Synopsis

Tim Riggins is screwed up. Ever since Lyla left him, he's been a wreck. Until he meets Jessica Westbrook.

Jessica was running from her past. Finding solace in the house of her uncle, Eric Taylor, she wants to start anew. But can she fight her demons enough to rejoin the world? And could bad ass fullback Tim be the one to help her?

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It was raining. Heavily.

The girl jumped off the bus, dragging her huge duffel bag with her and pulled out a soaked piece of paper, with random lines drawn on it. She squinted at it in the fading light, trying to figure out what the map was indicating.

No luck.

Huffing out a breath, she looked around for a street name. Halewood.

Great.

The street she needed, according to the messed up lines, was a couple blocks over.

She started walking.

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Coach Eric Taylor looked up from watching the last football game and frowned at the door.

The insistent knock came again. Tami glanced over at him but made no move to answer it.

Probably one of his players.

For big guys they were really needy.

He paused the game and heaved himself up, it was still pretty early and he had time to review it.

Coach Taylor unlocked the door and stood staring at the small, drowned figure on his doorstep.

"I need somewhere to stay…..Uncle," a small, melodic voice spoke from beneath the hood. Coach Taylor barely heard his wife come up behind him as he continued to stare at the bruised face of his niece.

"Oh, honey." He gathered her into his arms and pulled her inside.

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Tim sauntered down the hall, but he had his head down and his arm was strapped to his chest.

"Hey, Rigs, how's the arm?" someone called.

"Still attached," he answered without stopping. Girls giggled and blushed as he passed, the rally girls stroking his arm, or back, trying to hand him cookies and cakes.

He shrugged them off with a tight smile, annoyed at their constant fawning and really just in the mood to wallow. He was very hung-over and had a banging headache and just couldn't be bothered. He hated Lyla and he hated Jason, and he pretty much hated the entire world.

He smirked to himself, thinking over the game and relishing the ache in his muscles. Until someone walked into him.

Or he walked into them, given as the person was stationary.

"Jeez, do you not look when you walk? You weigh like, what? 200 pounds? You can't just step on people. You'll break them!"

"You finished?" he drawled, finally looking at the person he'd run down. His breath stopped as he looked down into deep indigo eyes.

The short girl in front of him huffed out a breath and nodded.

Jessica was glad she'd gotten to her uncles when she did. And she was glad that it had been in the middle of the holidays and there'd been time for the bruising to go down, and disappear. Now there was no trace of any attack. She looked normal. The guy who'd mowed into her was still talking.

"Good. 'Cause you're making me late." As he went to move by her, she did the strangest thing, had no control whatsoever, and put her hand on his arm, gripping his bicep.

"I'm Jessica Westbrook. You?"

"Tim Riggins."

She leaned close with a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'm being stalked by some crazy ass cheerleaders that for some reason really want to hurt me. Some sort of 'kill the new girl thing'. Walk me to class? Please. Or I'll have to hurt them." It was the truth. They'd been following her since she stepped foot in the school. Whispering together and sending her scathing glances. She really didn't want to be in trouble for fighting on her first day. She stared up at him from beneath her delicately framed glasses, trying her best to make her eyes sparkle and plead.

It always worked.

"Where to, little lady?" Tim was curious. This girl was beautiful. Shy, and in some way damaged. It was there in the way she held her body, shoulder slightly forward to protect from blows, hands fisted, spine straight, but her body huddled in. He couldn't help it.

He hooked her hand 'round his arm and waited for her response.

She frowned and pulled a piece of paper from her shoulder bag.

"English, room 14." He loved her soft, melodic voice and her million watt smile as she beamed up at him.

He nodded at her and gently tugged her forward in the direction of their English class. He held his head a little higher.

The feel of her hand, silky, soft, on his bare arm sent warm shivers through his body.

People threw them strange looks, but Jessica continued to ramble on with her bizarre, amusing stories, not paying any attention, no attention until Tyra planted herself in their path. Then her body tensed.

Jessica held her body in anticipation of a blow the minute the blonde stepped in front of them. The girl was fuming, and Jessica could guess why. It was the one thing that never failed to make a girl feral.

A guy.

Tim, in particular.

"Tyra?" He addressed the girl with some disdain, apparently she was a threat.

She felt his muscles tense beneath her hand a second before he went to pull her away, but before she could move with him, Tyra dragged her away by her free arm and wrenched, trying to dislocate her shoulder or elbow, really only succeeding in tearing a muscle and flinging her hard into an open locker.

She saw Tim restrain the girl, but as she winced in pain, she felt her lip curl up into a snarl as her bolts of pain ran through her arm.

Jessica launched her fist straight into Tyra's face, watching as blood spurted from the blonde's nose.

"What the fuck? Are you psychotic? You don't just push someone into a locker. That wrecked my arm and my back……so I wrecked your nose."

Jessica rolled her injured shoulder and winced, then blew on her knuckles.

She hated doing that, but she couldn't just take being hit anymore.

It was instinctive, now, to fight back.

Tim was trying so hard not to laugh. Tyra's face was hilarious, even covered in blood. It was about time someone knocked her down a peg or two.

Jessica was looking traumatised though. The minute Tyra had set in on her, she'd been waiting, ready to accept it. As though it was normal.

Tim felt for her.

He gathered her under his free arm and pulled her close, heading towards the English room.

"But…….what about Tyra? Don't I have to go to the office or something?" Her voice was quiet and she kept on looking over her shoulder as they walked.

"No, Tyra won't tell anyone that you beat her. I promise." He stroked her face and tucked her further under his arm, not knowing why he had to comfort her, just that he did.

He smiled at the feel of her soft curves against him and didn't release her until they reached the classroom.