CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Lucas
“Coach told me I’m getting some reps in tomorrow’s preseason game,” I say into the phone.
I’m sitting on a low, grassy hill overlooking a field at the edge of town, watching a Pop Warner game.
The kids are little and the helmets look too heavy for their heads as they trip over their own cleats and run in a swarm after the ball without any regard for positions.
Parents line the sidelines with folding chairs and umbrellas and shout words of encouragement that’s a little too loud and invested.
“He did?” Brendan says. “Seriously?” I can hear the grin in his voice and the sound of it reminds me of all those years ago when it was us on a field like this.
Is that why I came here? Because I needed a small reminder of why I love this game?
Or maybe I just needed to step outside the bubble I feel like I’m in.
“Yeah. He called me into his office after practice today and said I’d get a couple of series at least. It’s preseason but—”
“Well, damn.” He laughs. “Guess you’re proving you’re not as washed up as you like to pretend you are.”
“I never said I was washed up.” I roll my eyes.
“No, but you fear it,” he fires back like only a brother can.
The quarterback on the field cocks his arm back and launches the ball pretty far for his size. The spiral is wobbly, but it has distance and lands squarely in the receiver’s arms. The sideline erupts like it’s the Super Bowl.
“Nice throw,” I murmur under my breath.
“Well, that’s a positive development. Does that mean things are going well?”
“For the most part. The guys are pretty cool. A few assholes but that’s with every team. They’re young and hungry, which could be a positive in a lot of ways. I’ve scouted the division and I think if we start on the right foot, it could be a good year.”
“With you on the sidelines,” he states.
“Landing the dagger on that one, huh?” I chuckle.
“Not intentional.” He pauses and I can hear my nephew in the background. “So what about you?”
“What about me?”
“We’ve talked for thirty minutes—which is close to being a record by the way—and you’ve avoided all talk about you.”
“Bullshit. I told you my shoulder was feeling stronger.”
“Which is a lie.”
“Fine. Better. It’s feeling better. This new doc has been putting me through the paces with her rehab routines, but honestly? I think it’s helping. The pinch that was there is gone. And it just feels . . . stronger.”
“That’s great news. Promising. But what about the rest of your life there? Do you like where you’re living? Have you explored the city? Like, tell me about your life outside of football.”
Emery flashes through my mind, and I twist my lips in response. “I’m living. Just nothing earth-shattering to tell.”
“Which definitely means there is something to tell.” He barks out a laugh.
“You think you know everything.”
“Because I usually do.” A pause. “So . . . what’s going on?”
On the field below I must have missed what happened because there’s a pile of kids on top of each other—both uniforms—and they’re all laughing, not caring who wins or loses.
I watch them longer than necessary because it’s easier than confronting what’s bugging me and even worse, admitting it to my brother.
“There’s this . . . woman,” I finally say.
This has been lodged in my chest for the better part of a week. Hell, since last Saturday when we spent the day together.
Brendan’s laugh comes through the connection. “A woman. Wow. You really said that? Didn’t you mean a hookup?”
I don’t answer. The silence stretches.
“Oh shit,” he finally says. “It’s like that.”
“It’s not like anything,” I say too fast. “I mean—it can’t be.”
“Why can’t it? Because of your self-imposed rules during preseason? The no distractions one?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
The center snaps the ball on the field, and it flies over the quarterback’s head. Chaos ensues as all the little bodies in gear that’s way too heavy scramble after the loose ball.
“Rules always are.” He sighs. “So just break them. You never stick to your self-imposed rules for the whole season, so just break them early.” He chuckles.
“It’s not as easy as that.”
“Are you dragging this out on purpose or are you just waiting for me to ask what the deal is?”
I run a hand through my hair. “She’s . . . involved with the team.”
There it is. The line that is smart not to cross. Boundaries.
His chuckle is pure antagonization. “Since when has that ever stopped you from going after what you want?”
“Fuck you,” I mutter and earn a sharper laugh. “Dude, that was years ago, and it was one time. I didn’t even know she did the media for the team.”
He snorts. “This one front office staff?” he guesses.
“A doctor.”
He pauses for a beat. “Well, that’s new.”
I grunt in response.
“Is she good?”
The question is simple. Dangerous. And can mean so many things. Good at her job? Good as a human? Good as a fit for me? Too good for me?
“Too good,” I finally answer.
He exhales. “So that’s the problem.”
“You can say whatever you want, but I’m well aware it’s not a good look for either of us to act on the attraction.”
“And you know she wants to act on it?”
I think of the PT room a few days ago and how she reiterated what her line in the sand was. How she showed up at my door a few nights ago with that damn softness in her eyes and ghost of a smile that wanted me to finish the kiss we almost shared at the street party.
She wants it as much as I do, but she’s made it clear she’s afraid of the consequences.
“Yeah. Pretty sure.”
“Or maybe you’ve read it all wrong and she doesn’t like you.” Spoken like a true little brother. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He’s such a little fucker. “I haven’t read her wrong at all.”
Her quick inhale at the street party. The way she leaned in. The way her pulse raced in her wrist beneath my thumb while we were holding hands.
And now the sudden distancing.
The woman is here to start over after having a prick of a husband. She’s moved states for fuck’s sake. If we kissed, if it went further, because let’s face it, she’s the whole damn package, we’d cross lines that I’m confident she’s determined shouldn’t be crossed.
As much as I’d like it to be about what I want here, it also has to be what she wants. And wants can’t always just be acted on.
We’re not college kids in our early twenties looking for a quick hookup that would fizzle out in a few weeks’ time. If we started something, we’d most likely want to give it a chance for . . . more.
The kind of more I’ve never found before.
Which is probably why it makes it even harder to ignore the attraction between us. It’s the wanting something you know you can’t have dilemma.
But oh, how I want to have it.
“Remember when we were teenagers and you had a thing for and snuck around with Coach Miller’s daughter all summer?” he asks.
I groan. “Where are you going with this?”
“Point is, you didn’t stop wanting things because the stakes got higher. You just figured a way to get around them.”
I watch the kids line up again. Small hands on skinny knees. High-pitched voices carrying over to me.
“These stakes are a lot higher now than back then.”
“I don’t know,” he teases. “The stakes felt pretty high back then considering Coach had no problem whooping our asses.”
“True.” I chuckle and then pinch the bridge of my nose. “What if this is a chance I don’t want to screw up?”
“With football?”
“With . . . everything.”
And I have no fucking clue what that everything entails.
My chance at playing.
Her job.
Ruining a friendship I enjoy and have come to depend on.
Pissing off my neighbor.
All of it going fucking south.
“Well,” Bren says, “getting reps means you’re still in the fight. And if there’s a woman making you think with your brain and not your other head, I mean . . . maybe she’s worth it.”
“Fucking distractions,” I mutter.
“Sounds more like you’re alive, not distracted.”
I swallow. “You’re supposed to talk me out of shit like this.”
“True. But maybe this whole scenario is backing up the one constant I’m always telling you—that there’s more to life than football and you need to start living it. Because when your playing days are over, what else will you have?”
When your playing days are over. God. What is it with everyone bringing this shit up? Is it obvious to everyone but me that my playing days are over?
“I’ll have time to screw things up then,” I tease.
“Or you’ll have nothing to look forward to, and that might make you hold on longer than you should to avoid that.”
“Yes. I’ve got it. Derrick Allen gave me the same speech the other day.”
“And you actually listened to him?”
I close my eyes and sigh for a beat. “When I started this career, I always promised myself I’d go out on top of my game.
The last time I touched a field during the season, I was hauled off in a cart.
I need to, for my own sake, make the team, play the game, and then walk away from it.
That’s my immediate focus . . . but yes, I’m trying to figure out what beyond that looks like. Okay?”
His silence is probably surprise. “That’s the most honest you’ve been with me and yourself in a long time.”
“Yeah. I’m not a fan of it.”
He chuckles and it makes me smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I still think you should break the rules, if you think she’s worth it. And not just for a hookup. Break them for something with potential. For someone who makes you feel good—and not just in the sack.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say but hear every word he says. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Why? That Pop Warner game get interesting?” he asks.
“Wait. How did you know—”
“Because that’s where you always go when you need to think.”
“Fuck off,” I sigh.
“Love you, brother.”
“Yeah, yeah. Me too.”
I hang up and sit there a while longer, watching the kids play like nothing hurts yet. Like rules don’t exist. Like the orange slices and Gatorades waiting for them on the bench are the best fucking goal in the world.
So damn good.
Eventually, I stand and head back toward my truck.
Emery Porter. The woman is on my mind more and more every day. Can’t imagine why. She’s not bothered by my fame. Doesn’t seem to care much about money. Is loyal. Is kind. Is smart. Is willing to be honest even when it’s hard.
And the gorgeous part is an added bonus.
She reminds me of Brendan’s Jenny. And if Jenny can put up with that animal, then I imagine Emery could put up with me.
Going after Emery could be a huge risk.
But I didn’t get where I am by not taking risks.
Doubt she did either.
The question is, how am I going to convince her I’m worth the risk?