Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
Jory
“Look who it is,” Gray says from the porch of the farmhouse. He waves before trotting down the steps toward the driveway.
Gray Adler is a beast and the fiercest scrum half I’ve ever played with or against. I’m used to seeing him battered and worn down from the season, held together by muscle cream, tape, and the will of a champion. But there’s an air about him this evening that’s different. Lighter, maybe.
“Hey, Adler,” I say, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Gray, this is my son, Gus. Gus, this is the legend, Gray Adler.”
“Legend, my ass.” Gray chuckles. “Nice to meet ya, Gus.”
Gus smiles. “I’m happy to meet you, too. Nice place you got here.”
I bite back a laugh. This kid.
“Well, thanks,” Gray says, amused, too. “This is my brother Hartley’s house. I live down there.” He points toward a gravel lane extending up and over a small hill.
The property is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
It’s not that far from town, yet it feels like you’re in your own world nestled among the trees.
Wildlife sings from every angle—from the fields surrounding the house, to the forest that starts on the edges of the very same fields, and from the sky expanding endlessly above us.
Still, somehow, it’s quiet.
Gus spins in a circle, taking it all in. “I’ve never been to a farm before. What’s in that barn?”
“I think it’s a ranch,” I say.
“Call it whatever the hell you want. Same difference—to me, anyway,” Gray says, smiling. “And I have little to no idea what’s in that barn except for a pig.”
“You’re serious?” Gus asks, facing him. “A real pig?”
“Yup. Named Pigasso.” Gray looks at me. “Don’t ask.”
“A pig named Pigasso,” Gus says, snorting as we follow Gray into the house.
The steps are sturdy as we trudge up them, passing a goose statue dressed up in a raincoat and boots. Gus and I exchange a look as we cross the doorway. We nearly make it inside before a voice welcomes us from the kitchen.
“Hello, there,” a woman says, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She’s older, probably in her sixties, with a grandmotherly vibe. Her smile is as wide as her hips.
“This is Cathy,” Gray says. “Cathy, this is Jory and Gus.”
“Oh, I remember you. I’ve been to a few Royals games.” She smiles at me. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” She turns to Gus. “You look like a man who likes cookies. Am I right?”
Gus’s shoulders slump in relief. “You couldn’t be righter if you tried.
I’m practically starving, to be honest, because this guy”—he jams his thumb over his shoulder in my general direction—“thinks heat-up pizzas can be eaten for a week straight. I haven’t seen food from an actual food group since he picked me up. ”
“Oh, come on,” I say, laughing.
“I have never been more prepared to fix someone’s problem than I am right now.
” Cathy points at a stool at the island, then turns to the refrigerator.
“Gus, sit. I have fried chicken, meatloaf, and a little bit of Salisbury steak left from last night.
Probably have an ear of corn in here, along with some baked beans.
I can always make a fresh batch of mashed potatoes if you'd like. What sounds good, kiddo?”
“Um, all of it,” Gus says.
I take a step forward. “He’s exaggerating. Please don’t feel obligated—”
“Shush.” Cathy gives me a look like my mother gives me when she’s really saying shut the fuck up, Jory. “No one invited you into this conversation.”
“You’re fighting a losing battle,” Gray says with a slight shrug.
Gus smirks at me from the stool.
“Go on,” Cathy says, shooing us away. “Go do your business somewhere else. Gus and I will find you after his belly is full.”
“I really like it here,” Gus says, grinning at me.
Hell, maybe I should take his advice. He has women eating out of the palm of his hand wherever we go.
“You behave.” I lift a brow. “And remember your manners.”
“We’re gonna walk around and will probably wind up at the cabin,” Gray tells Cathy. “If you call when you’re finished, we can come get him.”
“I don’t know why you’re still here,” Cathy says, pulling out plates from the fridge.
Gray shakes his head. “Let’s go.”
I give my son a pointed look before following my friend outside.
A breeze kicks up as soon as we’re on the gravel and the flag hanging off the porch whips in the wind. We walk shoulder to shoulder down the lane in silence.
“Are you going to explain Pigasso?” I ask, curious.
“Hartley’s wife, Mira, bought it at an auction. This was before they were back together. It was an impulse purchase, and she had nowhere to take it, so she sent it here and then begged for Hart’s forgiveness rather than permission.”
Mira. I kick a rock, smiling. If she’s anything like her sister, that makes total sense.
It’s wild to me how much I’ve learned about Markie without really even trying—too hard, anyway.
I’ve been in Sugar Creek for a week and am starting to understand the lore around small towns.
Growing up in a metropolitan area and then living in different cities throughout my adult life, I’ve never understood how your neighbors could possibly know your whole business.
I’m starting to get it. You never truly have any privacy. There’s no escape, no way to become invisible.
Markie is everywhere—the farmers’ market, the park.
We waved at each other as she left the grocery store yesterday and I pulled in.
I spotted her at the gas station and overheard a table of old men talking about her at Piper’s Pizza today at lunch.
I think they were making bets on the pickleball tournament.
And now she’s popping up in a conversation with my teammate.
I’ve known the woman for a week, and unintentionally, I’m collecting pieces of her life.
Not that I mind.
“How’s retirement treating you?” I ask as we reach the top of the hill. “You look pretty relaxed.”
Gray takes a long, deep breath and blows it out steadily. “It’s fucking great, to be honest.”
“I bet it is.”
“I knew I needed to walk away,” he says. “It was time. But this little voice in the back of my head kept asking, what if I’m making a mistake?”
“That’s normal, I’d think.”
“Probably. But every morning I wake up here with Astrid beside me and … I’m free, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have it all figured out. I’m gonna help Hartley around here and do some ranch shit, but I’ll have to figure out something else to occupy my time.”
I chuckle, stretching my arms over my head. I’m not even retired, but I understand what he means. This ranch and the clean air and nature surrounding us make me feel free, too.
“But, yeah, this is it,” Gray says. “This is the life. I’ve never been surer of anything.”
My chest aches as his words sink into my bones. I know what I’m walking away from after next season, but I just haven’t figured out what I’m walking toward.
I’ve toyed with the idea of retiring for the past three years, keeping my eye on the upcoming season when my contract expires.
Rugby has taken a hell of a toll on my body, and I’ve absorbed enough damage to be concerned.
My mom has practically begged me to stop playing.
And if I’m being honest, I’ve accomplished what I set out to accomplish in the beginning.
I had fun, made a shit ton of money, and won a few championships.
But that was all before I had Gus. Back when retiring felt like a ticket to a beach somewhere and a life spent blowing the money I’ve made over my career—probably in a semi-hedonistic fashion.
That’s not what it looks like anymore.
The choices I make matter. Where I live is a significant decision.
I don’t want to live in Nevada. I hate the desert.
But Gus lives there with his mom, and they’re happy, so the most logical solution is to move closer to them whether I want to or not.
Because as much as I hate geckos and cacti, I want to be an everyday dad.
I want to experience Friday football games at the high school and lazy Saturday mornings.
Sunday dinners. Throwing a ball around in the yard.
Taco Tuesdays. I want to be there for his first date, the first time he falls in love, and the first time his heart gets broken.
I just hope I haven’t missed too much of his life to fit into his world like that. I hope it’s not too late for us to fashion that kind of a relationship, one that survives more than a couple of months together, max. And I really hope that I don’t insert myself into their lives and fuck it up.
You don’t change things that work. That’s Game Planning 101.
“How are you liking Sugar Creek?” Gray asks.
“It’s unlike anywhere I’ve ever lived.” I chuckle softly. “But I like it. Gus seems to be having a good time, too, so that helps.”
“It’s a great place to grow up. I mean, I know he’s not growing up here, but it’s a good place to spend a summer when you’re that age.”
“I can see that,” I say. “This is what I wanted for us. Just a moment in time when we can forge a bond—just the two of us. Last summer felt so rushed and unsettled, and I just wanted us to have a home base this time.” I gaze across the fields.
“You know, I’ve lived in Tennessee for a few years now, and this is my home.
I really love it here, and I guess I wanted Gus to get a taste of this life, too. ”
Gray nods as we turn up a driveway toward his cabin. “I get that. Once you fall in love with a place, it’s hard to get it out of your blood.” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “Where are you thinking about landing once you retire?”
I blow out a breath. “Fuck if I know.”
We make our way to the cabin, and the only sound is the crunching of our shoes against the rocks.
Wind sweeps across the fields, carrying a lonely sort of whistle with it.
But the home in front of us—small, with a chimney, porch swing, and another goose beside the door—is warm.
Welcoming. Like something you’d love coming home to.
I can imagine living in a place like this with Gus. His bike on the front porch and a rugby ball on the swing. The idea causes a wave of warmth to swell in my chest, and I shove it back down because I’m not sure what to do with it.
“Nice place,” I say, tapping the top of the pirate goose’s head as I follow Gray inside.
“Thanks. Astrid is having her way with it. I’ve been trying to get her to let me add on a little bit, but she’s refusing. It’ll fuck up the charm, she says.” He shrugs. “As long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”
“Spoken like a man who’s as whipped as they come.”
He laughs. “Fuck you.”
I laugh, too, taking a seat across from him at a small kitchen table. “How have you been?”
“Good. Just decompressing and trying to find a new normal. It’s weird not having to count my macros every damn meal.”
“That’s one part of retirement that I haven’t considered.” I lean back in my chair and yawn. “Have you seen Drake lately? I was hoping to run into him while I’m here.”
He stretches his arms overhead and groans.
“Yeah. He was here last week. I think Gianna might be staying with Audrey. Something tells me that Drake had to visit his parents or something, but I could be making that up.” He rests his forearms on the table.
“Do you know Brooks Dempsey by any chance? Used to be an MMA fighter, if the name is ringing a bell.”
“I don’t think so.”
“He’s marrying Audrey in a few weeks.” He pauses. “Do you know who she is?”
“Nope.”
He sighs. “Astrid has a cool friend group, and somehow, they’ve all wound up here in Sugar Creek.
There’s Gianna, who is with Drake, who you already know.
And then there’s Audrey, who’s marrying Brooks.
” He taps a finger against the table. “The girls have more or less gathered Hartley’s wife, Mira, and her sister, Markie, and added them into their circle. ”
I fight a smile. But when you’ve played ball with a guy, you learn to read them like a book. And Gray sees right through my attempt at hiding my amusement.
He lifts a brow, fighting a grin of his own.
“Yeah, I met Markie,” I say, licking my bottom lip. “A couple of times.”
“Really? You met her as in someone introduced you in line at the grocery store, or you met her like you met that girl when we were playing in Detroit?”
I snort. That was a wild night. “Neither, really. But we’ve chatted a couple of times, and I’ve known her brother since college.”
“That guy is an asshole.”
Gray’s not completely wrong. Miles can be a bit self-absorbed, and there are times when I wonder if he can see beyond himself at all. Even Markie seems to agree with the sentiment.
“I can see how you could come to that conclusion.” I laugh. “But, yeah, I know Markie a little bit.”
“She’s … entertaining.” His lips twist. “I halfway expect Astrid to call me from the police station when they all go out together.”
“I mean, she could put some handcuffs on me, and I wouldn’t complain.”
Gray grins. “I bet you wouldn’t.”
His phone rings, and he excuses himself to answer it, but I don’t mind. My thoughts are considering where I can get some handcuffs … just in case.