Saying life has been tough would be the understatement of the year.

Mila's dad got out of jail a few weeks ago, and I've seen her only a handful of times since then, using every second I could spare to fly down to L.A. and spend time with her.

Sam's first court date is only in a couple of weeks, and until then, we're in the dark about whether we'll be successful with the appeal. Mike said I should be prepared for "Plan Badass," as we like to call it. Suing the state.

But for now, my attention is on Hank, who's been busting my balls ever since I got back from Los Angeles. I can't deny I haven't been at my best lately, even though I'm still on my winning streak. But spending so much time anywhere but where I was supposed to be ended in Hank even more pissed than before, and now he doesn't lay off at all.

"I still can't believe you're doing all this for her. Did she fuck your brains out?"

"Watch your mouth, Hank." I immediately shoot him down. "This doesn't concern you."

He scoffs. "Of course it concerns me! You threw our plan overboard, you idiot!"

"Because it's my life, you fucking asshole," I say through gritted teeth. That scumbag is really grinding my gears right now.

"Watch how you talk to me, Ice. Remember who I am." He crosses his arms in front of his chest, as if that would somehow make him more important.

I'm so goddamn close to just punching him straight in the face. Fuck the contract and my career. But there's that voice in my head that tells me the struggles would not have been worth it if I destroy it all now.

So I just move out of the room, the door slamming behind me as I curse to myself. "Fucking son of a bitch." I dash down the hallway, the need to get as much distance between me and that clown filling my veins.

"Talking about yourself again, Ice?" Of course. Of course he is here.

"Shut up, Hass. I can't deal with you today."

"Ooh, someone's in a bad mood." The poor excuse of a substitute quarterback grins, and I just want to wipe it straight off his face, preferably with my fist. But I know I'm already on the edge, and I walk out of the management building before I head to my car, desperately needing to let off steam in the gym.

It works too, because I spend almost an hour in there before I hear Kill's voice behind me. "Bro, what's up with you?"

I keep on hitting the punching bag, needing to release the tension that's been lingering in my bones for days now.

The last time I saw Mila is over a week ago, and it's fucking torture. I feel like I can't function without her, and it's impossible to keep my head straight during training. The only thing that gets me going are the games—it's just different when I'm out there. My mind is so focused on keeping it together on the field that I seem to get even better without realizing it.

"Just need to burn off some energy. What are you doing here?"

It's unusual for Kill to be in the gym on training days. It's unusual for anyone to go to the gym on training days; practice usually wears you out enough to last for a day or two.

"Saw Hass running around with that grin on his face and figured that couldn't be a good sign. Just wanted to check up on you."

One can say what they want about my best friend. He might be an asshole, a womanizer, and cocky as fuck, but he's a good-ass friend. "That guy is pure stupidity. All he can do is annoy the fuck out of me," I puff before punching the bag one more time.

"Amen, brother. But how are you doing? You seem...off," he says, wiggling his finger in my face.

I sigh when I take off my gloves and throw them on the bench, grabbing a towel to throw around my neck before I answer, "Fuck, man. I'm pissed."

"About what?"

"Everything. Nothing. I don't know." I run the towel over my face and feel Kill's arm slinging around my shoulders, giving me a quick squeeze.

"I get it, bro. I didn't think I'd see the day you'd be so miserable over a woman. She really did a number on you," he quips. I'd be offended if I didn't see the genuine sympathy in his eyes, so I just shake my head as I bump him off.

"Shut up."

"I'm serious, man." He raises his hands in defense. "I mean, I don't mind. I kinda like her. She makes my brother happy, I don't care about anything else. I'm just saying, it's weird. I haven't seen you properly for a while."

Unfortunately, it's true. Ever since Kim showed up on our doorstep, I've avoided Kill. Not because I thought it was his fault, but because he reminds me of her, and the sole thought of that face pisses me off to an unearthly extent.

"Look, man, I don't know what's up with Kim." He sighs. "Her business didn't work out the way she thought it would, and I guess she's looking for attention now. I'm sorry she bothered you. I told her to lay off and haven't spoken to her since then, I swear."

"I know...it's not your fault, Kilian."

"You calling me by that name makes me think otherwise, bro." He raises an eyebrow at me.

A laugh escapes my throat, and I realize he's right. I only call him by his given name when he pisses me off. "Sorry. It just feels like everyone is against us right now, you know. Everywhere I go I see those fucking cameras, trying to get a story out of whatever the hell I do. It wouldn't bother me if they didn't go after Mila as well, especially now that her dad's out."

"Bro." Kill slaps my shoulder. "You know I'm always on your side. Tell me if I need to punch someone."

"Don't tempt me. I'm close to hiring an assassin for Hass, I swear."

"Whatever you want, man. Consider it done." The way he shrugs nonchalantly makes me laugh, and he immediately joins in.

Just like that, everything's back to normal between the two of us. Not that I expected anything else—Kill and I have been friends for way too long to let it get awkward because of something he had no control over.

When I get out of the shower, I hear a familiar ringtone echo through the changing room, and I wrap a towel around my waist before I pick up my phone with a grin. "Hey, love."

"Hey, baby." She yawns, and I can literally feel how her voice affects me. I instantly calm down, my tense muscles relaxing upon hearing her.

"Is everything alright?" I ask, since it's somewhat unusual for her to call me in the middle of the day.

"Yeah, I just... I miss you."

"I miss you too, baby. So much."

Kill walks out of the shower and rolls his eyes at me, but I flip him off when he laughs to himself.

"Are we still set for this weekend?" Mila asks, redirecting my attention to this phone call.

"Yeah, it's all lined up. I'll fly out after the game."

"Hmm...I can't wait."

And I instantly know what she's doing, sending my blood down south as I shake my head and walk to the corner, not wanting anyone to hear us. "Mila..."

My tone is stern, but her breathless voice reveals just how much she doesn't care about that fact. "Yes, Mr. Cross?"

I growl quietly, resting my forehead against the cold tiles of the room. "I'm literally in a towel in the changing room. Don't start something we can't finish."

"Hmm...well, I can finish myself. I just took a nap—you know how I am when I wake up..."

Hell fucking yeah, I do. I don't know why, but that woman must get horny in her sleep or something. Every morning—hell, every goddamn time she wakes up from a nap—she's dripping wet. It's insane. "Weren't you the one who said it was my job to do that?"

I watch as other people walk in and out while Kill just stands there, fully clothed and with a grin on his face when he nods at my crotch.

"Hmm...maybe. But you're not here right now. I'm all alone. Well, except for my hands. They help me out." And then she even fucking moans down the line.

Fucking hell... "Please don't tell me you're touching yourself right now."

"But what if I were?"

"You're killing me, woman." I groan while tucking my phone between my shoulder and ear, rushing to my duffel bag and throwing on clothes, trying to hide the massive hard-on the voice of my loving girlfriend gives me.

I seriously think I created a monster. A delicious, sexy monster, but a monster nonetheless. "Mr. Cross, are you in a rush?"

Kilian laughs when I throw the duffel bag over my shoulder, needing to get the hell out of here. I flip him the bird again, and he returns the favor with a smile on his face as I rush out the door.

"I swear to God, Mila, you'll make me go mad one day if you keep doing that while I'm out in public."

"Are you saying I should stop, Mr. Cross?"

"Hell no," I answer when I get into my car, slamming the door shut behind me.

"Do you remember the first time we made out in your car?"

"Of course I do. As if I could ever forget." It's insane how much has changed since then. It feels like it's been ages, when it was only a matter of months.

"Just the thought of that has me dripping again, Hayden. You were so sexy that night..."

I think I'll never get used to this Mila. We've excelled at the whole phone-sex idea since I left L.A., but Mila teaches me stuff I couldn't even think of. I love that she's taking the initiative with this so often. "Fuck, Mila. You looked so hot. I swear you had me wrapped around your finger that night already."

And how fucking true those words are. I knew it back then—I knew I needed that woman, and I knew she'd drive me insane, just like now.

"I know something I'd love to wrap my fingers around right now, baby," she breathes.

"Mila..." I try to warn her, but I know it's useless. I'm a goner for her.

"Yes, Mr. Cross? Don't you like it when I wrap my fingers around your cock?"

Jesus, that mouth of hers... "You know I love that."

"Then why fight it?" I almost shiver when she giggles through the phone; the sound of it has me closing my eyes, just listening to her for a second. "So?" she asks again.

"Because...fuck. I don't have a reason. Well, except for the fact that I'm sitting in my car right now."

"That's not a good reason." I have no idea how she manages to sound so goddamn innocent right now. This woman is anything but.

"No, it's not," I admit.

There's silence on the line for a few seconds before I hear her voice again. "Go back to the hotel. I want to see you."

"You what?"

"I want to see you."

"Mila." I groan. This is what I mean. We haven't taken that step yet—I know how anxious Mila gets with phone calls; I didn't want to push her into video calling when she didn't feel like it. And now she's the one initiating it. Fuck, I love her.

"Cash..."

This woman will be the death of me. I know it. "I'll call you back when I'm there."

"Can't wait," she answers so nonchalantly that I can't help but laugh, and she joins in a second later.

"I love you, you mad woman. I'll call you back."

"I love you too. I'll be waiting."

And so I rush to the hotel, suddenly feeling a lot better than only hours ago.

But as soon as I enter the parking lot, there's already about a dozen reporters waiting for me, asking me all kinds of questions. I don't even listen to them anymore; I just ignore them and storm through the crowd.

That is, until I hear someone call out, "Mr. Cross, what do you have to say about your girlfriend's affair? Is she just using you for your fame?"

I'm so goddamn close to just turning around and smacking the guy right in the face. Only I can't. It would only make things worse. Fuck, I need to get to my room.

The elevator takes ages to get to my level, and by the time I'm finally by my door, I get this sudden feeling that something's wrong. I don't know what it is, but there's a strange scent lingering in the air that makes the hair on my neck stand up when I open the door.

I can't believe my eyes when I step inside. This damn reporter is really getting on my nerves, sitting there on my couch like she owns it.

"Hello, Ice."

I don't even hesitate before I retort, "What the fuck are you doing here, Meredith?"