22. Ryan
TWENTY-TWO
Ryan
I’m on cloud nine. In fact, I’ve been here since my ass landed in the end zone, scoring the game-winning touchdown. I’m on fire tonight, unstoppable.
The difference between Sunday’s game and today? I have my two lucky charms sitting somewhere in the stands. Doesn’t matter if they’re cheering for me every time I take the field or simply enjoying the burgers and gigantic bags of kettle corn. They’re here, and that’s what counts.
It doesn’t hurt that my little man is wearing my jersey, with my last name across his back. He told me I was like a superhero in my uniform, and there was no way I was letting him down.
I almost got one for June, too, but we’ve been treading lightly this week, and I didn’t want to be the one to overstep. But damn. The thought of her with my number and last name stamped across her back is like a wet dream. I’d give anything to see her in my jersey, and only my jersey, down on her knees, begging for my cock. Which is exactly why I didn’t get her a thing. It’s entirely unsafe. My quest to tamp out these feelings I have around her has been unsuccessful. Especially after I almost kissed her on Monday and ruined everything.
Well, everything my untimely erection didn’t already ruin.
The damn guys have been riding me nonstop about it, and some dick on the internet spotted it sometime on Tuesday, and now it seems that thousands of people are on bulge watch. This is why I don’t do social media. I don’t care that Nick loves it, I don’t need strangers trying to guess the length and girth of my penis.
My leg feels fucking amazing, though, and it did get Hot 4 Yoga a ton of new followers. Yes, I’m one of them, and because I can’t help myself, I creep on her page every night before I go to bed.
So, regardless of the trolls, I don’t regret doing the video, and we’ve got another one-on-one Saturday afternoon. I think it’s safe to say, I’ll be wearing five pairs of shorts next time. I’m not taking any more chances.
“Nice touchdown, Peter Piper.”
“It must have been the momentum from his newly famous one-eyed trouser cobra.”
“Way to hammer the competition.”
“The little lieutenant really gave it to Chicago.”
“Hey fuck truck, good hustle.”
Jesus Christ. These guys must have spent the last quarter rubbing their brain cells together to come up with some of these. Obviously I work with a bunch of degenerates.
“You can’t sink the Titanic .”
All right, that one was pretty good. I hang my head with a laugh, giving Beau a fist bump for effort. “I hate to tell you, but it did sink. Pretty bad actually. Hit a whole-ass iceberg and everything.”
Beau laughs, punching my shoulder, and heads off to the locker room to get dressed. Halfway there he drops his towel to the ground and glances back at me. “How do you feel about the Unsinkable Molly Brown?”
“I think I prefer the inaccurate Titanic reference.” And your towel picked back up to cover your swinging dick.
“Figured you would. Don’t you worry, I’ll never let go.”
I chuckle, running a hand along the stubble covering my jaw. He’d be the first motherfucker to push me off the door into the freezing ocean. And I bet his ass would laugh as I sank to the bottom. Although, maybe not. He’s coming in clutch with these Titanic references, which means that he either has a thing for Leonardo DiCaprio or he’s a sucker for romance movies.
My money is on the latter.
“Fuck truck.” Gunner steps up next to me, his thumb and index finger stroking his chin like he’s in deep thought. Too bad I know better. “I like that one. Good catch in the fourth, by the way.”
I grunt, nudging his side with my elbow, probably a little harder than I should have, but he takes it like a champ. “Good throw in the fourth.”
“Please.” He waves me off with a laugh, nudging me right back, and we take off toward our side of the locker room. “My throws are all good.”
“Most of the time.” I shrug, trying and failing to suppress the smirk tugging at my lips. “They don’t call you Cannon for nothing.”
“For all you know, they’re talking about my dick.” He shrugs and I ignore him. I’m not taking the bait today. “Your family here?”
It’s an innocent question, but one that has me stumbling over my own feet. I have a family now. An actual family. Fuck. My breath stutters from my lungs, and the room goes a little topsy-turvy before returning to normal.
For so long it’s been my mom and I against the world. That’s it. The two amigos. She’s the only one that’s been there for me through everything, the only one who knows what I lost that fucking terrible night my senior year in college. Hell, she’d be here today if it weren’t so hard for her to navigate the crowds and the narrow aisles, but it’s never bothered me. She’s supporting me from home, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Aside from a brief period with Caitlin, my mom was the only family I had for a long time. While Dean and I were close growing up, we ended up losing touch when he left for college and eventually joined the NHL. I get it, he was busy. I could have reached out more too, but I had football and my own life to live. But now that Dean is back in town, I have him back in my life, I have a son, and despite the slight chasm between us, I have June too.
I have people that matter.
“Yeah, man. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.” I rub my chest, an unfamiliar feeling taking root.
For the first time in a long time, I have people waiting for me. I don’t have to duck my head and pretend it doesn’t bother me when the other guys meet up with their girlfriends, wives, and kids. I don’t have to go back to the penthouse alone, the only company being several ice pads—trust me, once the high of the game wears off, your body is nothing but aches and pain.
Those aches are already settling in, and while getting back in my street clothes can be an arduous process, I’m dressed in minutes. It would be a little more tedious if I were like the more fashion-forward players and showed up in a full three-piece suit, but I’m here to play football, not walk the runway.
Gunner is dressed soon after—like me, he’s wearing joggers and a well-worn T-shirt, a slight grimace on his face as we head toward the door. I’d ask if he’s okay, but I already know the answer. He took a good hit from a three-hundred-pound linebacker at the top of the fourth quarter. There’s no way you don’t feel that for a few days. It’s like being hit head-on by a Mack truck.
“They’re good for you, you know,” Gunner casually says, pulling open the door and heading out to the open hallway where friends and family generally wait.
I pause, his words turning over in my head. I pick them apart, dissect every possible meaning, and there’s a good chance I’m reading entirely too much into this.
But what if I’m not?
I toss that thought right in the trash.
Of course, I’m making this a bigger deal than what he must have meant. He knows June and I aren’t together, just like he knows how important this year is. He knows what I’ve worked for and what would be on the line if I let my place here slip away.
So why does it feel like I’m wrong?
Why does it feel like some piece of me is missing?
Before I can open my mouth and ask Gunner what the fuck he meant, I hear Oliver’s shout. “There’s my dad.”
Oliver’s propped up on June’s hip, his arms waving in the air, narrowly avoiding her face. He’s wearing my jersey, a half-eaten bag of popcorn hanging from one hand, and the biggest smile in the world stretched across his face. Everyone around us seems to fade into the background—even Gunner.
It’s me, my son ... and June .
My heart catches in my throat as my eyes rake over her. Her hair is up in a messy bun, her cheeks are flush from the cool night air, and she’s wearing a fucking jersey. I swear if she’s wearing my jersey, there’s nothing that will stop me from claiming her right here, right in front of my teammates and their families.
Mine. Mine. Mine .
And I can promise you right now, if she has someone else’s name stamped across her back, I’ll rip it from her body and burn it.
There’s a wildness inside me, prowling, waiting, wishing it could sink its teeth in her and never let go. She’s been mine since I laid eyes on her in that damn bar, sitting in my seat, wearing a wedding dress and a tiara for a wedding that never happened. I’m the one who made her forget about that day. I’m the one who gave her orgasm after orgasm when no one before me could give her even one. I’m the one who taught her that she was fucking good enough, that she deserved to be worshipped—every single inch of her.
I know I’ve been fighting this. I know I’ve been trying to push her out of my thoughts, out of my head, but seeing her at my game, wearing my colors, has every emotion coming to the surface burying their claws deep in my skin.
Right now I don’t want to extinguish the fire burning between us, I want to stoke the flames and watch that motherfucker burn.
Which is why I need to tighten the reins. I need to get control of myself before I jump so far across the line I won’t be able to find my way back.
I take a deep breath, swallowing everything down as I reach out for Oliver, taking him and the popcorn. “How did you like your first football game? ”
“Football is the greatest. Can you teach me how to play?” His arm waves suddenly, hitting me in the face with the popcorn. “Oops. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. These guys hit me harder than that.” I point back to the locker room with a laugh, setting him on his feet. Oliver automatically grabs my hand, and I crouch next to him, pointing at Gunner. “This is my best friend, Gunner. He’s very excited to meet you.”
“You are?” He stares up at Gunner, his eyes shining with adoration like I just introduced him to Spider-Man.
Gunner nods, crouching down with us and offering Oli a fist bump. “It’s nice to meet you. Your dad has told me all about you.”
“Wait. I thought I was your best friend.” Theo Bronson stops next to our group with a frown.
I glance over at him and do a double take. He’s wearing a black-and-gold damask jacket I’m pretty sure could double as a curtain, shiny black shoes, and, if I’m not mistaken, this dick actually has a gold pocket square in his front pocket.
“Did you make that from a tablecloth?” Gunner pushes himself to his feet, coughing into his fist to cover up his laugh.
Theo scoffs, taking a second to introduce himself to Oliver, and then sends a dirty look Gunner’s way. “My grandmother always made sure I showed up to games in style. It’s a habit now.” He looks between the two of us, his lip curling. “Plus, I’m not a fan of the whole hobo look you two have going on.”
I’m about to respond when one of June’s friends squeals, turning my attention toward them. June spins around, whispering something to her, and—what the fuck?
Seriously. What. The. Fucking. Fuck .
It’s not my last name across June’s back. Nope. It’s Brooks’s. Silas motherfucking Brooks. I take a deep breath, and it burns as it goes down my throat. My nostrils flare, my jaw sets, my goddamned hands fist at my sides, and I’m ready to charge.
I’ve never considered myself a jealous man, but seeing June with some other fucker’s name across her back has me seeing red. I want to destroy him. I want to rip him limb from limb. Doesn’t matter if he has anything to do with this or not. I don’t care.
As if that fucking jersey mocking me wasn’t enough, Silas pushes himself from the locker room, a big smile plastered on his face. He walks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Well, I got news for him, I’m about to give him one.
“Hey there, ladies. Did you enjoy the game?” He stops in front of June, Poppy, and her friend, and that was a mistake.
I have taken a step forward, ready to remove him from the premises, when Gunner’s hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“You can’t murder him. And you definitely can’t do it here.” His voice is low, and I can barely hear him over the rage thumping through my bloodstream.
Can’t murder him? But I can maim him.
“I remember you from the meet and greet last week.” Silas lays a hand on June’s shoulder, brushing it across his name and trailing his fingers down his number. I’m going to cut it off. Each finger will be removed knuckle by knuckle. “Are you here with someone or ...?”
I shake off Gunner’s hand, pick up Oliver, and close the distance between me and his mother.
June’s eyes widen as she takes me in, and I can only hope this oversight on her part doesn’t happen again. I won’t hesitate to fuck up the entire team if they’re standing in my way. Fuck, I’d burn down the world to get to her.
“She’s with me.” I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her to my side.
“Sorry, Devlin. I didn’t realize she was yours.” Silas’s smile turns into a little smirk. He’s baiting me, I know he is, but I’m so angry I can’t think straight.
“Yeah, she’s mine. Is that a problem?”