Chapter 3 #3
I’m really kicking myself for that decision now. I just wanted out of the marriage two years ago because I felt so betrayed that she didn’t believe me. In hindsight, I made the wrong move.
“Well, it makes perfect sense to me,” Silas murmurs. “You were traded a lot after you left the New Orleans Dragons. Are you trying to see if you can make it stick here?”
“Yes. It doesn’t feel real yet,” I confess. “There was a lot of red tape to get here. I know the team is newer and not the best, but the players and coach are decent. You all being here was a bonus.”
Easton’s lips pull into a smirk. They’re pouty and remind me of pillows. Fuck, I really need to stop staring at their lips. Swallowing hard, I focus on where I’m walking as I push my sleeves up. Ella didn’t like tattoos, which means I am rebelling through pain and art.
My arms are slowly filling up with tattoos of things that are important to me, and glancing at them, it reminds me I need to find a tattoo shop here in Savannah.
“I keep forgetting you are a walking canvas,” Lyle murmurs as a lamp post illuminates my arm. “It looks good on you.”
“It looks like someone is finding his freedom,” Easton adds, pointing to the restaurant on our right. “Let’s grab a quiet corner and get you fed.”
As he opens the door, I’m casually reminded of how concerned they always are about whether or not I’m taking care of myself. Biting my lip as I enter the restaurant, I think about how the three of them are walking daddies.
Easton’s hand lays against the base of my back as he leads me toward a back booth. Touch tends to make me cringe, but it doesn’t affect me the same way when he touches me.
We’ve known each other a long damn time. I also don’t feel as if they’re a danger to me. I think my reasons for avoiding them has more to do with the fact that they see too much.
They want the best for me, and I’ve been on a destructive path for the past two years.
The pressure on my back lifts as he sits in the booth and scoots in, allowing me to have the outside and a clear exit if I need it.
Leaning my forearms on the table in front of me, I remind myself these are the closest people that I have to best friends. They’ve always had my back. I can’t let my attraction to them fuck things up.
Huh.
“You look like you just had an epiphany,” Silas observes.
A big, burly server lumbers over, and I realize this place has very few women. The menu sits on a chalkboard across from me, and it’s a fairly small establishment.
“What can I get ya?” he asks.
“Iced tea all around and grinder sandwiches,” Lyle replies, catching my eye to make sure that’s okay.
I’ll be burning through so many calories this season, what I eat tonight won’t matter. The biggest issue I have is not eating enough protein. I incline my head to tell him it’s fine, and the server moves away to fill our order.
I also appreciate that he didn’t immediately offer me a beer. I want to remain completely clear headed during this conversation.
“So….?” Lyle leans forward across the table from Easton to follow up on Silas’ question.
“I hope you cross examine people better than this in court,” I tease him.
“Eh. I try not to be a dick to people I care about,” Lyle shrugs. “I get that all out in the courtroom. Now, stop stalling. What did you figure out?”
“I’d tell them to stop interrogating you, but I also want to know,” Easton admits. His arm rests along the backrest, and his fingers touch where my hair meets the base of my skull.
Goddamnit, he has to know what he’s doing because they just barely graze my hair and I don’t want it to stop.
“What if we fuck up what we have?” I ask, forcing my words out quickly. “You’re the only people I talk to outside of my friend Caelia.”
“I would be jealous if I didn’t know she was packed up,” Lyle teases me. I’ve mentioned her name over the last couple of years, so he knows I’m not romantically interested in her at all. “What if we don’t fuck it up, Troy? We move slowly, feel things out, and see what happens?”
“We don’t want to scare you. Do you want me to stop touching you?” Easton asks.
“No, I really don’t,” I groan. His fingers slide through my hair, and begin massaging my scalp in a way that makes my eyes roll back with pleasure. “My hair is so gross, East.”
“It’s sweat,” he snorts. “It’s fine. You need a haircut though.”
“I’m procrastinating,” I grumble.
“Why?” he asks.
“Unless I’m beating the fuck out of someone on the ice, I don’t like to be touched.”
Easton’s fingers freeze and I wince as he realizes it.
“I’m finding you’re also the exception and I don’t know how to feel about it,” I confess.
“I’ll cut your hair,” Silas says after a beat. “I promise I won’t fuck it up. If it gets any longer, you won’t be able to see.”
“I come with a lot of baggage.” God, why am I trying to sabotage this? “It’s just…I don’t understand why you’re interested.”
Easton’s hand squeezes my shoulder before removing it, and I immediately miss it. The server hands out drinks, stating that our sandwiches are going to be out soon.
“Troy, you’re really self aware,” Silas says, his green eyes intent as he gazes at me. “This means you also know all of the good things you have to offer. We’ve always been interested.”
“We waited too long to tell you,” Lyle explains, his voice showing how irritated he is with himself.
“When Ella divorced you, we decided we were going to give you room to breathe. Now you’re in Savannah and have been avoiding us.
So this is us telling you that we’re aware your heart and soul is scraped up, and we’re willing to take the risk. ”
“If you need flowers and shit, we will happily court you,” Easton chuckles. “Silas’ garden is willing to show off for you.”
My lips part in surprise, before closing quickly.
“I always hear things about his garden, and suddenly I want flowers and shit,” I mumble. “What is with you all?”
“We’re a lot,” Lyle smirks. Lifting his glass, he shrugs. “Here’s to flowers and shit. Oh, I promised we wouldn’t be needy, but you smell really fucking good. I want to negotiate a date once a week while you’re in town.”
“Lyle,” Silas hisses, elbowing him as I hide a smile.
They’re always smacking each other, and I’ve always thought it’s hysterical.
“A date,” I say slowly, feeling out how that feels as I take a sip of my tea. I really want to see them more often. If we have to call a spade a spade, then so be it.
Damn. I’m giving myself whiplash here with how accommodating I’m being.
“Mmhmm. You know it’s that thing where we all hang out. Silas, don’t hit me,” Lyle snorts, laughing.
I can’t help but chuckle as Silas makes a face at him, and I nod. “Alright,” I agree. “I suppose those terms are acceptable.”
“Damn. You’re gonna make us work for this, huh?” Easton asks, hiding a smile. “It’s a good thing we love a fucking challenge.”
“What have you done in the city since getting here?” Silas asks, changing the subject.
Clinging to the life rope he’s offering, I choose to take it. Our conversation is full of laughter and plans to show me around, and I’m really glad Coach answered my phone for the first time.
I won’t thank him for it, but I’m sure he knows that.