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  #Player

  The Hashtag Series #3

  Players gotta play.

  Hate is like a poison. It contaminates everything.

  So does doubt.

  Even though I deny what I overheard, even though I insist it isn’t true, the seed of doubt has been planted. I can’t help but be tormented with the endless what-ifs that have taken over our lives.

  Romeo and I were happy in love. The future stretched before us brighter than any star in the darkest sky. Now everything is broken. Literally broken. Romeo’s entire career is at stake, my entire future is threatened… and my past?

  It’s coming back to haunt me.

  To haunt us.

  Romeo says we’re in this together and right now the only sure thing is us. But how far can a love so new be pushed? The lengths we will have to go to save each other put everything at risk.

  Romeo is a #player, but how much of the game can one person play?

  #Player

  The Hashtag Series #3

  by Cambria Hebert

  #PLAYER Copyright © 2015 CAMBRIA HEBERT

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Published by: Cambria Hebert Books, LLC

  http://www.cambriahebert.com

  Interior design and typesetting by Sharon Kay

  Cover design by MAE I DESIGN

  Edited by Cassie McCown

  Copyright 2015 by Cambria Hebert

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-938857-69-0

  Table of Contents

  Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  #Player

  Chapter One

  Rimmel

  “You could find out her entire family is full of murderers and I would still love her.”

  “Funny you should say that, because it appears her father is the one who killed her mother.”

  It wasn’t true.

  Even my sharp denial wouldn’t stop what I overheard pounding inside my brain over and over again until I swear my heart beat to the rhythm of those words.

  And just like a heartbeat, though no one could hear, I sure as hell felt it.

  I couldn’t think about that right now.

  There was no room to feel the implications of Valerie’s accusation.

  My focus could be only on the man who sat closely beside me. His body wasn’t relaxed like normal. And even though he tried to smile at me with his easygoing, no-worries smile, it didn’t quite come through.

  He was worried. Anxious and probably in pain. Though, I’d have better luck pulling out my teeth with my own fingers than ever hearing him actually admit any part of him was in pain.

  He didn’t have to say it and I didn’t have to hear it.

  I knew. And Romeo was all that mattered right now.

  “You doing okay?” I whispered, tilting up my head to look at his face.

  His ever-blue eyes found mine and he smiled. “Waiting sucks.”

  It seemed like we’d been in the room for hours. Maybe it had been. I really couldn’t say. The concept of time had been reduced to moments.

  One moment after the next.

  It had been that way since I stepped into the indoor football field, thinking Romeo had asked me to be there.

  One moment I was giddy with anticipation, and the next I was hanging vicariously from a field goal post, strung up by rope and looking into the eyes of someone who’d clearly come unhinged.

  I shivered, and Romeo’s arm tightened around me. His hand came up and flattened against the side of my head as he gently steered it against him. “You still cold?” he rumbled.

  I felt the words echo in his chest more than I actually heard them.

  “No,” I replied. He was too close for me to be cold.

  But not even the steadfast warmth of the man I loved was going to be enough to completely erase the memory of what Zach had done to me. To us.

  “Relax,” Romeo whispered, trying once more to push me farther against him.

  I held myself stiffly and lifted my head despite his effort. “I don’t want to lean on you anymore,” I said. “You’re arm…”

  “Is broken,” he said. “And it’s over here.” He pointed across his body where he held it closely against him. The skin was a mottled purple color and the flesh was swollen. My stomach flipped over every single time I looked at it.

  His arm wouldn’t be like that if he hadn’t climbed up on that field goal to get me down.

  “You’re on this side.” He went on like he didn’t realize just how upsetting it was to see him like that. “And you aren’t hurting me.”

  I gave in and lay against him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his skin was smooth, his body so solid and strong that when I closed my eyes, I could pretend nothing on him could ever possibly be broken.

  “Rim,” he whispered a few minutes later.

  “Hmm?”

  “I need you to tell me what happened.” His voice was harsh. “Before I got there.”

  My eyes sprang open. Why would he even want to know? Why would he want to relive anything that happened on that field even a second more than he had to?

  “It’s over, Romeo. There’s no reason to bring it back up.”

  “Hey,” he whispered and slid his body out from under mine.

  I moved, immediately thinking maybe my weight was hurting him after all. But before I could go very far, he turned onto his side to face me and palmed my hip, gently motioning for me to do the same.

  I glanced down in alarm because the hand he was holding me with was attached to his broken arm. He hadn’t moved it that far or even that much, but I didn’t want him to move it at all.

  Even as my body obeyed, turning on my side so we were face to face, my eyes went right to the place just above his elbow where the skin was clearly traumatized.

  I really hoped they came in here soon and I hoped they brought a giant Band-Aid. I knew it wouldn’t fix what happened, bu
t maybe not having to stare at it every second would make it easier to process.

  “Hey,” he said again, his voice gruff yet commanding.

  I looked up.

  He shook his head slowly, silently telling me to stop. His hand stayed still against the curve of my hip. He touched me nowhere else.

  He didn’t have to.

  The azure shade of his eyes caressed me to my soul. I swear he looked at me like no one else ever could. It was like there was nothing else in existence except me. It was like he wasn’t just looking at me, but in me, and I was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

  I got caught up in that gaze. I got caught up in him. My chest felt like it caved in, but not in a disaster sort of way. Like it was sealing in everything he was saying even though no words ever left his tongue.

  “How do you do it?” I whispered. My tongue felt thick against the roof of my mouth.

  “Do what?” he asked. That look never once left his eyes. If anything, it swept me in tighter.

  “How do you look at me like… like I’m everything?”

  He made a low sound in the deepest part of his throat. Sort of like a growl, sort of like an agreement. “Because you are.”

  “Romeo.” I sighed.

  “Rimmel,” he replied. “Don’t forget.”

  I started to pull back from the moment, but his fingers tightened on my hip. I looked back up.

  “Don’t forget this moment. Don’t forget the absolute truth in the way you feel right now. I love you and I’m not going to stop.”

  Emotion welled up in my throat and tears rushed to the backs of my eyes. His words were beautiful, but it was the reason he said them that had me so choked up.

  This wasn’t the end.

  Beyond this moment, this quiet, whole moment with him, were many more. Many more that weren’t going to be like this one.

  We were going to have to keep fighting to keep what was ours.

  “I’m not going to stop either,” I whispered.

  A smile stretched over his face and lit up his eyes. I leaned closer and sealed my vow with my lips. The rush of heat I always felt when we kissed tingled my toes and they curled into the blankets. I opened my mouth so his tongue could venture inside, and I sighed, so wanting to feel him.

  But the moment was cut short.

  The door opened and a man with graying hair, a white coat, and a file in his hand stepped in.

  “Mr. Anderson,” he said, looking straight at Romeo. It was like he didn’t even notice the intimate bubble Romeo and I occupied. “I have your X-ray results.”

  The bubble burst abruptly and reality rushed back in.

  Romeo’s dad came in the room, his face concerned as Valerie hovered just outside the doorway staring into the room like it was some forbidden fruit.

  I scrambled up to sit on the mattress, ignoring the protests of my sore body. Romeo did the same, moving a little more gingerly.

  In the space between us on the mattress, our fingers intertwined.

  “How bad is it?” Romeo asked. For once I heard fear in his tone.

  I glanced at him.

  He glanced at me.

  Our moment was over.

  The fight started now.

  Chapter Two

  Romeo

  This was it.

  Whatever that X-ray showed would define my future.

  I’d never realized how much one piece of paper could change my life.

  I clung to Rimmel’s hand with a desperation I hoped no one else noticed. But she was my lifeline, and if ever I needed one, it was right then.

  Dr. Craven stepped farther into the room and cleared his throat. He shuffled around a few papers in the folder he was holding as if he were consulting his notes.

  My father stood nervously behind the doc, waiting just like me.

  “The X-ray was very clear,” he began, and my gut tightened.

  “Wait.” Rimmel cut in, and all eyes turned to her. “She should be here.” Her hazel eyes looked toward the door.

  In the small glass cutout, I could see my mother hovering, anxiously bouncing from foot to foot.

  “Rimmel,” I said, harsh, about to shoot her down.

  Just looking at my mother right now made me fucking pissed.

  “Romeo,” she said. Her voice held a hint of steel. “She’s your mother. You’re seriously injured. She’s worried and deserves to hear what the doctor’s about to say.”

  Dad didn’t wait for my reply. He went and opened the door and gestured for Mom. She rushed in the room like there was a fire in the hallway.

  “Roman,” she said, stepping closer, and I gave her a cold look that stopped her in her tracks.

  “You can thank Rimmel for you being in here,” I said and then dismissed her and looked back at the doc.

  Upon my expectant look, the doctor cleared his throat. “Your arm is definitely broken,” he confirmed. “The good news is it’s a closed fracture, meaning the bone didn’t break through the skin of your upper arm.”

  The doctor pulled out an X-ray film and held it up to the light. “It’s difficult to see in here,” he began and pointed toward the image of my arm. “The break is here, above the elbow. It probably occurred by the way you fell. The distinct cracking sound you said you heard.” Beside me, Rimmel stiffened, and I squeezed her fingers. “That unpleasant sound was actually a good thing. It was a clean break.”

  Dr. Craven looked away from the film to smile at me. It was like he was delivering some great news.

  Excuse me while I don’t have a fucking party.

  “Here’s the point of the break. It’s transverse, which means it goes straight across the bone,” he said, pointing at the film again. I did see a dark line in the white area of my bone. “It’s a non-displaced fracture. The bones are still aligned, which means no surgery will be needed.”

  My mother let out an audible sigh of relief as the doctor tucked the film back in his folder.

  “What does all this mean for him?” my father asked.

  I was glad he did. I was having trouble posing the question.

  I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answer.

  “This type of injury can be life altering for someone in your profession,” the doc said, glancing at me knowingly. “But I see no cause for major concern.”

  A small part of me relaxed. “So I can still play?”

  “I’m not quite ready to make any promises,” he said, and my guts tightened. “But because it’s a clean break, you’re young, clearly in perfect health, and seem to have no tissue damage or nerve damage—at this time—I would say it’s a high probability that your career will not suffer.”

  Rimmel made a sound and bounced on the bed as she flung her arms around my neck. I bit back a groan as her sudden movements jerked my shoulders and pain radiated down my arm.

  “I would definitely suggest limited movement,” the doctor cautioned, looking directly at Rim.

  She pulled back immediately and went still. I patted her hand.

  “How long?” I asked. I had to know.

  “How long until you can play again?” the doctor echoed. He shook his head. “It’s too early to say.”

  I growled. “How long?”

  “If you do exactly as instructed, if you don’t push yourself, and bearing no complications, I would say you could be completely healed in eight weeks.”

  Okay, that would put me toward April.

  “But,” he said, speaking over my thoughts, “the arm is usually in a weakened state and stiff after being cast.”

  “He needs a cast?” my mother said.

  “A cast is one option,” he replied, glancing at her. “But because of your health and your profession, I would recommend a splint with a shoulder support and sling. The compression support of the splint would assist with the swelling and increase the elasticity of the muscles.”

  “What does that mean?” Rimmel asked nervously.

  “It means there could potentially be less stiffness onc
e healed,” he answered. “The sling will be for comfort but also to help keep the area still. You’ll need to see an orthopedic specialist to oversee your care, and also, they can likely work out some sort of physical therapy, as I know you’re anxious for that.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said, trying to take it all in. It didn’t sound like this was going to be a career ender (before it even started), and the relief from that almost knocked me over.

  “I’ll be back in a few moments with a sheet of instructions, the splint, and sling. I’m also prescribing some pain medication—”

  “No.” I cut him off. “No pills.” I wasn’t about to drug myself up. I didn’t need that shit in my system. I tried to stay clean.

  He nodded. “Then I suggest taking an over-the-counter anti-inflammatory at least for the first few days. It will help the swelling and discomfort. I’ll be back in just a few moments,” he said and then left the room.

  “Roman,” my mother gasped when he was gone. “Thank God it’s not any worse.”

  An uncomfortable silence stretched across the room when I didn’t answer.

  “Roman,” my father admonished, and I shook my head.

  “This isn’t the time or place,” I said. “Later.”

  “I’m going to go out in the hall and put a call in to John’s Hopkins. Hopefully one of their ortho doctors can get you in,” Mom announced. “And I’ll also run and get you some pain reliever, some ice packs, and a few pillows. You’re going to need to keep that comfortable.”

  “Thanks,” I said and sighed. Fuck, it was hard to be cold to my own mother.

  “I’ll go with her,” my father said. Before leaving, he turned back. “Rimmel, is there anything we can get you while we’re out?”

  She looked up and gave my father a smile. How she could smile at all was beyond me. “No, thank you. Just take care of your son.”

  “If you need anything, you let me know,” he replied, winking.

  She smiled, but once he was gone, she sank back into the pillow. “Did I hurt you?” she worried. “When I hugged you?”

  “No, baby, you didn’t hurt me.”