knocked into each other, and the referee called it foul. They stopped the clock.
“Come on.” Eoghan didn’t believe that and wasn’t happy with the decision, and he and several other players pleaded their case to no avail.
The opposing team got a free kick, and though one of their players made an attempt to score, Pippin was there, and again, Eoghan was after the ball on the pitch. Lars, who Eoghan ran down, was a great defender, but Eoghan outfoxed him and got the ball back. He dribbled, passed, received it again, and bicycle kicked it into the net. That was the game.
Aviva rocked with roaring cheers. He ran down the pitch into a knee slide, then leaped into the air just as his teammates grabbed him up, smacking his back and rubbing his sweaty head.
Damn, it felt good to be back.
“Be great if Charlotte were here to see her shoes do that,” Pippin said.
Yeah, it would.
Ireland won the game one–nil.
Eoghan sat in the pressroom behind a long-clothed table, a microphone inches from his lips. There’d been a long line of players who’d come and gone from the room, but his Q&A was the one everyone had been waiting for.
“Eoghan, how does it feel to make the winning goal?”
“Eoghan, what are your thoughts about Portugal’s draw with Russia?”
“Eoghan, how’s the leg feeling?”
“Eoghan, has this season been different from last season?”
The press bombarded him with questions like they’d always done after the game. The last few times hadn’t been anything he’d looked forward to, but today, the press was kind to him and, at least for a little while, celebrated the win with him. On his way to the dressing rooms to get his bag and head out, he met his father.
After their row at the house, his father had kept his distance, as had Eoghan. Eoghan’s confidence had transcended football or dating swag—it had seeped into his most important relationship, the one with his father. He’d finally been able to not only speak his mind but penetrate through to his father because he had another important relationship to protect: the one with Charlotte. His father believed that he was choosing a foreigner over him, that Charlotte had turned his mind against him, but really, all she’d done was give him the confidence to say the things to his father he’d been holding in for years and advocate for himself.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Eoghan said.
“I come to all your games. You know that,” his father said.
Eoghan nodded.
“When you went down this time . . .” His father hesitated. “Just making sure you’re all right, boy.”
For all his rough edges, his father vocalized his concern for him. Not for his career, not for his playing, not for his sponsors. Just for him.
“I’m all right, Da.”
“Good. Yer ma wants you over for dinner on Sunday. We’ll be here at the apartment to make it easier for ya,” his father stated. “She’ll be needin’ to collect the messages,” which was his father’s way of asking if they could count on him to show up.
“Sure, I’ll be there,” he said.
“Great game.” His father stretched out his hand to him.
“Thanks, Da.” Eoghan took his hand, and his father pulled him into a brief hug. Eoghan choked on the emotion in his throat. He loved his father, even though he’d been a pain as well as a support.
“Love you, boy.”
“Love you too, Da.”
His father let him go as quickly as he’d hugged him. “Go on with the team, then.”
Eoghan wiped the sweat from his face with his hand, sure a few tears had made it in there. He and his father would be okay, and the moment of mutual respect confirmed it.
Eoghan made his way to the loud dressing room elevated with triumphant energy. They’d won against Liechtenstein, and though there was still a way to go before securing their spot in the cup final, he and the team had shown that they were a competitive force to be reckoned with. With his mind and body in sync, there were no more weak links. Just one missing. Charlotte.
Chapter 26
Charlotte stood outside the dressing rooms, wringing her hands and pacing in her heels while she waited for Eoghan. She hadn’t seen what had happened to him after he had fallen, but apparently, he was okay enough to finish the rest of the game. That hadn’t stopped her from worrying her lip the entire car ride over to Aviva Stadium. She had that same feeling in her stomach as when she experienced bad turbulence. He had made his way into her skin, into her heart, and into her soul. She couldn’t shake him. How could she ever have believed that she could leave Ireland—leave him—and be okay?
Eoghan strolled out of the dressing rooms, his hair wet and his clothes clinging to him. His slacks fit him perfectly, and he wore a loose-fitting shirt like he was getting ready to go out. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, clearly not expecting her to be standing there in her suit with her overnight bag by her feet and purse hanging at her elbow. She loved how he smelled after a shower. His fresh scent and a hint of spice floated to her, licking her as if to remind her of what she’d lost. He recovered within seconds and dragged himself toward her as if pulled by the ear.
“What’re you doing here? Thought you had a big job interview in Portugal.”
She avoided getting pulled into the miserable disposition he displayed. Surely, she deserved a bit of standoffishness, but she was here for him because he was more important than some damn job in another country. Because here was where she wanted to be—with him.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He ran his hands down his body. “Yep.”
Under normal circumstances, this would be the moment when she gave as good as she got, but she’d come back. That meant something. Couldn’t he see that? “I saw you fall, and you didn’t get up right away,” she said instead. She could feel the worry crinkling her face like it had done when she’d stood with her luggage, about to board the plane. Her chest tightened. “I was worried, Eoghan.”
His stare bored into her for a long time, and she again questioned every action she’d taken in the last week. She’d damaged their relationship, broken his trust in her. Left him.
He’d just fixed his mouth to speak when a few players poured out of the dressing rooms.
“Charlotte! You’ve come back to us,” Lance said, and he, Callum, and Patrick surrounded her. “We thought you were going to take the Portugal job. That’d be right shit, but we’d still love ya.”
“No,” she said firmly and glanced at Eoghan. “I thought that I should go after that job because I didn’t want to regret not giving it a try, but my biggest mistake was leaving.” Her eyes watered, and she sniffled.
“Okay, give her some space,” Eoghan said to his teammates and steered her by the shoulders to someplace more private, which ended up being an en suite to the pressroom.
She leaned against a table and collected herself. Sniveling wouldn’t make this any easier. She might have lost Eoghan because she’d been unwilling to course correct and admit that even entertaining the Portugal job wasn’t right for her.
“You’ve come all this way. Have you something to say to me, then? ’Cause I have loads.” His soft question made her look up at him instead of at her feet, and the hard glower on his face had softened with curiosity and a touch of concern.
“I’m sorry.”
He shifted his stance as if uncomfortable with her words. “What for?”
“I have been doing this all my life, Eoghan. Going after offers and opportunities I thought would help me grow, make me better, seen, and respected for my work. I never wanted to have any regrets haunting me. I’m not good at sacrificing for a relationship.”
“I’d never ask you to sacrifice anything for me, Charlotte.”
“I know, but the thing is, as a kid, seeing my mom do it, I didn’t realize that my mother wasn’t saying no to being this great art dealer. She’d always wanted a family. That was her dream. She poured her life, energy, and creativity into me and my father. I’ve only been looking at it from one side. The side where her industry wanted her expertise, not the smile on her face when she cuddled up with my dad or did my hair or decorated for the holidays or cooked for us. I’d been scared this whole time and replaying this idea I had about her life in my head.”
“And now?”
“It was only when I saw you fall and my stomach dropped to my toes that I realized that here was where I wanted to be. You’re who I want.”
“I messed up, too, Charlotte. I shouldn’t have been so demanding. I should have talked to you better and . . . been happy for you and supported you and let you know that no matter what, I’d love you. I was just so . . .” He placed his hand on his heart. “I want you with me, darlin’. When you left, you took my heart with you.”
She couldn’t contain her emotions anymore. She was done. Her shoulders shook, and big mascara-inked droplets wet her face and Valentino shirt. “I love you.” She stumbled to him, falling into his open arms, bawling into his chest. She locked her arms around his waist and sank into the warmth of his body that she’d thought she’d never feel again.
He kissed the top of her forehead. “I love you too, Char.” His mouth found hers. “Always, love,” he mumbled against her lips. Their kiss deepened, their tongues playing and wrestling with desperate strokes.
Eoghan brought her close to him. In this new light and in her acceptance of her love for him, his touch sparked fire within. Her worry and anxiety over him had created an adrenaline rush that crashed, and she felt drugged. Heat coursed through her, and she wanted him more than ever. She needed to be as close to him as possible. As her body felined along his limbs, she felt his rising desire against her lower abdomen. She needed him too.
“Jaysus, I’ll get fined if we’re caught, but I have to have you, Char,” he said, his lips mushing hers. “I have to have you now.” His hand traveled down her back and farther to her ass. His fingers curved across the underside of her ass to touch and lightly massage her pussy through her clothes.
She moaned. “I need you too, Eoghy,” she said, her backside pushing against his exploring fingers. She shrugged out of her jacket and pulled up her skirt. Eoghan yanked down her blouse and with it her bra, and her breast popped out, close to his waiting mouth.
“Why do you always wear these damn things,” he said, pinching the material of her tights from her thigh and in between gobbling her flesh and sucking on her nipple.
Her throaty laugh was wild with desire. “Well, see, I was going on a plane, and it gets cold—”
He bit her hardened nipple, cutting her off.
She leaped out of her tights and shoes. Partially free from the confines of her clothes, she quickly found her back on a long press table as Eoghan’s strong arms lifted her and frantically put her in position to completely torture her.
She propped herself up on her elbow to see him pull his shirt out of his pants, and when he undid his pants, the clanking of his belt buckle delighted her as to what was to come.
“Please, Eoghy.” She reached for his dick as it popped out of his pants. “Let me suck you,” she begged. He stepped back, and she scrambled off the table and to her knees, where she swallowed him, sucking wildly and salivating for his taste. She moaned, and her pussy ached. She slid one hand between her legs, playing with herself as she throated him.
Eoghan huffed, close to arrival. She wanted him to come in her mouth, to taste his love for her and swallow him into her, but Eoghan withdrew and bent down to get her.
“I want you to come, Eoghan,” she whined.
“I will, baby.” He lovingly pulled her up and back onto the table. “Inside you. But not yet.”
She reached for him, delirious from desire. Eoghan’s head dipped down and disappeared between her thighs.
“Feck, Charlotte, you’re absolutely gushing for me.” He licked her slit and, with it, her slick arousal. His tongue fluttered over her clit, and his tantalizing sucking was soon accompanied by his expert fingers fucking.
“Eoghy. Fuck. I can’t take it! Please. Send me over, baby!” Her legs locked him in.
“Your taste is lovely, sweetheart,” he said. “Tell me how good it feels, love.”
“Yes. You feel so good, Eoghy.” She reached for his head.
“I’m going to fuck you to County Monaghan, Charlotte.”
“Promise me,” she demanded.
“I fucking promise.”
“Now,” she demanded.
“Condom,” he mumbled against her pussy.
“Fuck! My bag.” She pointed frantically. “I think there is one in my bag.”
