Completion Chapter 170

PART FIVE

IF TRUE LOVE HAPPENS only once in a lifeti, I’m fucked. My fists hit the heavy bag, and pain lances through my ungloved knuckles. Sweat trails down my body and I still can’t let go of whatever it is that’s eating alive. The bag might be taking a pounding, but hitting it does little to stop my restlessness. The Slam’s season ended three months ago, and my life has been completely in the dumps since. We won the damn championship and I shouldn’t feel this way. What the hell is wrong with ?

It all goes back to Cami and my brother, Joel. He got the girl I had no idea I actually wanted, until it was too late. Cami is a great sister-in-law, but what if I hadn’t been such an asshole and had made a stand-up decision for once? What then?

I always blad my sad fucking life for my stupid choices, which is a joke. Yes, I lost my mom when I was sixteen and it’s sothing that changed . Unfortunately, it didn’t change into soone she’d be proud of. I’m a womanizing dick. For one night, Cami was an itch. When I was done, I expected to be her friend or even enemy. Sister-in-law was entirely off my radar.

It bothers . She and my brother couldn’t be happier. Their daughter, Lilly, is six months old and adds even more love to their fairytale life. I love my niece, I love my brother and Cami, but I’m so fucking jealous and that jealousy burns deep in my gut.

You would think I would have felt worse when Joel, Cami, and I lived in the old house my parents left and Joel. Then I saw Cami every day, saw her smile, heard her laugh, watched her wrap my brother around her sexy little finger. Joel loved it. He loved every damn minute. Now, they’ve made their ho in a brand-new house on Lake Erie, like a true family, and I’m left alone to reconsider what the hell I’m doing with my life.

My fists strike again; sweat flies, and I puml the bag until my hands go numb.

I’m completely soaked as I make my way to The Slam’s gym showers. I pull my favorite t-shirt over my head and toss it on a bench. It’s the one I wore every day, pre-ga in college. Ruck , maul , make scrum, is emblazoned on the front and it’s my lucky shirt that hasn’t seen much luck lately, at least not the lady kind.

The Slam as a team, in general, has seen a lot of luck lately. A few sweet endorsent deals have helped pay the mortgage on the facility, and we’re in a good place for another season. A few days ago I finished filming a comrcial, so my now-swelling hands won’t be a problem. It will fade before the next deal. The swelling in my dick will be a problem if I don’t take care of it soon. Holding up a can of shaving cream with a hard dick won’t go over well with our endorsers. Three months without a woman, and I’m in bad shape. I haven’t done the dick-ache dance since I was fifteen. At twenty-seven, I’m too fucking old to go through it again.

I turn on the water and wash my shaggy hair, which needs a trim. No one’s around, so I take more than a mont to soap up my dick and give myself so relief. Three fucking months, and my hand is my dick’s new best friend.

I step from the shower dripping wet, and wrap a towel around my waist without bothering to dry myself. The locker room is cool, though much warr than the temperature outside that announced November is in full swing. It’s the sound of my cell ringing that has striding quickly to my locker.

A grin spreads across my face when I see who the caller is. "What’s up, Danny-girl? You finally wanna piece of this sexy body?"

"In your dreams, Van." Her husky laugh has my grin widening.

"Oh, I dream about your gorgeous hands every day, darlin’," I answer in my low, sexy, co and play voice. Danny and I have known each other since college, though we didn’t beco friends until a year ago. She’s three years younger than I am. I interfered when a prick tried to take advantage of her and wouldn’t accept no for an answer. After the fact, Danny got pissed at because she said she could handle him herself. I know she can now, but back then I just saw a young girl being pushed around. We barely said more than two words to each other after that. Then, a year ago, she volunteered as assistant coach of a peewee rugby team when the other woman who promised to help backed out. We made a good coaching team and beca friends. Danny also plays rugby for the won’s team here in Colt, Ohio, and she talks about rugby just like one of the guys. I go to so of her matches and we enjoy eting up at the local tavern afterward and throwing back a few cold ones. Danny jerks my chain about my love ’em and leave ’em philosophy, and rolls her eyes when I find a suitable candidate. She’ll wave away and tell to go do my thing and not to forget to bag it. I tease her non-stop, flirt, and basically act like myself. Danny doesn’t take my shit, and it’s refreshing.

She’s large for a womanbeefy, so would say; tall at about five-ten, with a deeper voice than most ladies. She keeps her straight hair shoulder-length and always wears it in a ponytail. Light freckles sprinkle across her nose and cheeks and her skin is milky-white, which is at total odds with her dark brown hair and dark brown eyes.

I snap back to the phone conversation when her low-toned chuckle fills my ear again. "These sexy hands have a match tonight and I thought you might wanna watch."

Hmm. Her hands are not quite what I’d call sexy because they’re too big for my taste. But, damn, they can hold onto a rugby ball, so I give them points. Danny can also drink under the table, as she’s proven on nurous occasions. I need sothing to take my mind off my jealousy over my brother’s happy family, so this might be the ticket.

"I’m in as long as you share a pint with after the ga at The Slam." The Slam is short for The Slam Tavern and I know she’ll head there anyway.

"Wouldn’t miss it. We’ll kick ass in the match, so you can help buy a round for the losing team."

Winners buy in rugby, and that’s one of the things I love about the sport. "You only want for my beer money," I laugh.

"You got it. You’re too pretty for , so I need to keep you around for sothing."

I’m still smiling, when only minutes ago I was in the dumps. "I’ll see you at the ga."

"Bye-bye, sugar puss." She makes a loud kissing noise at her end and I disconnect.

Pretty. Danny’s the only person who could ever get away with calling that. I stride past the full-length mirror a few lockers down from mine and can’t help wondering if my body is all won see when they look at . It’s not Danny I’m thinking about; she’s not like that. To her, I’m a pretty boy, and I’ve seen the slimy, professional, suited thin guys who seem to be her type.

I’m an inch shorter than my brother, which puts at six-three. I bust my ass in the gym each day to keep my muscles in peak form. The ladies love trailing their fingers over my abs. They gush over my blue eyes and dimples. I think I’ve heard it all. ’Oh, Van, smile for so I can see your dimples. Oh, Van, I lt when you look at with those eyes’. Funny how I hated my dimples when I was younger and now they’re part of my wet-panty arsenal. Those sa won play with my brown hair, especially when it’s on the shaggy side like now. Not that I’m complaining. I love won in similar ways, as long as it’s a one-ti thing. I don’t like the cling and I’m far from boyfriend material. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a man-whore. Once or twice a month I need to get my groove on and I do, or at least I did until a few months ago. During these past months, I haven’t found a woman who interests .

The happier my brother is, the more I want itsothing solid, sothing real. The won I spend ti with in bed are anything but real. I’m tired of the sa routine: the sa type of won and the sa one-night stand with a different hair color.

I dress quickly. With this evening lined up, I decide to put myself through hell and visit my brother and his family. My niece needs to teach her how to be tough. She’s spoiled rotten and a total girlie girl. She won’t be playing rugby if Joel and Cami keep this up. The pink clothing needs to go.