Chapter 20 – QUINN
QUINN
It’s Monday Night Football and the first official game of the season.
I made it through training camp with virtually no interaction with the Jones boys and not a single player getting hurt other than on the first day.
I’ve been on the sidelines for games before.
Hell, I came out onto this field as a little baby, barely able to walk.
I feel at home here as much as anywhere, but the energy in the air is different than it has been before, and it’s not simply because it’s a cool night in Boston.
The national anthem just finished, and the kickoff is about to happen. We’re starting on defense, and I know Mason likes that. He likes to watch how the opposing team’s offense starts a game. We’re at a commercial break, and you can feel the energy radiating off the players.
I walk over to my brothers, who are standing side by side, their hands tucked into the tops of their jerseys and pads, pulling them away from their necks with intense game-ready expressions on their faces. It’s funny. I doubt they’re even aware they’re doing the same thing.
“Good luck out there tonight, guys. Kick some ass.”
Both break into smiles and give me a hug.
“Won’t lie,” Crew says, squeezing extra tight, “I love having you on the field.”
I pat the back of his head, drop a kiss on his cheek, then Mason’s, and go to return to my post when I nearly trip over the back of someone’s foot.
“Oh, sorry,” I tell them, only to realize it’s Rhett. That would have been bad form to trip the coach before the game started.
“No worries,” he replies. Our eyes lock, and that tingle of butterflies takes flight in my belly as they do every time we do this. We may not have talked or interacted, but I could tell he was watching me when he didn’t think I was noticing. And in return, I was doing the same with him.
Wanting someone you can’t have doesn’t make it easier to get over them. It makes it harder.
“Good luck tonight, Coach. You’re going to be great.”
He smiles and turns to me as if he’s going to say more when Russel comes over and drops his hand around my waist. Rhett’s smile slips into a frown, his jaw tensing, and without a word, he turns around, giving us his back.
“What are you doing?” I bark at Russel, more than a little annoyed.
His hands go up. “Relax. I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve kept my distance and tried your Elsa thing.”
He has, and I’ve seen plenty of posts and things on Instagram that he’s already hit the ground running here in Boston with dating every female who is even slightly considered famous or a socialite. It hasn’t been so good for his image. The press is already calling him the bad boy of Boston.
“And?”
“And how about we try being friends?”
I squint at him. “Just friends?”
“Just friends,” he promises. “But you used to hug me before my games. Even when you couldn’t come to one, you’d give me a hug before I left for it—and a kiss too, but I won’t press it—and you’d tell me good luck. As my new friend, can I have a hug? What do you say?”
“That I didn’t agree to be your friend.”
He huffs. “Come on, Quinn. It’s my first game here. I’m nervous.”
He is. I can see it in his eyes. “Fine. Friends, and this is only a friendly hug and nothing more.”
A smile lights up his face. “Understood.”
He rewraps his arms around me and pulls me in so he can tuck me against his chest. It’s like déjà vu, and he must feel it too because he emits a mournful sigh and drops his face to my neck.
“I’ve missed this.” I start to push away when he holds me tighter. “I’m not saying that to cross lines. I’m saying it because it’s a simple truth.” His hand cups my jaw, and he stares intently into my eyes just as the crowd roars with the kickoff. “I should never have let you go.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek, then jogs off before I can say anything back. I bluster out a breath and twist to find Rhett standing there as if he’d been watching the entire time. His expression is stoic, but there’s something else teetering on the edge of his thoughts that his eyes can’t hide.
Nothing is happening between us, and I don’t owe him any explanations. But I want to give him one. I want him to know that I don’t have feelings for his son, but I do for him, and it sucks. It just sucks.
The kickoff is over, and I’m jostled by defensive players taking the field. It breaks whatever this moment is. Rhett returns his focus to the field, and I move to the back where the training and medical staff camp out.
My phone vibrates against my ass, where I have it tucked into the back of my pants. We’re not supposed to use our phones unless necessary, and the players aren’t allowed them at all, but I pull mine out and tuck my body away from the field.
Skylar: Are you trying to send me into early labor? What are you doing, hugging and kissing your piece of shit ex on the field?! I shouldn’t have to see that.
Shit. My gaze shoots up to the skybox everyone is in, but there’s no way they could have seen that. Could they?
Me: How could you have seen that?
Braelyn: It was on the TV. The broadcasters were talking about how Rhett Jones is the new coach, taking over for your father, and how the tradition of coaches having their sons play for them continues.
They freaking panned to Russel, but you were in his arms!
Everyone is going nuts up here in the booth.
It’s a full Fritz picnic, and everyone is asking what’s going on.
Forest: Quinn, it’s already being posted around. *Attached picture with caption that says, ‘Ex-lovers reunite, are they or aren’t they?’
Double shit. An all-too-familiar unease prickles my skin with the thought that there are pictures and videos out there circulating gossip about me.
Me: We’re not!
Me: He asked if we could be friends and for a pre-game hug because he was nervous. It’s not how it looked. I swear.
Hayes: Better not be. That piece of shit doesn’t deserve you.
Me: Nothing is happening there. I swear. Tell everyone there it was a simple hug and nothing more.
Forest: Do you want me to do anything?
Forest is a cleaner of sorts. He’s an attorney but works differently than one you’d typically think of. He manages messes I don’t want to know about. Publicly, he runs the Abbott Foundation that his grandmother’s family started, but that’s far from his main gig.
Me: If it gets out of hand beyond this one picture I will.
Skylar: Girl, all I’m saying is that didn’t look friendly to the cameras, and after the fight earlier this summer and the press already knowing about your previous relationship, I just hope this doesn’t turn into a thing.
I sigh and tuck my phone back into my pocket. Just great. I don’t think he did it on purpose. There’s no way he could have known they were recording us. Right?
The team wins. Yay. Go Rebels. I’m a little salty, but I am happy they won.
Regardless, I don’t stick around for any of the after stuff.
I head up to the booth, say a quick hi and bye to my friends and family, reassure them that the video and photos of Russel and me hugging weren’t anything, and then head home.
It’s late, and I have to be at the hospital tomorrow morning by ten, and I want to go for a run first.
I get through half a song before I submit and turn on the radio to the postgame press conference. It’s the middle of Rhett’s interview, and freaking Tamira Braumer is asking him a question because of course she is. I hate knowing she had a thing with him even if it was years ago.
“Coach, this was a big first win for you. Russel caught four passes for a total of thirty-two yards and one touchdown. Crew caught eight passes for sixty-four yards but no touchdowns. Do you feel their ball time will be even?”
“I think Mason did a fantastic job with his ball delivery and reading the defense. Some of those plays were based on what the defense was handing him, and he had to adjust to that. It’s not about even playing time.
It’s about what’s best for the team and the right play at the right time.
Every player on this roster knows that.”
Shouts ring out from the other journalists, but Tamira persists. “So you don’t think Russel receiving half the passes that Crew did is at all related to the pregame hug and kiss Russel shared with his ex-girlfriend, Quinn Reyes, Crew and Mason’s sister?”
Jesus. This bitch.
“I think it’s easy for you to come up with reasons why a game went the way it did to sell stories and get clicks, but the facts remain that we won this game with everyone’s help.
It was a hundred percent a team effort. That’s the only thing that matters to any of us.
Off-field situations have no place here. ”
“Except it happened on the field for all to see. Is it your position then that Dr. Reyes and Russel are not back together? And do you have any comment on the rumors that he originally ended their three-plus-year relationship four years ago but is now determined to win her back, and that’s why Crew Reyes hit him back in July? ”
“Next question.”
“Coach!”
I slam the butt of my palm into the button on my dashboard, shutting off the radio. I don’t want to hear anymore.
A text comes in from my mother, and I have the annoying AI robotic voice read it to me.
Mom: I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but please don’t give up on this assignment. It’s so good for your brothers and your father to have you there. This garbage will blow over. It always does the moment they find their next story. I swear, you’ll learn a lot.
“Do you want to respond?” the AI bot asks.
“Yes.”
“What do you want to say?”
“I’m not a quitter, but I don’t like being the center of scandal or gossip again.”
“Send it?”
“Yes.”
Mom: I know, and I’m sorry. This won’t be like that.
Better not be.
I turn back to my music, more than a little annoyed to hear my name in the press again. One time I can manage, but if this becomes a regular thing, we’ll have issues. There’s a reason why my circle is so small. Why my trust is so thin, and it spans beyond my asshole ex.