Parker
“ H ey, Parkie, I got one for you,” Jace said as he threw his helmet on the ground and fixed his man bun.
I felt weird every time I said those words.
I took my time drinking my water because Jace “had one” for me a couple of times a day.
And every time it was awful.
“You can proceed,” I told him as I reluctantly put the water bottle down. Matty snorted next to me, and I shot him a grin. One of our favorite things was giving Jace a hard time.
“You two act like I’m not the funniest person on the planet,” Jace commented, finally finishing his beauty routine and putting his helmet back on. “But inside, I know that you pine for these moments.”
“We pine for these moments?” Matty drawled as he snapped his own helmet back on. “I can promise you, Thatcher, I’ve never used the word pine before in my life.” He side-eyed me. “I bet Parkie-Poo has, though. That big brain of his loves the word pine .”
I huffed out an amused laugh.
“Well, first of all, you just used the word pine , and it came off your tongue quite smoothly, so I’m confident you’re not a first timer. But I do agree with you that ole quarterback here probably loves that word. He does have a big brain. I feel good about myself, though. I have a big?—”
“Am I interrupting social hour, ladies?” Coach Everett called, mercifully cutting off Jace’s sentence as he tossed a football in the air and scowled at us.
“No, sir, Coach, sir,” Jace called back as the three of us started jogging over to resume practice.
Coach pretended to snarl at Jace, but it was hard to stay mad at my golden retriever best friend. Mostly because he was one of the best receivers that college football had ever seen obviously. All of us could do without his bad jokes.
Speaking of jokes…
“What did Nala say to Simba in bed?” Jace asked as we lined up to run a play.
“Do we have to?” I groaned.
“Yes we have to. I’m not going to catch one ball until you listen to me,” Jace said seriously.
“But what about his other ball?” Connor, my enormous center called. Now the whole team was groaning.
“Can we not talk about Parker’s balls?” Matty said from down the line.
“I’m still waiting,” Jace said, a giant, annoying smile on his face.
“This is chaos,” Coach muttered, and I nodded. The best kind.
“Fine. Hurry,” I growled as I lined up behind Connor.
“Move fasta,” Jace said, and then he began cackling.
It took me a second to get it…obviously my big brain wasn’t working today. Probably because listening to Jace’s jokes made me dumber.
“Move fasta. Mufasa ,” Jace emphasized. When not a single player laughed, he scowled. “Y’all need to get a better sense of humor.”
“Set…hut,” I called, and a second later Connor hiked me the ba ll with a clean, perfect motion, and I dropped back, scanning the field.
Jace cut left, and I launched the ball, watching as it spiraled through the air and fell perfectly into Jace’s outstretched arms.
Because I was a god like that.
Jace ran a few steps and then held up the football, shaking his ass at the rest of us as he celebrated the catch.
“How the fuck do we ever win a game?” Coach grunted to Coach Houston, our quarterbacks’ coach. Coach Houston grinned as Jace came running back and tossed me the football.
“It’s ’cause we’re awesome, Coach,” Jace called as we lined up again.
And so practice went.
This was my third year as the starting quarterback for the Tennessee Tigers, and these crazy, out of control idiots around me had become my brothers. Each of these guys would do anything for each other and for me.
We were also the best fucking team in the NCAA.
Coach Everett blew his whistle, the sharp sound cutting through the shit talk on the field. “Alright, bring it in!” he called, motioning for us to gather.
I jogged over with the rest of the team, everyone forming a tight huddle around him. Sweat dripped down, breaths came heavy, but the energy was high. We could feel it. This was our year.
“Good job today, boys. Even you , Thatcher,” Coach Everett said, eliciting his usual laugh. Jace rolled his eyes, and Coach grinned. He put his hand out, and we all followed, a sea of hands stacking on top of each other.
“Call it, QB,” Coach called.
“On three—one, two, three—TENNESSEE!”
The cheer echoed, settling into my veins as it usually did as we walked off the field toward the locker room.
“Hi, Parker,” McKenzie called as we passed by where the cheerleaders had been practicing in the field next to ours .
I pretended not to hear her or the three other girls that also called out our names. I kept my eyes firmly focused in the distance because all of them were the kind of crazy I was not looking for. My dick had once liked cheerleaders, but it had been quickly cured of that.
Jace and Matty had no such issues, waving at their own fans on the team like we were in a fucking parade.
“I think you hurt the poor girl’s feelings.” Matty smirked once we finally got past the field.
I scoffed, giving him the side-eye. “Can I remind you that she was so desperate to have my babies she tried to put my old cum, that had been sitting in the condom for hours…inside of her—while I was sleeping .”
“So a hot girl tries to have your babies, Davis, cry me a river,” said Matty.
I gaped at him.
“No harm, no foul, though, Parkie. All because you listened to me,” said Jace, starting to whistle as if it was no big deal that I’d been woken up by McKenzie screaming because her cunt was on fire—thanks to the hot sauce I made sure to pour into every used condom for that reason alone.
Jace had read about some celebrity doing it when we were freshman. We’d started trying it, as a joke, never thinking it would come in handy.
The relief that I felt as she ran out of the room screaming could not be matched.
“Why are all the crazy ones hot?” Matty muttered, making fun of me as his own personal stalker waved at him from the parking lot.
“Why don’t you go over there, Matty? Since crazy, hot girls are no big deal and all,” I teased.
He flipped me off and jogged off in front of us as his little stalker girl, still nameless to us somehow, stared after him despondently .
“One day one of them is going to crack,” Jace muttered as he gave a friendly wave to her. She ducked behind a car, and I snorted because I was pretty sure she still didn’t know that we’d noticed her here every day, watching Matty like her life depended on it.
“What the fuck was Cole wearing last night?” Steadman, one of my linebackers, said as we walked into the locker room. He was grinning like a loon as he held up his phone.
And I immediately got why. I gaped at the picture he was showing me.
There was my rockstar brother, Cole, standing on the red carpet, a smug look on his face. He was shirtless, wearing a leather jacket and about twenty necklaces—because apparently that’s what rockstars wore.
But that wasn’t what everyone in the locker room was cackling about.
It was the fact that his hat, tilted low, had what looked like an owl perched on the brim.
What the fuck.
Being the youngest of three brothers when your oldest brother was a rockstar, and the other brother was a superstar NHL goalie wasn’t easy. I absolutely jumped on chances like this to make fun of one of them.
Shaking my head, I walked over to my locker and pulled out my phone.
Dangit. Walker had already seen the picture and started the fun without me.
Walker: I’d like to file a formal complaint.
Cole: ?
I quickly typed out a supporting response.
Me: I’m joining.
Cole: Okay, I’ll join in too.
Walker: You can’t join in. The formal complaint is against you.
Cole: Well, now I just feel attacked.
Me: We’re the ones who should feel attacked. You share the same last name as us, and you appeared on national television with a fucking bird on your head.
Cole: Oh, you liked that.
I snorted, and Jace came over to read the conversation over my shoulder.
Walker: What part of this conversation screamed that we liked it?
Cole: It’s called fashion.
Me: It’s called embarrassing. I wish it had crapped on your head.
“Good one,” Jace muttered, as I elbowed him for standing practically on top of me.
Cole: It was stuffed!
Walker: Somehow that makes it worse.
Me: …
Cole: Hey! None of that rhombus of ridiculousness shit.
Walker: Do you mean Circle of Trust? Because if so, that’s blasphemy. If not, what the hell is the rhombus of ridiculousness?
Cole: Tomato, Tuh-mot-oh.
Me: I don’t even know what you’re saying right now.
Walker: Me neither.
Me: New family rule. No stuffed animals are allowed on national television.
Cole: I can’t promise that, Parkie. It’s whatever I’m feeling in the moment.
Walker: How about the next time you get that feeling, you let us know, and we’ll make sure you “feel” a new last name before you go out in public.
Cole: Rude. My feelings would be hurt if I didn’t know that I was awesome.
Walker: …
Me: …
Me: Awesomely bad.
I was still smiling as I went to put down my phone…and then it buzzed in my hand.
My smile instantly died when I saw who the text was from. Martha, Mom’s nurse.
Martha: Parker, she’s refusing to eat again. We’re trying, but…
The words made my stomach twist, and whatever leftover buzz I had from practice and making fun of Cole died in an instant.
Matty, noticing my shift, lifted an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
I tried for a nod, but it didn’t feel convincing. “Just my mom again,” I muttered, even though everything with my mom the last couple of years had definitely not been just a thing.
Matty’s brow furrowed, sympathy in his eyes that I didn’t want. “Want some company? I can drive over with you.”
I shook my head, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “Nah, it’s fine. You’ve got study hall tonight, right? I can handle it.”
He didn’t argue with me. He and Jace both knew by now there wasn’t any point to doing that. I never wanted them to come with me. The fact that my mother had given up on life wasn’t a secret. But it was widely known that I didn’t want to talk about it.