Ruthless Heart Read online

  “Try eating something more substantial than a carrot,” I advised as my hand dipped into my bag of chips.

  “We’re not all you, Ava,” Mia snapped.

  “Ugh, pleeeease go eat a baked potato or something.” I groaned as I sat up and looked at her, shielding my eyes from the sun. “You’re horribly bitchy when you’re hungry.”

  “Are you coming?” Mia demanded. I swear her foot almost stomped the grass.

  “No. I have Leitch next, and you know I need to find my zen before he starts telling me I’m a terrible failure in his class.”

  “Oh.” Mia frowned as she looked down at me. “I might eat candy if you’re not with me.”

  “Then eat candy!” I laughed at her answering eye roll. “Grab some peanut M&M’s—peanuts are protein, they’re positively healthy.”

  “You suck,” Mia declared as she picked up her tote bag. “I’m buying a salad.”

  “Good for you,” I encouraged her as I ate more chips.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Mia hesitated.

  “I’m good,” I assured her.

  “I really shouldn’t have let you walk home alone.” I looked up at her as she chewed her bottom lip. The sun shone strongly behind her, blocking out my ability to see her face clearly, but I knew Mia, I recognised the tone of her voice. “Is that why you’re mad? Because I ditched you?” she asked me quietly.

  “Mia, I’m not mad. I’ve told you a hundred times. You met tall, dark and, unfortunately for you, dreary. I wasn’t that drunk, and I walked home to the apartment. No big deal.” I forced a smile. “If anything, I ditched you, and you should be mad at me, but you’re not. And I’m not mad at you. All is good.”

  “Okay. But next time, you have to stick to the buddy system; you’re not supposed to walk home alone.” Mia crouched back down beside me, enabling me to see her properly. “Anything could have happened to you. You’re not invincible, Ava.”

  She was right, and I maybe would have been reckless if I had walked back on my own. But I hadn’t been alone. “I solemnly swear I will break up your lovefest with whichever victim you’ve chosen, and I will not walk home alone when drunk, again,” I said, my hand raised to my temple in a three-fingered salute as I simultaneously crossed my fingers at my side for the lie.

  Mia squinted as she considered my salute. “What is that even supposed to be? Boy Scout or soldier?”

  I examined my hand and shrugged. “Which one do you want it to be?” I asked her with a grin, easing the slight tension. Reaching over, she swatted my hand playfully, her smile chasing away her frown. I licked my bottom lip as I half sat up and looked around quickly. The grounds were busy, but there was no one really nearby. “You definitely didn’t see me leave?” I asked her.

  “No.” Mia’s smile was replaced by a look of sadness and worry. “One minute you were talking to some dude with amazing blond hair, I mean, like it was totally shampoo commercial worthy, and the next you were gone.” Her fingers pushed her hair off her face as she looked at me. “Hair guy was where I had seen you last, and I did go over and check, but he said you wanted fresh air and then you were heading home. I called and texted, but you didn’t answer.” Mia huffed in derision. “But that’s not unusual, and of course, it turns out you didn’t even have your phone!” Mia wailed.

  So I hated being available twenty-four seven, sue me.

  “Hey,” I said gently as I reached out and caught her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I was fine. I came home, fell into bed and died a thousand deaths when I woke up.”

  Mia hastily covered her mouth to stop her giggle, but her laughter was not to be contained. “You looked so bad when I came home.”

  “I felt so bad when you came home,” I agreed as I rubbed my forehead in memory of the misery that was Saturday. “Why do people repeat that process every weekend?” I shuddered in memory of my hangover.

  “You don’t need to drink as much as you did,” Mia admonished gently. With a quick smile, she pushed herself to her feet again. “I’m glad you’re not peeved. I mean, I know you would have told me, you just, you know…I need to ask.” She saw my amused look and rolled her eyes. “Again.”

  “I know, Little Miss Needy,” I teased her. “Now go feast on lettuce.”

  With a shake of her head, Mia turned and started to walk away. “See you later, Ava!” she called over her shoulder.

  “Not if I see you first, Mia!” I yelled after her. Her one-fingered salute over her shoulder was my goodbye, causing me to laugh loudly.

  Grinning, I ate more chips and checked the time on my phone. I had another twenty minutes before Leitch ruined my day with his harsh criticism of every word I wrote. Mia’s continuous need to ensure she hadn’t upset the balance of any relationship was one of her biggest downfalls. I knew this as her best friend, and maybe, in this case, it was justified. And maybe if I had actually walked home, I would feel a little miffed, but I hadn’t. Somewhere between leaving the party and arriving home before Mia on Saturday morning, I had fallen into Jett’s bed. I couldn’t tell her, I knew exactly where her thought process would go, and even though I had no recollection of hooking up with Jett when I woke, my brain knew that what had happened between us was consensual.

  Loud, wild laughter caught my attention, and my easy smile faded as I watched the group of guys cross the quad.

  He caught my attention immediately as he walked with his brother, Gray, and their cousin, Ash. They were on either side of him, with Jett in the middle, and they looked…godlike. A handful of other players from the team crowded them as they passed a ball easily between them.

  Jett’s dark wash jeans were in the distressed style but still clung to his thighs, and I noticed when he turned to look over his shoulder, that they sculpted around his ass. A black T-shirt half tucked into his jeans hung loose on him but still managed to pull across his broad shoulders. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but his trademark smirk was, as always plastered on his too handsome face.

  Slipping my own sunglasses on so that I could observe them discreetly, I watched a group of girls flock to the three Santo boys like bees to honey. I had no fear that they would look over at me, I could blend into the background like a pro.

  Jett laughed at something Gray said to him. The two brothers were similar in looks and height, as you would expect for brothers but not necessarily for twins. Although as I watched Jett duck his brother’s playful punch, I did think the universe had been kind to every one of us for not giving us identical twins. Gray was slightly smaller than his brother, his hair cut close to his head, his face more rounded, making his cheekbones not as prominent as Jett’s were. Basically, neither was too shabby to look at. I groaned out loud. Who was I kidding? Both were what my mom would say, “look twice, ’cause twice is nice,” meaning you would see them and look again to make sure you saw their hotness.

  At six four, Ash stood taller than them both. He played tight end on the team, and due to my love of the game, I knew their stats. Ash’s hair was always messily styled, and in the warm summer afternoon, his guns were out in honour of the sun shining above us. Actually, all three of them were showing the goods today. Even from my spot under the tree, I could see the definition of their muscles, my eyes running over Jett’s heavily tattooed arm. I was not complaining at the view the guys were happily providing.

  Still, as I watched them, I wondered how the hell I had ended up being in the same bed as those muscles? I had absolutely no recollection of even speaking to Jett on Friday night, never mind getting up close and personal. God, I’d been more than up close and personal. My cheeks reddened as my whole body burned at the thought. Despite myself, I shrunk down against the tree, trying to disappear. Which was ridiculous considering, from what I knew and had heard from his bed on Saturday morning, Jett was no clearer on who I was or how he had ended up with me either. My ears had been pinned back all of this morning for any gossip involving Jett hooking up with a girl at a party on Friday night. It wasn’t uncommon, the guy
was never with the same girl twice, and he didn’t appear to care that he had a reputation as a manwhore.

  I had been drunk, so drunk. I knew I was. Even though I’d only been drunk a few times, that wasn’t my first time where I got wasted and had no recollection of what had transpired. However, I had the uncanny drunken ability to appear completely sober. I’d been told before that I didn’t seem drunk; my words, my actions, my behaviour, all were exactly the same as when I was sober. The only thing that was different was that my inhibitions were lower and I had absolutely no immediate memory of the evening once the alcohol took over.

  Which is one of the main reasons me and alcohol didn’t mix. Rarely would I drink if I went to a party. I was happy as the designated driver or sober buddy.

  However, on Friday, Mia had been sad because her most current love interest had been promoted to numero uno on the douchebag list. Mia had a shit track record with guys. She always picked the too handsome, the too perfect looking, the blinding white teeth toothpaste model wannabe, whose looks hid that he was less than perfect underneath.

  But, in true Mia style, she was never moping about a guy for long. If they pissed her off, she went out and found a new one, and she was so darn friendly and enthusiastic she ended up with no hard feelings towards her most recent breakup.

  I knew all this. We’d been best friends since forever when our moms shared a babysitter to keep costs down.

  When Mia said to me on Friday that she wanted to forget recent number one, she caught me at the right time. I had received another rejection from a publishing company about my short story. No reason given, just the generic thanks but no thanks. I’d been ready to drown my sorrow at a college party. The fact that I’d annihilated my sorrow was perhaps a question for later, I mused.

  Jett caught my eye again. I’m not sure he had uncaught it, to be honest. I looked him over curiously, as the idea of me being in bed with him was just so ludicrous. I was close to believing aliens had abducted us both and put us in a sticky situation.

  And sticky I had been.

  I gulped audibly.

  Jett may have used multiple condoms in our tryst, but I had remnants of a night of passion on my body that left me with no doubt that we had been active with each other. My lower body had ached in a way that I hadn’t expected. I knew the stories of how good in bed Jett Santo was. His bed-hopping expertise was as legendary as his quarterback skills, and I’d heard the girls in his group gossip about his “blessed” size. After I had finally stopped throwing up on his bathroom floor, I’d ignored his warning and crawled into his shower to clean my skin of sweat, of everything, but mostly of him. I’d found my clothes scattered about his room, and slowly I had gotten dressed. It was game day for the Saints, he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

  His room was clean, neat, almost obsessively so. It was bigger than my bedroom, but then it would be. The Santo brothers were legacies. This college was named after them after all, Cardinal Saints College. Their “dorm” house was an old plantation style white building with numerous rooms, which stood proudly amongst the trees at the edge of the sprawling college grounds.

  As I had looked around Jett’s room, I’d realised that the only thing messy was the bed, which I’d tried to avoid looking at, but eventually I’d approached the wide double bed and saw the evidence of our night. The faint bloodstain on the sheets marked the end of an innocence, in body if definitely not in spirit.

  Over the weekend, flashes of us together had begun to seep through, beginning to fill in the blanks. Slowly, I was remembering his touch, his kiss, his lips, which had been…everywhere. I felt my cheeks heat as I watched him now making his way to the cafeteria, completely oblivious to who I was and what we had shared.

  I lost my virginity in a night of drunken sex with a guy I disliked, and I only had a fuzzy recollection of what had happened.

  Some girls said they wished they could forget their first time. The irony was, I really wish I could remember mine.

  “Santo. My office, now!”

  All three of us turned to the coach, and I saw him huff out a frustrated sigh as his eyes met mine. “You. Now.”

  “What the fuck’s up his ass?” Gray asked as he watched our coach disappear into his office.

  “Who knows,” I answered as I bent to pick up my book bag. “I knew Monday mornings with him would be a bad idea,” I grumbled as I started to make my way to the office. Glancing over my shoulder, I looked back at the two of them with a grin. “Wait for me, I’m starving.”

  Ash nodded as he sat back down and pulled out his phone, content to wait. Gray scowled, but I saw him sit beside our cousin as I turned back to walk into the office.

  “Coach,” I greeted as I closed the office door behind me. He sat behind his huge desk, which seemed to take up the whole space of the room. Accolades, certificates and pictures of past stars littered his walls. I found the room almost suffocating each time that I was in here. It felt crowded, and every time I left the office, I would take a deep breath as if I could finally breathe again. Coach Bowers was a small thin man, clean shaven, with thick dark hair peppered with silver, small beady eyes and a heavily lined forehead because he was constantly frowning. He had been the football team’s coach for six years and was perpetually pissed off because we had yet to achieve a championship victory.

  However, he was confident that he had the winning combination this time with me, my brother and Ash. I’d heard him tell my father that the reason he stuck with the college was because he had been promised the Santo boys. I was a quarterback, Gray a running back, and Ash a tight end; we basically were the Cardinal Saints’ offence, and according to Coach, we were all he needed to make the championships. Our defence was also shaping up to be shit hot, and already our freshman year had progressed us further in the league than the football team had done for years. Coach was sure we would be lifting that trophy before our senior year, and I was in full agreement with him. In this, we shared an understanding as we had the same goal.

  The three of us trained relentlessly. We would play in the NFL, hopefully drafted to the same team, but the odds of that were slim. However, all three of us were aiming for the draft, and each of us working together was how we were going to get there.

  Coach Bowers looked at me, and I felt a moment of confusion as to why he looked so pissed off this time.

  “You’re not stupid, Jett,” he began, and I knew that was more rhetorical than an actual question. “You have a perfect four point oh average, so I know you have the smarts. You’re ambitious, you train as hard as anyone on this team. You’re a leader, I see that when you’re training. You motivate this team, which is why you are captain.”

  “Coach?” I could feel the unspoken but.

  “Your brother, a loose cannon, but you keep him in line. That boy can run and catch a ball with the best of them. He’s a goddamn powerhouse for a running back, which means he has the wow factor. I like the wow factor.”

  “Gray’s good,” I agreed. Where the hell was this going?

  “Your cousin, best goddamn tight end this team has had in years. Ash is a coach’s dream, with his ability to defend when needed, and add on to that he can run like he can, one of the best damn catchers on this team. Him and Gray, gifts from the football gods.”

  I nodded in agreement. It was true, we were all talented. We worked hard, we deserved the praise.

  “And you, the quarterback for the Cardinal Saints.”

  “Is there a problem, Coach?” I asked as I straightened my spine, standing at my full six three height.

  Coach’s lip curled, and I felt uneasy as he watched me, his face giving nothing away. “Do you think that I don’t know your nicknames? The Devils?” He looked me over derisively.

  “We don’t hide it,” I answered equally as coolly. “Given that our last name means saint.” I met his cold stare with my own. “We’re anything but saints.”

  “Oh, I know.” Coach stood, his hands flat on the desk as he leane
d on it and glared at me. “You’re not saints. The three of you are a goddamn handful, but I didn’t think you were entitled little shits who think they are invincible because of whose name’s on the college walls.”

  I bristled. “That’s bullshit, we worked hard to get in here. All three of us deserve to be here.” It was true, we had worked hard, and we each had good grades. We hadn’t coasted into this college because we were legacies. We had asked for no favours and received none. “What’s the problem?”

  “The problem? This is my problem,” he barked at me as he tossed a clipboard down onto the desk, with a chart on it, and as I looked at it, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Snatching the clipboard up, I read the result again. “What the fuck is this?” I asked him as I looked up.

  “Watch your language,” Coach warned me. “That is a drug test result.”

  “I know that,” I answered him as I clenched my jaw. “Why does it have my name on it?”

  “You’re smart, figure it out.” Coach grunted as he sat back down.

  “This is bullshit.” Tossing the clipboard back on the desk, I looked at him. “This isn’t mine.”

  “We don’t make these kinds of mistakes.”

  “Newsflash, you just did.” I met his hard angry stare with my own. “I’m telling you, there’s no way in hell that’s mine.”

  “It was taken from you on Saturday morning. Only eight players were tested. This is yours.”

  Saturday morning, I remembered, I had pissed in the cup as easily as I would in the bathroom. They’d handed me the cup as soon as I walked into the locker room, and the assistant coach had been on hand to supervise my deposit. I vaguely remembered him labelling it as I left to get ready for the game. Fuck, I’d been a little fuzzy from the booze the night before and had been too busy hiding my hangover from the coach.

  I realised that if this result were right, it wasn’t a hangover I should have been hiding.

  “Coach,” I began as my mind raced. “I don’t take drugs. All we do, all I do is train for the game, you know this.”