Page 6 of Second Chance to Score

“What?”

“He asked me to tell you that he’s breaking up with you. He was afraid you’d start bawling or something. You know how he hates awkward situations.”

“Robbie wouldn’t do that.”

“Look, I get it, the guy’s a good fuck. But you’ll find someone else.”

I looked around the room in confusion, tears stinging my eyes. I’d come here to surprise Robbie after getting off work early. He was supposed to be studying in his room tonight, not messing around with some skank who looked like the human embodiment of Barbie.

“Come on sweetie, we both know he only was dating you so he could meet your father. It’s all he talked about, how your dad is some important football guy. And now that he’s met his goal, he has no use for you.”

I gripped the doorframe, nausea rising up my throat. How could Robbie betray me like this? I knew he admired my father, but he hadn’t even known I was Coach Grange’s daughter when he met me. At least that’s what he’d said...

“Look sweetie, I’ll give you some advice.”

She shifted and her shirt – Robbie’s shirt – slipped off her bare shoulder. “Lose some weight. Get a better wardrobe. Do something with your hair. And if a hot guy is interested in you, assume that you have something he wants. Because I can guarantee you that it’s true.”

***

“I told you, I didn’t sleep with that girl,” Robbie said firmly, his words bringing me back to the present. “I never touched her. I never even spoke to her other than telling her to get the hell out of my room the next morning.”

He met my eyes, his expression sincere, his voice full of conviction. He’d told me the same thing all those years ago, but I’d called him a liar and demanded that he never talk to me again. He’d flinched like I’d hit him, his face stricken. Then he’d walked away and never contacted me again.

With the benefit of hindsight, I realized that lying and cheating was out of character for him. I’d never caught Robbie lying to me about anything else during the entire two years we were together. If anything, he was too honest. He ignored the girls who hit on him when we were out together, telling me that he didn’t even notice other women. Plus, he’d always been a bit shy and awkward.

Was it possible that he really hadn’t cheated on me?

“How did she end up half naked in your bed, telling me what a good fuck you were then?” I asked. “Bragging about how she’d finally stolen you away from me?”

The girl had also claimed that he’d only been dating me to meet my father, although I didn’t share that part.

“I found out later from one of my fraternity brothers that she’d had a crush on me for a while and didn’t understand why I wasn’t responding to her flirting. I guess she figured if you were out of the picture, she’d have a chance.”

“She was flirting with you?” I said, feeling annoyed. At her, not him.

He shrugged. “I guess. I was clueless about it, but Don explained it to me after we broke up. That night you found her in my room I came back from studying at the library and she was sleeping in my bed. I didn’t even recognize her. I thought maybe she’d gotten drunk and wandered into the wrong room or something, so I just left her there and slept on the floor in Don’s room.”

“You slept in Don’s room that night?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never gave me a chance to tell you,” he reminded me. “You refused to talk to me when I came over, and every time I saw you, you walked the other way. It made it impossible to explain, or even to tell you that Don could confirm my story.”

He paused. “To be honest, I was so hurt that you’d believe that of me that I figured I was better off without you, just like all my buddies told me.”

Our eyes met and held, years of hurt and misunderstanding simmering between us. I felt a little nauseous at the idea that I might have been wrong about him, wrong about what happened. If what he was saying was true, he was the injured party, and he’d been hurt way more than I had.

After so many years believing that he was a cheater, I didn’t know what to think right now. So I defaulted to my safe place: work.

“Okay I’ll tell you what. Since you’re already here I’ll do an exam and we can start to think about treatment plans. Then when I get confirmation from your publicist, we can set up our follow-up sessions.”

“You’ll come to the stadium?”

I recoiled. “God no. You’ll need to come here. I don’t have all day to be traipsing across the city. My schedule is very busy with patients.”

“Do we have a deal then?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Like an idiot, I reached my own hand out, allowing his fingers to engulf mine. I bit back a gasp as little sizzles moved across the skin of my hand. Just like when we were in college, all he had to do was touch me and my panties were wet. Damn it.

“Deal,” I said reluctantly. “Now take off your pants for me.”