Chapter Thirty-Six

Rule Number One.

Start at the beginning.

Brody

My palms were sweating. My goddamn palms. What was it about this woman that made me revert to a thirteen-year-old boy scared to death to ask a pretty girl to the dance?

Because it’s not a pretty girl. It’s the pretty girl, asshat. The one you want to spend the rest of your life with. And you don’t deserve her.

Man, did she have to be so stunning? Her hair had grown out a little and was gathered in a ponytail at the base of her neck. She had on a training staff performance T-shirt and yoga pants that stopped at her calves and were snug enough to show off all her curves. We walked along the concrete path around a retention pond behind the main building. The city was finally getting a reprieve from the triple digits of summer, but I was sweating bullets, and Lily was letting me. She hadn’t said a single word. I wiped my forehead on the hem of my T-shirt trying to figure out what to say first.

Where do I even start?

Lily stopped, crossed her arms below her breasts. “How about at the beginning.”

Her violet eyes scanned over the pond, and my heart skipped in my chest.

My hand drifted to her cheek all on its own. “I’m so sorry, darlin’.” I wanted her to see how much I meant the words, how much I regretted every single moment of my life since she’d walked into my apartment for the last time. I knew my eyes pleaded with hers to see my sincerity. What a dumbass I’d been.

How much I loved her with every single breath and heartbeat.

When the tear slipped down my cheek, I didn’t wipe at it. I didn’t try to hide it. I cleared my throat of the lump and my voice came out grated. “I think I know, but will you tell me what happened in the meeting with your stepdad. I already know I was wrong, I just want to know what you went through that day. I fucked up, Lily. I’ve been protecting myself so long that I didn’t even give you a chance to talk about what you went through. I’d like it if you’d tell me, though?”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she exhaled a heavy breath. “That’s a good start, Shaw. My deal with Dick was that I’d come to work for the Bulldogs—leave the Unruly Dog—and he’d fund a rescue for dogs too aggressive for most other shelters. You need to know that I knew what he wanted from me. I knew he expected me to lie to players. That’s why he wanted me to work for him so badly, but I wouldn’t do it. After my dad, I could never—” A tear caught on her lashes. “Honestly, I don’t think he had any intention of building the shelter, either.”

I couldn’t help it. I had to brush the tear from her cheek.

“The first time he came to me about a player, he wanted Douglas’s hyperextended elbow downplayed so he could have him on the field against Las Vegas. I wouldn’t do it and he told me, ‘If you don’t scratch my back, I don’t scratch yours.’”

Sniffing, she shook her head. “I may have made a deal with the devil, Brody, but you were never on the table. Your career wasn’t mine to bargain with. Ever. I gave up everything I loved that day trying to do the right thing for the dogs: the center, training, spending time with my own dogs, agility...and you accused me of using you anyway. The very thing I was trying to avoid by going to you in the first place.”

Lily shuffled her feet. “So, I lost you, too. Pretty much the worst day of my life so far.”

She pulled in a shaky breath. “The more I think about it...it wasn’t all on you. I was still worried you might flake on me. Whether it was money, or celebrity, cheating, or getting traded, or hurt, or...worse. So much of the hurt in my life leads back to this game. It has taken so much from me, and I’ve never played a single down. That’s why I couldn’t let go of the fear. I think I always knew it would take you, too.”

Turning to a bench in the shade, Lily sat, pulling one foot onto the edge.

I stared out over the water. The thing was, Lily was right. The game gave me a lot, but it took a lot, too. For her, it had taken even more. When I thought about all my own bullshit—the shoulder, the pain, the trust issues and lawsuits, the paranoia about being used—my common denominator was always football, too.

“I have something for you, Lily.”

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