Chapter Ten
ASTON
We’re halfway through the season, and my body doesn’t feel much like a temple. More like a crime scene.
I’m standing in front of my kitchen window, staring out at the woods surrounding my house, slowly rotating my right shoulder.
The joint pops, making a sharp sound so loud that it practically echoes through the house.
My ribs are definitely bruised after the last game, and my left knee aches every time the temperature drops below forty, which is often now that we’re late in the season.
Monday night will be a prime-time matchup against Pittsburgh.
The whole country will be watching, including every analyst and front-office executive.
The pressure of Monday night games is like a low frequency that hums through my body and keeps me locked on game film until my eyes feel like they’re bleeding.
But tonight, the aches and pains don’t matter. Tonight, the film can wait.
Instead, the soft light from my massive stone fireplace in the great room illuminates my house, creating a kind of calm I need. The fireplace is wood-burning, and I spent a good half hour stacking seasoned oak until the flames were throwing amber heat across the wide-plank floors.
My house is all exposed timber and oversize leather furniture, designed for a man my size, but tonight, I’m doing something I’ve never done.
I opened a bottle of red wine I couldn’t pronounce and cracked a window to let some of the crisp air from outside meet the warmth of the fire, creating the perfect temperature.
And I did it all for Eva. The first woman besides my mama to come to my home.
When I see headlights sweep across my driveway in the reflection of the glass, my heart stutters against my ribs.
I walk over to my heavy cedar front door just as she reaches the top step, a weekend bag slung over her shoulder, her cheeks pink from the cold.
She’s wearing a thick cream-colored sweater under her open puffer coat and black leggings and UGG boots, and her hair is twisted up in one of those messy-bun things that somehow looks incredibly sexy.
“Eva,” I say, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.
“Hey,” she says softly, her eyes shifting from my face to my house behind me. “Holy shit, Aston,” she mutters, a faint smile touching lips I’ve been thinking about for days. “Are you hosting a lumberjack convention, or do you have a kink for wood and leather I should know about?”
“Get in here, Honeybee,” I say with a laugh, shaking my head. I reach out and take her bag from her shoulder. My hand brushes her arm, and the simple contact sends a jolt through me. It’s like this every time with her. “You’re late.”
“The Lincoln Tunnel is a hazard zone on Friday nights—you know this,” she says, stepping into the house.
She kicks off her boots, revealing big and fuzzy socks, and looks around.
“All kidding aside, you have a beautiful home. And it smells … incredible in here. Cedar and oak. I half expected it to carry that protein-shake-and-sweat smell, like your house in college.”
“Hey now, give me some credit,” I say, closing the door and setting her bag by the stairs. Then I step into her space, my height completely shadowing her as I reach out and touch her jawline with my thumb to tilt her face up. “Welcome to my home.”
She looks up at me, the flames from the fireplace reflecting in her green eyes. “Thank you for inviting me. I was wondering if this was some kind of secret fortress. We’ve really only been at my place.”
“Well I guess it is kind of like a fortress,” I say, my thumb tracing her bottom lip. “I wanted something that felt a little like home and private. But tonight, it’s just my house, and I’m happy to have you in it.”
“You gonna show me around or are we just gonna stand here in the foyer?” She wraps her hand around my wrist and pulls it away from her face, but she doesn’t drop my hand. Instead, she twines her fingers through mine and starts pulling me into the next room.
Twenty minutes later, we’re in the kitchen while I put the finishing touches on dinner.
“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?” Eva says, leaning back against the dark granite of the kitchen island, a glass of the fancy red wine I opened in her hands.
She watches me slice through a thick, perfectly aged cut of ribeye with effortless precision.
I move around the kitchen comfortably because I love to cook when I have the time.
And I know the exact temperature the cast-iron skillet heating on the stove should be, and the marinade I’d prepped earlier is made from scratch, a secret blend my Mama taught us.
I don’t think she’s all that surprised. She knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t be the type of guy who lived off premade meals. But as she watches me, a look of appreciation settles on her features.
“I grew up on a ranch with five brothers,” I rumble, tossing some butter into the pan, letting it sizzle. “If you don’t know how to handle a knife and flame by the time you’re ten, you might not eat.”
“Oh, I remember you knew how to cook,” she says with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she watches me sear the meat. “I’m just impressed by the execution. The layout, the prep work … it’s pretty fucking sexy, Griff.”
I laugh. “I’m glad you approve,” I say, catching her eye as I flip the steak.
She takes a slow sip of her wine, her gaze tracking the muscles of my arms. “You look a bit stiff though. Your shoulder bothering you again?”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie, Aston.” She sets her glass down and walks around the island. She places her hands flat against my back, her warmth cutting through the fabric of my shirt as she moves up to my shoulders.
I inhale a deep breath as I feel her begin to work her thumbs into the knotted muscle between my shoulder blades, using a surprising amount of pressure.
“You don’t have to do this, Eva,” I mumble, though I let my head drop forward, a low groan escaping as she hits a brutal knot.
I turn in her grip, my hands finding her waist, then lifting her effortlessly until she’s sitting on the edge of the counter, her legs bracketing my hips. I move into the gap between her knees and look at her face.
“You know,” she whispers, her fingers trailing up my chest, tangling in the collar of my shirt, “I came all the way out here for a relaxing weekend, and somehow, I’m still the one doing all the heavy lifting.”
“Is that right? You call this heavy lifting?” I tease, leaning down until my lips brush against hers. “I would say I’m letting you have your way with me. That’s Texas hospitality.” Then I seal her mouth with mine and slide my tongue into her mouth and taste the rich berry of the wine on her tongue.
“Cocky Texas mouth,” she says, breaking the kiss, but she doesn’t pull away. She leans into the kiss again, her arms wrapping tightly around my neck, pulling me closer until our chests are touching.
We get lost in the kiss until I hear the meat starting to sizzle a little faster than before.
“Hold that thought. Let me get this finished up so we can eat.”
I finish the steak and set it on a cutting board, next to a bowl of the roasted veggies and potatoes I had resting in the oven.
Just as we sit down at the table, my phone vibrates with a familiar buzz. The screen lights up, flashing a FaceTime notification that sends an ice-cold spike to my gut.
Acer.
I stiffen.
“You can get that,” she says, noticing the shift in my posture. “It’s late. It could be an emergency.”
“It’s not,” I mutter, my jaw clenching as I pick up my phone and accept the FaceTime call.
The faces of three of my brothers—Archie, Ace, and Austin—crowd the screen, their loud voices echoing into the room before I can even bring my phone to my face.
“There he is!” Ace’s voice booms through the speaker. His face is illuminated by the light of the phone, and behind him and my brothers, I see the familiar walls of my family home. “Hey, Arch, look at him. He actually answered. I owe you fifty bucks.”
“Told you he would,” Archie’s voice chimes in, his face pushing through, looking tired, but always grinning. “Aston doesn’t ignore his family, like some people I know.”
“Okay, you two,” I interrupt, my voice sounding clipped, even to my own ears.
I hold the phone close to me, angling the camera so it only catches my face and the ceiling beams above me.
I don’t look at Eva. I can’t. Having Ace’s grinning face staring at me while the woman he used to love sits three inches away from me is making my chest feel like it’s trapped in a vise.
“Did you guys just call to harass me? I’m busy. ”
“Busy? Doing what? Studying film for your Monday night game on a Friday?” Austin’s voice cuts in, his head popping into view. “Why’s it so dark? You have a power outage or something?”
“No,” I snap. “Seriously, what’s up?”
“We told Mom and Dad we’d check on you. You and Aiden are the only ones not home this weekend, and we miss your ugly mug,” Ace says, his tone shifting into something a little more genuine, completely oblivious to the land mine I’m standing on.
“And Dad was worried about you. He watched the tape from your last game and said your lateral movement looked a little slow on the inside stunt, and he wanted to make sure you aren’t nursing an injury and not telling them about it. ”
“I’m good,” I say stiffly.
The ghost of our college days hangs heavy in the air. Ace has always been the one to push buttons, the one who takes what he wants, and the fact that Eva was once his tastes like ash in my mouth.
“You’re pretty quiet, Aston,” Archie adds, his brow furrowing. “You alone?”
My stomach drops. “I’m fine. Just getting ready to eat. I have more film to review later.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get your jock in a twist.” Ace laughs. “Go eat and fuck up the Steelers. We’ll be watching.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to y’all later. Give Mama a hug for me,” I say before I hit the End button, killing the call.
The silence that settles when I hang up is definite. I set my phone face down on the table, my jaw still tight.
“You didn’t have to cut your call short because of me,” Eva says quietly.
She knows my family. She spent time around them when she and Ace were dating.
I don’t look at her yet. Instead, I reach for my wineglass and take a long swallow that does nothing to clear the tightness in my throat.
“They’re … just loud. And relentless. They would have kept calling until I answered and would have kept me on the phone for at least an hour if I hadn’t cut them short.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” she says, reaching out, her small hand resting on my arm and tracing a thick vein on my forearm.
“All good, I promise,” I assure her. “Ace always has a lot to say, as you—” I cut myself off, the words as you know dying in my throat.
A sudden shot of jealousy aches in my chest, worse than my bruised ribs. I pull my arm away gently, reaching for the steak on the table, desperate to steer the conversation away from my family before she can ask more questions.
Before she can hear the panic and jealousy in my voice.
“Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”
Eva looks at me, her eyes sharp. She sees the deflection for exactly what it is, but instead of her pushing me, her shoulders drop, and a knowing look crosses her face. She recognizes the boundary I’m putting in place.
“Okay,” she says softly. She doesn’t press. She simply picks up her glass and takes a sip of wine while I place some steak, veggies, and potatoes on her plate. “But if it’s overcooked, I’m holding you responsible.”
I let out a slow breath through my nose, the tension in my shoulders easing a fraction. “I promise it’s not overcooked.”
After we eat and the plates are cleared, Eva asks if she can take a shower after I insist on cleaning up the kitchen. When I finish, I settle in front of the fire and wait for her instead of joining her, like I really want to.
The easy, flirty baseline going into the weekend is gone, replaced by truth.
This thing between us isn’t temporary. It’s getting real fast and deep enough that my silence feels more and more like a massive betrayal not only to my family, but to her.
And I can’t keep her in the shadows of my life forever, just like she can’t keep me hidden forever.
And the guilt of lying to my family, especially to Ace, feels like slow-moving acid, eating through our bond, and I’m going to have to face my brother. Soon.
I’ll have to look him in the eye and tell him that the best thing he ever let walk away is now the only thing I can’t live without. Because if I don’t tell him, the weight of this secret is going to break us all.